When tearin' at the seams
The world can seem a long way down
Been runnin' in a maze
And I can see there's no
Way out
"It Makes My Heart Break"
Your Vegas
October 28, 1980
Encino, California
"Stephen, please," Hartley begged.
"It's still in development stages. It's never been tested! I can't just upload that to your head and hope for the best," he huffed in frustration.
"But it can help me, don't you see? I can't deal with Poshenko, terrified of my own shadow. I have to be a different person. That was always easier for you than it was for me. I need help, Stephen. Please."
"There are too many things that can go wrong, Hartley. I'm sorry," Stephen insisted.
"I'm willing to risk it. If I do this, then you and Mary can be free. Your last mission. Stop worrying about Eleanor and what happens to her if something happens to you. Have another baby and a normal life. That's what you want, right?"
"You know we do. But not if it puts you at risk—"
"Going in without the Intersect is worse, Stephen, and I think you know it. You don't have to spare my feelings. I'm weaker than you are. But you can help me. Please."
He took a deep breath, and made a gut decision to tell him all of the truth. "I'm the best shot Corrine has. I think I'm the only shot she has. Can you imagine how awful it feels, to know that her only shot is as weak, and pathetic, as I am? I have to go, and I can't do it without your help."
Stephen looked at him, stubborn resignation on his face as he shook his head. Before Stephen had the chance to refuse him again, he blurted out, "Damn it, Stephen, I love her! Can't you understand that?" He sucked in all his breath, turning away, muttering, "Oh, bloody hell," to himself.
Stephen closed his eyes, accepted defeat, faced with such forceful emotion. What if it was Mary? What wouldn't he have done to keep her safe? Sighing, he said, "At least give me a few weeks, to run one simulation. Ok?"
"Thank you, my friend," Hartley beamed.
"We'll meet at your mother's house, November 12. Rest up until then. Because you'll need it."
Hartley was happy, but Stephen couldn't shake the terrible sense of foreboding. That he was making a horrible, unfixable mistake.
July 8, 2012
Chicago, Illinois
"Braxton Hicks," the nurse practitioner said for the second time, drawing the words out slowly as if she were speaking to someone who didn't speak English. "They're called Braxton Hicks, Mr. Bartowski," she repeated, shaking her head in disgust. She looked up at him from her clipboard that she had tucked against her waist, and said with disdain, "It's not just Mom's job to read the baby books, right?"
From the hospital bed, Sarah looked at him apologetically, as he gave her a confused face. "I know that. Of course I should be reading baby books, you know, being the Dad and all," he said dryly, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly.
"He's been busier, you know, making sure I get enough sleep and taking my vitamins. Not so much learning the technical terms for things, you know?" Sarah said, the lightest hint of sarcasm in her tone.
"Thank you, Honey," he said sweetly. His eyes widened in acknowledgement of her defense of him to this unpleasant woman.
"I've had Braxton Hicks before, and they never felt like that," Sarah insisted.
"When Dr. Woodcomb called down, she mentioned you were under some type of duress. That can exacerbate the situation. Either way, the tech will be in shortly to do the ultrasound, just to be sure," she said, looking at them down the bridge of her nose and turning to leave.
Once they were alone, Chuck sighed, tucking his hands between his knees as he sat beside her bed. "God, I think that took a few years off my life. I have never been that worried about anything," he admitted.
"It was very weird," she said softly.
Sarah knew Chuck was hiding behind a facade, pretending things were ok, smiling at her, even as she saw the echo of some unknown, haunted pain behind his eyes. Before she could open her mouth to ask him, the technician pushed the door open, wheeling a portable ultrasound machine into her room.
"Mrs. Bartowski?" the technician asked. Chuck started at that, having not heard it spoken that way in a very long time.
"Yes," she said, without a hesitation or a glance away.
The technician walked over, checked Sarah's hospital bracelet, then without speaking to them, arranged her equipment. She dimmed the lights in the room, then walked back and folded Sarah's hospital gown up so her abdomen was exposed. "This will feel a little cold," she said, applying the gel with one hand, then pressing the wand against her with the other.
Chuck watched as the dark monitor came alive, streaks of white and gray swimming on the screen. Odd sounds filled the quiet of the room, beeping, and swooshing, until a rapid pitter-patter in steady rhythm dominated. "That's your son's heartbeat," she said, flashing a quick smile.
Sarah sighed in contentment, her fear from the episode rapidly diminishing, replaced by a shared wonder, mirrored in her husband's eyes as he listened to his son's heart for the first time. She grabbed his hand and held it at her side. The technician's hand went to the screen. "This is his profile. That's his nose, those are his eyes, that's his hand," she said slowly, pointing each thing out as she explained.
"Oh my God," he breathed, amazed by what he could actually see. "The one you showed me in your apartment looked like an inkblot. This is unbelievable."
"Everything looks fine, Mrs. Bartowski. I just have to take a few measurements, and we're all done," she finished.
Chuck stood and sat beside her on the bed, putting his arm around her when the technician pulled the cart away. He kissed her softly. "Chuck?" she asked quietly.
He pulled his head out, as an answer to her query. "What happened back there?" she asked cautiously.
"I don't know," he said gently, knowing he would not explain anything now. All he knew was that she needed him, and coming unglued like he had done served no purpose, helped nothing. There was so little he could do anyway, he vowed to himself to at least do this. "But what I do know is that when they release you, Devon is coming to take you back home, and you are putting your feet up and watching television. Ok?"
"Doctor's orders?" she teased.
"Absolutely," he said, his smile reaching his eyes and lighting them up.
Once Sarah had left with Devon, who had Clara in tow, Chuck found his sister again in the research wing. "She's gone. Devon just got here," Chuck told her. "How do you do it, Ellie? Now I have two of them to worry about."
"Welcome to parenthood, Chuck," she quipped.
Alone with his sister in her office, Chuck sat on a chair in front of her desk. "Bentley got called away for some type of briefing. I didn't want you to go before I finished what I was saying to you before," she said.
"I feel like my head is spinning, Ellie. But you know what I wanted to ask, before. You said Sarah still has the Intersect. How is that possible? She hasn't flashed, right? She never said anything about that to me. Did she to you? Bentley said there was only one outstanding. But if Sarah has it then…"
"She has to have it, Chuck. It was never removed or suppressed. It doesn't burn itself out, either. And to answer your question, I don't know why she isn't. I have more research to do. But I do have a theory. It's just a theory. But it's based on what I know. About the difference between the male and female brain. Men have more connections within cerebral hemispheres. Women have more connections between hemispheres. You know, left and right sides," she said at his confused look. "In your brain, the Intersect works along those connections, activating when the electrical impulses in your neural network fire.
"Dad was only trying to repair Hartley. He was only thinking of a male brain, everything he did was based on the connections within the male brain. I honestly don't think Dad had any idea what the Intersect could do to a female brain. But I know it wouldn't work the same way. It just isn't possible."
"Captain Dunwoody was the only other woman," Chuck said.
"Right, Chuck. She only had the Intersect for a few weeks. She showed poor control of its effects, according to the report I read. It impaired her critical thinking. To the point where she inadvertently armed a nuclear weapon. Which you diffused with apple juice," she added drolly, regarding him out of the corner of her eye.
He gave her a crooked smile. "I'm special, remember?" he said with a smile.
She huffed, glad to smile with him, even if it was only for a second.
"Women have less centralized memory centers, due to the increased connections between left and right brain. Much more access to emotions. That is almost diffused completely throughout. Bentley should have spent more time studying the effects on Captain Dunwoody's brain, but that was never her ultimate goal at the time. And in terms of differences, Sarah was already pregnant when she downloaded the Intersect, almost 4 weeks by the point. Pregnancy hormones have significant effects on the brain as well."
"Ok, but what does all that mean?" he concluded.
"Chuck, you said she couldn't control when she was flashing, had little control over her actions while she was flashing, right?" she asked.
"Right, El. You had me blindfold her. That was the only thing that stopped it," he said.
"I think the Intersect dispersed in her brain in an unpredictable pattern. More flexible, but more difficult to control. I requested all the information Langley has on Captain Dunwoody in relation to the Intersect. I should have it all by tomorrow. I'm hoping it will confirm my suspicions."
"Which are?" he asked.
"Look, Chuck, we think those fractals Quinn was using were acquired from the same source that Manoosh got his materials to build his portable Intersect. We don't know any of that. But what I do know. If you looked at those fractals, it would almost certainly erase your memories. Irrevocably. But I don't believe Sarah's memories were erased. Her brain suppressed them, under that assault, reflexively hiding them, if you will. There was no way Nicholas Quinn could have known that. Every bit of information that was circulating about the Intersect was all based on the original schematics, which are radically different from Sarah's brain."
"That sounds like it's supposed to be good news. Am I right?" he asked.
"It's very good news. Like I said, I'm still working. I don't know why she isn't flashing. But with a little more research, I think if we can get a controlled flash to occur under certain circumstances, all of her memories could be retrieved. She hasn't lost any, Chuck. We just have to find a way to unlock them."
He sat forward, excited, his face brightly animated. "Ellie! Are you sure? You mean completely restore her memory?"
She nodded. "The only thing that concerns me, at this point, is that I don't know what will happen to the memories she has now. And if she starts flashing before I can control the situation, there is a real possibility she could forget again."
July 8, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Feet up, Sarah. Those were Chuck's explicit instructions," Mary said gently, arranging a pillow behind the small of Sarah's back as she sat on the sofa.
"I'm not used to being babied," Sarah laughed.
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Mary said slyly. She reached for the remote control, and turned to hand it to Sarah. "Ellie told me you and Chuck are naming your son after my husband."
Sarah nodded silently. "Do you remember him at all, Sarah?" Mary asked earnestly.
"I have one vivid memory, Mary. I don't know it fits into things, because I haven't had time in the past few days to situate anything. I'm with him, and John Casey. Chuck is unconscious. And we're running. Away from a fire behind us."
April 26, 2009
Starbright Drive-In Grounds, Barstow, California
Stephen caught Chuck as he fell, dead weight that pulled him down onto his own knees. Sarah gasped behind him. Stephen's asking Sarah and Casey why Beckman had ordered an airstrike while a rescue operation was underway had revealed the truth-that Chuck was off mission, and they were here, disobeying orders, to help him. Sarah knew Stephen had only ever wanted to protect Chuck from that life, keep him safe.
Now, as they ran under a shower of falling fire as bombs cratered out the ground all around them, Chuck slung deftly over Casey's shoulder, there was no mistaking Sarah's demeanor. She didn't understand yet why Chuck was unconscious, and the lines of concern were etched deep on her forehead. She continuously placed her body in between Chuck and the heat blasts that trailed so closely behind them. Stephen knew in that instant, Sarah would have done anything to keep his son safe.
And later, she'd jumped into the back seat of Casey's car, and Casey gingerly placed Chuck into the car, positioning his prone body so his head lay in Sarah's lap. The second Stephen stepped up to shut the door, poised to run around the back of the vehicle and jump into the front passenger seat, he watched Sarah's hand, gently brushing Chuck's hair off his forehead, the look in her eyes obvious to anyone who was watching.
July 8, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
"Mary," Devon called from the kitchen, "can you come occupy Clara for a minute? I have to get some stuff together for dinner."
Mary excused herself with a smile, walking towards the kitchen. She paused briefly, seeing the newspaper folded on the table underneath the day's mail and Devon's keys. The ad for the 1968 Mustang was clear, dead-center on the page. Blanching, she pulled it out. She seemed to look around, noticing Sarah, and Devon, and then deciding to take the paper, and tuck it into the drawer under the table.
Sarah thought it was odd, but said nothing, reminding herself to tell Chuck when he returned.