Chuck vs Fate

by enigmamdw

The Intersect, Sarah, Casey and everything else government is finally gone. Chuck get's his normal life. Is it everything like he wanted? eventually will be shipper certified. Finale added, finally!

4. Chapter 3

FATE

Chapter 3

A/N: Some Teen Moments in this Chapter. Thanks to Wep for looking this over. Now with even MORE Charah! Enjoy!

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0003.5 A.L.C.

South America

Unknown

The bugs were worse tonight than she could ever remember. The sweltering heat was nothing like Los Angeles. Sarah found herself imagining she was there more and more often, well the place was irrelevant, it was a certain someone who she dreamed about. At least in California it was either hot or wet not both as the same time. Here, a shower would have been pointless even if she could have had one. Besides the obvious, what she missed the most was shampoo. She laughed a bit to herself, she'd been about to change it before Chuck had commented one day that he loved the smell of her hair. He called it, "The Essence of Sarah". His face had been buried in her hair, among other things, that morning. Sarah had at that moment decided that she'd buy cases of it so it would last her the rest of her life. Chuck's voice, touch and words at the moment had nearly sent her over the edge. Split ends be damned.

Sarah reluctantly ended her daydreaming of showers and shampoo, and Chuck. A delicious shiver slid up her spine at the lusty thought that ran through her mind. Head in the game Sarah. Head in the... Oh, great. It's going to be one those days...

Moving around the mud hut she'd begrudgingly begun considering 'home base'. She realized had even less personal touches to this dwelling as she did in most places. Mainly because those items she did usually have would have required electricity and mud huts just don't have those luxuries. It was observation that she wouldn't have made before meeting Chuck. In the past she would have given herself a pat on the back, noting the lack of personal attachment to the dwelling, enabling her to make a cleaner break if she had to leave without returning during an emergency. Personal touches made you an easier target. Now, of course, she wished for something, anything, to make it more home like. A picture of them would be perfect. Naturally, it would never happen. She didn't even have her phone with her here. It was sitting in a lockbox at the airport. Chuck had dumped a load of "cover" photos on it and she usually used them to comfort herself during missions. Sarah removed the small bundle of knifes she kept hidden under the rudimentary desk across from her cot and stashed them away on her body.

Heading out into the sweltering heat Sarah adjusted her hat to block as many of the suns rays from beating on her face as possible, glad for once that she didn't have the need for makeup down here in the jungle. Most people would argue she didn't need it, but it had always been something she'd done. It had been a distraction before missions, or simply a moment for herself in her ever increasingly complex life. Heading for the villages central hut she moved through the shadows as much as she could. It wasn't a spy thing. It was a heat thing. The less time in the sun the better. Her complexion got a much sun as it needed in L.A. This place had the potential to make her look old in no time.

Moving into the central hut she set about her daily routine, helping with village chores, networking with the villagers as much as she could and using her cover for one on one talks. It had to be her most ironic role yet, a missionary doctor. If they only knew her real purpose and what she really was, they would almost certainly label her a devil. Lucky for her she wasn't expected to do much but mend basic injuries, and runny noses. Diseases were considered a curse or destiny and weren't considered medical problems. Thank God for the lack of education. It had taken a long time to convince them she wasn't there to exploit them. Apparently the last "missionary" had been there to trick them out of the coffee and tobacco they cultivated. Her lack of religious motivation helped as well. The people in the village were rather attached to their particular beliefs. Still, they treated her with a mild distain and rarely opened up to her. If she was there for any other reason except her mission it would have been a pleasant arrangement. However, she was there to get information and it was proving most difficult to get anything of value. Sarah needed to get out and get an update, something to break this barrier of wills she was contending with. Unfortunately, if she left there was no way for her to get back into the village, and according to the intelligence this village was the key to the operation.

The Operation. The term used to hold the prospect of excitement, a chance to play with knives and dish out some kick ass all on the government's dime. Now it just held the potential for not returning to Chuck, more lost time, and lost experiences with the one she wanted to be with. With the way this is going I'll be here till I get out. Hhhmpf, I should be so lucky.

______

2009.06.03 A.D.

Los Angeles, CA

Classified

"So this is 'for my own good'? Do I look like a chump, General Beckman?" Chuck retorted to the General. "I'm sure this is for you're own ends. Everything you do is for you're own ends."

"Agent Bartowski, when you signed on to use the new Intersect and it's skills you knew this would eventually happen. We can't have you wasting away with your abilities in L.A. You certainly don't need handlers, we both know you could outperform both of them put together, and neither of them can know the extent of the abilities. As of midnight tonight I'm putting an official end to team Bartowski. You have till the morning to say your goodbyes. I'm sure you'll have some special words for Agent Walker. I know thats I don't need to tell you that communicating with her after this is absolutely forbidden. Only you and I know the extent of your abilities and we must keep it that way. Enjoy your night Bartowski and welcome to the real world. As per our previous discussions, from now on you will need to keep your flashes suppressed. Walker and Casey will be under the impression that you are Intersect-less as of midnight tonight." General Beckman finished with a curt nod and a press of the button.

Chuck had been prepared to make a retort of some kind but was cut interrupted mid-thought when the General mentioned the no-contact rule. He'd figured he'd never be able to tell everything to Sarah...but no contact, that was not in his five year plan. Chuck momentarily considered simply ignoring Beckman and her "for the greater good" orders but realized that he'd never get his "normal" if he and Sarah went on the run. No, he'd endure this CIA sanctioned purgatory and he'd pick up the pieces of their lives when they were both free to do so. Five years wasn't so bad was it? Hell he'd done it with Jill he could do it with Sarah. What they had wasn't something you found everyday. This was stuff straight from the romance section of the library. Hot and forever. Chuck knew that there wasn't anything that could change how they felt about each other. The love they shared couldn't be marred by time, terrorist, lies or otherwise. They'd already proved that. The last three years were testament enough that what they had, what they would still have. He be OK. Who was he kidding?! He was FURIOUS! Mostly because he couldn't do anything about but also because the timing couldn't have been worse. I wasted five grand on those vacation reservations!

He wasn't going to let either one of them waist what little time they had left together alone. Casey would understand if he didn't get a goodbye. He's probably already on his way back to Beckman, anyway. If she talked to me then she's either getting ready to talk to him or already has. She'll tell Sarah in the morning.

Well, we'll always have L.A.

Chuck laughed at the irony in his last thought. He'd heard quite similar words come from Bryce directed towards the very same person. A shadow of doubt momentarily crossed Chuck's clear sky's of trust. Was what Bryce and Sarah had the same as what we have? Do I have the same doomed attraction to Sarah? I'm essentially doing exactly what Bryce did to her. I'm leaving without a word or reason, withholding truth and trust. This is what I get for trusting the damn government. Pain and suffering. Those two things should be standard issue, disclosed with the initial sign on, so you know what's coming. Chuck stopped his negative train of thought. NO. This is the best for everyone involved. Neither of us can have known attachments. With, what we will undoubtedly be doing it would be a major liability. We will simply have to wait for our time.

Chuck called Sarah as he moved though traffic, he spoke through the ear piece when she picked up. "Hey Sarah, close shop were going out. I'll pick you up from the OO in a couple of minutes. Change into something comfortable. We're going for a drive. I love you, Sarah. I'll see you in a bit." Hanging up the phone a small grin crossed the goofy agent's face.

Even with the prospect of not seeing or hearing from the love of his life for the better part of a decade it could mitigate the joy of just seeing and being with his Sarah. Pushing the away all thoughts of tomorrow Chuck planned to make this night special. I'm such a sappy romantic. Chuck dropped his new bike into gear and left a decent line of rubber thought the whole intersection. He has somewhere to be, lights, stop signs and traffic be dammed. Ellie had been ashen faced when he walked through the door in his new leathers. She hadn't known that his motorcycle riding skills were beyond impeccable. "Chuck you know what we call crotch rocket riders in the ER?! Organ donors! Chuck it's not safe to ride a bike!" It had taken a whole night of damage control and an hour of demonstration in a parking lot before Ellie calmed down enough to accept his new mode of transportation. Come to think of it Sarah hadn't been all that excited about it either. Lucky I was able to explain that the Intersect had kicked in for him with her. She probably would have slashed my tires or something...

Chuck had been dubbed "the phantom shadow" by several of the local law enforcement groups. The Sheriff's Office had a standing, albeit off the books, payout of a thousand dollars for the officer able to write Chuck a citation. They didn't know who he was of course. LAPD had a 'detain on sight' order for the bike riding daredevil as triple digit runs through heavy traffic didn't seem to phase the rider a bit. Chuck laughed internally. The two woman in my life would have my balls if they knew it was me... oh crap more LAPD. Time to get a move on. Dropping his wrist and down a gear the bike rocketed forward splitting between two trucks, his back wheel sliding slightly as he re-corrected and shot off an offramp. Chuck of course wasn't playing fair, besides his unnatural riding abilities there were several systems on board to keep his record clean. The license plate changer and live local law enforcement feeds routed to his helmet to name the big two. Of course there was always his jacket. He'd been particularly proud of that purchase, as it could change both the colors and patterns on demand with a press of a button. Thank god for new technology. It wouldn't matter if he got pulled over anyway. Intersect 2.0 may have screwed royally with his fate but it did come with a pretty cool consolation prize. The super useful CIA red striped 'Get out of Jail Free' card. Beckman would be beyond herself with rage if she knew he was 'The Phantom Shadow'. Hell, he had his own Intersect entry, complete with a blank grey and black profile with unknown stamped on it and possible ties to the ever expanding high speed drug running trade in Southern California. He did hold the CHP camera time stamp verified record for fastest transit from US/MEX border to the Los Angeles City border. At an average speed of 125 mph he would have been able to do it in one hour and ten minutes but he'd gotten held up in San Diego by some pesky spike strips and had to take a slight detour. With a final time of one hour, ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds it was the official sanctioned/unsanctioned CHP record. He'd even made the news and, to his chagrin, the CHP's most wanted list. He suspected that Casey had figured him out by now but he'd never said anything.

Pulling up to the OO Chuck's grin started fading a bit. This is the last time I'm going to visit Sarah here. Chuck's throat caught in short sob. The prospect of living without Sarah started creeping though the walls he'd built around the idea. Chuck quickly shored up the leaks in that particular dam and yanked his helmet and jacket off. Leaving the bike on it's stand and entering the store front. A stab of panic hit him when the woman behind the counter wasn't Sarah, but quickly remembered the part time employee recently sent to them to cover the more frequent mission profile Team Bartowski been conducting recently.

"Hey Jessie, how's life in the OO? Chuck asked.

"Oh, you know, full of mystery and intrigue. How's it going Mr. Carmichael?" Agent Jessie chimed at she heard the infamous agent's voice.

"I'm good. Sarah's downstairs?" Chuck asked as he headed past the counter after a quick check around the lobby to make sure no one was around.

Jessie nodded in agreement to Chuck's query as he stepped past her with his big assed grin on his face. She watched him disappear into the freezer. There is something very 'b' list horror film about the amount of human traffic going through that damn freezer.

Regardless, it's too bad Agent Badass' sexy ass is already taken. I'd so take that thing for a spin or two. After several very inappropriate thoughts finished playing out in her head Jessie resumed her methodical re-cleaning of the counter tops. These are probably the cleanest fast food counters in existence.

Chuck slowed his gate as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Sarah must be back by the holding area. Chuck nearly collided headlong with Sarah as he rounded the corner leading to the detention cell hallway. Chuck slid to the side just in time and reached out with his arms and spun Sarah around before she'd hardly noticed he was there. "Hey sexy. You ready to go?" Chuck said in his lowest mock sexy voice, starting his eyebrow dance as he let go of her enough for her to look up into Chuck's face. Chuck noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes before she schooled them into submission. She already knows. Hopefully she doesn't say anything. A genuine grin washed over Sarah features and she rose to her toes to plant a slow kiss in Chuck's lips. "I'm always ready for a ride with Mr. Bartowski." Sarah said suggestively. Drawing herself up against him, grinding herself against his groin slightly, her breasts brushing against the thin material of the UnderArmour shirt he always wore under this jacket. A small groan escaped both Chuck and Sarah as he returned the kiss with several well place pecks, drawing a torrid line down her neck. "I'd tell you to save it for later, but...." Sarah said, pausing to look around and point to a nearby desk. "...that looks steady enough."

Chuck spun her around so she was facing the door and pointed at her helmet. "Uh,uh. Casey may not be recording but he's probably watching. I've got a little more planned tonight than a quickie on the desk...now...go get your helmet. We're going for a ride."

Sarah spun around in Chuck's arms, gripping his waist and pulling him back towards her slowly writhing her hips against his, she responded, "Damn right we're going for a ride. Now, I've been serving ice cream all day, you better carry me over there or I'll start without you. You remember what happened last time you refused me?" What little resolve Chuck had before Sarah had turned on him dissolved as her hands strayed south of the border. "You're ruining perfectly good dinner plans..." The rest of Chucks words were muffled between the two ample pieces of female anatomy currently enveloping his face. "Nuvver...min...dish is mush bebber dan bimmer." Chuck managed to mumble before he gave up completely trying to speak.

___

Casey nearly coughed up a lung as the monitor in his living room switched though the cameras in the Castle. The multiple views of Chuck and Sarah trying desperately to make babies wasn't helping as he searched for his remote. You'd think that would bother me anymore...and thank god for the CIA's anti-baby addition for it's female agents. I don't think I could handle an overly hormonal Agent Walker. Casey thought to himself as he was finally able to locate and use the remote to switch off the video feed. Casey had all but turned off his system when General Beckman's face appeared on the screen in front of him. He was still quite pale from his coughing fit when Beckman began her brief.

"Colonel Casey, I'm not sure why you're out of breath and I'm sure I don't want to know, so we'll skip it." That woman doesn't miss shit.

"Yes, ma'am. Please continue." Casey responded coughing one last time, some color returning to his cheeks.

"Project Intersect is over, Colonel Casey. Tomorrow morning Chuck's upload of the Intersect will expire. It will permanently overwrite itself as scheduled, leaving Mr. Bartowski with only his memories of the events he participated in. He has already been briefed and a nondisclosure agreement signed. You will be in charge of his subsequent five year renewals or that document. As of midnight tonight you will cease your surveillance and prepare to return to D.C. for your next assignment. As long as nothing goes wrong between then and now you'll be receiving your pick of assignments. Any questions can wait until you return to D.C." Beckman began moving her hand in the direction of the cut off key. Casey spoke up before her hand reached it's destination, determined to find out just a little more.

"Roger that, Ma'am." Didn't see that one coming... "If I may ask one question now? As the lead on this team why wasn't I briefed of this before hand?" Casey asked somewhat skeptical of the explanation given him for the termination of Project Idiot.

"I suppose I can answer one question. Colonel Casey, as you know, we continued the Intersect project after the latest destruction of the physical copy. We had intended to update Bartowski and keep him active, however numerous attempt to recreate the cipher have failed and it's not feasible to expect the same results as you currently enjoy once Chuck is without the Intersect. Due to the incredible amount of cooperation he has shown he'd been given a free pass and will be allowed to return to his life along with a sizable check to encourage him to keep his mouth shut. If there are no more questions." The screen went blank.

Holy crap, glad I didn't get a kill order. I don't think I could kill the bastard anymore. I guess there's nothing to it. It's time to pack up. Thank god, no more happy hour at the Bartowski residence.

______

"Will you hurry up. You're worse than me." Sarah chided Chuck who was still putting himself back together after their impromptu session on Casey's work station. Take that you old fart.

"Yeah, yeah, these leather pants are just a bitch to get on." Chuck said as he finished re-situating himself. "Ok, lets hit the road. Well, not literally, that would hurt. We'll just stay on the..."

"Chuck..." Sarah said interrupting Chucks spinning dialog, "...you still babble like an idiot."

"Sorry. Let's go. We're late." As Chuck followed Sarah up the stairs her hand in his. "If all goes well neither one of us will forget tonight." Chuck said as they moved out of the OO and toward the waiting motorcycle. I have a feeling neither one of could forget it if we wanted to. I won't, as long as I live.

______

0002.3 A.S.L.

Austrailia

"The Bush"

It was later than he planned. His damn guide had taken longer than normal to dose off to sleep. He would preferred to just tranq him and get on with his mission but he needed his alibi to have a clear head in the morning. It was unlikely he'd need it but that didn't mean he would leave loose ends he if didn't have to. Chuck picked up his pace a notch, he was only just short of running flat now. Two more miles to go.

Moving though the brush Chuck silently approached his first target. Concentrate. Nearly a dozen good agents died trying to get into this facility. Chuck wasn't actually worried, he more of a ghost than a man when he wanted to be. Chuck was standing next to the first guard before the guard realized something was different. His moment of realization was too late. He never saw the face of his killer, he just head the whisper of his own breath seeping out with his blood through the newly sprung hole in his right lung. Chuck embraced the guard as the life ebbed out him, sliding him to the ground slowly. The soft rustle of fabric the only noise. Leaving the man where he lay he moved to his next target. This was a search and destroy mission, no one left alive that didn't get flashed on in major way. Using the outer edges of feet as he jogged up to his next target, Chuck thanked the gods for the windy night. The wind masked his movements and his sounds when he did make them. It would speed up the assault significantly. Making adjustments to the time on his improvised explosive devise he placed it on the main entrance to the mostly underground facility. Placed strategically it would cause significant structural damage to the entire upper floor of the lair. Setting the charges timer off he sprinted for cover and around to the emergency exit that was sure to have several bad guys pouring out of it momentarily. The lookout here was, as expected, alert and observant. Observe this. The black powder coated throwing knife arced through the air silent and invisible. Striking it's target square in the jugular he fell to his knees as he his life was choked out of him by his own blood. A moment later the dead lookout lay face down in his own blood, the outline of a man hovering over him, checking fir life as he withdrew the weapon from the dead man's neck. The figure slinked back into the shadows and around to the emergency entrance. He checked his watch. Four minutes. Moving quickly chuck set up a series of wires and small explosives and trips. Satisfied with the trap he moved back into the tree line above the escape tunnel. Two minutes. Momentarily accessing the Intersect he overlaid the schematics for the base, remembering that more than a few men had died for the information. Don't worry guys you're deaths are not in vain. Picking the best place for his remaining charges he set then for in a sequential sequence and activated his remote detonator. forty-five seconds. He needed only thirty. Moving again into shadow he slid up behind the last man above ground. Feeling a bit cocky Chuck stood up behind his target, knife in hand ready to slice outward. "Boo" chuck whispered into the man's ear. the guard spun around preparing to fight off this invisible foe. It was too late. As he spun on his feet the knife in Chuck's hand had sliced up through his leg, torso and though the man's armpit. The guard dropped to the ground as he simultaneously lost control of his weapon the controlling tendons having been sliced from their anchoring point. The man gasped as the pain seared through his body. Chuck leaned over and whispered in his ear again as the man bled out. "That's for my friends." Chuck ghosted back into the night.

Counting the last seconds before the welcome package went off, Chuck shuddered. He hated what the Intersect made him do. It took over, he never felt totally in control when the instincts from the Intersect kicked in. He was afraid for his soul. The memory of the last agents blood spurting out onto the ground, the light of the moon turning it into a black, shiny oil like color, cause Chuck to wince momentarily. Still can't actually stand the sight of blood. Three....two....one.

The explosion blasted gloriously into the silent night sky, spewing chunks of metal, plaster, wood and dirt dozens of feet into the air. Chuck heard the groan of metal grinding on itself as the shaft collapsed in on itself a moment later. Let's see if you've been running your emergency drills like you're supposed to.

It turned out that they did and it was well executed, unfortunately for them. Chuck glimpsed the stream of bad guys moving toward the entrance through the open door as the first agent moved to what he thought was freedom. The photographic memory the Intersect afforded him allowed Chuck to cross check the amount of targets he saw with the active list stored up in his head. Only missing one...nope...there he is. Waiting for the first unlucky victim to fall into his trap he moved silently forward to be within throwing range in case his traps weren't as lethal as planned. The smaller explosions were nearly as loud to Chuck as the welcome package due to their proximity. Several of his targets fell into his traps as he hit the remote detonator. The last explosions were from downward shaped charges, mostly muffled by the dirt they blasted through. the muffled explosions ripped into the escape tunnel maiming and crushing the rest of them in the exploding debris. Chuck gave the debris a moment to settle before cautiously approaching to ensure his targets were neutralized. Approaching the closest victim he noted how very dead the rest of his body was laying about five feet away. The other targets were under enough rubble that they were unreachable or obviously dead. Standing up from his inspection he moved toward his exfiltration spot. He would stay in the area for a few minutes to ensure there were no loose ends or targets. Pulling out a monocular thermal imager he scanned around the perimeter of the target area. No one left alive. Cataloging the mission progress against the original mission parameters Chuck added a completed note along with his mental notes regarding specific kills and methods and moved the file from active to archive. His Intersect download would relay any info Beckman wanted to know when he got back to L.A. That one was easy. Too easy. Chuck brought up the file again and added that note to the file. Mission wasn't beneath me but any agent worth his salt could have done that. I'm turning into Beckman's errand boy. There will me none of that.

Chuck mourned the loss of yet another piece of his soul as he picked up his pace back to the campsite.

___

0003.4 A.S.L.

China

Beijing - American Embassy

"Agent Brantley..." Chuck continued a dangerous edge to his voice. "I hope you like cold lonely places. Do you normally try and blow the operations of deep cover operatives?! I have to change my ENTIRE mission profile now. There are more cameras in that terminal than you can imagine, with microphones I might add. Now every Chinese agent from here to Russia knows I'm here." Agent Brantley let out a silent breath along with a prayer that this super secret operative didn't tear his heart out, still beating. Chuck left the frightened and thoroughly chastised station chief alone in his office. No doubt it was going to be a bad day for anyone who worked for him, if he left his office. Chuck though he may have soiled himself when he'd leaned forward, revealing a set of throwing knives.

The call to Beckman had been equally scathing, the upgrade on his passport had royal screwed the pooch. Chuck was especially pissed as it was his new one that had only existed for a matter of days. The weeks of hard work that he'd put in to make the extensive personal history necessary for his operation was now completely useless. It would take months of sitting around waiting to get this fixed.

"General Beckman. Secure."

"Agent Black. Secure."

"What it is Bartowski? I'm late for a Joint Chiefs briefing." Beckman responded with her usual display of dismay at being bothered.

"What is it? Are you serious? You modified the mission profiles passport status. Honestly, why? Did you think I just needed a challenge? Because of your "upgrade" my mission has been set back likely a month or more." Here I thought I could relax a little and get away from this crap.

"If that's all you called to say Bartowski, I'm surprised. You sound like you have everything under control despite your, setback. Proceed with your mission. I'll inform you of the change that's now on all your passports when you return to the states and can access a up-tiered secure portal. I'm late. Call me when the mission is complete." Beckman's end of he line went dead.

This is such crap.

Does she know this is a fake mission? She can't possibly know. Sigh It's like fate hate's me. What did I ever do to it? Chuck moved back into the hallway after his quick conversation with the General. His 'mission' had been a contrived mission to 'observe' a high level North Korean intelligence office apparently on vacation in China. In reality he was simply creating a safe haven. Another in a series of safe houses created under the radar. The posturing with Beckman was necessary to ensure she didn't dig into what he was doing here. It had in fact worked entirely in his favor. With the Embassy running around trying their best not to get in the way of the 'mysterious and angry super agent' he was left to his own devises. Once again the Intersect would be useful. Understanding the myriad of dialects in the surrounding area was quite useful. The locals were highly appreciative to converse with the visitor in their native tongue.

Besides the opportunity to further his ever expanding network of exotic getaways, these 'missions' were an opportunity to be subversive and annoying to General Beckman. He didn't hate the poor woman, he just loathed her. Chuck didn't really have a hateful bone in his body, but something about that woman, excluding what she'd done to him and Sarah simply drove him freaking nuts. He had tried for so long to label it as her being a 'general' but after his exposure to many other forms of 'higher' leadership he realized she was just, well, a bitch.

____

0003.9 A.S.L.

South America

1757.2 S 6353.5 W

Chuck landed gracefully, sliding his chute through an opening in the jungles trees. The black parachute undulating from it's brief use. Damn CIA can't do their own dirty work. I was in the middle of a NICE climb up a NICE mountain in a NICE wilderness, on the OTHER side of the globe. Beckman SO owes me for this crap. Another mission in middle of nowhere and more souls to constantly berate me in my sleep. Awesome! If his thoughts had a voice they would dripping in sarcasm.

Pulling the release tab on his parachute Chuck took hold of the strings anchoring the chute canopy to his back drawing them in and together into a bundle. He stuffed his favorite parachute back into the release pocket glad that it hadn't snagged on any of this cursed jungles tree branches. He quickly stuffed the chute and the pack into the mission bag hanging between his legs. Detaching the mission bag from between his legs he fished out the gear he required for the first leg of his mission. This is just awesome. I go from sipping hot cocoa at twelve thousand feet to sipping malaria medicine spiked water a two thousand feet in less than six hours. Ah, the joys of being a damn super spy.

The lead analyst in his midair briefing had explained that the agent on the ground had recently partially failed a psych profile and couldn't be counted on to finish the job. Why on earth do you put a psych profile agent into a deep no extraction situation?! The analyst had no good explanation for the situation and had pulled out the old fallback excuse. "It wasn't up to him." "You'll have to talk to my boss..." Blah blah blah...no wonder you never made into field work, no back bone.

____

3 km North North East of 1757.2S 6353.5W

Sarah moved into position above her target. The small circle of vehicles contained a small fire and five men in the various stages of drunk, sober, sleep and awake. Only one of the men seemed alert, however he seemed a bit fidgety. New guy. Sarah counted the targets below her. Four and a half. New Guy wasn't going to be a problem Sarah figured. She sat cat like on a bend of an old tree trunk her eyes black pools of concentration. She mentally checked her weapons as her hand strayed across her body confirming her mental inventory. Weapons, check. She flexed limbs check flex and strength of digits arms and legs. Body, check. She began to play out the scene that would momentarily play out twenty yards away.

A flash of black moved out from between the shadows just below her and paused head cocked to it's side, almost like it was letting her seen him. How long was he there!? It didn't stay put for more than a second. It moved quickly up to New Guy. Standing next to the man like he belonged there. Part night, part one of the guys. New guy suddenly jerked slightly, his mouth opened in shock in an attempt to call out and register the pain springing from his side. That was my plan. Flinching slightly considering joining the shadow in his game. A game. She had thought she'd seen the trace of a sardonic grin cross the shadows grease covered face. Sarah moved silently closer to her prey. She needed to confirm the kills the shadow saw ironically making for her to add to her own mission debriefing. She didn't intend on letting this unexpected visit leave without introducing himself.

The shadow was tall. At least as tall as Chuck. As she moved she caught a glimpse of the shadow again. This time his eyes met hers. They were black as nigh, the pupils completely dilated to allow as much light and detail in, hiding the true color of his eyes. The shadow nodded slightly in her direction before melting into the night. Did he know I was here the whole time? She slowly moved toward the inner side of the circle she noticed the men as they had been before the shadow had visit, except...they were all dead. Impossible. He was only here for thirty seconds, tops. Continuing cautiously forward towards the bodies of her targets she confirmed her suspicions constantly scanning the edge of the clearing for any sign of the ghost that had just visited her. She had planned on knives for the first two and the gun for the last three as pandemonium would have already ensued by that point. This eerily silent ending of five lives was unnerving, no unsettling. Who was that? Why did he appear at the same time I did? The director was going to have to explain some things when she got back.

_____

One hour ago

Chuck arrived just south of his target and silently set up his observation spot. He noted the shadow of the agent he was here to bail out perched across the clearing, a woman. I'll have to leave her a note. Chuck's distrust of his employers didn't rest solely in the his own chain of command. Anyone in Intelligence was likely spinning something, using and abusing it' assets at a whim. He wrote a quick note down on the waterproof paper he kept in his mission clothes. He set out around the clearing to deliver the note. Stopping momentarily he slipped into the circle of cars and added a little extra party favor to the coherent men's drinks. He cursed himself as he nearly lost his footing on an empty bottle. Guess they've been at it for a while. Lucky me. He moved along the edge of the northern most car and dispatched the sleeping man with a small cut to the jugular. His snores would cover the gurgling the noise emanating from his throat before he died in his sleep. He glanced up at the apparently distracted agent still perched in the tree oblivious to his movements. He couldn't blame her.

During his recent performance evaluation he'd infiltrated the CIA headquarters during a full Delta+ security lockdown, and placed a 'pron bomb' on the Director's desktop. No one even knew he'd completed his infiltration until they had given up and the Director had returned to his office. No doubt, to send a scathing letter chock full of political 'neener-neener' regarding his apparent failure. Only then as he signed onto his computer did the Director discover how poorly they'd done to stop Chuck's infiltration.

The light not gleaming off his favorite knife, he cleaned and re-sheathed it ensuring his sleeping target had indeed moved on to the next world as he watched his other targets drink to their deaths. Removing his fingers from the dead man's neck he started for the edge of the clearing again. After pausing once again assuring himself that the agent was unaware of his movements he began the painstaking trip up around and behind the agent. Psycho or not the agent wasn't going to be as easy to sneak up on as his normal targets. Special care would be needed to ensure she neither saw, heard or smelled his approach. When he had finally circled around his target and moved into position just behind her he stopped. Holy crap. Someone needs a damn shower, noting the perched agent's strong slipped the note into the leg pocket of the mock fatigue pants after slowly working open the buttoned enclosure and let himself drop silently down below her on the jungle floor. After waiting nearly twenty minutes for the drugs he previously put in place to take their effect on the men sitting within the ring of vehicles he moved though the grass in front of the agent, pausing once he knew he was in her sights. No need for a startled agent shooting me in the back. After he was sure she'd seen him he continued on to finish off his last target.

He didn't know why he liked standing next to his targets before ending them. Maybe it was some kind of twisted way of giving them a last moment. He held the agent as his last breath seeped out of the wound just above the second rib. When he was certain he was dead he slid into the center of the vehicles to ensure the rest of them had moved on. After quickly checking for pulses on the four men he moved through the light of the small fire as he reached the edge of the clearing, checking momentarily for the other agent. He noticed her silhouetted against the jungle light, apparently fixated on the dead men in the center of the vehicles. He caught her attention as he moved for the cover of the tree and nodded to her. Glad to help Agent Psycho. Enjoy the rest of the night. Now...back to my vacation. I wonder who that was.

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The present

Sarah moved away from the circle of cars in somewhat of a daze. Never in her eight years had she seen such a proficient hit. Not only had he been there when she arrived and remained unnoticed by her but he had taken out five targets while she was still processing his first movements. She bent down to check the laces on her right shoe. It felt loose. As she bent down she heard the crinkle of paper in pocket. It was then that she noticed that her pocket was unbuttoned. I didn't leave you like that. She used a small pen light to peer into her pocket, leery of what was in it. The only thing she saw was a piece of paper. After considering she pulled it out. Realizing that the shadow hadn't just been below her he'd been right next to me. Unfolding the piece of paper she read the cryptic message though the red filtered rays of the pen light.

"The Director doesn't trust you." The words weren't the shocking part. Even the fact it had made it's way into her pocket during the mission without her knowledge didn't much matter. It was the fact that it was written phonetically in the local tribes dialect and signed...

"-CB"

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A/N: FEAR NOT! As we return to the present, mostly, in the next chapter more puzzles will emerge! More CHARAH too! But wait! Review now and we'll DOUBLE the CHARAH. A Huge value for the price of a review!