CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Turning the sign around
We're closed to the Earth
Til further notice
A stumbling cliched case
Crumpled and puffy faced
Dead in the stare of a
Thousand miles
"Wait It Out"
Imogen Heap
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
Sarah sat in the chair against the wall, watching Ellie as she worked at her computer. The table lamp softened the ambiance in the room, the warm light creating a halo around Ellie's workspace. She was busy attaching what appeared to be a virtual reality headset. Ellie pulled out the cord, untwisted the kinks, and attached an extension cord so it reached all the way to the chair, so Sarah was able to be comfortable during the long process. Sarah watched her repeat steps, sometimes fumbling, an agitated frustration continuously interrupting her focus.
She understood her sister-in-law's motivation, but still garnered some apprehension at her apparent haste. Sarah knew she was an integral part of their defense should the situation become critical, and being incapacitated for so long was troubling. "We can still wait, Ellie," Sarah told her. "I'm telling you, to keep everyone safe, I can wait."
Ellie turned to her, looking over her shoulder with pain radiating from her forest green eyes. "I know, Sarah. But I can't." She pushed a button, then rested her hands in her lap. "I'm not trying to make you feel terrible, Sarah, please understand that. But we were in cahoots, the two of us, and it still feels now like it was against my brother. We can rationalize it away, take into account the fact that he forgave us both, because he's Chuck, but we did that."
"I know," Sarah admitted, the words heavy with guilt. She looked away briefly. "I can't go back in time and fix mistakes, Ellie. But I can keep this from becoming another one. You don't need to put yourself in so much danger."
"I can't fix anything either. This is all I can do, right now. Because I can't watch him go through that again, if you suddenly regress because of this program. Chuck deserves to be happy. And he can't be happy without you, Sarah. I think you know that," she said softly.
Sarah only nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. Nor did she add her own sentiments, that the same was true for her. Suddenly not remembering him again was a horror unthinkable, even now feeling deep, entrenched scars she knew would never completely heal. After how far they had come, circling back to where everything had gone wrong, was unacceptable. Sarah's eyes were like ice on fire when she looked at Ellie. "It's not just about being happy with me, Ellie."
Sarah's fierceness was like another presence in the room with them. It wasn't anger, Ellie knew. It was so much more complex, a multi-layered intensity that turned her eyes to crystalline blue gems. When Sarah spoke again, the sound of her voice almost reverberated inside Ellie's head, the passionate explanation flowing out of her like lava over the side of a volcano, burning through and purifying everything else. "The person that you know, the Sarah that you've always known, since the first day I met you. She's someone who didn't exist before I met your brother. She was in here," she said, touching her chest briefly, "but broken into a million pieces. Chuck picked them all up, even though he may have cut his hands a few times in the process, and he became the glue that holds them all together. I'm just a pile of broken pieces again without him."
"So it isn't just for my brother, then. It's for you, too. As long as you're ready, we do it now. I won't just stand by, knowing I had the power to fix this and I didn't." Her face hardened, a grim line becoming her jaw as she made up her mind.
"I'm ready, Ellie. Let's end this nightmare, once and for all," Sarah said, her eyes still blazing so electrically, Ellie thought she could imagine, if love had a color, it was ocean blue, like Sarah's eyes. The formless, ephemeral nature of love in her mind would be colored that way forever.
Ellie walked back to the computer, then walked towards Sarah. She attached a blood pressure cuff to Sarah's left arm, and a pulse monitor to her finger. Sarah felt the cuff tighten, after she heard the prickling crack of the Velcro fastener as Ellie adjusted and readjusted it. "Lay back, Sarah," she instructed, pulling the pillow to the edge of the chair and easing her back. Sarah saw her with the glasses in her hand, and her memory reeled back to the train again, sitting with Chuck in the compartment, wringing her hands in her lap while he tried to comfort her. She had never wanted him close to her more than in this instant, feeling like Sleeping Beauty, ready to be put to sleep for a hundred years.
"Ellie, if something-"
"I know, Sarah. Believe me, I know," Ellie said, understanding the emotions, but not able to process the fact that something could go wrong.
"Nothing happened, after Quinn took me," she blurted out, seemingly out of nowhere. "Not like I...or we...were worried about. It doesn't seem like it matters, but Chuck needs to know that, no matter what happens." There was so little she could do to ease all the pain he lived with now, it was probably the thing weighing most on his mind. Sarah added, "He felt so responsible, and none of that was his fault. He needs to know that nothing like that happened."
Smiling, fighting with all of her might to not mist up, Ellie said, "You can tell him when he gets back." She slid the unit onto Sarah's face, and rose to go back to the computer. "Take deep breaths, count to ten as you breathe out." Ellie closed her eyes tight, then initiated the program.
She heard Sarah gasp only once, then heard her regulate her own breathing gently. Ellie checked her monitor, noting all Sarah's readings were in the green.
Now, she waited. Knowing this could potentially be the longest night of her life.
July 14, 2012
Timișoara, Romania
Casey clicked off his phone and turned back to Chuck. "Chopper. Can get us to Berlin in about 45 minutes. We can meet her there."
"Who are we talking about?" Corrine asked, securing the handcuffs that held Poshenko attached to the rail inside the van. She held a tranquilizer gun, ready to knock him out the moment he was conscious again.
"His girlfriend," Morgan volunteered.
Casey's reply was a growl, indicating his disdain for such banal nomenclature.
"Gertrude. She's a spy," Chuck told her.
"The one who killed Decker?" she remembered. Chuck nodded.
"Her people can take custody of our friend here and I can secure us a flight out with Global Strike Command. Direct flight. But Chicago is still eight hours away. The time difference buys us a little, but not much," he offered, sensing Chuck's anxiety. Kid could never sit still while Walker was in trouble, ever, Casey thought to himself.
"I told you, she can handle herself. She would never let anything happen to your sister. Neither would your mother," he assured.
"My sister has a panic room in her house. That's how I know for certain Alex and Clara are safe," he said in reply, knowing Casey was masking whatever concern was scratching at him under the surface.
"Your sister should be in there with them," he grumbled.
"I know," he sighed. "She's trying to help Sarah." He felt a stab of guilt, knowing he was still uncomfortable with his sister's actions. Worrying about her safety, because she was willing to put herself in danger to help Sarah, seemed to instantly erase that feeling. He just wanted to go home, and put his family back together. He was so close…
He clamped it down, not willing to risk upsetting the balance in his head. One thing at a time.
"Something else is eating you, Bartowski. What gives?" Casey prodded.
"I think Ellie's in the process of removing the Intersect from Sarah. They were still working on the problem when we left. She was supposed to find out why Sarah wasn't flashing all this time. I just hope she's not jumping the gun, no pun intended," he said, the last few words mumbled.
"Chuck, your sister's been working on this non-stop since Walker took off. She knows what she's doing. Just let her do it," he insisted. No nonsense Casey. Chuck felt himself grounding, coming back to the earth from his spiral of worry.
After a few quiet seconds, Chuck asked him, "So, excited to see Gertrude again?"
He sort of growled, and grunted at the same time. "I just left her last week. We aren't attached at the hip like you and Walker," he barked.
Softly, out of everyone else's ear shot, he asked, "What was Morgan talking about, when you flashed that first time? What the hell made him so angry?"
"It's a long story, Casey," Chuck mumbled.
"Can't you give me the abbreviated version?" Casey blew out his breath in a soft snort. "Never mind, I forgot who I was asking."
One side of Chuck's mouth curled up, and he made a snickering sound quickly, mocking Casey in good humor. He needed to laugh, even just for a second, to help the growing tension. "The abbreviated version? I was a mess after Sarah left. Not bathrobe-unshaven-mess. Not eating, sleeping all day, crying my eyes out nightly mess. That's how I found out what the newest Intersect could do." He looked away, feeling the heat from his cheeks as they burned with shame.
Casey's reply was a pseudo-grunt, actually just a huffed breath that stayed in his closed mouth. Chuck knew from experience this was Casey being sympathetic. "You didn't tell Grimes?"
"He was trying to help me, Casey. He thought I was drinking, or doing drugs, or whatever," he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, some of his wounds from before still stinging as he did so.
"You let him think that," Casey stated, matter-of-factly.
"No one but you and Sarah knew I had it. I didn't want to start broadcasting it again." He sighed. "It got really bad, Casey. Worse than you're thinking right now. I was a different person, if that makes any sense," he added softly.
"I've seen that before. Only not on you. On your wife." Casey opened his eyes wider, connecting with Chuck, knowing they referred to a specific instance, but knowing it applied to all situations when Chuck was in danger. "That's the only reason she downloaded that damned Intersect in the first place. For the record, I tried to stop her. She didn't see another way out."
"I know," he said. "She told me that on the train. She thought you might do something crazy like sacrifice yourself so she could get away or something."
Chuck heard the same breathy growl, a way of acknowledging his gratitude to Sarah, understanding in that moment something he hadn't before.
Bringing the topic back to what he'd asked, Chuck added, "Morgan was there, when everyone else was gone. He was the only thing that kept me going all that time."
"So, then, maybe just tell the little pipsqueak the whole truth, while you have a chance. He has his moments, Bartowski," Casey encouraged.
The rest of what Chuck was going to say had to wait, as the sound of helicopter blades thumping overhead drowned everything else out.
July 13, 2012
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
Long after most had vacated for the day, General Beckman was still working. Currently on her way to get answers from someone she was almost certain wouldn't have them. At this late hour, the person working in the NCS liaison's office would be of little help, probably new to the job, stuck working on a shift where little excitement ensued, other than an occasional phone call or data entry order from somewhere in another time zone.
Her suspicions were confirmed as, upon coming to the desk, the young man behind the desk started like she'd popped a balloon over his head. He almost tipped his desk chair over in an effort to stand quickly, before she said in a clipped bark, "As you were."
"How can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, his voice warbling.
"I thought a quick visit would be faster than a phone call. I need to talk to Jane Bentley, ASAP. I know she's not here now, but I was looking for her schedule," she told him.
"Ma'am, Director Bentley is currently traveling. She is due to check back in with the office at 0500," he said, reading from a digitized schedule that had appeared on his computer screen.
"Again?" Beckman quizzed.
"The details are classified, ma'am," he replied. At the twisted, blistering look she gave him, eyebrows scrunched together, he blurted in a rush, "Although I'm sure not above your clearance level, ma'am."
A sinking feeling starting to take hold, she forced her composure to stay in place, fighting the overwhelming urge to turn and run, feeling she needed to act now, and was wasting time, now that she had put almost all of the pieces together. Only one more task to prove what she now almost knew for certain. "That will be all. Carry on," she said rushedly.
Her fatigue settled around her like a blanket, as she realized the night was not over yet, and she had more spying to be done, that was probably suited for someone much younger, and in better shape. Well, don't count me out yet, she thought to herself. She was sure she had at least one more night's worth left in her. The safety of her team, her whole team, was at stake. That was motivation enough.
July 14, 2012
Estimated altitude 10,000 feet, somewhere over Austria
The decibel level inside the helicopter was at least two orders of magnitude higher than conducive to a normal conversation, but Morgan needed to talk to Chuck, even if he needed to shout, and continuously crack his jaw to level out the pressure in his ears. Casey and Corrine were towards the front of the compartment, with Poshenko, who was safely secured.
Morgan found himself seated next to Chuck, strapped in precariously in a place Morgan found too close to the door. Gripping even tighter, he started by almost yelling, "So Chuck."
"I know, Morgan," Chuck yelled back, knowing exactly the purpose of him talking. "I owe you an explanation."
"You were using the Intersect like meds, weren't you?" he accused, knowing the answer.
Reddening though he knew no one could hear, he swallowed, searching for the words. "Would it have made any difference? If it was alcohol?"
Morgan looked on in silence, contemplating Chuck's words. "I don't think it would have."
"Morgan, I was too far removed from my own life by that point. It's not an excuse. Just the truth. What's important is that no matter what caused it, you saved me from it." He turned, facing his friend, his hazel eyes warm with comradeship. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
Morgan absorbed the warmth in the moment for all that it was worth, knowing for certain Chuck had no capability to have anything but the purest motives. "You just needed a reality check, that's all," Morgan tried to ratchet down the intensity of the moment.
"No, Morgan, you saved my life. Literally. And I think you know that," he added, the emotion roiling his voice, as he tried to project it over the noise.
It burned inside, like a blow torch, the knowledge clear that he would be dead a hundred times over, even before Morgan was a spy, if not for Chuck. "I owed you at least one, Buddy," Morgan yelled, a slanted grin on his lips. "Don't worry, Chuck, we're good. I just…you know." He paused. "At least it makes sense now. I actually feel better, that it was that, and not, you know. Especially considering-"
"I know," Chuck replied, shaking his head to clear the awful memory, unable to bear hearing Morgan say the rest of it out loud. "I know."
July 13, 2012
Oak Park, Illinois
Mary heard the light tapping on the glass door that was the entrance to her deck from the kitchen. She looked quickly at the closed door to Ellie's office, knowing they were still safely inside, and Alex and Clara were still in the panic room. Her gun drawn, held up next to her face, she approached the door, and pulled back the curtain slightly, while angling her body out of sight.
She breathed a sigh of relief, lowering the gun and tucking it behind her back again. She reached for the lock and clicked it back, pulling the handle to slide the door. "Come in," Mary whispered sharply, motioning with her hand for the two people waiting at the door to enter.
"We came as soon as we got your message. What's going on, Mary?" Hartley asked, looking around Ellie's house, taking in the surroundings. Behind him, his daughter Vivian stepped behind him.
Mary shut the door, locked it, not before she scanned the outside again as an extra step of caution. "It's a very long story, part of which you already know. What's important. Chuck is on his way back here. With Corrine. She's safe," Mary said, her breath rushing out in a gush.
Hartley immediately turned away, covering his face with his hand. Vivian reached for him, putting her hands on his shoulders, a gentle embrace meant to calm him. "Dad, that's wonderful news. Isn't it?" she added, speaking quieter, to Mary.
"She is also completely fine. No Intersect, no memory loss," Mary said to them both. "But while we're waiting for them, we have a big problem here. My daughter is in her office, removing a defective version of the Intersect from Sarah. Someone at the Pentagon, someone who isn't on our side, was spying on her. Only we shut off the surveillance, so it's only a matter of time before they figure it out."
"Well, you need to call some help, don't you? A tactical team or something?" Hartley said, spinning back to her.
"We can't yet. My daughter fixed the file to help Sarah, but she kept it a secret from the CIA. To keep it out of their hands," she added, knowing he would understand, remembering what had happened to Stephen. "She can't destroy it until Sarah is safe. Which won't be until almost morning. I need your help to keep them safe."
Hartley looked at her, his eyes enormous, understanding what she was asking. "Mary, are you serious? I haven't even held a gun in 30 years," he lamented, looking away at the same time, his anguish at the knowledge that Volkoff was the one with all the expertise. "You know what I mean," he mumbled, broken and defeated.
"Corrine trained you, Hartley. I was there. You can do this," she coached.
Vivian embraced him again, offering comfort and understanding, having been almost absorbed by the same blackness he despaired of. But she turned back to Mary, a fervency burning in her eyes. The only reason she had been able to escape that blackness was because of Chuck, offering her hope at the same instant she had attempted to destroy him. After all that, she thought, the least she could do for him was protect his family. "Dad, we can do this. Riley taught me how to use a gun. At least let me use what he taught me to help someone instead of causing more damage."
Hartley looked at his daughter, admiration glowing, strengthening his resolve. He reached for her hand, his frayed nerves melting away. "You remind me of your mother, in so many ways, but never so much as just then. I believe she would be very proud of you."
"I can't wait to meet her," Vivian said with a hesitant smile.
All three of them spun as they heard the door click, and heard footfalls on the floor as Ellie approached. "It's time for you to check in with Devon-" Ellie lost her voice, suddenly seeing strange people in her home.
"Ellie, relax. This is-"
Ellie cut her off. "Agent X," Ellie breathed, remembering the photo she had seen in Castle, and the previous Thanksgiving visit whose danger she had only learned about much later.
"His name now is Henry Atwater, although, to me, he is Hartley Winterbottom. And this is his daughter, Vivian. Although she is now Veronica Atwater. This is Corrine's family," Mary stressed.
Ellie rushed up to them, her eyes still wide, her posture still like a cobra ready to strike. "You're the one who almost killed Sarah two days before she was supposed to get married," she accused.
Vivian almost cowered away from her, a supportive arm around her shoulder from her father. "You're right. I did that. I was very lost, then. Your brother saved me from myself, despite everything I'd ever done to hurt him. I don't expect forgiveness from anyone, but I'm here to help. You have my word, I won't let anything happen to any of you. I have a lot of things to atone for in my life. This is the first. I owe it to Charles."
"And so do I," Hartley asserted. "It seems my family, all of us, including my wife," his voice caught as he said the last word, something he wasn't used to saying. "Owe a debt to your brother that we can never repay. But we can try."
Ellie seemed to stare for a long time, calming as she let their words soak into her head. Her thoughts were a jumble, too much happening in the moment for her to process it all. On edge like never before, she felt one thought above all the others, blaring as if it were being shouted through a bull horn in her head. She had always known what an extraordinary person her brother was, but she had never understood the depth and breadth of her reverence for his character until this moment. And that was what she knew. She had read all of his mission briefs, but they were written for the military, stark and full of factual information. Things like this, hearing about the lives he had touched, were not a part of those. For every moment she spent keeping him from doing what he was meant to do, she had kept him from making a difference to people-two of whom stood in front of her now willing to risk their lives in return. Thank God you didn't listen to me, Chuck, she thought silently.
July 14, 2012
Berlin, Germany
Chuck, Morgan, and Casey stood on the tarmac, the wind from the helicopter blades buffeting their hair and clothing. The relentless, droning noise made hearing each other talk difficult, but they watched as a figure ran toward them, dressed in an all black jumpsuit. She ducked as she neared the helicopter, a reflexive reaction as the blades still spun, dizzy blurs above their heads. When she was close enough, Chuck recognized Gertrude Verbanski, her blue eyes intensely assessing the situation. When she looked at Casey, the ice in her eyes melted, and she smiled.
"Hello boys," she said slyly, though never taking her eyes off of Casey. She knew better than to show any outward signs of affection in the others' presence. A gentle wink and an upturned corner of her mouth sufficed, since Chuck could hear Casey's response grunt, even over the sound of the helicopter.
"Thank you for your help, Gertrude," Chuck yelled.
"We aren't in competition any longer. We can bury the hatchet, Bartowski," she said. "And we can talk about it later, because you've got a flight to catch. Where is said evil-doer?" she asked, directed at Casey.
As if on cue, they heard, shouted from the tarmac as they emerged around to the front of the helicopter, "I'm right here." He had Corrine in his grasp, her own gun pointed at her temple, as he dragged her along in front of him. When he was closer, he added, "The Intersect apparently raises the threshold for tranquilizer tolerance, did you know that, Mr. Carmichael? Or should I say Mr. Bartowski? That's who you really are. You know, I was going to tell you to say thank you to your sister for me. But I think I'll do it myself. It's so much better delivered in person, don't you think?"
May 29, 2010
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
"No, you're going to listen to me. You were this close," she made a gesture, her index finger and thumb pressed tightly together, "To letting the Ring completely usurp the authority of the DNI, completely take over the CIA, and discredit every accomplishment the NSA has achieved in all this time. My team is not taking the brunt of this. They saved you, General. They did, by themselves, against the full resources of the Federal Government. The next time you want to talk to me about how short the Intersect project has fallen, remember this day." She knew she was teetering dangerously close to being insubordinate, spouting off in front of a superior. But after being hauled away and detained, she felt she had a little leeway.
"The facts were manipulated, information twisted to fit an agenda we knew nothing about," Lieutenant General Meriweather droned calmly to her, seated behind his desk, as she stood before him, still shorter than he was when seated.
"That information was disseminated for your entire team, multiple times. Daniel Shaw was a threat. Yet those warnings were ignored," she pressed.
"Daniel Shaw was one of our best agents. For ten years. A few random reports of erratic behavior-"
She interjected, thinking quickly before her bluntness irritated him, "Begging the General's pardon, but kidnapping one of my agents and attempting to kill her is more than a report of erratic behavior. You heard his explanation, and you read Charles Bartowski's report. Which one seemed incorrect?"
"Bartowski is romantically involved with said agent!" Meriweather shouted. "A very obvious breach of protocol you allowed on your team."
"It has never proven to be a problem for my team. In fact, they work best that way. And better than any other team. You have the reports to prove it. He tried to tell me what had happened, and I disregarded him for the same reason. But he was right, and he went after her anyway. Which, yes, was another breach of protocol, but he saved her life. The life of one of the best agents the CIA has ever produced. I won't apologize for that."
July 13, 2012
Pentagon, Washington, D.C.
She stood in her office now, recalling that conversation with her nagging doubts, ones that seemed to have been present since that day over two years ago. Shaw had alerted the Elders in the audience at the conference, and Colonel Casey had apprehended them all. But the individuals that action had weeded out had seemed incomplete. Their combined influence had been significant. But to have affected the entire situation, to the point of her incarceration, and full reign of the resources of the CIA to have Team Bartowski eliminated, she had always suspected there had been another, even though with that incident, the Ring had been dissolved.
But the Ring, under Daniel Shaw, had been almost driven by a singular goal: the Intersect. Chuck had been right, proclaiming Shaw to be an Intersect, although his fraught emotional state during that situation, because of the secret he had kept about his condition being revealed to Walker in such a devastating way, had compromised his critical thinking, allowing Shaw to upstage him by taking a knife to the shoulder on purpose. If he had the Intersect, all along, then what were their long range goals, other than what he had tried to do? Take over the CIA?
What if it was worse than that?
Jane Bentley's pursuit of an Intersect program had not started with her. She was following orders, coming down from the top.
More investigation, she thought. Although now she was searching for proof of what she knew was the truth.