Epilogue – NOT…
I've still got some dimbulbs to thoroughly enrage..
Armor-Plated-Rat
Previously…
"Chuck, I know it was hard but, the alternative! I couldn't let them take my children!"
"No, Agent Winstead, instead you abandoned them."
Sarah Walker Bartowski had heard the shouting from her husband's room and was standing in the door way, sleep forgotten, war face firmly in place.
"Get out of my husband's room. Leave. We'll be checking out of this loony bin just as soon as a competent physician gives us clearance. If anyone approaches him, those two NSA Agents have been authorized to take us someplace safe. He's mine and no one is going to tell me to leave him. Never. Now, please leave. You're his mother and I appreciate all you've done for me and him but it's over. Go back to your day-to-day existence and revel in the joys of your career."
"He'll learn to live with me again, he'll learn to trust me again. We don't need anything else. He's the intersect, I'm his handler. That's what we are, job titles, nothing more. It's not who we are. We're Chuck and Sarah Bartowski, husband and wife. Now, again, please leave. We've all had a long day and he needs his rest. I intend to see he gets it. Good night, Dr. Foster."
She waited while the doctor left, and then closed and locked the door.
"Chuck, listen to me, please. When I freaked out, you were there, a phone call away. Only two calls but they kept me going until things improved. I know right now you might hate me, you might be afraid of me and I KNOW you don't trust me. Fine. I have three objectives. You have a few yourself, big boy."
Chuck raised what he hoped was an eyebrow. The way he felt right now it could have been a burrito. His sense of self was off balance. Damn but she looked good standing there with fire in her eyes.
"Number one: you're a physical wreck. That's my fault and I'm sorry. I promised you that we'd get back to where we were 60 days ago and I'm going to keep my promise, the first of many I'll be making to you over the next 50 or 60 years. I also will honor our wedding vows, unlike some other people who just left the room."
"I'm done criticizing your mom. That's the last time, I promise."
"Like I said, you're a physical wreck. I'm going to Beckman, yes, Beckman and then Graham, and request a month off – a honeymoon, although you might not think so. We're going to a training area down south and get you back to where you need to be. If the brain works ok, the body will follow and I know your brain works fine. It's just a little battered right now."
"OK, number two: We're going to work on our communications skills. I will tell you everything, without reservation, anytime you ask. There are no restrictions. I will tell you the unvarnished truth and if you can't handle it, tough. Learn to. Your part is to tell me everything you're feeling when we're together. No hold-backs. We're getting a do-over and life gives very few of those out. If I ask you what's bugging you, I expect an answer, a full disclosure, no holds barred. If you're pissed at me, I need to know why so we can fix it."
"Number three is the easiest and the hardest. We need to get right back into physical intimacy. I need to prove to you that I'm not going to beat the…that I'm not…ah, shit, Chuck, I'm so sorry, baby. I…"
He held his arm out to her and then patted the bed beside him. She was trying and he'd give her, and by extension, them, every opportunity.
She gently got up onto the bed and he put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder her hand rested over his heart.
"So, when you're able, I think we need physical intimacy. Not that I'm pushing, I just think it will be good for us to be close, y'know, touching, being physical, overcoming reluctance and our fears. I'm not totally sure I won't have the dreams again, Chuck, but I had one in Serbia and I woke up, found you, and went back to sleep. So if it can work for me, it'll work for you too, given time."
"W-w-we'll t-t-try. Sssorry. C-c-can't t-t-alk right."
"Well then, I'll have to do all the talking and you do all the listening. I kinda like that for a change. But we'll get help on speech if you need it. Baby, you've had a helluva 2 months and the way things went down with your mom, that was just wrong and I'm sorry. I didn't know she was your mother, Chuck, honest. I never even noticed the resemblance to Ellie until she unloaded her hair bun. I was too worried about us, I guess."
"S'k, Ssssarah. I know. Go ssssleep now,w-w-wife." He would try as hard as she did to get back what he'd lost. He must have said something nice because she sighed happily, snuggled up next to him and was asleep before him. His speech embarrassed him horribly. He'd always prided himself on his quick tongue and now it looked like his speech center might have taken knock. Well, he'd always wanted to learn sign language.
August 26 7:00am
Gwen slipped into Chuck's room and stopped dead. Chuck and Sarah in the same bed! Glorious progress. Now, if his speech would improve they'd let him out as soon as the burr holes showed signs of healing and he had no further episodes of near-stroke level blood pressure spikes.
She slipped quietly out of the room and hung the 'no visitors' sign on the door. At least they'd have privacy until the noon meal. She found the aide with the meal tray and told her to skip his room for breakfast.
Sarah woke from the most restful sleep she'd had in months. During the night he'd rolled onto his side and had enveloped her in his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. Luckily, she had managed to avoid entangling herself in his various wires and tubes. They'd lucked out again.
She had to get up. Her bladder was screaming at her. But she was so warm and comfortable. She felt safe and secure for the first time since the flashback.
"Chuck, baby, I need to get up. Can you let me go for a few minutes? Chuck, please, I really have to go."
"F-fine. Hurry b-back. I don't h-have to w-w-worry ab-b-bout that right now." Sarah sat up and twisted off the bed wondering what he meant when it dawned on her…and she blushed through her hair roots.
She walked back to her 'room' and did her business and brushed her teeth and hair and changed into sweats and tennis shoes and went in search of his breakfast. The aide was just getting on the elevator and she snatched his tray and thanked her.
She nodded to the NSA man and then took Chuck his breakfast, removing the 'no visitors' sign and going in to feed him his breakfast.
For the next 7 days that became their routine. Eat, talk, eat, talk, nap, eat, talk, sleep, repeat the next day. But today they were getting out. They were heading to Florida to a special forces training camp with a large CIA-controlled section used for training and rehabilitation.
Graham had bent over backwards to accommodate Chuck's 'special needs' with a crack physical therapist and, surprise, surprise, Gwen Rivers to provide counseling services if any were required and medical services if needed although Eglin AFB was only 20 miles away.
Reagan Int'l Airport
Sepetmber 2 10:00am
The CIA Gulfstream took off carrying Gwen Rivers, Sarah, Chuck and the two NSA men. They'd serve a dual purpose: physical security and physical training. John Casey would be waiting for them on the ground. When he mentioned that to Gwen she'd let loose a million candle-powered smile. Apparently the diminutive doctor and the 'hulk' had been – gasp – dating!
Sarah sat holding Chuck's hand remembering the last flight they'd shared. That was the most horrible day of her life. Scratch that, July 15 was the most horrible day, but that day was certainly the second most. She'd almost lost him to a stroke brought on by the chance encounter with his mother and a tasering by security. She shuddered to think of how close she'd come to being the Widow Bartowski.
Chuck squeezed her hand. "F-forget about that, p-please?" She swore that sometimes her husband was psychic. "I'm OK, just being thankful for what we have now. And what we'll have in the future." She leaned over and kissed his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. She couldn't wait until he could lose the turban. She wanted to see how much damage the surgery had done to his hair – those curls she so liked to play with.
Chuck laughed. "Care to share, Chuck?" She could kick her ass. She had promised herself that she wouldn't press speech issues on him, especially in front of others. She didn't want to cause him any embarrassment because of his stuttering.
"Devon m-meeting m-my m-mom…" He rolled his eyes and Sarah giggled. When Ellie had encountered her mother in Chuck's room it had been almost funny except that he was almost dead. Her mother had put Ellie in her place with a few words and a look. Now she knew where Ellie go it from, not that it worked on anyone but Devon and maybe nurses.
Sarah and Chuck had already been informed that Thanksgiving at the Bartowski household this year would include their mother. Chuck refused to attend. He refused to have anything to do with the woman who'd abandoned her family despite the 'reasons' offered. Although he never heard it, he'd echoed Diane Beckman's condemnation almost verbatim. So, T-day at the Chuck & Sarah house would probably mean a meal at a restaurant. They'd already planned on inviting John unless he had other plans. Like with a certain doctor…
She was viewing the future with a lot more hope. Chuck had brought up inviting Casey for T-day knowing he had no one to share it with. Also, there was no way she could drag Chuck to Ellie's as long as 'Dr. Foster' was going to be there. She couldn't blame him at all.
She glanced over and noticed Chuck was grimacing, and resting his forehead in his hand.
"Sweetheart, got a headache? Need your meds?" She always freaked out when he got one of his 'migraine-like' headaches. She was the reason he had them.
"No, n-not yet. W-want to c-cut down on then."
"Chuck, take the pills, don't suffer pain you don't have to, please?" She handed him the pills and he dry-swallowed them like tic-tacs. She always felt a brief sadness when he popped his pills. She was the reason and she was afraid this would be a life-long necessity.
He took her hand from her face and kissed the palm and held it. He knew she was feeling guilty. It was one of the main reasons he was trying to wean himself off the pills. She almost always lost her smile when she saw him take a pill.
Sarah felt a thrill go through her at his actions. He always seemed to know what she was thinking and what would make her feel better.
Chuck dozed through the flight. He had a thing about airplanes. Get on a plane, go to sleep. He loved sleeping in cars, planes, even in his old day sailor. He never really was totally asleep and he loved the feeling. He'd tried to explain it to her once but she just shook her head and dismissed it as a 'Chuckism'.
The plane landed at the private strip reserved for the training center. There was no one there to service the aircraft or to handle baggage or arrivals. Just three SUVs parked beside some oil drums.
Casey got out of the lead vehicle and strolled over to the disembarking group. He saw Gwen Rivers and barely suppressed the smile he felt breaking out over his normally stern face. He was surprised and pleased she was the 'medical liaison and therapist' for the training cycle.
"Hey, Chuck, Sarah. I see you brought a spy with you. I warned you about the CIA but you didn't listen, did you, Bartowski?" Sarah laughed and Chuck just shrugged his shoulders. He walked haltingly over to Casey and smiled, checking out his shorts and t-shirt.
"Out of uniform, aren't you, M-m-major?" Chuck laughed and shook his hand. "Gwen's done no-no-nothing but t-talk about this 'vacation' and I see you're d-d-dressed for it."
"It gets hot here, Chuck. Besides, it's my cover. I'm your physical conditioning coach. I even got a whistle." He held up a silver police whistle that hung about his neck on a cord and smirked.
CIA Training Camp
Eglin AFB Military Reservation
September 3 7am
Casey met Chuck and Sarah at their bungalow front door just as they were leaving. Sarah was wearing shorts and a tank top and Chuck was wearing cut off sweat pants and a faded t-shirt that had seen too many washings and too many years.
"Morning, you two. Chuck, say goodbye to Sarah for the day. She's got to organize her stuff and you're going for a familiarization tour after a supervised breakfast. Sarah, Gwen will handle your tour after the two of you have breakfast. I'll meet you at the jeep, Chuck, so get the kissy-face stuff done, OK? It's getting hot already."
Sarah just laughed and hung one of her patented soul-searing Roane Montgomery-approved tongue dueling kisses on her man. "That'll have to do you until your get back, husband."
Chuck just grinned, ran the palm of his hand down her cheek and the walked down the steps slowly and carefully and then getting into the jeep.
Sarah sat on the bungalow steps waiting for Gwen to take her to breakfast. It was already hot.
Casey drove the jeep slowly through the empty buildings of the training center and out onto macadam track that disappeared into a thickly overgrown area.
"Chuck, how would you feel about expanding the team? Maybe include a doctor who's cross-trained as an agent? I worry about you, son. You only have a few lives left on your cat-side."
"W-w-ould be a g-g-good idea. Y-you're getting up there and p-p-probably n-need a f-f-full-time nurse at your age. Anyone in m-mind?"
Casey didn't say anything. He just slowed the jeep as they entered the overgrown area. "Chuck, I think she's the one. I've been alone forever and I'm tired of it. Seeing you and Sarah and how happy you both are, well, it's made me think. I'd like Gwen on the team. I want to see what develops between us. What do you say?"
"She's a spy, Casey. One of them. CIA. You're N-NSA. An assassin. Think y-you could m-m-m-make it work?"
"Shit. You're deliberately making this hard, aren't you, Chuck? OK, I want her on the team. It's important to me. Beckman says it's up to you. Graham wants her on the team because she's CIA. Sarah will want her on the team because of you and your…because of you."
"What d-d-does she want, John? Have y-y-you asked her? She probably has a life b-b-b-back in DC. She's not a field agent although she is good. It w-w-would be good if she w-w-wanted it before it was sprung it on her as a d-d-done-deal. And what about fraternization, John?"
"OK, I'll talk to her and then let you know. Do you have any objections, Chuck, assuming she wants the assignment."
"No."
"Good. We've come five miles. Get out and I'll meet you back at the bungalow. Stay on the track. Don't take all day, Chuck. It's getting hotter by the minute. Should hit 90+ by 10am. You really want to be out here then?"
Chuck got out with a slight smile on his face. "I c-can't w-w-wait until Carina m-meets her."
Casey glared at him. "I should have gone 10 miles, you gimp asshole. Move it, Bartowski." He took the shiny whistle out of his shirt pocket and blew it. "Move it, Chuck. And watch out for snakes." He laughed and backed the jeep up until he could turn around, blew the horn and disappeared down the track.
Chuck started walking carefully down the macadam track being careful to avoid the potholes. Maintenance wasn't a big deal down here, apparently.
Casey turned off the track down a dirt road and stopped the jeep. He pulled a backpack out of the back of the jeep and walked down until he could see Chuck walking slowly up the track, favoring the leg weakened by his taser-induced stroke. He planned on keeping him under constant observation and would drive down and pick him up at the first sign of trouble.
Chuck was mulling the advantages and disadvantages of having Gwen join the team. She was definitely good at what she did, she got along well with Sarah, she was a crack shot, and she had strong opinions about right and wrong. His only concern, and here he admitted to blatant hypocrisy, was a relationship between her and Casey. Was it like Bryce and Sarah had or was it like he and Sarah had? He surprised himself when he didn't react to his own thoughts about Bryce. Maybe he was finally growing up.
He figured it would take about 2 hours to walk five miles given his crappy physical condition. His right leg 'dragged' more than normal and he knew it wasn't a muscle problem but a remnant of his stroke. He'd have to talk to the physio guy about it. He didn't want Sarah to have a gimp for a husband.
Casey had had to change positions 4 times before Chuck finally took a break and sat down. He was surprised he'd come 3 miles before taking a break. He knew men in much better condition who would have stopped to rest after the first or second miles. He was making good time for someone who had been at death's door barely a month ago.
Gwen and Sarah toured the facility. Gwen pointed out the pistol range where Chuck would work on eye and hand coordination and marksmanship. There were other ranges for other weapons depending up the time available. The 'gym' contained all the latest exercise equipment as well as some physiotherapy devices. Sarah knew Chuck would be spending a lot of time in here. Between Sarah and Casey, Chuck would regain muscle mass and tone, strength and stamina would be developed through walking and eventually running.
They talked about Dr. Foster when Gwen brought it up. Sarah offered her opinion, listened to Gwen's and they agreed to disagree and drop the subject. Both knew better than to bring it up in front of Chuck.
The last building was the medical facility. It was more than adequate for their needs.
Sarah had been keeping an eye out for Casey and Chuck and mentioned to Gwen that Chuck hadn't taken his meds with him. She didn't want a recurrence of his 'killer headaches' and him without his meds. Gwen went to the wall phone and called Casey on his cell.
"Casey, Chuck's meds are in the bungalow. Keep a close watch. We don't want him suffering a setback because of those migraines." He responded that at the rate he was going they'd be back in 20 minutes. They agreed to meet for lunch and Chuck could get a dose if he needed it.
Chuck had seen several places where the jeep had turned off the track onto dirt side lanes. He figured that Casey was monitoring his progress, probably laughing at the 'gimp' and his lurching stride. Evil Chuck suggested a joke and an object lesson.
As soon as Chuck heard the jeep start up for another leap-frogging move, he cut off the macadam and into the underbrush and went about 20 yards and then changed direction to parallel the track. When he figured he'd gone far enough to be past Casey's hide site he got back on the track. He found the jeep within 10 minutes and walked down and popped the hood and removed the coil wire from the distributor cap. Laughing, he put it under the driver's seat and the walked on toward the compound.
Although he was hot and tired he felt great. He'd just walked five miles and left Momma Casey stuck in the woods.
Sarah was sitting on the steps of the bungalow keeping a look out for Chuck and Casey. It had been a little more than 2 hours since they'd left and she was beginning to worry that something might have happened. A score of horrible events cascaded through her mind. Snake bite. Another stroke. A sprained ankle. He got lost. The jeep broke down. Attacked and devoured by alligators. Heat stroke popped up several times. It was 88F and she knew Chuck might be dehydrated.
Just when she was ready to get Gwen and have one of the NSA guys drive them down the track she saw her lanky man-toy strolling up the path, only limping slightly. Even from this distance she could see the big smile on his face.
She jogged down to meet him, a bottle of water in her hand. He looked sunburned but happy. He drank half the bottle, gave her a wet and sloppy kiss then drank the rest. When she asked about Casey he pulled a sad face and launched into a carefully rehearsed scenario that she almost believed at first.
"Sarah, it w-was awesome. A really b-b-big, and I m-m-mean b-big, alligator came out onto the road and b-blocked our path. Casey b-blew the horn and it just p-p-pissed off the gator. Casey took his p-p-pistol and walked up and shot it in the head but the b-bullet b-bounced off!" Sarah's eyes were big as saucers because she'd had almost the same scenario in her cascade of troubles.
"And then it ssssstarted towards us. I ssstood up on the hood of the j-jeep and Casey fired into it's open m-m-mouth and finally killed it. He's down there now making shoes and a purse for G-G-Gwen."
She believed him right up until the shoes.
"YOU ASSHOLE! I was scared to death about you being out there alone and you pull that on me? You're going to pay for that, big boy! Now, where's Casey?"
He told her what he'd done and she recanted. "I'm not going to make you pay for that. That's funny. Nope. Casey will make you pay though."
"You stink. Go take a shower. You're all sweaty."
"G-G-Good idea. C'mon. We'll save water. J-J-Join me?"
Sarah pointed to his turban and sadly shook her head. "No nookie until that's off. Sorry." Chuck just sighed, looked disgusted and then walked into the bungalow. He was really too tired for it anyway. Sarah followed him, noting not his disappointment but his weariness. She'd talk to Casey about making her husband walk five miles without water in this heat. And she'd take her gun when she did it.
John Casey was sitting with Dr. Rivers when a freshly-showered and fresh-looking Chuck and Sarah walked into the mini-cafeteria. After being handed trays, nasty-looking stuff for Chuck and a lasagna dish for Sarah, they sat down with the two agents.
"Well, Chuck, enjoy your stroll? Every morning, the same thing. Only a little farther each time."
"Casey, he had no water today in this heat. That's unsafe. He should have a bottle of water just in case."
"He did fine, Walker, I mean, Bart – oh, hell, Sarah. And I had to walk almost as far because the damned jeep crapped out on me. And I wasn't thirsty at all. Hardly broke a sweat."
"You weren't in a coma for a week either. Water or at least let me walk with him. Moral support. And for safety."
"I had him in sight all the time, Sarah. He set a good pace, kept it, only took one short break and then had at it again. Turned in a good time, really. We walk in the morning before the heat really hits. Just be glad it's not early August."
"N-Not all the t-time, Casey. You lost t-track of me right after my b-b-break."
"I did not. I was never more than a hundred yards from you."
"Then how was I ab-b-ble to slip past you on the t-track, f-f-find and disable the jeep?" He was blunt and to the point, not bragging, just reporting facts.
"What? You disabled the jeep? How? I think you're making up tales, Chuck. It just wouldn't start. Old piece of crap."
"Yeah, old p-piece of crap with p-p-points, p-p-plugs, condenser and coil wire. The coil wire's under the f-front seat."
Casey glared at him while Sarah just smirked.
"Casey, you were enjoying yourself entirely t-t-too m-m-much. Just remember, p-payb-backs are…p-paybacks are… sh-shit, I c-c-an't rem-m-member." He looked at his plate and sighed.
Sarah reached over and grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Chuck, it's OK, sweetheart. It'll all come back. Give it time."
"Yeah, intersect man, you were nearly a vegetable. We'll get it all back, Chuck. Don't sweat it." Gwen was upbeat and supportive. Casey was wondering if his little conditioning experiment had any effect on this.
"John, I know that look. It was a problem before the walk. No big deal." Gwen offered.
The afternoons were spent, weather permitting, at the outdoor range for 2 hours and then into the gym for strength and conditioning. The evenings were spent with Gwen and the speech therapist working on getting his speech back and discussing his recent experiences. He hated it, and was very vocal about it.
"Quit b-bugging m-m-me ab-b-bout this shit! I don't w-w-want to t-t-alk, OK?" He usually never finished a session, getting up and stalking off to walk around the compound, avoiding anyone and everyone.
He was horribly upset with his stuttering. He felt that subconsciously everyone he spoke with was mentally finishing his sentences when he got stuck on 'B' or 'D' or 'F'. He could see it in their faces. And so he spoke less and less, using short or one-word answers whenever possible.
Everyone noticed the quiet Chuck, a marked and noticeable change from the normally garrulous Chuck. Sarah bluntly asked him why he wasn't talking to her. If he was upset with her, she wanted to know it. That was part of the agreement.
"Your ag-g-greement. I'm n-not upset."
"Then why aren't you talking to me?"
"B-b-ecause y-you all try t-t-to f-f-finish my sentences. I hate that! I've b-b-become a f-f-fucking retard."
"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry if I've done that. I didn't mean to, really, sweetheart. If I did, I apologize, Chuck, for hurting your feelings."
"S'OK. I'm g-g-getting used t-to it. So I j-just listen a l-lot m-m-m-more."
Sarah squeezed his hand and suggested they go for a walk but he just said he was tired and going to bed instead. Casey would be there early and he wanted to get the walk over with.
Sarah knew he wasn't all that tired, just depressed at his lack of progress. Or at least she hoped it was that.
She went to see Gwen about it. "Gwen, he's getting really depressed and I'm getting worried. He won't talk and when he does he's careful to choose words he won't get hung up on, short sentences. He thinks people are mentally finishing his sentences for him and thinks he's become less of a man than before. I'm worried."
"Sarah, he's come a long way in a short time. I'm surprised at his progress. With some stroke patients it's a lifetime effort to speak. He's so much better than before. I won't promise him a full recovery and then have reality throw my words in his face. Depression is normal, Sarah. If it keeps up, I don't know what we'll do. I don't want to put him on any more drugs, so just keep talking to him, express pride in his accomplishments."
"On another subject, it's been more than 10 days since his surgery. When do the bandages come off? He's mentioned 'losing the damned turban' almost daily."
"Probably tomorrow. I'll check his incisions and burr holes and if things look good then it's OK for sex, and more aggressive conditioning. I took x-rays but haven't read them yet. I'm waiting for John to come by. I'll let you know tomorrow after his quickie physical. He's really coming along fine, Sarah."
"I wasn't asking about sex, Gwen, just, just I want to see him with hair. He'll feel better about himself if he doesn't have the damned turban on his head that he says shrieks 'brain damaged'. He's really becoming depressed about his speech. He doesn't want to talk at all."
September 10 6:40am
The target has been under observation for the past 3 days. All the handlers have been identified and categorized as to threat and priority of termination. The target has been walking the same track daily since September 3, each time being dropped a little further out by the male handler, identified as John Casey, NSA category 2, T1.
The distance out has now increased to seven miles and a rucksack with sand or rocks has been added as a strength and conditioning aid. The observer noted with extreme displeasure that the target's limp had become more pronounced and the steadiness of the stride less sure after the addition of a probable load of 50lbs the previous morning. Well, Casey would pay for his abuse with his life.
Three snipers had been tasked with the elimination of the target's support team. Casey, #1, would be eliminated by the simple expedient of putting a pound of C-4 plastic explosive in his vehicle. Team Leader, as a sign to begin cleaning up the remaining support staff, would trigger the explosive; priorities for the remaining opponents were NSA1 and NSA2, #2 & #3, Walker, #4 and Rivers, #5. Barring inclement weather, the target would be acquired and removed unharmed during the morning trek and all support targets eliminated by 0800hrs.
The Team Leader, code-named 'Looking Glass', would take out the target via tranquilizer dart. A helicopter would be standing by approximately 2 miles further down the track to evacuate the target and the operative Team Leader to a secure location. The three snipers would return to their regular duty stations at Eglin AFB, their offshore bank accounts each $50,000 larger.
Fulcrum had successfully infiltrated CIA Medical Facility and had been involved in his neurosurgery. A small device, barely as large as a small grape, had been placed in his mastoid cavity during his initial surgery. The same infiltrator had been able to learn the destination of the intersect host, Charles Bartowski, after his release from the hospital.
Team Leader volunteered to lead the extraction and elimination operation with conditions that were gladly met by the senior Fulcrum council. They would gain the intersect host and provide him with a handler and companion he would instinctively trust.
Once the situation was explained to him, his cooperation was assured. The money they would offer him would be astounding if it were to become public knowledge. This 'Chuck' would be a fool to turn down a small fortune in exchange for a few minutes of 'flashing' whenever required.
And then, of course, they would promise to remove the small device that was causing the speech, hearing and cognitive dissonance he was encountering. The device had two separate functions: to disrupt his cognitive abilities and slow his recovery and utility and, if his capture could not be executed, to release a deadly neurotoxin that would slowly disable the higher brain functions and kill him if he were to prove – 'uncooperative'.
7:15am
"Chuck, we're going for eight today. Here's a bottle of water and your rucksack. No rocks today. Sand, instead. Wet sand. I'll see you back at the bungalow by 9:30. Have a good time." Chuck hopped out of the jeep, took the offered water bottle and hefted the rucksack out of the back of the jeep.
"Thanks, C-Casey. B-Be sure and check the hood l-l-latches." He laughed and put on the rucksack and settled it as Casey frowned, threw him the finger and took off down the road. Chuck started off as Casey crested a small rise and the jeep disappeared from view."
Gwen Rivers had taken x-rays of Chuck's skull to ensure the boreholes weren't compromised but hadn't looked at them right away. She and Casey had gone for a moonlight walk and ended up back at her quarters. They finished showering in time for him to go pick up Chuck for his morning stroll. Now looking at the x-rays she was horrified to discover the device in Chuck's mastoid cavity. She called Casey immediately.
"Casey, secure."
"Casey, there's a bomb or something in Chuck's head. I just saw it on the x-rays I took. There must be a mole at the medical facility in Langley otherwise they'd have spotted it on the x-rays. Bring him in, Johnny, please." John Casey stopped the jeep and turned it off and walked down toward Chuck still on the phone. "Calm down, Gwen. Repeat what you said. There's what in his head"?
Team Leader watched the jeep crest and then settle over the rise, disappearing from sight and she was momentarily distracted by the target's act of settling the rucksack on his back and pocketing the water bottle. Cursing her lack of concentration, she pulled a small electronic device from her shoulder pocket and pressed the arming button then the execute button.
The explosion threw Casey off the track and into a tree knocking him into a tree rendering him unconscious and breaking his right forearm.
Gwen heard the explosion and went into 'agent mode' hitting the alarm and locking up the clinic as she ran down to 'bungalow row' to get Sarah. The bullet took her in the back of the head, killing her instantly.
Sarah Bartowski heard the alarm and ran out onto the verandah of their quarters. The bullet passed through her hair and barely broke the skin but spun her around and she fell to the porch, unconscious.
The two NSA agents had died almost simultaneously, shot in the head.
The three snipers rose from their hides, pulled off their Ghilly suits. With cell phones in hand, each of them went to their 'kills' and took photos to prove the target was dead. The two NSA agents were obviously dead since most of the head of each of them was missing. Dr. Rivers was obviously dead since the entire front of her forehead was simply gone due to hydrostatic pressure. The huge pool of blood surrounding the head and hair of Sarah Bartowski was obvious proof of a kill. They transmitted their photos to an email address and then took one of the SUVs and drove to their rally point and disappeared onto the vast military reservation.
Chuck heard the explosion and saw the smoke and flames and hit the shoulder releases for the rucksack and began to run toward the column of smoke over the slight rise in the track. He got 3 yards before the first of three darts hit him in the right thigh. He fell forward, sprawled out, one hand extended toward the column of smoke and his friend.
Team Leader rose from the hide site, pulled off the Ghilly suit and walked out and surveyed her prey. She squatted down and picked him up and threw him over her shoulder and walked down the track to where a 4-wheeler was hidden 100 yards away. She had 40 minutes to get to the extraction site.
It was another picture-perfect mission for the former CIA operative and assassin known to Chuck as 'Alice'.
A/N: If you're reading this it means I didn't croak. I knew I kept Alice popping in from time-to-time for a reason. NOW it's time for Sarah and Casey to get busy. A few more chapters and then I'm on to Undisciplined Intersect.
APR