A/N: Another round of thanks to my literary "coach" for pointing me in the right direction, exactly when I needed it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A little more stupid, a little more scared
Every minute, more unprepared
I made a mistake in my life today
Everything I love gets lost in the drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
Way out of sync from the beginning
"Slow Show"
The National
December 30, 2011
Undisclosed Location, Black Site, Thailand
The only sound audible in the dark corridor was the echo of footfalls against the cement floor. The air was dank and musty, the ductless air conditioning system not fully functional this far underground. It was an impenetrable bunker, subterranean, buried deep in the jungle.
Thick steel doors whooshed open and closed as she made her way deeper and deeper into the complex, the lights on the wall dimming the farther she descended. There were only a handful of guards here-the electronic and digital fortitude of this place making extra human firepower unnecessary.
On the last leg of her journey, she clamped down her apprehension, her years of training allowing her to do so effortlessly. Even with a cold, clinical assessment, she still had the strongest sensation that she was transitioning to the underworld, and was on her way to converse with Hades himself.
She heard his deranged laughter before she saw him. In response to her arrival, or was she only an unobserved onlooker, viewing his mania that existed at all times, even when he was here alone? She continued forward, the sheer might radiating from her, an invisible shield.
There were no bars on his cell, rather a bulletproof glass door, permanently sealed. Only a slot the size of a meal tray was connected to anything outside. She pressed the button for the communication device to activate, hearing the laughter amplify as it was picked up by the microphone, sounding tinny, with so little acoustic enhancement surrounded by stone.
"You know who I am and you know why I'm here," she announced boldly.
He continued laughing, ignoring that she had spoken. Not truly expecting any acknowledgment from him, she just continued speaking. Choosing words she knew would taunt him, she said, "The Omen is slowly driving you insane, you understand that, right? You underestimated Charles Bartowski. Again."
The mention of Chuck's name stopped the laughter.
She knew how easy that could be to do. She had done the same once.
"It wasn't just Decker, was it?" It was a question, posed like a statement.
"Why would I tell you anything?" he finally spoke, slowly, in a menacing tone. "What benefit is it to me?"
"What if there was a way to remove the virus? Put your brain back to normal?" she offered.
"Why? So the torture actually starts to work? Right now the Omen is the only thing protecting me. You know that." He tsked, then added in a black, angry growl, "You are underestimating me. Never do that."
She hadn't. His twisted argument told her what she needed to know, without so much as a question. What he had done, in his madness, was underestimate her.
July 13, 2012
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
The air conditioner in her office had been cranking all day long in the sweltering summer heat. The sudden shiver she felt creeping across her skin under her uniform had to have been from the memory, rather than the ambient temperature. Diane Beckman felt as if she could still smell the mustiness of the dank catacomb-like dungeon where Daniel Shaw was detained, where he remained to this very day.
Rubbing her upper arms in an attempt to ward off the chill, she began pacing, a tight loop behind her leather chair, in front of her bookshelf. Everything was pristine, unblemished by dust accumulation. She knew she could swipe a white glove along the edge, and it would come away clean. The setting sun made oddly shaped patterns of light, some of it glinting off the reflective surfaces, scattering broken rainbows about the floor and wall. Everything in here was immaculately maintained. The only clutter accumulating dust was inside her.
She had advised Sarah not to go to see him, before he was removed from California, though she found out later, Sarah had gone anyway, and not told her husband she had seen him again. Beckman had learned second-hand about the threat from Sarah's past and Kieran Riker that Daniel Shaw had learned, scouring her records as part of his deranged obsession as he rotted in the prison he eventually broke out of when the Omen virus defeated the CIA's security measures.
Beckman herself had been warned to not go to the Black Site, but, like Sarah, she had not been able to stay away. Partly because she had been so completely snowed by the man before and wanted to show she would not be deceived again, partly because she could not just accept that someone who displayed such clear and present danger as Daniel Shaw, for as long as he had, was just suddenly neutralized. It was too easy. Everything was more complicated than it appeared, always.
She had taken Clyde Decker at face value, a pompous bastard of a man, but with a decent record and credentials to match. Personally liking someone she worked with was irrelevant, and would never have even occurred to her in the long history of her military career, at least until she had met Charles Bartowski. In Decker's role as CIA head, the permanent replacement for Langston Graham, she had never questioned him. The suppression device she was presented with was explained with precision, with a redacted paper trail that seemed to indicate it was derived from the program extracted from Orion's laptop.
Only now she knew how far from the truth she had allowed herself to be directed. Talking to Shaw, his mind slowly deteriorating, had had only one purpose. She had worked the words around him, and he had confirmed her suspicions with his evasiveness. She was sure he had forgotten that before she sat behind a desk in an office, she had been a spy. A damned good one.
She hadn't been a spy for a very long time. But it was like riding a bicycle, wasn't it?
Damn, she thought. I've been hanging around with Bartowski for too long.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
When Alex came back into the room, Sarah followed her in. Only one quick glance over her shoulder acknowledged that Sarah was following. Alex's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. She held the phone out in front of her, looking at the screen in disbelief. "I don't believe this," she mumbled to herself. She pulled the pencil out of her hair, reaching up a hand to thread it through her tresses and shake them out.
"What took so long?" Ellie asked her, realizing a few minutes longer than she had anticipated had transpired. Stray wisps of chestnut brown hair had escaped from Ellie's ponytail, framing her face in a frizzy halo, evidence of her vexation.
"I had to step out the front door to get a signal," Alex muttered, almost to herself. She slowly snapped out of her stupor, turning to Ellie and asking sharply, "Did you know Jeffster is in Chicago on tour?"
Wide-eyed and flabbergasted, Ellie just stared. "Why would I know that?" A knowing look of dread washing the expression off her face, Ellie added, "Uh, what does that have to do with anything?" She still shook her head, as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"Apparently they work per diem with Buy More in between gigs. The Oak Park Buy More is sending them here," Alex said, spacing out the words, like she was explaining to a young child. She fumbled with the phone, taking several attempts to shut it off, her attention focused elsewhere.
"Jeff and Lester? In Chicago?" Sarah asked, just as disbelieving as her companions.
"What?" Ellie gasped, in response to Alex. "I don't want those two to know where I live! Oh my God," she cried, covering her face with her hand.
"Jeff and Lester? Are you kidding?" Mary asked. Sarah kept shifting her attention back to whomever was speaking, without commenting.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Alex said, waving her hand in the air. "I know this sounds crazy. Like, really crazy. But those two did save my life, and Morgan, and even your husband," she added, stretching out an open palm to Ellie. "And you and Chuck and Morgan again, plus my Dad and General Beckman, come to think of it," Alex added again, now encompassing Sarah in her gesture.
"When did they do that?" Sarah asked. "I mean, I know about the song. But what…" she asked in confusion.
Shaking off the strangeness of the moment, Ellie felt like she had been hit in the chest with a brick, as she comprehended for the first time in all the confusion that Sarah now remembered everything, including the four missing days that seemed to have caused her panic attack before. Ellie knew how close to that situation the Jeff and Lester thing had been, and suddenly worried that it would trigger something else. Gently and slowly, Ellie spoke directly to Sarah. "You were on the train with Chuck and John. I was in Castle with Morgan and Devon and Quinn's men grabbed Alex. Used her to force John to act against you. Morgan and Devon tried to help, but they were captured too."
"We just talked about that," Alex said to Sarah, her tone questioning, but neutral.
Slightly pale, Sarah backed up and sat down. "So Casey asked them to help, since they were all that was left," she said slowly. Sarah missed the worried look Ellie exchanged with Alex.
"And they did," Alex finished sincerely. "My Dad couldn't believe it. But they did."
"They fixed my father's laptop, and they figured out that virus that almost ruined Christmas last year. They know about you guys being spies. I sound crazy when I say it out loud, but they could be perfect for this," Ellie said with a startled laugh.
"God help us," Mary muttered under her breath as she walked away.
July 13, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
"Chuck, have you tried calling your sister? Or Sarah?" Morgan asked, as they sat in the van, only a few hundred yards from the compound they were about to breach. It was uncomfortably warm in the van, despite the fact that they were parked in the shade of a large tree. When Morgan had opened the door to step back inside, a cool breeze had swirled its way in, indicating the air outside was cooler, despite the pounding summer heat.
"I talked to Ellie this morning, Morgan. It was the middle of the night there. Why? What's the matter?" Chuck asked. Tiny beads of sweat were visible on Chuck's forehead and upper lip.
"Casey and I both, at separate times, tried to call Alex and we couldn't get through. Isn't that weird?" Morgan asked, as he tucked the phone away and fastened his gear about him. The addition of gear only made the stuffy air more stifling.
"Sometimes the cell phone coverage is spotty this close to the Serbian border. The towers across country lines don't always talk to each other appropriately," Corrine offered as an explanation. Chuck marveled at how cool she was, the heat seeming to not affect her. Her long red hair was pulled back into a clumsy and messy bun, exposing the back of her neck. When she turned away, Chuck saw another scar, two inches long, that ran from her hairline down into the collar of her celery-colored top.
In his heightened state of tension, his mind worked overtime. Scars, he thought. They all had them, didn't they? Casey had so many Chuck knew he could have connected the dots on him. Just in the five years Chuck had known him he'd been shot five separate times. Sarah had several herself, some only visible to him when they were alone, some she had explained, some she never had. He had never pushed, understanding if she couldn't tell him, there was probably a reason. Morgan had less, less that showed anyway. He did have a scar from the burns he endured after electrocuting himself to save them in Iran. Working faster than he could stop, his brain went back there.
October 20, 2010
Lut Desert, Iran
"Oh my God, Morgan!" Chuck screamed, pulling in futility at his shackled hands, as he regarded the still frame of his friend.
With one hard yank, Casey pulled his manacled hands out of the stone wall, avoiding a small shower of dust and stone chips as he did so. He ran to the men crumpled on the floor of the vault, rifling quickly to find the keys.
"Casey! We have to help him!" Chuck screamed, cutting his wrists as he continued to pull.
In another instant, Casey was there, unlocking Chuck's shackles. "Take it easy, Bartowski," he said, quickly moving to Sarah and doing the same. Sarah just pulled her hands down in front of herself when she saw Chuck kneel at Morgan's side and reach for his pulse on his neck.
"Casey, he's not breathing!" Chuck yelled.
"Oh my God," Sarah said softly behind him.
The fear widened Casey's eyes only slightly, but Chuck and Sarah both saw it. "The kid took 10,000 volts," he grumbled, stooping and slinging Morgan over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. "Let's get him out of here."
Following Casey, Chuck rambled, "Why would he do something so crazy?"
Lying Morgan on the ground immediately outside the bunker, Casey replied, "Because what the kid lacks in brain cells he makes up for ten-fold with bravery. He was trying to save us. He did save us. Now save him, Chuck," Casey said, out of breath and panting. Chuck knew instantly that it was not from exertion, but worry.
Chuck set aside his worry, and began CPR. It took a calm rhythm, and he maintained it, vaguely thanking somewhere that the Buy More had required all their staff to be trained in CPR. It had in actuality been his sister, the doctor, who had made sure he was certified, before the Buy More had ever required it. Although at the time, if anyone would have told him he would need it to revive his best friend in the desert in Iran three years later, he would have laughed in their faces.
"Come on, Buddy, breathe," Chuck urged. He felt Sarah's hand on his back, offering the only comfort she could. His vision blurred slightly as tears threatened, but he locked them down and continued.
"Come on!" he urged again, steeling himself against the useless panic threatening. "You can't die, not like this. Please," he added with a whisper. His arms started to burn from the effort.
"He has a pulse!" Chuck said, palpably relieved. He sat back on his haunches, shuddering, letting the tears he had been holding back flow out. Sarah quickly wrapped her arm around his shoulders, breathing her own sigh of relief.
"Good job, Chuck," Casey said, his voice a little too tight, as he was not able to completely mask his own relief.
"Thank God," Chuck whispered, squeezing Sarah's hand, then letting it go as she crept up to Morgan's side, seeing his eyes start to flutter.
July 13, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
Scars, he thought again. The scar on his wrist from that incident was the only one of Chuck's visible on the outside. But he still had plenty, probably as many as Casey did on the outside. Caring about people, putting their welfare above his own, had left him vulnerable to those wounds. He blew out his breath, expelling the air out of his lungs as if it could take the pain of the wounds still tender, unhardened yet. Someday, he would have more. Now, he lived with the pain of the in-between.
Turning his attention back to what lay in front of him, Chuck finished securing his own gear. He checked his tranquilizer pistol, packing the extra rounds in his pack. Casey and Morgan were doing the same thing behind him, while Corrine did the same right next to him.
"A tranq gun?" she asked with a smile, totally lacking condescension. She raised an eyebrow, but pursed her lips as if she were controlling mirth.
"That's how I roll, for the most part," he said unapologetically, a crooked smile on his own face in response to hers.
"Just like your father," she whispered, almost in awe. "Hartley too. God, it took me three weeks to just get him comfortable holding a gun." Now she laughed. "I can't tell you how many times he emptied the magazine by accident."
"Been there, done that," Chuck said, laughing slightly, glad for this brief respite from the seriousness of what they were about to do. He remembered dropping the ammo clip, in the backroom of the Wienerlicious, while Sarah was locked in the freezer.
Corrine's laughter was robust, and Chuck thought from her facial expression, she hadn't laughed very much these past 20 years. The smile took what seemed like forever to eventually fade, her face becoming an unreadable mask once again.
Smiling gently, Chuck said in reply, "His mother told me that, you know."
Corrine was shocked. Grabbing his arm as she spoke, she asked, "Mildred is still alive?"
Understanding Mildred must be Mrs. Winterbottom's first name, Chuck answered, "At least she was, a little over a year ago. That was part of how we figured out the Agent X issue."
"That woman is amazing," Casey called from behind them, pointing with his right hand for emphasis. Morgan stopped what he was doing, a twisted curiousness contorting his eyebrows. Sensing Morgan's expression, Casey turned only his eyes to Morgan and replied, "She's like the mother I never had," he added, almost comically.
"Yes, yes, she is," Corrine said, a yearning in her voice that was unmistakable.
They finished in silence, the tension of the upcoming task weighing on them. Before they disembarked, Chuck pulled Casey to the side, out of the ear shot of the other two. "Listen, Casey, there's something I have to tell you."
He grunted, indicating Chuck should continue.
"If I have to flash, at some point, you know, if things get dicey, can I ask you to keep an eye on me?" he said softly. Chuck swung himself out of the van and onto the ground, immediately feeling the sweat that accumulated on his exposed skin start to cool as the breeze drifted by. The humid air clung to him, though, as he thought he could smell something sweet, dusty like floral pollen.
"Why would I have to do that?" he asked warily, jumping out right behind Chuck. Casey, as always, looked the least bothered by the temperature.
Chuck looked aggravated and uncomfortable. "It's complicated. But let's just say the government made upgrades. Again."
"What, like you become invisible or something?" he asked.
Sighing, Chuck started quickly, "Remember the tic tac incident?" At his grunt, Chuck continued. "You weren't there, you were still with Keller. But Sarah told you later what happened, didn't she?" After all this time, specifically time spent around Chuck, Casey could tell he faded a few shades paler, appearing almost gray in the light of twilight surrounding them.
"Yeah," he said plainly.
"Well, if I start acting like she described to you, I'm gonna need you to keep me from going over the edge. Do you think you can do that?" he asked, a plea unmistakable in his eyes.
"What the hell is in this one, Bartowski?" Casey asked, his eyes narrowing. "And how would you know that, considering you've been hacking computers in a closet for the last six months?"
"They fixed the emotion interference issue." His face turning to a grim mask, he added, "And you don't want to know how I know." Chuck looked away, towards the ground, still unable to broach that topic in conversation.
Casey eyed him closely, giving a breathy grunt that seemed, to Chuck anyway, that he understood, at least enough to know what Chuck was talking about. "Don't worry, Chuck," he added, sotto voce. "I know what to do."
Chuck had been worrying, almost the entire drive, about the possible scenario he had been imagining. Knowing Casey had his back was a comfort, as he had nothing but faith in his friend. It made the task less daunting, and the outcome less catastrophic, should things not go according to plan. Because they almost never did.
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
Ellie went to the door when the doorbell rang. Devon was in the kitchen with Clara, in the process of cooking dinner and feeding her at the same time. On her doorstep were the same two clowns she had known forever, Jeff and Lester, her brother's coworkers from Buy More, who were now apparently international singing stars. Ellie saw the shock that registered on their faces when she knew they recognized her.
"Woodcomb! I told you it sounded familiar. What are the chances?" Lester exclaimed, looking at his companion. "That you'd be in need of expert computer skills this time, not our musical repertoire?" Lester said grandiosely. He looked the same, almost exactly. His hair was longer, and puffed out farther from his head than usual, and his scruffy beard was more filled in, trimmed along the line of his jaw.
"You didn't know our last name when you worked with her brother every day. Why would it sound familiar?" Devon called from the kitchen.
"The Doctors Woodcomb and family, I presume?" Jeff said from behind him, as if Lester hadn't spoken at all. His hair was trimmed closer to his head, the patchy baldness the same, and even more noticeable, as he combed it slicked back. He appeared to have lost a little weight around his midsection.
"How are you two still Nerd Herding?" Ellie asked, ushering them into her home and shutting the door.
"Why choose between our two passions-music and computers-when we could do both? Our touring schedule is flexible enough to allow it. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing better than rebuilding a few hard drives from scratch every now and again," Lester answered, his usual highly inflected speech pattern irritatingly familiar.
"In the U.S. our shows are a little spottier than in Europe or Japan," Jeff offered with a nonchalant shrug of his husky shoulders.
"I can't imagine why," Ellie grumbled under her breath. She walked before them, crossing the gleaming hardwood floor. She could hear her daughter giggling from the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder to notice she was giggling at Lester and Jeff. Unusual, she knew, as she was currently in the stranger-fear phase. Maybe she recognizes their voices from that god awful sheep, she thought silently to herself.
"After our last foray with the Bartowski clan, dare I ask if this has something to do with the CIA? A threat to national security?" Lester said, his eyebrow raising in curiosity.
"You could sort of say that, I guess," Ellie said with a nervous laugh. "And our government server crashed. That's why we called. Do you think you can fix it?" she asked. "And keep the whole thing a secret?"
"I'll have you know, Jeff and I never said a word to anyone about what we learned. We were just glad to have served our country and the great citizens of Burbank," Lester gushed, squinting oddly for a second. Jeff quietly surveyed the situation without speaking.
"Come on, it's in here," Ellie said, leading them down the hallway towards her office. The hallway was slightly darker, no windows to allow the mid-day sunshine to flow through. Ellie could see the sunlight beaming from under the door, a thin strip of light laying across her shoes as she stood at the door.
"We're paying with money this time guys. No medical services, is that clear to everyone?" Devon called from the kitchen again.
"Perfectly. We have good medical. Better than the Buy More, thank you very much," Jeff said, crossing his arms over his body.
"How wonderful for you," Ellie mumbled, fighting to keep a straight face. Ellie opened her office, letting them in and then shutting the door.
"Well, well, the gang's all here. No men folk in these parts today? With the exception of your fine specimen of a husband?" Jeff added.
"Well, they were here, you know, visiting, but they're away," Alex said with a smile. "Just us girls today."
"Wow, Blondie!" Lester exclaimed with a twitchy smile. Behind his hand that he placed over his mouth, he loudly whispered to Jeff, "Packing on the pounds I see."
Sarah crossed her arms, one eyebrow almost disappearing under her hair that draped down over her forehead. Once the initial shock wore off, the blistering look she gave Lester seemed to fluster Alex and Ellie at the same time. "Listen you little twig," Sarah hissed, suddenly confrontationally close to him. "You remember I was CIA, don't you? A trained assassin? Why don't you google how many different ways I could kill you-"
"Sarah!" Ellie said, her eyes wide, slightly shaking her head. Ellie let out a breath, reminding herself the Sarah she had always known, the side of her she always saw, was how she comported herself around Chuck. Ellie herself had only seen this Sarah once, when she and Devon had needed rescuing after a case of mistaken identity. With her memory intact, this Sarah was rising to the surface. She actually interjected her body between them.
Lester looked as if he was about the throw up, almost scooting around Jeff, to hide behind him.
"She's pregnant, you idiot," Ellie said behind him.
"Chuck's dream come true," Jeff said, strangely serious, almost wistful, in what Sarah thought was a creepy way.
"Of course she is," Lester babbled, "Why else would she look like that? I mean, come on-" Lester scolded Jeff with a look that said "are you crazy" without words. "Although, I thought you and he were on the outs, you know, this latest time," Lester insinuated, looking at Sarah out of the corner of his eye.
Stepping around Ellie, Sarah addressed them both. "Look, you need to fix the computer. Now. One more word about me or Chuck or how I look, you will regret the day you ever forgot my name was Sarah. Got it? Sarah," she hissed.
"Mrs. Bartowski," Jeff blurted out, as a verbal compromise.
"Fine," she growled, and walked away.
Lester mumbled to Jeff out of everyone else's ear shot. "Why do I not remember her like that?"
Jeff quirked an eyebrow, answering in stark seriousness, "You disparage Chuck in her presence. Pity the man who comes between Sarah and Chuck, my friend."
Devon walked up slowly to stand beside his wife. "Dude, you still off the fumes?" he called to Jeff, giving a crooked, confused look to Ellie as he did so.
"Never better, Dr. Woodcomb," Jeff replied, a sharpness of intellect blatantly coherent, like it had miraculously appeared after Devon's diagnosis a little over a year ago.
Devon winked, then gave him a thumbs up gesture before he addressed Ellie. "Are you ladies all right here with this?"
"What?" Ellie answered, like she was watching a train wreck and couldn't pull her eyes away. "Oh, yeah," she said, visibly shaking herself. "Go to work, Honey. We'll be fine."
"You'd think heading the cardiac department would save me from the night shift," he complained. "Dinner's on the stove. Clara's all set. She's looking at her book in her high chair."
"Someone needs to whip those new interns into shape," Ellie said with a smile. She gently kissed him goodbye. "Thanks for all the help today, Honey."
Sarah was at a loss for words, sitting down, staring back and forth at them, the sensation that she was watching something that couldn't really be happening. Agitated, and fuming under the surface.
"Is she all right?" Jeff asked Ellie, watching how Sarah looked.
Alex ended up answering. "She's fine, guys. Everything is fine. Except that our computer is dead and we need it to work again, like right now. Can you guys do that for us?"
Lester scoffed. "Of course we can. You called the professionals, right?"