But the lonely are such delicate things

The wind from a wasp could blow them

Into the sea

With stones on their feet

Lost to the light and the loving we need

"A Comet Appears"

The Shins

July 8, 2012

Oak Park, Illinois

Chuck finished leaving his message, and hung up. "Morgan's not answering. Neither is Alex. I left another message," he explained. "I'm afraid we may end up with one dead ficus and one critically ill Christmas cactus when we get home," he added with a crooked smile.

"Something is up, Chuck. I never had a chance to tell you until now, since we weren't alone. Your Mother-"

"Why does every something-is-weird conversation seem to lead back to my mother?" he asked, shaking his head. She flashed him an understanding, sympathetic look.

"Didn't your sister find your father, when the Ring asked her to, by placing classified ads in the newspaper, with some kind of code?" she asked, in possession of only scattered memories.

"My Dad and my sister always had that system, so they could communicate while he was away. Now that we know why he was doing it, it makes sense. Brilliant, actually. Why?" he asked.

"Because your mother hid the newspaper in the table drawer. I pulled it out while they were in the kitchen. It was an ad for a 1968 Mustang. Isn't that the car Ellie and Devon have, that was your father's?" she asked.

"That was part of the code he used. Are you sure, Sarah?" he asked, questions on his face.

"Positive," she said.

She broke into his silent thoughts with another question. "Do you think your mother knew about that code? How to use it?"

"My Dad communicated with her in Russia with his computer, on a secure line, from his cabin in Bishop County. He wouldn't have needed to contact her that way," he said.

She recalled the cabin he spoke of, in her mind. She had been there twice, and she had been the one to find it, when Chuck had been looking again, though he was completely off the grid. "How old was that code?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said slowly, never thinking about it before.

"I brought your mother to see your sister before she was supposed to go into CIA custody, didn't I?" she asked.

"Yes, you did," he affirmed, realizing he had started taking her recollections of the past for granted, they were so common now.

"She was telling your sister about that car. They owned it when she was little, before you were born. Maybe he used to communicate with your mother with it, you know, before she went to Russia for Operation Isis," she said.

"Ok, but my father is dead. Even if she knows the code, who else is she communicating with? Like that?" he asked, thinking out loud.

"Who else would maybe know it? Who couldn't communicate via normal channels?" she asked, knowing who she was thinking of, even as she asked.

Chuck thought of the briefing, Black Morning, and everything he had learned the day before about his parents' exploits before he was born. It seemed too strange to be a coincidence. "Hartley. Or whoever he is, now," Chuck concluded. Sarah nodded knowingly.

He looked up with a start at a knock on their bedroom door. "Come in," he called.

Ellie stood in the door. "Can you both come out here? Beckman is calling," she said, a question in her own voice.

Sarah and Chuck exchanged an ironic look. That something Sarah had sensed, they both thought, was about to rear its ugly head.

Ellie took Chuck and Sarah into her home office and shut the door. "There's a secure line out of this room," she said, sitting and turning on her computer, adjusting wires and the camera box that sat off to the side. Chuck helped Sarah into the chair at the desk, then commented, "It still seems surreal to me, El. You, in here, with spy gear. It's like the last thing I ever would have thought, you know?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but the sting of betrayal, of being left out of the loop, on a lot of things, was still present.

"Yeah, well, me neither. I didn't have a choice, though. There was no other option. I'd be the first one to tell you it's dangerous. But so is being a police officer, or a firefighter. Sometimes you have to put your feelings aside and do what needs to be done," she argued.

For all the nagging doubt he still harbored, he couldn't argue with his sister. She was absolutely correct.

The screen came to life, the familiar stern face of Diane Beckman, in her Air Force General's uniform almost blending into the dark background in her room. "Good evening, Dr. Woodcomb," Beckman said crisply.

"General!" Chuck shouted, giving an almost sarcastic wave. Sarah was visible behind Ellie as well. Chuck could have sworn he saw the general almost smirking, then quickly pulled her face back into neutral.

"I trust my advice panned out, Mr. Bartowski," she quipped. Chuck stood behind Sarah's chair, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"Thank you, General, " he said. Smiling, he added, "I know you don't necessarily, you know, want to hear about my relationship status, but, just so you know. Sarah's better. Not all, you know, all better, but better. DHS needs to find a new communications supervisor, at least in the St. Louis branch," he said nervously.

"That's very good news," she said with a tight smile. "Unfortunately, we do have matters to discuss other than your wife's baby shower."

"They know everything that I briefed you on earlier this week. They were both present when Director Bentley described the situation as it stands, General," Ellie told her.

"Your mother should be joining us momentarily. I believe she was wrapping up story time," Beckman said, bordering on the edge of exasperation and tolerance for the strange ways she had come to accept with Charles Bartowski and his entourage, so to speak.

"Sorry, I'm late, General," Mary said, rushing in and closing the door. However his mother had been acting, dealing with Clara, taking care of Sarah's needs, all of that fell away and her face hardened like stone. The change was instantaneous, and troubling as Chuck looked on.

"So now you understand why the Intersect caused nothing but difficulty everywhere we tried to implement it. Your brain is one in 100 million, Mr. Bartowski. Strange as that sounds when I say it out loud," she said, her eyebrows rising on her forehead. "The federal government has spent literally hundreds of billions of dollars trying to prove Orion wrong-that the Intersect was a viable option for clandestine intelligence work, when he kept telling the U.S. government that it would never work the way it was originally intended. Operation Restoration is mainly that, as was explained to you. Having so much proof we could literally beat it over their heads, that the government needs to stop throwing away taxpayer dollars after a worthless pursuit. In case you haven't learned it yet, some officials in the government can be a little stubborn."

"What does Bentley get out of this? Helping my sister to prove the Intersect is worthless," he said.

"As you know, they are in the process of tracking down a rogue agent, or potential rogue agent, that potentially has a downloaded Intersect. She has a vested interest in the outcome, as it falls under her jurisdiction within the U.S. borders. In exchange for assistance with helping to restore former Agent Walker's memory. Which seems to be progressing. That's very nice to see," she said softly, her gaze directed at Sarah.

"I already know all of this from earlier today, General," Chuck mentioned.

"There's always more, Mr. Bartowski. The U.S. government has found proof positive that an MI6 agent who was involved in a joint CIA mission presumed dead in 1989 is actually still alive."

Chuck looked quizzically between his mother and sister, thinking this was more information than he had gotten earlier, between Sarah's panic attack and false labor. "Corrine MacArthur?" he guessed, knowing he was right when his mother's eyes misted slightly with tears. "Vivian Volkoff's mother," he said.

Beckman continued, "She and Hartley were married. The Intersect gradually changed-"

"Hold on a second, General," Chuck interrupted. "Before, all this Agent X stuff was higher level security clearance than any of us had. Why all of a sudden-"

Beckman nodded, gesturing to him as she started talking again. "Clyde Decker is dead. Daniel Shaw is in solitary confinement at a Black Site. The threat of all of that has been neutralized, thanks mainly to you, Mr. Bartowski. So now that you know, may I continue?" she asked in irritation.

He gestured sheepishly with one hand.

She raised one eyebrow, then continued. "As I was saying, the Intersect gradually changed Hartley Winterbottom into Alexei Volkoff over the course of four years. He downloaded the Intersect, as you all knew, in November of 1980. With that in place, he was able to infiltrate Mitya Poshenko's inner circle and extricate Corrine, whose cover had been blown in late September of that same year. They were married six months after he brought her back to England. There were over 34 different reports filed by CIA psy-ops during that time that recommended pulling Hartley out of the field for further investigation. They were all ignored. It wasn't until MI6 filed a similar report in August of 1984, one month after Vivian was born, that they began the investigation. By October of 1984, Hartley was gone and Volkoff was in his place.

"Corrine tried for three years to get herself and her daughter out of the U.S.S.R, with no success. I think by that point she was essentially a prisoner of his. In the winter of 1988, Volkoff took Vivian out of Moscow and sent her to England to live. Corrine was trying to get her daughter back. She disappeared in February of 1989. Without any contact for all that time, MI6 presumed she had died in the field.

"Chuck, your mother left the U.S. for Operation Isis, which was part bringing down Alexei Volkoff, who had taken the place of the man Corrine was sent in to take down-Mitya Poshenko, as one of the most prolific arms dealers in the world, in 1990. You know how that ended. She was also looking for Corrine."

After having listened intently, Chuck interjected, "You said she's alive? Corrine's alive? How do you know?"

"I've had my contacts in Russia looking. I always did, even when I was working as Volkoff's right hand."

"But for 23 years, Mom? Isn't that a long time to keep looking for someone you think is probably dead?" Chuck asked.

"Outside of your father, I was closer to her than any other person in the world. I never gave up. I needed to know, one way or the other. I owed her that. Your father was destroyed after the Intersect failed, and created Volkoff. He was never the same after she disappeared, you know. How crazy he seemed, as you called it. He used to say his arrogance completely ruined his best friend's entire life. So I left to find her. Part for me. Part so your father could sleep again, you know, relieve some of that guilt. It took 23 years, but someone spotted her in Romania about a month ago."

"Forgive me for seeming clueless, General, but what are we supposed to do about this? With the exception of my mother, we are all civilians, subcontracting for the CIA. Sarah's just a civilian."

"Mr. Bartowski, it's time to, what was your phrase again, get the band back together again," Beckman deadpanned.

"Excuse me? Did I just hear you correctly?" he asked, dumbfounded. "The lead guitarist is seven months pregnant, in case you missed that, General. Sarah's a civilian," he emphasized.

"Lead guitar?" Sarah said under her breath, shaking her head.

"Or your preferred metaphor, whatever," he said quickly in a low tone.

"She can advise. Her security clearance is still valid. I've called in the cavalry, Chuck. Morgan Grimes and your assistant, Alex McHugh, are currently in transit to your location, the rest of Carmichael Industries staff. Mr. Grimes was able to contact Colonel Casey in Dresden. Something about a proposal endorsement?" She shook her head, not quite believing what she was doing.

"Really?" Ellie and Sarah asked in unison.

"I know. Isn't it great?" Chuck smirked.

"Mr. Bartowski," Beckman called sharply into their chatter. "Colonel Casey is also en route."

"He was off the grid. How did Morgan get him to agree to drop everything and head back here?" Chuck asked.

"Three words, Mr. Bartowski. 'Chuck needs help.' That was all that was necessary."

Chuck felt warmth for his stoic, yet extremely loyal friend. Finding his voice, he spoke again. "So you want us to go to Romania or wherever to find this woman? Vivian's mother? There aren't any other agents you can send?"

"I asked Beckman for your team, Chuck. If anyone can get her out, it's you. And Casey. And Sarah, even if she's here with Ellie, manning the fort."

"Mom, we're expecting a baby! I can't go on a mission for the CIA," Chuck insisted.

Mary turned him, her eyes burning with an intensity rarely seen. "I know, better than anyone, what it means to go on spy missions when you have a family, a young family to take care of. Part of the reason Corrine slipped away from us while they were investigating was because I was pregnant with you, then you were an infant. That was never our plan. We wanted out. Hartley retrieving Corrine from Poshenko was supposed to be our last mission. Sound familiar? Things from the past can always find their way back to you, no matter how hard you try to just be done. You finished all of what your father left, what he was trying to do, for 20 years, and couldn't. You did it, Chuck. You and your team. She's alive. If your father were here, he would ask you to try. It's the only thing he could have done to make up for the mistakes he thought he made."

"What would she have been doing for 23 years? Maybe, you know, she doesn't want to be found," Chuck said.

"Mainly hiding from Alexei Volkoff. Once you got him out of the picture, she surfaced again. I don't think it's a coincidence," Mary insisted.

"There's something else, Chuck, very important, that Mom and General Beckman left out," Ellie said loudly, causing them both to look at her. "There is a very distinct possibility Corrine is the lost Intersect. That she somehow, either accidentally, or by force, acquired the file Stephen made to try and correct Hartley's defective one. It was before he saw the beta test you accidentally ran. So, she may be, you know," Ellie started, but Chuck finished.

"She may have lost all of her memories, like Sarah did."

November 23, 1984

Moscow, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Stepping gently, placing her feet strategically so as not to touch a single board of wood that could creak, Corrine walked down the hallway to the nursery. She had spent hours, studying the layout of the floor, testing every square inch of the floor, examining it for telltale sound issues. There was nothing here at all to fill her time, especially when she was away from her daughter. Each day, it became harder. Alexei controlled everything associated with Vivian. She had supervised visits only, now.

She could no longer let herself say his real name-Hartley, her husband. Her husband was gone, just as effectively as if he had been killed, leaving this heartless and cruel man in his place. This was worse, she thought as she moved silently. He wasn't dead and gone-he was a ghost. His shell dominated every inch of the space where she existed, but inside not him, but the man who had killed him, in her own mind. A man who would most likely kill her. She was not foolish enough to believe any part of her husband was left inside to stop Alexei anymore.

She turned the doorknob, counting to almost 60 seconds before it turned, clicking to open. She pushed the door, only millimeters at a time, having memorized each spot where a squeak could betray her, and pulling down hard on the handle to prevent it. Closing the door behind her took another two minutes of meticulously slow creeping. But once she was in the room, her baby's crying audible now, pulling at her heart, she couldn't wait.

She scurried across the carpet, reached into the crib, and scooped her daughter into her arms, cradling her against her heart. "Ssh, Darling, Mummy is here," she soothed, breathing in the delicately sweet scent of her hair and her pajamas. In seconds, baby Vivian had stopped crying, pressed against her mother's heart. She forced her eyes shut, helpless tears streaming down her cheeks from her emerald green eyes. A thousand offers to trade herself to him completely in exchange for her daughter's freedom had gone unheeded. They were trapped here, maybe forever.

"Rose," she heard, eerily quiet and deceptively disarming. Alexei Volkoff was none of that. She gasped, frightened. He called her by her code name, having forgotten she was his wife, and her name, her real name, the name he had whispered to her before he told her he loved her for the first time, was Corrine. "You didn't think you could sneak in here without me knowing, did you?" he said, an ugly sneer on his once handsome face.

She placed the baby down immediately with hands that shook. Her agitation and anxiety ramped up as Vivian began crying again once she was alone in her crib. "She's so small. She needs her mother," she said unevenly, knowing she was only stalling. He didn't care at all about what she spoke of.

He crossed the room, striding with determination, but no haste. He had no need for haste. He could not be escaped, when there was nowhere to go, nowhere she could run from him. "Please don't hurt her," she said meekly.

Two brutally rough hands grabbed her by her upper arms, pinching them together and dragging her forward, out of the room, and away from her daughter. He shut the door loudly, an antithesis as to how she had entered. In the hallway, as he slammed her hard against the wall, she heard her daughter crying helplessly through the wall in muffled pathos.

With one hand, he held both arms, holding her pinned. The other hand reached for her cheek, caressing her menacingly. She closed her eyes, teetering on the edge of this again, as always. He had only tried once. Her using the words out loud, that he could force her, but it would never be her. He could not force her to love him. Something about being accused of rape before perpetrating it had held him at bay, all this time.

Instead his free hand reached for her throat, and he held her against the wall, choking her, until the edges of her vision blackened. "You know the only reason you are alive is because I allow it. Don't forget it," he threatened, then released her arms, and struck her hard down to her knees.

He left her on her hands and knees in the dark hallway, vulnerable and alone.