A/N Play time is over.
"I'm trying to look at the silver lining for now."
"Wow, this is so cool!"
"I'm pretty sure they know about the Intersect."
"Ellie thinks you can pull that load."
She was in a van, alone. Chuck was on a mission, and she was his back-up.
No, that's not right.
Chuck never goes on missions. She has to keep him safe, so that he can keep her safe. How can she keep him safe in a van?
"Chuck is the greatest spy the world has ever known," said the radio. It sounded like Carina.
NO! Chuck isn't a spy!
"He has to be worthy of Sarah Walker," said the radio. It sounded like Charles.
Shut up! It's Sarah Walker who's unworthy.
"Sarah Walker is the most natural spy in the world," said the radio, sounding like Carina again.
She grabbed it off the rack and smashed it against the floor. Shut up shut up SHUT UP! The van started rocking wildly.
"We need Charles Carmichael!" screamed the radio.
I need Chuck Bartowski! She went to the door but it didn't move. She kicked at it, hurting her foot. OPEN!
The door slid open. Yes! It slid shut in her face. "Ah, ah, ah," said the radio, "No outside for you!"
She kicked at the door again, and it crumpled inward.
"Someone needs a smaller box!" yelled the radio. The other wall buckled inward.
Light came from behind her, and she turned. Through the grill she could see the driver section. Chuck was pounding on the windshield. Chuck! He waved, smiling that goofy, megawatt grin she loved so much, and–some men grabbed him and pulled him away from the van.
"There's Ring agents everywhere!" shouted the radio, as the back door caved inward.
Chuck looked at her, holding his arms out, saying something she couldn't hear. She pulled on the grill. She had to get to the driver's seat, had to save–the ceiling came down, cutting off the light.
Sarah woke to darkness, already sitting up. "Chuuuck!"
Something made a loud noise outside, and a large body hurtled through the doors of the room, bringing light in its–her–wake. "Sarah!" said Ellie, turning on the lights. The doctor noted the machines and their squiggly lines. The woman noted her patient's face, and squelched her doctorly impulses under an iron heel, running to the bed to enfold her husband's wife in a big sisterly hug. "Sweetie, I was beginning to worry."
Sarah pushed Ellie back to look in her face. "Chuck?"
"No, not yet. Casey put together a team…"
Of course he did. "Carina?"
Ellie shook her head. "Still in her box."
"Good." Sarah started to move, to get out of bed. She gasped in pain as she discovered what she'd done to herself, flexed her hand, her fingers still stiff from the swelling around the broken bones. "I screwed up, Ellie," she said, hobbling toward the door.
Ellie put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Sweetie, no…"
Sarah turned. "I got out of the van and the only thing I did was go after Carina and I let them get away with him–"
Ellie stroked Sarah's hair gently. "Sarah, they were ten minutes gone by the time you got out of the van, there was nothing you could have done. You went after Carina because you knew that."
Sarah looked at the floor. "I should have reacted like a spy…"
"Reacting like a spy did not get you out of that van, Sarah," said Ellie firmly, pushing Sarah's face back up with a finger under the chin. "You tore your way out of there because you are a woman in love. Sarah Bartowski did what Sarah Walker would never have tried to do."
Sarah took Ellie's hand. "I went too far. I chased my teammate and best friend into a jail cell and almost killed her anyway."
Ellie snorted. "I heard the recording. She had it coming, but she would have been only the beginning. Listen to me. You want your husband back, you go through anyone and everyone you need to go through to get him back. There is no such thing as too far. It is your job and your duty to go as far as you need to go, and mine too." She escorted Sarah slowly to the door. "Manoosh and I are part of the team, we're going to help you find the bastards who took my brother so you can do what you do best. I'll cheer you on as you go, but…I should warn you, I'll be patching them up after you're done."
Sarah smiled as the doors opened before her. "You know what, that actually makes it easier. In the old days I would have left a trail of bodies behind me and not looked back, but then Chuck…I care more, now. It hurts." She looked at Ellie gratefully. "Knowing you're back there, it'll hurt less."
Ellie smiled back. "Good. I'm glad it hurts, it means your soul is alive. It's supposed to hurt. Let it worry you, let it bother you, don't let it stop you. Look at Chuck."
"What?"
"All those years, the lies he had to tell and the promises he had to break. He hurt me, he wounded me, and he worried about it and it hurt him but he did what he had to do. And so will you." Ellie fixed a fierce stare at Sarah. "You're a Bartowski now, Sarah, and that's what Bartowskis do. Keep on acting like one."
He walked the streets, alone. He didn't look at the signs, they were all written in some language he didn't understand, the language of the City of Love. Out of habit he looked around as he walked, admiring the architecture, constantly checking the windows that had a line of sight on his position, a line of sight on–
He was going somewhere, his walking wasn't aimless. He had a goal, a destination, a purpose. He wondered what it was.
His foot kicked something, a slate, a tile fallen from somewhere, sent skittering across the pavement. He bent to pick it up. It had an odd shape, pointed on one end, round on the other, flat on one side, curved on the other. He looked around for a corresponding–There! A sign, with a matching mirror-image to the fragment he held in his hand, the other half of a heart.
It pulsed in his hand. The world echoed with the sound. Lub.
He heard an answering pulse, a beat to match the one in his hand. Dub.
His heart pulled him like a dowsing rod, and he knew where he was headed. The faster it beat the faster he walked, the closer he got the faster it beat.
He was sprinting toward the corner when he heard it, the small, sharp explosion, directed death.
He was sprinting toward the corner when he didn't hear it. His heart pulsed once and stopped, waiting for an answer that didn't come.
Around the corner it was dark, shadowing the body, hiding the blood that he knew had to be there. The body held a half-heart too, with a bullet hole in it. He touched his to hers, and they both crumbled together, dust to dust.
Daniel Shaw rejected sleep, opened his eyes, sat up straight.
"Well, at least you wake up quick, I'll give you that," said Casey.
"My apologies, Colonel, for dozing off like that."
Casey waved it away. "Forget it. The way I see it you haven't had any rest in–"
Five years.
"–thirty-six hours at least. You're due a little shut-eye. You're our eyes and ears, we need you sharp."
Yes. Have to stay sharp. Have to stay focused. Have to find Carmichael. Who killed my wife? "I analyzed the ping the other agents picked up."
"All business, eh?" said Casey. "Good, I like that." He sat as Shaw popped open his laptop.
"The most notable thing about it, of course, is that it happened at all. Mr. Grimes is completely correct, a capture of this magnitude should have been immediately removed from the playing field, yet it was not. The ping originated in a residential neighborhood, so the safehouse probably was a house, and the transport was likely just too large to fit under cover. This tells me that Carmichael's capture was a target of opportunity." Who gave the order?
"It tells me that whatever they have planned for him, they biggest and most important part of it is happening here. They need facilities that don't exist anywhere else." Otherwise they'd be long gone.
"Leader took the fewest chances possible with the prize, trading the possibility that we'd get a random signal against the deployment of a larger security team. They will not be taking him far, though. If you have any additionl information, Colonel, you need to share it with me. I can't analyze what I don't have."
"Not my call, Shaw. God doesn't have that kind of clearance, and I wish I didn't either. I've got a team putting together some specs, I'll share what I can when I get them."
Shaw shrugged. "Useful generalities will have to do, then. There are a number of suspect sites within the most likely radius from where the ping originated. Do we know where that is?"
Casey grunted. "We know where it was. The whole place burned to the ground, we saw it on satellite. They torched it on the possibility we'd get something."
"That's the Ring. No time for a cleaning crew. I should have seen this coming and warned you."
"You're kidding, right?" Casey looked at Shaw's still face and realized that no, he wasn't kidding. "Look, Shaw, there's only one analyst who can be held to that kind of standard, and that's the man we're trying to save. I should tell you some time about the multi-agency, multi-team freighter incursion he orchestrated."
Sounded like a nightmare just in the planning stages. "A good operation?"
"A thing of beauty. The only blood shed on our side was his own, and he was in the van."
"What happened?"
"Nose bleed. What can you tell me about these suspect sites?"
"I forwarded you his email. From what he told me, it sounds like our target will be underground, heavily shielded in all the conventional ways. I'm hoping that anything having to do with the Intersect will be unconventional in some way they haven't noticed yet."
Ellie looked up at Sarah while addressing the phone. "That's a good hope, John, but you have to narrow it down a bit more. Manoosh is putting together some sensors, but if this place is underground you're going to have to be practically on top of it to get a hit."
"Yeah, well, Shaw got paranoid after the whole house fire thing. He doubled his radius for any waste outlets, we got a few places to start with."
Sarah leaned closer to the speaker. "How do you know it's not legitimate waste?"
"They were in warehouse districts. We had the power shut off for a while and noticed no change in activity. You get us those sensors, we'll find you the building."
The transport chief stepped into the circle of light unhappily. "I have completed my assignment, Leader, Agent Carmichael is secured on site."
"We are aware of that," said Leader. "Just as we are aware that two of the members of your team are currently in Medical, being treated for injuries."
The Chief started to sweat, in spite of the cool air. "There was an altercation with Agent Carmichael in transit."
"You said he was unconscious. And restrained."
"He was, Leader. He still is."
"You're saying that two of your operatives were disabled by an unconscious prisoner?"
"He broke free of the cuff, Leader…"
"While unconscious?"
"Yes. The first we knew of it was when he reached up and grabbed Agent 42's head and broke his nose on the gurney. Agent 35's arm was broken when he went to help 42. After that we secured Carmichael's arm with extra restraints."
"With two men holding it down."
"Yes, Leader." The chief watched as a hand came down, and the shadowy figures decided his fate in silence.
"Beaten by a restrained, unconscious man? That's preposterous!"
"No, Four," said one of the others. "That's the Intersect."
"Yes, Leader Five," said Leader. "You have always vouched for its abilities, and you were correct to do so. We will continue with your phase of the plan. I hope we are prepared to take proper advantage of this windfall."
Five smirked at the others. "We are, Leader."
"What about him?"
Leader touched the button. "Chief, you have survived an encounter with Charles Carmichael, you are to be congratulated. You may go about your duties."
They all ignored the sweating man as he all but fled the room."You let him live after that?"
"Yes, he was incompetent, but to kill him now would endanger the plan. When the time comes, he'll be on the front lines." Leader stood. "I am going to see Carmichael."
After Leader left the room, Three held out a bill, and Two took it. "Sucker."
Charles Carmichael woke quickly, as he did everything, to find himself in a ten-point restraint system, wondering at the overkill. The tranq-induced hangover was expected, but his arm was sore, which was not. He was cold.
Someone entered the room, and Carmichael waited, listening. "I know you're awake," said whoever it was, "The machines don't lie." The table tilted up, and Carmichael slid down as much as his restraints would allow.
Charles opened his eyes, looked at the man, instantly dismissing him as an underling. Talking to him would be useless.
Someone walked into the room, completely covered, its identity utterly hidden by a cloak and a mask, probably the only comfortable person in the room. "Charles Carmichael, we meet at last." The voice was heavily disguised, a computer's voice.
"The last person who said that to me was my wife," said Charles. "I expect you'll be meeting her soon."
"All in good time." Leader waited.
Charles was content to wait, but the silence didn't have any useful intel in it. "Well, get on with it."
"With what?" said Leader.
"The inevitable monolog. Or are you of the 'bore me to death' school of torture?"
"Considering what you face now, if we do get around to torturing you, you will consider it a blessing."
If? "You expect me to die?"
"No, Mr. Carmichael, although you may not…live, exactly."
Not at all relevant. Keep him talking, help is on the way. "That seems wasteful."
"Priorities, Agent Carmichael. You're far more valuable to us as the Intersect Host."
Excellent, they were after a red herring. Now all he had to do was make sure they stayed on that path. "You can't force me to flash. There's no information you can get from me."
"We aren't after information, Agent Carmichael." The underling appeared in the doorway, nodded once. Leader gestured imperatively, and several men entered the room.
"Then what are you after?" asked Charles, as they set about readying his table for transport.
Leader approached as he lay flat, helpless. "We are after the Intersect itself, Mr. Carmichael. You have tamed it for us, and now we are going to…pick your brains."
A/N2 Mwah-ha-ha! Come on, somebody had to say it.
