TheGame23
T/N: You might want to re-read the previous chapter since I've been partying at Mardi Gras and freezing my butt off. It was cold last night. Saw Drew Brees. Sorry, Colts Fans. Ya lost. Nic
You never really tried or so it seems
I've had more than myself to blame
I've had enough of trying everything
And this time it is the end...
'The Path of Thorns' – Sarah McLachlan
Rita Jorgenson's contacts could smell good TV. It was what they were paid for and what they lived for. The TMZ people descended on Cerberus with cameras and found that the ET gnomes had beaten them there and already had an interview and promo copies of the SpyGirl Game. Production had ramped up and the first 40,000 copies were already consigned to the big box stores and outlets such as GameStop. A local outlet had paid 150% over wholesale to ensure it got the first 1,000 copies. They called asking for another 500 copies since their original order had been.
Rita had found her calling in life. She pulled the TMZ crew away and leaked an exclusive regarding the Death Match and Leonard Pratt's responses. She made Chuck look like a knight in white armor and anyone at Cerberus who was interviewed just corroborated her story.
Law Offices of Miranda Booth & Associates
Beverly Hills, CA
Miranda Booth had been unable to reach Chuck and had left several voice mails, each increasingly loud and desperate. ET was camped in her lobby and she needed a statement from him. 'Chuck, if I don't have a statement from you within 30 minutes, I'll just tell them we spent the night at the pool house and you can deal with the grief.'
She wanted to take back the message the instant she pushed 'send'. If whoever was trying to kill Chuck decided to kill her…
"Chuck, I'm sorry. Please call me. I won't say a word to anyone about our night together. You slept on the couch in the pool house if anyone asks. Now, call me. As your lawyer, I need to advise you of certain opportunities in all this. But Chuck, that night, while incredible, cannot be repeated. Your life is far too violent and I'm not going to become what you call collateral damage. Call me."
Ruins of Chuck's Apartment
Los Angeles
Casey's wife had given him explicit instructions. "Johnny, find that damned bracelet. It was behind the pictures in a small box. Find it and bring it here. I won't let him wait. It's so unfair."
He had a wrecking bar and was lifting what looked like bookshelves when he spotted the small jewelry box. Eureka! Now maybe she'd shut up about this girly crap and they could settle down for some serious honeymooning.
Actually, he thought his wife was being very canny. He'd have to watch himself in the years to come. Deviousness was her middle name.
NSA-LA
Wizard's Den
"General, this is not my fault. The LA Times ran the piece on the bombing giving my name. NSA should have rented it in an assumed name. As for the ET thing, that was coincidence, fate, whatever you want to call it. I was on my way out anyway so it was no big deal. But now…"
"No one's blaming you, Agent. You're just too well known a face to be effective. I'm pulling your commitment, Chuck. You're going back on retired status. I'm sorry. We'll provide protection for you but ultimately you'll be on your own. I don't see any other options."
"And this thing in my head? What about it? You're throwing me to the wolves. You know I won't break, I'll execute erasure first. Unless that's what you really want in the long run."
"There is one option available. It would mean you actually dying in public. Your family would be allowed to know in advance but contact in the future would be limited to controlled visits and of course, emails from and to protected accounts. You'd get a new identity and be on active status again. Your assets in the game would be funneled to you through a blind trust. This is the option I'd recommend."
"Give me some time to think about it. I didn't ask for any of this and now you're snatching Chuck Bartowski away and giving me limited options. I need some time, General."
"Fine. Let me know when you've made your decision. As of now you're still covered as an active agent but that time period is extremely limited."
She disconnected. He was right. None of this was his fault and the clerical error at NSA was going to cost them a valuable agent/asset. At least in a WitSec environment he could still run the occasional mission and be used in a consulting capacity. He'd need a full-time watcher. Someone on the retired list who wouldn't drive him crazy.
Chuck called Miranda back, told her he was probably going to have to go 'deep cover' and requested her services in managing his blind trust. He told her that lawyers at the NSA would funnel the funds to his account but she'd never be able to speak with him again. It was probably best for her from a safety standpoint. She readily agreed.
Cerberus Games
Chuck had called Rita Jorgenson and requested a meeting with her and the team.
Rita was overwhelmed with all the requirements of the distribution process and welcomed any input. What she and the others heard was not what they expected.
"Your stealth advertising and strategic leaks of information have created a pool of danger that you're all swimming in now. In order to get to me, they'll use you, hurt you, even kill you. So as of today, I'm gone. Any contact with me must be through my lawyer. No exceptions. I deal with very bad people. This is for your own good, believe me."
"But Chuck, we already have inquiries regarding the sequel."
"There are three games there. Look for them. One is the cover, the spy stuff. The other is the relationship game that draws in the female demographic. The third game is coded 'deep cover'. Figure it out. Now, I have to leave. The trolls are already in the lot. You Orc slayers better be prepared." Nerd speak. They all understood what he meant.
"Wait. There's one more thing. The game? You have to play with your heart. That's a cheat, too, if you want to use it. I told you there are three games in one. The spy crap for the shooters, the relationship and then, well, you figure it out. At the very end of the game, the ultimate winner will know my truth."
That night, ET ran an 'exclusive' on Chuck Bartowski, his actions on the Red Carpet, the attempt on his life and, of course, the new game he'd written. The talking head commented that all attempts to reach him had failed although he was seen leaving the Federal Building in L.A. and driving out of the city.
The last 15 seconds mentioned that his public persona was providing a perfect killing zone for those enemies he'd made while an operative. The overlay on the screen was of Chuck on the Red Carpet with crosshairs superimposed over his head.
NSA Medical Facility
Baltimore, MD
3 days later
Sarah Walker had walked the entire length of the physical therapy suite several times unaided and unassisted. The doctors responsible for this miracle accepted each other's congratulations and then left. They didn't even say goodbye to her.
She'd seen ET's latest on Chuck and had called Carina but she said she was in a meeting and would call her back but never did.
She called Carina again that night. She'd made a decision. Now that she could walk, and with continued therapy, run again, nothing could stop her. She was whole again and wouldn't be an embarrassment to him.
"Walker, have you called Chuck yet?"
"No. I'm still trying to figure out just what to say to him. He's done all this. All this after I told him I had someone else. He still did it. What kind of man is he?"
"He's a fool. He's an idiot. He's, my husband's favorite, a moron. He needs adult supervision in his life. He's a loose cannon and he has no sense of self-preservation. Beckman's planning on cutting him loose even though the NSA screwed up putting his real name on the lease. A stupid clerical error's going to get him killed. And Beckman's 'sorry' but his face is too well known to be of 'further utility'."
"But what about the thing in his head? He's still valuable."
"Beckman knows his damned sense of honor won't allow capture. He'll execute that damned erasure option and execute the dump. You know he's capable of it. He's done it twice before but was interrupted both times. I'm telling you this as his friend, Sarah, not yours."
"Twice? But…"
"Hell, you've dragged him through broken glass and still he's crawled back waiting for word from you. Either tell him you love him or tell him you don't. It's simple. He's had incredible faith in you. He told me once. He was roaring drunk and wallowing in self-pity. 'Y'know, Mrs. Casey, she never actually told me she loved me, not even once.' It was in Vegas after he forced Johnny and I to confront our love and do something about it."
"I couldn't before. I can now. I promise I'll call him, Carina. I'm coming home to be with him. Just watch over him till I can get there. I'm being discharged on Friday. I have some loose ends to tie up and then I'll catch a flight. Can you pick me up at the airport?"
NSA-LA
Federal Building
Los Angeles, CA
Thursday 5:30pm
Chuck waited in front of the Federal Building, leaning against the building, watching the traffic as commuters and office workers began their evening fight against the traffic.
A TV crew from one of the local TV stations had camped out opposite the Federal Building hoping to get an interview with Chuck as he waited for a cab to take him to a restaurant. He no longer drove a pool car and spent his nights in the Federal Building. They waved at him and he smiled and waved back. They'd been doing this dance since Tuesday and so far, no interview. They were persistent.
They were just setting up for the interview and the video tape was running and the reporter was giving sound levels to the technician when a Pacific Gas & Electric truck drove slowly down the street. Suddenly there was a 'brrrp' of automatic weapons fire and the truck sped up revealing Chuck's body as it slumped back against the shattered façade of the building, the series of pock marks defacing it interrupted by where the bullets had encountered Chuck Bartowski. He slumped down the front of the building leaving a red smear to mark his path.
Within minutes an ambulance and several carloads of NSA security people had cordoned off the area and Chuck's body was gently straightened and placed on a gurney for transport to a hospital.
Chuck Bartowski was dead, gunned down by unknown assassins because he was an NSA agent and a clerk had made an error in judgment when completing a leasing agreement. And it was all on tape. It would make 'good TV'.
NSA Medical Facility
Baltimore, MD
Thursday 10:30pm EST
She was dialing his number when Diane Beckman walked into her room and started speaking.
"Sarah, put down the phone and listen to me very carefully. I have a position open for you. It's not an operational one, more like a bodyguard position. It's in Fairhope, Alabama, outside Mobile."
"You're off the retired list. You'll be responsible for the care and well-being of an important government operative. You'll be expected to accompany him on his missions as his cover wife or girlfriend. You will not be participating in any of the actual operations. That's not your portfolio. His team will handle any operational safety issues. The only thing you are responsible for is his life. It will require a 24/7/365 commitment from you."
"General, I'm sorry. I'm leaving as soon as I can get a flight out tomorrow after I'm discharged. I'm going home to L.A. to be with the man I've denied myself for almost 4 years."
"But Sarah…"
"No. I'm sorry. I've made a commitment. I'm going home to be with Chuck Bartowski." She held up her right arm showing Beckman the bracelet. It had arrived via FedEx that morning. There was no note, just the bracelet.
Beckman sighed. "Sarah, you can't. Charles Bartowski was killed this afternoon in Los Angeles by persons unknown. I came over here when I realized you always watched ET since Bartowski's sudden fame. I wanted to spare you but now I can't."
"This is your assignment if you want it. Take a good look at it before you make any rash decisions."
She turned on the television set and sat down to watch the 'Breaking News Report' on ET with Sarah Walker and to provide whatever comfort she might need afterwards. Sometimes a little compassion worked both ways.
A/N: I had considered leaving it but even I, the Angst Meister, am not quite that cruel.