Title: Discovering Omaha 7/?
Author: dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: For Chuck, it's a chance encounter. For Sarah, it's a mission. But what happens when the spy remembers she's also a woman and the man realizes he could be a spy?
Author's Note: When I was writing Chapter 5, I realized I had left out an important plot point that would end up playing out in this chapter and Chapter 8, as well as affecting the rest of the story. That caused this story to become longer by two chapters, but I hope you enjoy the thought of getting more time with these versions of Chuck and Sarah. Happy reading, and thank you for all your feedback!
XXX
The message had been waiting in Sarah's voice mail when she came back from her weekly Sunday session with Chuck.
"Agent Walker, this is Director Bentley. According to your schedule, you have tomorrow afternoon free. I'd like to have a meeting with you, say around two o'clock. Thank you for your time."
She had listened to the message three times, trying to determine if there was any hidden meaning to this, or if anything could be inferred from Bentley's voice. Even though it all seemed innocent, she couldn't help worrying.
The grapevine at Project Omaha was just as effective as the ones at the Farm or Langley. Word had gotten around about Chuck's reluctance to use force, and it was seen as a black mark on his record. And she wouldn't let that mark stand. But she knew how resistant he was to hurting anyone.
It had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done, convincing him to learn how to use weapons. She hadn't wanted to do it. She'd felt another stab of guilt, like the one during the candidate selection meeting. Once again, she had held his life in her hands, and she'd made a decision based on what was best for her career. Not pushing him to use force made her look weak.
It had felt like a betrayal of the friendship they had slowly built over the last six weeks. It was so wrong to think of Chuck using a knife or a gun. She had tried to justify teaching him weapons skills, telling herself it was about her career, about his progress. But in the moment he had said that friends didn't surprise their friends, she realized that teaching him how to throw a knife wasn't about making her look like a better instructor. She wanted him to learn because she was scared he'd get hurt if he didn't know how to protect himself. She didn't want to lose him.
He was . . . he was special to her. He helped her laugh, made her open up about things she rarely talked about. He was so talented and focused, yet also empathetic and kind. She'd never seen anyone who could balance such different traits so effortlessly. What was more, he had a life outside of being a spy. He had a sister he was devoted to, a best friend he was always talking about, and he still had his sci fi movies and comic books and indie music. She didn't understand any of those things: having family to care about, enjoying something beyond well-sharpened knives or an air-conditioned hotel room.
He made it all look so easy. She was hoping they'd have time for her to figure out how he did it. Maybe once Omaha was done, and before she went into deep cover, they might-
She shook off the daydream before it could start. This meeting with Bentley worried her. There was only two weeks left in Project Omaha, and it was becoming clear who the lead candidates for the mysterious experiment were. If Chuck was the recruit selected . . .
Sarah took a deep breath. There was no sense in worrying about what she didn't know and couldn't control. She would go into that meeting and be the person in Chuck's corner. She would defend him against any criticism and fight for his best interests.
It was what a friend did. And she was determined to be the best friend she could.
XXX
Sarah walked into Director Bentley's office, her head held high. She nodded to the director, who gave her a Mona Lisa smile. "Agent Walker, it's good to see you. Please, have a seat."
"Thank you, Director," Sarah said, sitting down and crossing her legs. She had chosen her clothes carefully, wanting to project the best possible image and have some extra confidence.
Bentley had a folder opened on her desk. Sarah sensed it was Chuck's, but she stayed quiet until Director Bentley looked up at her. "So, Sarah. You've had a lot of contact with Agent Bartowski. What are your impressions of him?"
"As an agent, or as a candidate for the Project Omaha experiment?" Sarah asked.
Director Bentley chuckled softly. "Insightful, as expected. Let's speak more generally. Do you think Agent Bartowski would be a success in the field?"
Sarah took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Yes, I do."
The director raised her eyebrows. "In spite of his reluctance to defend himself?"
"He is perfectly willing to defend himself," Sarah replied immediately. "What he is hesitant to do is strike out, to shift from defense to offense. Given his intelligence, I find it likely that he would be able to think out an escape from situations that other agents would fight their way out."
"Such a strategy is a higher risk," Bentley commented.
"True, but isn't the CIA all about reward versus risk? Agent Bartowski's approach is riskier, yes. But I believe it would be more rewarding."
Bentley flipped over a few pages. "Can he be trained to overcome such tendencies?"
"He's already begun studying the use of throwing knives, ma'am," Sarah said. "With your permission, I'd like to alter his schedule and substitute weapons training for one of his self-defense classes."
"That's very interesting," Bentley said, leaning back in her chair. "You've moved him on to weapons training? How did you accomplish that, if I may ask? After all, a weapon does inflict bodily harm, and that's something Agent Bartowski hasn't been willing to do, according to reports."
It took all of her willpower not to let her feelings come through. "Agent Bartowski and I have built a rapport. I was able to explain to him the necessity of learning how to use various weapons, if only for his own protection." Sarah paused, searching for the right words. "He's still uncertain, yet I feel he's adjusting to this new point of view. And he's giving this training his full attention, just like everything else he's learned here."
"I'm glad that you were proactive in addressing this challenge, Agent Walker," Director Bentley said smoothly. "It speaks well to your talents as an instructor."
Sarah inclined her head, accepting the compliment. She was pleased, but she couldn't help feeling like there was a trap being set. Whether it was for her or for Chuck remained to be seen.
"I approve your request to change Agent Bartowski's schedule-in fact, he's to drop your self-defense class entirely and replace it with weapons training. That will serve him in good stead, and leads us to the point of this meeting: Agent Bartowski's Red Test."
It was all she could do not to gasp at Director Bentley's words. A Red Test? For Chuck?
She swallowed. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Bentley raised her eyebrows. "If Agent Bartowski is to be a field operative, it's required that he take and pass a Red Test. You were aware of this, of course."
"Of course," Sarah said, hearing a tiny tremor in her voice. Yes, she was aware, from her own experience. The memory of her Red Test, performed less than a year ago, flashed through her thoughts before she ruthlessly shoved it to the back of her mind.
If Chuck was to be a field agent, he had to take a Red Test. Had to kill someone, in cold blood, accepting whatever reason the CIA told him for the execution of another person.
Her mind raced, realizing that Bentley wasn't saying anything. "If I might ask, ma'am . . . I've heard discussion about the Project Omaha experiment, one that will require the services of the best recruit here. Would the selected recruit be expected to take a Red Test?"
Bentley's face was implacable, Sphinx-like. "I suppose it's to be expected that word about the Intersect has gotten around. Yes, Agent Walker, this 'special experiment', which is known as the Intersect, is the real work of Project Omaha. And soon, an agent from among the recruits will be selected for this experiment. As far as the matter of the Red Test . . . it is expected that the Intersect Agent will have to take one."
Sarah nodded slowly. "So it seems Agent Bartowski is the front-runner to become the Intersect Agent, if he's being prepped for . . ."
"One could make that assumption, yes." Bentley looked at Sarah directly. "Agent Bartowski is certainly the most promising candidate. He's the recruit everyone's been talking about since we saw his high rate of visually-encoded data recall. Graham has wanted to accelerate the project from the start; if he had his way, Bartowski would already have the Intersect by now. But I knew it would take time to get Bartowski ready for this assignment."
"I . . . I would agree, ma'am," Sarah said, her whole body feeling cold.
"And that's where you come in, Sarah," Bentley said briskly. "Get Bartowski ready for his Red Test. Train him on weapons, impress upon him what his duty is to his country. In a week, he'll be told about the Red Test and his selection as the Intersect Agent. Do not reveal any details of our conversation to him before that meeting. Is that understood, Agent Walker?"
She licked her lips, trying to moisten her dry mouth. "I don't believe that will work, Director. I . . . let me talk to him about the Red Test. Warn him."
Bentley shook her head. "No, Agent Walker. The time for kid gloves is at an end. We need him strong and tough, and if he can't handle this, then perhaps he's not the right candidate after all."
"He is," Sarah insisted. "But if the whole point of Project Omaha is to think outside the box, we can't keep trying to force the agents back into the same old box. Whatever this Intersect is, it's enough of a test for C-Agent Bartowski. He'd be serving his country by participating in an untried experiment; isn't that a fairer judgement of his skills and mindset than asking him to kill someone?"
"Your objections have been noted, Agent Walker. I'd be willing to bend this rule-" Bentley held up her hand to forestall Sarah's interruption. "But I'm not the one to make the rules. I will consider what you have said, and pass it along to Director Graham, General Beckman and the rest of the decision-makers."
Sarah silently cursed bureaucracy and red tape.
"Again, keep this information to yourself," Bentley said. "If Agent Bartowski thinks he might get out of a Red Test, it could crush him if the powers-that-be insist upon it. I don't want to risk this project by losing our number one candidate. I'll keep you informed." Bentley gave her a curt nod of dismissal, and Sarah stood up slowly and walked out of the office.
She focused her eyes on the floor, trying to keep her breathing under control against the storm of emotions swirling inside her. In a daze, she walked back to her room and changed into a pair of shorts and a jog bra, then headed for her classroom.
Once inside the room, she locked the door behind her and took a few deep breaths.
Chuck. Sweet, kind Chuck, with the nerdy references she didn't understand and the softest eyes she'd ever seen, would have to kill someone. Would have to become a hard, tough killer.
He'd have to become her.
Sarah whirled around, punching the dummy squarely in the solar plexus. She peppered it with punches, then stepped back, breathing hard.
Her Red Test had been last December, in Paris. She hadn't let herself think about it since then, because . . . because it had been the moment when everything changed. The moment she had fully committed to being Agent Sarah Walker. She had thought before the Red Test that being a CIA agent was what she wanted, that she was prepared.
After the test, she knew that there was no other option. Because otherwise, she would have killed a woman for nothing.
She walked past the dark-haired woman. She looked so . . . normal. Not like someone who'd turn on the CIA, on her country. For a moment, their eyes locked, and Sarah realized she couldn't do it. She couldn't shoot this woman, even as her hand tightened around the gun in her coat pocket. She got a few steps past the nameless woman, feeling flickers of shame and embarrassment. What would happen to her if she didn't complete her Red Test? But then, a reflection showed the woman reaching into her purse for something. Sarah whirled around, her instincts taking control. Without thinking, she aimed and fired. The woman fell, and Sarah stared at the body sprawled across the sidewalk.
Sarah had never found out what the woman's crime was. She didn't even know her name. Graham had assured her that all agents found their Red Test challenging. He had said that it was best to put it behind her. And that's what she had done. She had done her best to forget about it, to steel herself against her feelings.
But she wasn't made out of steel. Something had changed in her since last December.
She bit her lower lip, feeling her heart beat faster. No-no, no, no. She wouldn't think about him. She couldn't think about that.
With a grunt, she began punching the dummy again. The only sound was the thwaps of her fists and feet connecting with the rubber and her panting breaths. She tried to tell herself that she was just working out her frustration, eliminating her anger. Purging her emotions.
It was all a lie, though. She was lying to herself. Once upon a time, she would hit the heavy bag or throw punches at a practice dummy to deal with an annoying classmate or a difficult assignment.
But today, her solitary sparring was to escape herself.
She was under orders to prepare Chuck and keep quiet. If she valued her future as a CIA agent, that should be what she did. Keep training him, reassure him, help him. And not breathe a word about the Red Test.
But with everything she was, she wanted to tell him. Wanted to warn him. Wanted . . . wanted to tell him about her own Red Test, about the feelings she had. She wanted to tell him things she'd never told anyone. Not her father, not Graham.
"Hi-yaaah!" Sarah yelled, punching the dummy so hard it fell to the floor. She sucked in a breath, realizing for the first time how long she had been attacking the dummy. Her hands were red and stinging almost to the point of numbness. Sweat poured down her forehead and into her eyes, glueing clumps of hair to her neck and temples. And her legs felt shaky, barely able to support herself.
She dropped to the mats, grimacing at the grit that stuck to her damp shoulders and back. But she was too tired to move. Staring up at the ceiling, she let her mind go blank. She was so tired of thinking. Ever since she had met Chuck, all she had been doing was thinking and feeling, and she was just so tired . . .
Sarah closed her eyes. She forced herself to slow her breathing and relax her knotted muscles. Oh-so-slowly, she felt the tension begin to drain out of her. As that happened, her mind began to settle and stopped spinning.
She could tell Chuck. She could go against Bentley's direct order and explain what a Red Test was, to give him the time that he needed to process it. That was one of the things that was special about him: he thought things through. He didn't rely on his instincts; he didn't trust them most of the time. He had to examine a problem from different angles, making sure he understood the situation before even trying to come up with a solution.
If he had time, she could help him get ready.
Telling him, though . . . he would freak out. He'd get scared, and start doubting himself. Maybe she shouldn't tell him. Maybe it'd be best if she kept quiet, for his own sake-
Sarah took a deep breath. No. No more deciding for him. She had done that to him twice: when her positive evaluation had gotten him selected for Project Omaha and when she had convinced him to begin weapons training. In both cases, he had no idea of the reason for her actions. Didn't realize how much she was manipulating him.
The very thought made her breath catch, and touched off a wave of disgust towards herself. She didn't want to manipulate him. He didn't deserve that. Not because he was a fellow agent who was full of potential. But because he was Chuck, and he was her friend.
She still wasn't sure if taking his Red Test was what was best for Chuck. If seeing him as a full field operative, doing the kinds of things she did, was what she wanted for him. But it wasn't her choice. It was his.
And she owed it to him to tell him the truth. To talk to him, to explain all the aspects of the test. To even talk about her own Red Test and the emotions she had felt. To explain how she still hadn't fully faced what she had done, and how it changed you as a person.
Even if it made him stop being her friend, if it meant the end of that light in his eyes, the one he had when he looked at her, she would tell him the truth.
XXX
On Tuesday mornings, Chuck usually stopped by her office for a few minutes before his first class. She always liked seeing him first thing in the morning, his face still a bit soft from sleep, his mind a bit slower and thus more like a normal human's brain. As he talked about the previous night's training exercise, she watched him. Watched the way his eyes danced and his hands moved. Noticed the leanness of his body and the way he held himself with confidence.
The cowardly part of her said to put off the discussion. To enjoy this last chance to spend time with Chuck, before he could potentially hate her. She was still struggling with it when Chuck stopped in mid-sentence.
"Oh, hey! I got something for you."
Sarah looked at him in confusion. "What?"
He grinned at her. "I got you something. Well, it's more of a loan, actually." He turned to his messenger bag and opened it up, rummaging around before pulling out a battered paperback book. He proudly held it out to her.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
"Remember from Mexico? I asked my sister to send me my copy, because I thought you might like to read it. I'm convinced there's a nerd under your really nice exterior, and if Douglas Adams doesn't bring out your inner nerd, then nothing will and then this theory will be proven as completely wrong and maybe this was an awful idea because you're not talking . . . hey, Sarah? Earth to Sarah?"
She looked up at him blankly at the sound of her name. As soon as she had read the title of the book, she found herself back in Mexico, sitting on a beach and listening to him talk about this book, about how much he enjoyed it and how important it was. He was full of passion and life and energy, and it had taken her breath away. Made her forget about what she was supposed to be doing there and wish, for just a moment, that her cover was the truth.
Sarah hadn't been prepared for that memory to resurface or for her sudden, unexpected, and incredibly badly-timed realization of why that memory affected her so much.
Chuck was staring at her, looking more worried by the moment. She had to say something, put his mind at ease. She managed a smile.
"Sorry-my mind wandered off there for a minute."
"I didn't know you let your mind do that," he said, his head tilted to the side.
"Sometimes," she said, her mind racing. "Hey, Chuck, what class do you have now?"
He frowned at her. "Covert operations, why?"
She got up from her chair and picked up her windbreaker. "Because you're going to skip it."
"Skip it? Sarah, I've never skipped class in my life-"
"There's a first time for everything, Chuck," she said, pulling on her windbreaker. She looked up at him and spoke quietly. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
He searched her face for a long moment, looking uncertain. "And it can't wait?" he asked cautiously.
She shook her head, and she could see the indecision in his eyes clear up. "Well . . . okay," he said. He set down his copy of Hitchhiker's Guide on her desk, then looped his messenger bag over his torso.
Relief and fear warred within her as she lead Chuck out of the building. She needed to find someplace outside, away from any potential listening devices, but they also couldn't draw too much attention to themselves. She considered the track, but neither of them were dressed for running. That left walking around the base sidewalks, or . . . the museum! McClellan had an aerospace museum, and there were a few outside exhibits, complete with landscaping. The two of them could find a quiet spot to talk.
"This way, Chuck," she said, leading him towards the museum building. Within a few moments, they were walking past World War II-era planes parked on the tarmac. She walked fast, not wanting him to get distracted by the planes and the informational signs. When they reached a wooded path, lined with benches, she walked with him to the farthest bench and took a seat.
She looked up at him, patting the seat next to her. He sat down slowly, looking nervous. Like he wasn't sure what was going on. But he was going along with her, because . . .
Sarah bit her lower lip. She hoped he trusted her. And she hoped what she was about to tell him wouldn't destroy that trust.
"I wanted us to get away from everyone before I talked to you about this, Chuck," she said softly, looking at him. She clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap.
"Okay . . ." he said slowly. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
Sending a silent plea to the universe to let her do this right, Sarah took a deep breath. "I have to tell you something. And . . . and it's against orders for me to tell you, but-"
"What?" he said, sounding shocked. "Sarah, you can't do that!"
"Chuck, you don't understand-I have to tell you this. I . . . I don't want to manipulate you."
"Manipulate me?" he asked, sounding confused. "When have you done that?"
"You . . . you know," she said, feeling shy. "On Sunday, with the knife training . . ."
His expression cleared. "You think that was manipulation? Sarah, no, I don't feel that way at all."
"You don't?" Sarah hadn't expected that. She thought he might resent her for forcing weapons training on him, for making him confront something that he was clearly uncomfortable with.
"No, not at all," he said, moving a bit closer to her on the bench. "Maybe you didn't do it in the best way, but-but you're right. I need to learn how to use weapons, even though I don't want to. And at least I know that with you as my instructor, I'll be prepared for anything. Because . . . because you're awesome."
She searched his eyes, looking for any signs that he was holding back on her. But all she saw was belief. Belief in what she said was the truth, belief that she would help him. Belief in her, period.
It made her insides feel warm and syrupy, having him look at her like that. Like she was full of goodness, when it was really him who was good and kind and honest. She couldn't help smiling at him, needing a way to share this wonderful strange warmth.
He smiled back. "Okay? No more talk about you manipulating me. Because we have to talk about you disobeying orders to tell me something. Sarah, you don't have to do that-I don't want you to risk your career . . ."
"I don't want to do that, either," she said, trying to match his honesty with her own. "The CIA is all I have. If I lost that, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
Chuck looked at her, worry in his eyes. "All the more reason for you not to disobey orders."
"I know, but . . ." She let her words trail off and looked at him. Looked at how the sunshine fell over his face, at how strong and secure and safe he seemed. She knew that appearances could be deceiving, but they weren't in this case. Chuck might react to unexpected situations by babbling and acting like he was paralyzed by fear, but she knew that reaction would pass once he started thinking. As he analyzed the situation, the fear would become manageable and he'd use that amazing mind of his to come up with something brilliant.
She didn't want him to feel exposed and vulnerable in front of Bentley and everyone else, when he was told about the Red Test, about being the pick for the Intersect. She wanted him to feel safe.
"Chuck, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you about the meeting I had yesterday with Director Bentley."
His mouth opened and closed, his eyes widening. When he found his voice, he stuttered a bit. "W-what?"
Sarah looked at him, then quickly swept her eyes around the area. Seeing no one, she slowly reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. His skin was so warm, and she could feel the muscles in his arm, the strength that he wasn't fully aware he had. She gave him a small smile.
"I think you deserve to know the truth, and . . . and I'm willing to take the risk."
He stared at her, looking at her as if she had just given him the world. And deep inside, she let herself enjoy this feeling. The sense that after all these years, she wasn't alone. She had someone who cared about her. Not as an agent or a pawn in some giant game, or who liked her because she was attractive and toned. No, she had someone who cared about her, about the person she was, and he didn't expect anything in return from her.
Chuck cared about her, and it was the best feeling in the world.
For one long moment, she focused on remembering this. Then, she took a deep breath.
"Have you ever heard of a Red Test?"
Chuck's forehead wrinkled as his eyes narrowed. "A Red Test? No . . . should I have? Is this something I missed on the first day of spy school?"
Sarah shook her head. "No-no, it's not something that's talked about at the beginning of training." She paused, trying to think of how to explain this to him. "Chuck, why do you think so many ex-military types end up in the CIA and NSA?"
"Umm . . . their fighting prowess?"
She gave him a small smile. "Close. It's because they follow orders. With Marines or SEALs or Army Rangers, there's no need to convince them that they should follow orders without question. They already understand that."
Chuck nodded slowly. "Okay, so following orders-that's good."
"In the eyes of the CIA, yes." Sarah licked her lips. "The Red Test is the way the CIA judges how willing you are to follow orders."
He sat back on the bench, but he kept his arm still so her hand didn't fall away. "I don't really understand where you're going with this, Sarah."
She swallowed. "I know. I'm sorry. This . . . this isn't something I like to talk about."
His eyes were warm and soft as he gazed at her. "Did you have to do it? This Red Test thing?"
Sarah nodded. "Last December."
"What . . . what makes the Red Test different from anything else?" he asked, his voice soft. "From any other set of orders to follow?"
She gazed back at him. This was the moment when she took away a chunk of his innocence. When she gave him the truth and let him decide what to do. She wasn't sure what would happen, but she knew that she would do everything she could to make it easier for him.
When she spoke, she kept her voice low. "Chuck, in a Red Test, you're ordered to kill someone."
End, Chapter 7
XXX
Author's Note Two: Worried about Chuck's reaction to this? The next chapter picks up from this point, so while there isn't a preview, you know that Chuck's going to have a lot of feelings about Sarah's revelation.
