Married2

Day 70

"Morning." Casey rolled over and kissed his personal physician 'good morning'.

"You talk in your sleep, John. You talk a lot. I think it would help you sleep easier if you talked to a professional, off the books, of course." She knew Casey well enough to know he'd never 'officially' see a therapist but maybe she could arrange a coffee session and let him see it's not as bad as he thinks it is.

"Ellie, I couldn't talk about the stuff that might be bothering me, assuming anything was, because it's all classified. The NSA has shrinks and if I get in trouble or you can't sleep (he tickled her lightly), I'll contact one of them, I promise."

"I just hate seeing you wrestle with your demons when something might be done to put them to rest. You're very dear to me, John Casey, and your well being is important to me. Live with it. It's called the 'Nurturing Physician Syndrome'.

He sighed, knowing he was beaten before the battle even began. "I'll contact an old NSA buddy and get a recommendation, Ellie, I promise."

"Good. Now, that was a weak good morning kiss. We're going to practice until you get it perfect, starting right now…" The female giggling and male laughter died out as other sounds replaced them.

Winter, Nevada (Maybe)

Their apartment had 12 units in it but only 4 were occupied. Working and living in one of the most closely-guarded facilities in the world had its advantages and disadvantages.

'Going out for the evening' meant getting together with other 'special operations agents' at either their place or one of the other agents' apartments. They were not permitted to leave beautiful downtown Winter, Nevada. In fact, they were forbidden any interaction at all with any of the other facility personnel. They were the 'elite' and kept apart.

The town of 200 residents was a Combine 'retreat'. Chuck never saw a child or anyone under the age of 30. And it was HOT despite its name. Hot all year round according to the locals. Strange thing about Winter was that he didn't see that many old farts either.

"Jill, I'm going stir crazy. What did we do for entertainment before I lost my marbles?" They were sitting in the air conditioned 'club house' nursing some evening booze and talking with the other agents. Several were in the pool but the water temperature was more like bath water after exposure to the sun all day.

She got up from her seat on the couch and walked over and plopped herself down on his lap and nibbled at his ear and he lost his train of thought. She whispered that they spent most of their 'free time' either exercising or in the hot tub or in bed.

"Y'know, Chuck, that little problem you had back at Stanford disappeared and I have to tell you, honey, you make me a very happy woman as often as you can." She ran the tip of her tongue around his ear and giggled when he shuddered.

"Keep that up, Jill, and I'll take you right here. You know how that turns me on. It always did. Let's go back to the apartment and I'll make you happy again. It's my goal in life."

She ran out of the clubhouse leaving him wondering how he got so lucky. The doctors responsible for monitoring his head injury were very pleased with his physical progress and less bothered by his memory loss attributing most of it to 'trauma-induced amnesia'. To Chuck it was a 5-year hole in his life that he desperately wanted to fill with memories.

For the past months all Chuck had done was training, physical conditioning and weapons qualifications plus the almost daily intel briefing with Casey over the phone. He wore gadgets that transmitted telemetry readings on all his systems back to the medical unit to ensure he didn't 'stroke out' as a result of his injury. He'd lost a lot of his stamina and physical strength while languishing in a coma. Casey wanted him in optimum shape before taking him off the leash.

Jill was a frequent spectator at his training sessions and sparred with him after his regular physical defense training. He was making great progress and Jill was thrilled and lavished him with praise.

"Damn, Bruce Lee, you tagged me good with that one." He'd knocked her on her butt with a spin kick to the chest. He didn't hold back when sparring and he wasn't at all concerned with hurting her.

"C'mon, big boy, nap time. Then we have our run and then we're free until Monday."

Bartowski Quarters
Restricted Units

"Y'know, Chuck, we have a 30-day leave coming up in 4 months. I thought we could maybe spend a week in Burbank and a week up in Seattle with my parents and then the rest of the time down in the Baja. We could go back to San Ignacio del Mar and 'recreate' our honeymoon. Please, Chuck? I really miss seeing Ellie and my folks are getting on up there and I don't know how much longer my dad's ticker is going to hold out."

"Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart." She snuggled up closer to him and sighed. "Good. You can clear San Ignacio with Casey once we get firmer dates. Since it's a secure facility, we can't just drop in and get a bungalow on the beach."

"So you and Ellie, um, you two are, um…"

"Best Friends Forever? No, not after what I had to do as my Red Test. It took forever for her to let me back in. We don't really talk about that time, honey, and you can understand why she was so hurt. Thank God the General let us bring her into the loop or she would never have forgiven us."

"Red Test? Ellie knows about the intersect and the spy stuff?"

"C'mon, honey, please, I don't want to rehash the test. I almost lost you forever and I…it's hard, Chuck, please?"

"Jill, I have memory holes in my head. I know people here that I don't 'know'. I can't remember US! Help me out. It's driving me nuts, Jill. I have these flashes of memory, almost like visions complete with sound and feelings, and I don't remember any of them. It's like watching bits and pieces of different movies and none of them make sense!"

"Chuck, calm down, please! I'll get you a pill. You have to keep a handle on your blood pressure. You're still not out of the woods. We'll have to stop by Medical in the morning and have you checked out." 'Shit, he's having flashbacks! He'll need another conditioning session in the tank and then some hypnotherapy. I need to distract him for now.'

"What's wrong with me, Jill. I can handle it. Why can't I remember things? Why don't I know our past?"

She sighed and propped herself up so she could look him in the eyes. It was for effect but also to gauge his reaction.

"Portland. We never should have taken on the mission. You had doubts but Sarah pushed for us to run the op. Even Bryce had his doubts but she just pushed and pushed and got her way as usual. Casey finally caved even after you two had that knock-down-drag-out when you told him to 'fuck off, it's too risky'. But whining Sarah pushed Bryce and the pair finally convinced Casey."

"This is hard for me, honey. So many things happened and none of them were good. I'll tell you, but you gotta promise, Chuck, not to interrupt me. I'll tell it my own way and in my own good time, agreed?"

He nodded his head but wished he'd kept his mouth shut. From the look on her face, this was going to be hard for her.

We drove to Portland carrying our mission load-out in the van. No support in Portland and we didn't, OK, you didn't trust the Seattle office to be mole-free. Sarah drove, of course, and you and I just sat in the back and talked. That's when I told you I was pregnant. It wasn't the flu, Chuck. I was almost 2 months gone. And you were so happy and I'd been afraid you would be mad since we hadn't really planned on a baby for a while.

The target was a suspected computer node, ill-manned and supposedly almost empty at night. It was out in the middle of an industrial park and we did a quickie recon and then gained entry. That was the easy part.

Chuck noticed her breathing had quickened and she had sweat beads on her lip and forehead – a sure sign she was under stress. She'd been like that when he'd confronted her… he wasn't sure what he was thinking. Another brain fart memory.

They let us get all the way in before they slammed the doors on us. Bryce went down first, a shotgun blast to the face. Sarah was hit in the legs and you rushed the squad of attackers, grabbing Sarah by the web gear and dragged her back to our position. That's when you got hit, honey. I thought you were dead! I freaked out and started spraying the area and I dragged you out by your webbing because you were too heavy to carry.

I couldn't go back for Sarah. I miscarried pulling you out. They – they killed her. The backup team came roaring up, took out the Fulcrum agents and got you stabilized but Larkin and Walker were dead and I was bleeding badly. I'm sorry about it all. I killed our baby girl, Chuck, I killed her!

She cried and sobbed, on the verge of hysteria. He calmed her down as much as he could but finally dialed the Medical Section on the internal apartment phone and asked for a medic.

He felt devastated. He'd been the reason they'd lost the baby not Jill. It had been his fault. His and those two stubborn team mates who were killed. He should have listened to her. He should have listened to his wife. He promised himself then and there to always listen to her. She'd almost bled to death and she'd lost her baby – all because of him. The guilt machine was in full swing as he convinced himself he was responsible.

He held her the entire night even though he knew the sedative would keep her sleeping through a nuclear war. He just didn't want to abandon her. He wanted to hang on to her and never let go.

Jill woke up cuddled against his chest. He'd held her the entire night and she felt a surge of emotion for him she hadn't felt in a long time. She needed to be careful, to be professional and avoid any emotional entanglements that could ruin the mission.

"Chuck, I got to pee, baby. Please let me up. Chuuuck!" He groaned and let her go, shivering for a second when the breeze from the room air conditioner wafted across his chest where her warmth had been.

She slipped back into bed and pulled the blanket over her. He slid down beside her and found himself with his arms full of a warm and naked wife with definite objectives that did not include sleeping.

"Oh, Chuck, it's been so long since we've made love. Please, I need this, you big stud, and you need it, too. It's been two whole nights and I feel so damned horny."

"That long, huh? Well, time to end the drought." She giggled and then wiggled and he slipped into her warm and wet grasp and her muscles clamped down and he was totally lost.

"Jill, no condom. Wait…"

"You're right, Chuck. No condom. It's baby-making time. Every night and at least once during the day, maybe more. We're going to have our baby and be a real family. Then we're going to ask for desk jobs and let someone else save the world. Team Chuck will be benched indefinitely. No risks, baby, no risks for either of us. Oh, I love you so much…" Some time later they fall apart from one another, sweaty and sated.

She was out of breath, gasping and sweat-soaked. "Oh, my God, Chuck, if that didn't knock me up, I don't know what will. You were so…"

"Shhh. Calm down. Catch your breath. That was incredible but I don't want you to feel like you got some obligation to have a baby, Jill. We'll have one when we're supposed to. It'll happen. God, is it this way every time? I can't remember. You've fried my brain…" He laughed.

"Shower then we have to run you through medical. It's a new protocol for you. 'Any agent returning to duty after any downtime injury will be examined before and after an operational action for a period of 90 days.' That's an exact quote from the regs."

"That's dumb but then most of them are. Fine. Ladies first and then we'll head on over to the commissary and grab breakfast and then do the medical thing. Damn! I suppose that means they take blood, doesn't it?"

"Chuck Bartowski can face down hordes of screaming Fulcrum agents and the occasional terrorist but he's petrified of a little needle!" She ran to the shower before he could exact his tickle revenge. She knew him so well.

While Chuck went through 'medical', Jill checked in with a physician.

"I need thirty or so 'morning after' pills. I shouldn't need to take them all that often but the mark is pretty damned sexy and really great in the sack."

The doctor looked at her and grinned. "If there's anything left of him, Dr. Roberts, drop him off at my quarters. I'll take good care of him."

Jill smirked wondering if the woman knew just how little would be left of him when they were finished with him. He'd be mindless and sent back to his team as a warning. It was never their intention to kill him. It was always their intention to drain him of all his knowledge of operations and intel and then throw him away.

She felt a pang of guilt and pity. The entire project had been her idea from the beginning and she'd carefully manipulated people and events until Team Bartowski was tasked with infiltrating the cul-de-sac operation where Fulcrum recruited and tested new and defecting agents.

The work of months culminated in a simple download of subliminal suggestions and the implantation of 'Trojan Horses' in his subconscious under the verbal prompt of Prometheus. One phone call executed the micro-download and he was theirs. From that point on it was simple conditioning, memory alteration and eliminating or suppressing any memories of certain operations.

She waited in the hallway for Chuck to finish up with his physical. She knew he hated needles and would bitch the entire day about having to have blood drawn and receive 'inoculations' against various and sundry ailments. In fact, he was receiving very mild psychotropic drugs that would enhance his 'pliability' and acceptance to suggestions.

She'd be sleeping alone tonight. It was time for another twice-weekly therapy session he'd never know happened. Chuck would spend the night receiving another piece of his Fulcrum-provided history. She'd miss his enthusiasm but she was a Fulcrum operative and had no room for such thoughts. Still, she was amazed at how little foreplay she required to be wet and ready for him. There was just something about everything he did; every touch, caress or kiss went right to her soul and clit.

APR