Flashback1
A/N: OK, no one tell my ocular antagonist and I'll post mini-chapters to comply with medical edicts. Note the disparity between dates. It's important. I'll try and post one chapter a day assuming no one narcs on me.
Oh, yeah. I don't own the characters unless it's one of my demented ladies out to maim your hero, then it's definitely mine.
Still blocked on GEG but having whispers of inspiration from the daily news.
Armor-Plated-Rat
Flashback
People have bad dreams all the time. Sometimes they cry, sometimes they call out. but most times they simply continue sleeping, the dream forgotten. But not soldiers and, sometimes, not spies. Sometimes they dream of real yesterdays with devastating consequences for today's loved ones.
They had been married less than 4 months, happy months, satisfying months. She had the man she always dreamed of, and the future she could only have imagined. He was in love with and married to the most beautiful woman in the world and he was constantly amazed each morning when he awoke and found her curled up against him, a secret smile on her lips. It was not a dream. She was there. It was real.
She had badgered cajoled, threatened and finally begged to be allowed to marry her asset, explaining that no one could better control and protect the asset than the woman who loved him. Being 'compromised' was not a bad thing when the pros and cons were measured and balanced.
The Powers That Be took it under advisement and finally agreed, provided she clearly understood the nature of her commitment. It was for the long haul, a life sentence without the possibility of parole. She'd laughed at her boss when he told her that. He'd smiled, enjoying her happiness.
Professionally, the asset had finally settled down and began pursuing his passion for security software development and occasionally providing assistance to the various government agencies who'd invested countless money in the development of the intersect. At least once a week (not counting the intel daily reviews) and sometimes more often, he was called upon to perform his 'other job'. He did so gladly because he knew it ensured his ultimate happiness.
She continued pursuing her passion – loving him, supporting his efforts, controlling his tendencies towards spontaneity on his other job and protecting him and keeping him safe. Being loved by him was the source of her passion.
Her partner tolerated the arrangement because he had no choice in the matter although secretly he was tickled pink. No more listening to tapes of him snoring, girly weeping when things went bad between them or his love-sick mutterings. The asset was performing much better in operations, not putting himself in precarious positions or ignoring his handlers. A happy asset was a productive asset and their string of unbroken victories attested to it.
The fact that they both had quit the BuyMore and were working with the new start-up was icing on the cake. More time for maiming bonsais and watching the History Channel. He hated to admit it, but he was becoming friends with the asset, something he would never have considered possible. The Nerd just grew on you, like a benign fungus.
Langley, Virginia
CIA Clinic
July 23
Transcription of counseling session #1. Agent Sarah Walker Bartowski.
"Mrs. Bartowski, do you know why you're here?"
"It's Walker. I'm Sarah Walker, CIA. Agent Sarah Walker, CIA. That's what I am, that's who I am. Sarah Bartowski…Sarah Bartowski is no more."
"Fine, Ms. Walker, do you know why you're here?"
"Mandatory counseling. Whenever an agent has a problem the Agency wishes to make go away, they send the agent to mandatory counseling for disposition."
"Well, yes, that's true, but in this case, the Agency wants the problem solved and you returned to your assignment and your family in Los Angeles. It has every hope that these sessions will enable you to deal with your issues and…"
"Issues? Issues? I killed my husband, Doctor. He died. I'm here because I killed my husband. It doesn't matter that I was asleep. It doesn't matter that I was having a flashback. No. What matters, asshole, is that I killed my husband."
"Ms. Walker, please calm down. We have much to discuss before you will be able to…"
"I should be in prison, not a hospital. I killed my husband. I killed the only man I ever really loved. I killed him. He died. I'm done talking. Have the guard 'escort' me back to my cell. I'm done talking to you. You have the facts, do what's expected of you. Sign the damned papers and move on to the next shattered agent. I'm sure your calendar is full of us."
End Session #1 Transcription
Burbank, CA
July 15
John Casey was awakened by the ringing of his cell phone. Checking the ID he saw 'Sarah Bartowski' and immediately took the call noting that it was 3:41 in the morning.
"Casey, secure."
"Casey, come quick. I – I – I think I've killed Chuck, Casey. Oh, Casey, there's so much blood…"
He hung up, dragged on pants and a shirt and was out the door, barefoot, and crossing the courtyard within 2 minutes.
Sarah and Chuck took a sublet on Casa Bartowski after Devon and Ellie married and moved to LA so they could be closer to Devon's new practice and Ellie's clinic.
The CIA took up the lease payments and the newlyweds began turning the apartment into their home. Just that morning John had helped Chuck carry in a new sofa and love seat Sarah 'just had to have'.
Running across the courtyard, he called the local NSA installation and requested an ambulance and clean up team. He didn't know quite what to expect but he knew it had to be bad since Sarah Walker Bartowski was the consummate professional, an assassin who never, ever, panicked. Never, ever.
But she had.
A/N: Curious to read the reactions from the Charah crowd. Bwahahaha… 'there's so much blood'