TheGame11

T/N: See A/Ns at end. Thanks. NF

But still there is so much left unanswered
For so many innocent lives
"Shelter" – Sarah McLachlan

He had the rest of the day to do nothing so he pulled the dailies from Beckman's secretary and took them to a secure workroom where he reviewed them in great detail. The CIA had finally brought 'their' files up to date and there was about 6 months of data to review.

He was about to call it a day when he noticed some technical reports relating to the development of a new bio-poison that mimics fatal diseases by some independent researchers that the CIA thought was a very interesting addition to their armory of poisons, gases and toxins. He asked Beckman's secretary to request additional information of the process and to add it to the dailies when it became available. Sometimes he surprised himself with his own degree of morbid curiosity.

He picked Laura Pope up at her apartment and they went to a small restaurant she'd recommended earlier. It was Italian and was owned by the family that ran it. The food was excellent and the conversation flowed easily between the two new friends – except that one of the friends was manipulating the conversation, pushing it in the desired direction.

She asked if he'd like to come up for coffee but he said he had an early morning appointment but that he'd see her in the canteen. There was no awkward silence regarding the good night kiss. She leaned over and kissed him and promised she wouldn't pour anything on him in the morning. He smiled and left, not feeling at all like Chuck but rather a lot like he imagined Bryce felt. The difference was that Larkin didn't care at all for the people he made collateral damage. Chuck did.

They met again the following morning on her break and she asked him if he'd like to have a home cooked meal instead of eating in an expensive restaurant. 'I'm no Domestic Goddess in the kitchen but I've been living on my own since high school and you learn to cook out of necessity' she'd said.

Since it was Friday and they both had the weekend off, they made plans for Saturday also. Chuck had never been to the National Zoo and she thought he'd like it. They had a plan. Chuck's plan was to wake up Sunday morning with her and then spend the day doing 'dating' things before explaining he was leaving for a while on an assignment. Hopefully she'd taken the bait by that time.

It almost worked out that way.

Arthur Graham had an itch and he wanted to scratch it so he called his newest 'friend' and asked her to meet him at the apartment. He'd bring dinner and they could spend the night and Saturday doing anything she'd like.

Laura was very upset about the last minute expectations and told him so. She had plans that couldn't be changed. He'd need to consider her schedule in the future before making plans of his own. She still believed that there were feelings there for her. She didn't know Graham had perfected his technique in field situations.

"Bartowski."

"Chuck, it's Laura. I'm terribly sorry but something's come up. I have a friend of the family who's come into town unexpectedly and will be staying with me over the weekend. I'm sorry, but I need a rain check on the weekend? Please?"

"Hey, sure thing. I might just drive down to Philly and check up on the son of another agent who passed away. I promised I'd keep in touch with him. He's stuck in some military boarding school. His family is strange. The kid's been there since he was 6." There was a lot of truth in what he said. It was weird…and mean in Chuck's opinion.

"I'm really sorry, Chuck. I was really looking forward to it, too. Maybe next weekend? Please?"

"I'll have to leave it open, Laura. The Agency doesn't really allow us much time for a social life but yeah, assuming I'm still around and kicking, next week's good for me." Inside he was pissed. Damn Graham.

She could tell Chuck was irritated but there wasn't much she could do about it. She needed Graham's help if she was to get out of the clerical and into the analysis side of the intel business. He said he would help. And he was very appreciative of the information she'd passed on to him. He said 'politics' kept him from knowing things the NSA knew that could keep his agents alive. The politics kept him from knowing critical information.

She didn't understand why the agencies couldn't share intel as innocuous as personnel changes, home addresses and travel schedules for NSA agents to make sure the agencies weren't operating in the same areas and avoid 'stepping on' each other's operations. 'It all benefited the greater good,' Graham told her.

Chuck filled the week with mini-downloads, reviewing intel reports, meetings with the Project Intersect programming team and hours-long sessions on the ranges or in the gym.

It was late Wednesday evening and he was leaving for his quarters and another night of reading reports or banging away at a game he'd been toying with but had set aside when Mira came into his life. Beckman's admin assistant brought him the reports he'd ask for on the CIA's new bio-poison. He put it into his briefcase with the other reports he needed to read and thanked her and left.

NSA HQ
Thursday

He was waiting in Beckman's outer office at 6am when the General arrived. She took one look at him and knew her day's schedule was gone before she even opened the office door.

"Agent Bartowski, I haven't even had my coffee yet and here you are, ready to destroy my mood and day. What is it that is so damned important it couldn't wait for…"?

Chuck shoved the extra large Starbuck's special blend that the General sucked up like oxygen all day and nodded toward her door.

He remembered when he and Mira had been in this office. She'd been so afraid of the little general.

"General Beckman, the CIA has been field-testing a drug that mimics fatal events such as coronaries, pulmonary embolisms, blood clots and….strokes. Here is a list of their field tests. Note the locations in May and the 'clinical trial' expectations and actual results."

He knew when she reached the point in the list he had. She noted the date, time, location and 'method of delivery' and the information that could be determined from public sources.

"They murdered Agent Miranda Dawson. They missed me. I had had a stomach virus and passed on the 'free pizza' they delivered as a promotion. They killed my Mira, General Beckman, trying to get me. They murdered a citizen of the United States, an agent of the NSA, and it's no more than a footnote in a damned report."

General Beckman sat back in her chair, coffee forgotten. The look on her face was one Chuck didn't recognize.

Fear.

Thursday
10am

Chuck managed to 'bump' into Laura Pope again in the canteen. They stopped and chatted for a few moments about what they'd been up to since they'd last spoken. Chuck didn't bring up their broken date and he could see she was desperately trying to bring the conversation around to 'what are you doing this weekend, Charles?' when his cell rang.

"Excuse me, I have to take this."

"Bartowski."

"Casey. Carina and I are flying in; we'll be there this evening. Beckman briefed us. I'm sorry, Chuck. I had no way of knowing."

"I'll pick you up. What time will you be getting in and on what flight?"

He jotted down the information in his Day Timer and disconnected the call.

"Laura, I have to pick up someone at the airport this evening but would you like to have dinner Saturday night?"

"I'm calling in my rain check. Dinner, my place, 7pm. Dress is very casual. And Sunday, I want to take you to the National Zoo, Chuck. Make up for last weekend, OK?"

"I'd like that. See you then." He watched her walk away. If she'd seen the look on his face she might not have been so enthusiastic about her upcoming date and, hopefully, sleepover.

BWI
10:30pm

Chuck met his partners at the baggage claim. Carina thought he looked 'haunted' while Casey thought he looked – like an agent. He'd changed.

Carina hugged him and asked him how he was doing. She knew that the discovery of the attack on him and the murder of Mira was like tearing a scab off a healing wound. She was worried about her young partner. She couldn't begin to imagine how this must be ripping him up inside.

Chuck told his partners everything he'd accomplished so far. Casey just nodded but Carina asked a million questions on the drive to HQ. Casey had anticipated this and sat in back trying to ignore the whole thing. He'd asked her not to do this but 'Mama Bear Carina' was out and about and Casey knew not to get between her and her partner.

"Tell me what you done so far, Chuck. How's the 'screwing her brains out' coming along?" She'd been against it from the start.

"Fine. I haven't gotten that far. Graham interceded and she hared off with him for the weekend. Tomorrow night I'm having dinner at her place and she wants to take me to the National Zoo Sunday. She implied a sleep over and I didn't dissuade her. A lot depends on our meeting with Beckman in the morning and my 'option 2' plan. Casey you'll like it. Carina will, too. It's simple and elegant. And he'll never see it coming until it hit's him in the chest."

They met in Beckman's office at 7am. Carina was not a morning person so she drank one of the two Starbuck's special blends he'd picked up for the General. It never hurt to be prepared.

"Agents, Bartowski's discovery and documentation of the new substances in the CIA's arsenal are very disturbing. I can point to at least four 'natural deaths' in the CIA power structure within the last two months that were totally unexpected. Graham is not above killing his political opponents to advance his own personal agenda or that of his Federation employers. He must be stopped but we have insufficient proof to have him arrested."

"We are going to assassinate him, instead." She nodded towards Chuck who took over the briefing.

"The General has obtained small quantities of the substance for 'testing'. It resembles salt so it's extremely easy to transport, infuse and distribute. It is water-soluble and can be used intravenously. It breaks down in the body within hours of ingestion and is untraceable."

Casey interrupted. "You're going to assassinate the Director of Operations of the CIA? Are you people nuts? That's – that's treason!"

Beckman answered for Chuck. "Was it 'treason', Colonel, when you shot General Winslow and stopped him from retargeting and launching the missiles under his command after 9/11? No. And neither is this. There is sufficient circumstantial evidence to link him to the deaths of 147 people who worked for him or other arms of the government."

Casey looked shocked that she'd break secrecy on such a high-level 'secret'. Carina didn't say anything at all, just had a knee jerk reaction to hold his hand that she quickly stifled. Chuck said nothing. He knew about it but hadn't known that Casey was the shooter. He knew tons of innocuous secrets that would sicken John Q. Public if they ever saw the light of day.

They outlined the plan and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief when Casey nodded his acceptance. Neither of them would play a role in the event. Lesser-known NSA personnel would handle it and then return to their deep cover operations elsewhere in the world.

Chuck had argued violently with the General and only acquiesced when she agreed to ignore Laura Pope's involvement and quietly transfer her away from the DC area and promote her to a training analyst position. He'd wanted to pull the trigger, stick in the knife, drive the car, plant the bomb, whatever was going to be used. He'd have to settle for reading about it in the newspapers.

Saturday evening

Laura Pope had called Chuck's cell at least five times and each time it went to voicemail. She could take the hint. She quit calling and concentrated on normal things in her life. Perhaps she'd see him Monday at work. She hoped so.

Sunday afternoon

The plotters again met at Beckman's office. The players were all in place and nothing remained to be done. Except two or three things that Chuck Bartowski planned on bringing up over the next four days before the 'event'.

Beckman looked at Agent Bartowski. He wouldn't be an agent for much longer. That was part of their agreement. He'd stay until the operation was complete. Then he'd no longer be necessary. The NSA would take control of the CIA's version 2.4 and Bartowski would work with NSA programmers to 'tweak it' and then the human intersect would simply…cease to exist as would Chuck Bartowski.

There were parts of Thursday's 6am 'meeting' that Diane Beckman would like to forget. She refused to accept his decision. She didn't share his belief that version 2.4 was the ultimate product of Project Omaha although she did understand his motivation. He no longer wished to be involved with the intelligence operations, at any level. He would resign as an agent.

She told him that resignation was unacceptable and the knowledge in his head was too valuable to allow 'lose'. His response was classic Bartowski.

"Execute Kappa Epsilon partition drop. Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execute…"

"Stop! You don't know what you're doing. Please, stop. You shouldn't even be aware of those protocols. Who told you?" She was extremely disturbed. The protocols he'd initiated would 'erase' the intersect and also 'erase' Chuck Bartowski's personal memories and personality. He was that determined to be free. Obviously detention was not an option, not when he merely had to recite a series of instructions followed by a series of numbers.

"I am the intersect. You'd be surprised what I know." His tone of voice had been commanding and decisive laced with the usual Bartowski sense of humor. "It was logical that I'd find my own personal 'off switch'."

Her thoughts were drawn back to the current meeting.

"Chuck, I don't think that's advisable. She's not 'receiving visitors'. She wouldn't even see me and I've known her for years."

"Make it happen, Agent Hansen. Agent Bartowski's request is quite understandable under the circumstances. This afternoon would be best."

"But General Beckman…"

"Carina, I said 'make it happen'. That wasn't a request."

Sunday Afternoon
Saint John's Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, MD

Chuck simply refused to answer Carina's questions. It was none of her business. This was between him and Sarah. If she wouldn't see him, he'd simply sit down on the floor outside her door until she came out and then he do what he set out to do and leave.

She was asleep. He sat down beside her bed and looked at her. His beloved kick-ass ninja spygirl was a mess but she still looked beautiful to him. He held her hand knowing she'd never allow it in public. He took something from his coat pocket and then leaned over her and kissed her cheek and left.

He walked out into the parking lot and got into the car and motioned for Carina to go. "She wouldn't see you, would she? Told you. She doesn't want anyone to see her like that. She's ashamed, Chuck, and it's a normal and natural response for a woman. She's…"

"She was asleep. I saw her. It's done. I'm done. Let's go."

Arthur Graham had lunch regularly at a small restaurant a few miles from his office. He always sat at the same table and he always ordered the same thing. He'd arrive punctually at 1pm and leave at 2:30pm. His driver knew the routine and it never varied. Only his luncheon guests did.

Today it was a staffer for a US Senator who wanted information on his opponent in the upcoming election, damaging information. The staffer passed the Director a manila folder containing the preliminary budget cuts for the intelligence committee and who was in favor or opposed to the CIA's increase. Politics. Tit for tat. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

A clumsy new waitress spilled the staffer's wine glass when she was refilling it and it spilled mostly on the Director's plate. Within seconds the dishes and silver were whisked away, a new tablecloth was laid on and fresh meals were placed before them. The maitre d' came out and personally apologized and told them the meal was complimentary because they had to endure such poor service.

The Director expected as much. The Senate staffer was impressed with how respected the Director was and he knew respect was power and he obviously had it.

Two days later the news reported the death of Arthur Graham, Director of Operations for the CIA from a stroke. He was found in an apartment he maintained for 'entertainment purposes' and was surrounded by evidence of recent 'entertainment'.

NSA Data Ops Center
NSA HQ
FT Meade, MD

It was a funeral of sorts. Beckman was there and, of course, John Casey. Carina had refused to attend after learning what he planned, refused to see or speak with him.

He'd tied up his affairs, talked with Ellie for a few minutes and then with Devon when Ellie would no longer talk to him. He'd also spoken to the Dawsons, reminding them of their promise and then asking them to take care of Josh as grandparents, not as mere tuition-payers. He'd shame them into taking him out of that boarding school.

"All right. Let's get this done. We all know what's going to happen and what might happen and I'm OK with it. Casey has my medical power of attorney and I trust him to do the right thing. If the worst happens, I want you to remember what I told you about Odessa, Casey."

"I remember, Chuck. I'll see to it."

Beckman stood there in silence. She's seen executions before. But never a suicide.

"Execute Kappa Epsilon partition drop. Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execute…" Chuck slowly recited without hesitation.

"Erase, erase, erase, Execute Kappa Epsilon, Execute Epsilon Pi data dump. Execution authority 6Y52H…"

"Stop, Bartowski. Stop this immediately. You win. You're free to go. Damn you to hell, Charles Bartowski. This was totally unnecessary. You'll have watchers and I expect you to keep your word and assist us when necessary. Now open your eyes and get out of that chair." She was shaking with rage. No one had ever called her bluff like the sonofabitchBartowski.

Casey and the techs fumbled with the restraints and set the chair up right.

"Oh, shit, he's flashing. I think the dump started and was interrupted 'in progress'.

Saint John's Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, MD

Sarah Walker looked at her right wrist and smiled as best she could with a broken cheekbone, broken jaw and nose. Last Sunday afternoon she'd had an epiphany of sorts. When she woke up from her drug-induced nap she saw that she'd had a visitor. And he'd left her a gift and a short note scrawled on a piece of paper he'd obviously taken from the nurses' station.

It was a single simple sentence of three words. Only one man could have written it because only one man could have known the significance of the bracelet she'd found on her wrist. The note said simply 'When you're ready."

End Part 2 Now for the juicy parts you Charah addicts have been waiting for. I hope you feel it was worth the wait.

APR