EPILOGUE
She brings me the music
And I am slowly falling in her grace
Man she don't prove it
She just walks in a room,
You just see her face
"She Brings Me the Music"
Richard Ashcroft
September 25, 2021
Burbank, California
Chuck stood in front of the mirror mounted to the inside of the closet door. His intention had been just a quick once over to make sure his dark blue button-down was free of lint and coffee stains. But stepping in front of the mirror, he had realized just how long it had been since he'd studied his reflection at all. Life moved too fast nowadays for that kind of thinking.
"Forty," he muttered to himself, leaning closer to the mirror, tilting his head side to side, examining the spots in his dark hair now sprinkled through with gray. He'd started showing grays at 37, much later than his wife, something he teased her about frequently, although her retort was always it was him who had grayed her early. Having turned 40 just seven days ago, he seemed to have quadrupled his amount of gray overnight. He adjusted his belt, pinching the skin on his stomach, remembering how not long ago he had been too thin to pinch anything, and would have had to have pulled his belt several holes tighter.
"It makes you look distinguished," Sarah called from the bedroom doorway.
Startled at her quiet approach, thinking how, as much as she'd changed since he had met her, the spy deep inside was still alive and well. He turned, as she pulled the door shut, shedding her clothes as she moved to her dresser. "We're making good time. Roast is out in one hour. Everyone is due around the same time," she told him, turning as she felt his eyes on her, as she pulled off the rest of her house cleaning clothes.
She moved to the closet, dressed only in her undergarments, and grabbed him around the waist from behind. "What's the matter?" she asked, unable to not notice how he still reacted to her, studying her reflection with a hunger in his eyes she knew well. Three children had done literally nothing to mar the perfection of her body or her skin, he thought.
"Just feeling old, Baby," he sighed, turning in her arms to face her.
"I know that look," she whispered gently. "We have company coming soon. I need to get dressed." She kissed him, standing up on her toes to reach his mouth. He held her close several seconds longer than necessary, then lightly smacked her thigh and let her go. He stepped out of the way as she dove past him into the closet. "Is blue ok?" she called, sticking the dress on the hanger out the door.
"All of the above, Mrs. Bartowski. There is nothing you could pull out of there that I would give you a thumbs down on, you know that," he said, plopping down on the bed.
"Even my maternity clothes?" she called, giggling.
"We're already outnumbered. Right?" he kidded.
She emerged from the closet in a sleeveless cornflower blue dress that hugged her curves yet flared out over the top of her knee. It made her blue eyes seem to glow. "I was afraid this is too young looking, you know, for a 40 year old," she teased him. She sat beside him on the bed.
"You don't look a day over 30, Sweetie. It's my gray hair that makes you look older, you know," he said quietly.
"Or just makes you look like you have a much younger wife. Who loves you enough to know when you're moping. What's really the matter?" she asked, resting her hand on his thigh.
"I didn't want to tell you this, until after the party. Your father called this morning, while you were grocery shopping, you know, to wish Stephen a happy birthday," he said hesitantly.
To anyone else, Sarah's face was perfectly unchanged, except Chuck saw how the corners of her mouth tightened, her smile forced, the brief flash of sadness in her eyes that she blinked away. "To tell him he wasn't coming, right?" she asked, without the upturn of her tone to indicate an actual question. "Was he upset?" she asked with trepidation.
"No, Sarah. He knows your Dad. If I've tried to teach him anything, it's that you have to take people at what they are, not what you wish they were. He knows your Dad loves him, in his own way. They all do. But he said something else...that I couldn't explain away completely, at least before I talked to you," he said.
"What, Chuck?" she asked, nervous now.
"He told Stephen September 24th isn't really your birthday," Chuck admitted. "I don't think he even realized what he was saying, you know, that it was going to come as a shock. We've always celebrated all three of our birthdays together since forever. But with that family tree school project that he was fretting over, plus, you know...I just feel badly. It is his birthday, you know."
Thoughtful, Sarah looked at the floor. Chuck tried to read her expression, uncertain of how upset she truly was. Her father, still, was the one thing in their lives that had real power to disturb her balance. "He's still in his room, doing homework, on a Saturday afternoon. I asked the girls to check on him. I was told by Abby, and I quote, 'He's being a dork again.' Is it dork now, not nerd? I can't keep up anymore," Chuck sighed.
"Let me go talk to him," Sarah said, pushing off from Chuck's knee as she stood. Chuck smiled at her back, proud of how far she had come in the time he had known her. For her children, she had learned to talk more openly about her feelings than he had ever thought possible for her. He had reaped the benefits quietly, remembering the near tragedy that had broken the seal, so to speak.
"Do you mind me tagging along?" Chuck asked her, standing as well. "I trust you. I just think it should be both of us, if he's upset." She smiled, silently reaching back her hand and pulling Chuck alongside her. They walked into the hallway of their house, past a plethora of photographs that covered the walls on both sides, full of smiling faces of family and friends. Sarah saw Stephen's door slightly ajar, his thin frame seated at his desk visible through the door.
Sarah reached up and knocked on his door, calling, "Hey, kiddo, can I come in?"
Stephen spun quickly in his chair, looking startled. "You scared me for a second, Mom," he said in a rush of breath. "Sure," he added, turning back slightly to his desk, papers strewn about on the surface in front of him.
"You know, you can take a break from homework. It is Saturday afternoon, and we're having company for your birthday really soon," she said, walking into his room and sitting down on his bed. She glanced quickly, seeing Chuck lingering in the doorway. She could only see the profile of Stephen's face as he stayed half turned away from her, the spitting image of his father as he had been at age nine-thin face with a head of unruly curly hair and half of a crooked, awkward smile that melted her heart whenever she saw it. "Dad told me about the phone call from Grandpa Jack." She paused, but when he said nothing after a few moments, she added, "It's ok to tell me if he upset you, you know."
Stephen turned, his blue eyes flecked throughout with gold a mirror image of hers, intense beyond his young years and alive with intelligence that always made him seem older than he truly was. "I knew he wasn't coming. I know how he is. That's not what upset me, Mom." He picked up his pencil, started tapping the eraser on the desk as he always did when he was nervous. "Why did you pretend that your birthday is the same as mine? I thought we are always supposed to tell the truth, no matter what. Grandpa Jack said you were born in July."
The bluntness of the question shocked her, and she paled slightly. She turned her head quickly, seeing Chuck standing in the doorway, his face awash with sympathy and love. Steeled inside with what she knew was his unspoken love, she turned back to their son. "We don't tell lies in this house, you know that, right?" she insisted. He nodded, full of childlike sincerity. He was waiting for a reason to believe what she said. "I would never lie to you, and neither would your father." She took a deep breath, searching inside for the right way to address him.
"Do you remember when you asked me about your project?" Sarah prodded, gesturing to the papers in front of him. "Why we have such an unusual family tree? I think maybe I need to explain that a little better. You are getting older. I think it's only fair." She stretched her arm out, beckoning him to sit beside her on his bed. He complied, sitting close enough that his leg rested alongside hers. Chuck stepped into the room, standing to the side, but there so his son knew his father was a part of the conversation.
Chuck's gaze wandered about his son's room. The shelf mounted above his head stood out, his three archery trophies set side by side, a ribbon draped over the top of one. At nine years old, he was currently competing with children in the intermediate range, the youngest on his team. His considerable height even at this age helped him to not stand out for his age, only his skills, honed by his mother. Smiling to himself, Chuck remembered the conversation with the other parents about his wife's unique ability to hit a bullseye with a knife thrown from 50 yards away. Arrows, knives—it's all about aim.
Above his bed, the Tron movie poster that had hung in Chuck's room until he had moved to this house, hung in the plastic frame, although Chuck had carefully removed all of the spy related additions he had made to the back of it. His sheets and bedspread were Star Wars, his father's collectible toys on a shelf behind his bed. On the back of his bedroom door was his newest acquisition—a Shazam movie poster. On the table beside his son's bed was a framed photograph of Sarah and Chuck standing behind their son, dressed in his gi, complete with his yellow belt tied around the waist.
"You know those stories that Grandpa Jack always told you? About all the silly things he and I did while I was growing up?" Sarah asked. Chuck could tell she was forcing a levity into her tone. "I never lived with Grandma Emma, at least not that I remember, since I would have been very small. We moved around a lot, all over the country, using different names when we went to different places. I was always pretending to be somebody else, all the time."
"Why?" he asked, genuine curiosity making his eyes wide.
Sarah could hear Chuck breathing, understanding he was getting anxious at the way the conversation was turning. "It was just what we did. I didn't really like it. I always wanted to just stay in one place, live in a house like we live in now, and have my whole family there all the time. But sometimes things happen and you can't always have everything you want."
Sarah wrapped her arm around his lanky shoulders, pulling him close to her. "Your Dad's birthday was last Saturday, right? And you were born exactly one week after your Dad's birthday. But I'm going to tell you a secret, something that I bet you didn't know. You were born on the exact date that I met your Dad. Did you know that?" Sarah asked him. She saw Chuck out of the corner of her eye reach up a hand and cover his mouth.
"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed with childish delight. "That's awesome, Mom," he added. Sarah couldn't help but laugh at his Uncle Devon's influence showing through in his word choice.
"I know, isn't that great?" she beamed. "And I never had a birthday party or a cake or anything like that when I was your age. I never celebrated Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or got dressed up on Halloween. Anything like that. Not until I met your Dad."
His forehead creased in a way Sarah knew was a carbon copy of his father, Stephen turned to look at her and asked, "What, were you Amish or something?"
Sarah laughed, letting the tension inside her go, more so as she heard Chuck laughing behind her as well. "No, we just, you know, lived differently than you're used to. But, like I said, I always wanted those things, because I missed them when I was growing up. But all those things that I always wished for I finally had, once I met your Dad. So I just decided that my birthday was the day I met him. That's when I always celebrated it. You just happened to be born then, too. That made it even more special."
He smiled at her, a wide, toothy grin full of a jumbled mix of adult and baby teeth. His blue eyes were soft and warm and full of love. He reached up and hugged his mother, and she pulled him close, glancing at Chuck over the top of his head, noting the light mist in her husband's eyes. She watched him mouth the words "I love you" without a sound. He stepped forward, one hand on his son's back and the other on Sarah's shoulder.
He ended up having to clear his throat twice before he could talk, but Chuck added, "So before, when you were trying to figure out why the tree looks like this. Most of our family aren't blood relatives like they talked about in school, but-they are all still your family. It doesn't matter that they don't have a line on that tree. That's not what makes someone a member of your family. What does is that they care about you, and would do anything they could to help you."
"Dad, did you see what I did? That's why I was in here all afternoon. I wanted to finish it so I could show everyone," he announced proudly. Chuck walked to the desk, scanning for the pieces of paper to which he was referring. He lifted the first piece of paper, quickly reading his son's semi-messy handwriting. On the top was his father and mother, Stephen and Mary Bartowski, and on the other side was Sarah's parents, Jack and Emma Burton. Underneath Chuck's parents were him and his sister, Ellie, with her husband Devon. Across from that was Sarah's name. Crammed underneath his sister and Devon were three lines-Clara, Devon, and Jason, their three children, and from a line connecting Chuck and Sarah were three other lines-Stephen, Abigail, and Alison, an asterisk next to the girls' names because they were twins. At what was the trunk of the tree, there was a giant red arrow with the words "Also See" in parenthesis.
Chuck shuffled through the papers and found the second sheet, the red arrow at the top. It was a different drawing, what looked like a row of rose bushes. Only each bush had names scribbled on them-Morgan and Alex and their two boys, Max and Matthew, attached to a bush with John and Gertrude and Mike and Bolognia, then a separate bush with Carina and Zondra's names. Another with all three Winterbottom's names, Corrine, Hartley, and Vivian. There was even a bush with the name General Beckman and Roan Montgomery written across it. Chuck laughed at the sight, certain he could see the look on his boss' face if he told her his son thought of her as a substitute grandmother, with Roan at her side, no less. Not awesome, as Uncle Devon would say. Careful to not completely break down in front of his son, Chuck struggled for emotional control, so touched it took force to get the words out. "That's exactly right, son. See, I told you it was easy."
Sarah had seen the whole thing in Chuck's hands as he'd looked, squeezing her son to her and rubbing her hand on his shoulder. "We love you very much, Stephen," she said warmly.
"I love you guys, too," he said sweetly.
The sound of the doorbell shook them out of their reverie. "I'll get it!" Stephen yelled, jumping up from the bed and careening into the hallway. The sound of him bounding down the stairs echoed through the hallway.
"You're amazing, have I ever told you that?" Chuck said softly, pulling Sarah up by her hands and pulling her close.
"Once or twice," she said with a smile, pecking his cheek before pulling away.
XXX
Amazing life
We've been given
I know that you had some troubles
I have had some troubles
I hear the doves
Singing in the trees
They call the dusk
Its colors nod to sleep
The coming dark
Can't hide what we can see
"Amazing Life"
Matt Pond PA
Chuck leaned against the wall that separated the living room from the dining room, against the wooden frame where a worn and faded carving that read "Sarah + Chuck" had recessed as time had worn it away. All along the edge of the wood were dozens of small pencil lines, names and dates written next to each one. The one on the top was fresh and the line darkest, recorded September 24, 2021, for Stephen at age nine. There were so many people in his house right now they were spread out in three rooms, two extra folding tables with chairs set up to accommodate everyone. Content to take in the scene quietly observing, Chuck sipped his beer bottle as he stood next to Casey.
"I had to park a street over to fit my Crown Vic, Bartowski. You'd better hope no one scratches it," Casey grumbled.
"Don't worry, Casey. All my neighbors know that's a general's car. They wouldn't even sneeze on it," Chuck laughed.
After a long sip of his own drink, Casey swallowed, then said out of the corner of his mouth, "Did you ever think you'd be here, at your son's birthday party, in a room with at least two people who tried to kill you before?"
"I hope you counted yourself in that number," Chuck said comically, half of his teeth showing as he smirked.
"Three then. I guess you're right," Casey said back, a much thinner smirk on his face, but matching the sentiment.
"Not in a million years, Casey. But if you told me I'd be here with two of your grandchildren, who belong to my best friend Morgan, with your girlfriend in tow, I wouldn't have believed that either. So kudos, for surprising me from every angle," Chuck said, tilting his bottle forward to clink it with Casey's. He grunted.
From his vantage point, Chuck could see just about everyone. To his right, Sarah was in the kitchen, pulling the roast out of the oven with two fuzzy blue oven mitts on her hands. Ellie was helping in the kitchen, directing her ten year old daughter to place things on the various tables, as she walked back and forth like a waitress. Sarah's mother Emma was turned with her back to them, washing dishes in the kitchen sink.
All of the children-all eight of them, were seated on the living room floor next to a pile of wrapped presents, the boys busy shaking each package roughly while Molly, Sarah's 14 year old sister, was in the process of telling them they needed to wait. Devon Jr, Jason, Max and Matthew took turns guessing what each box was, while Stephen carefully and descriptively explained why each guess was logical or not. Stephen's sisters, seven year old blonde twins, sat together, eyeing Clara as she helped their mother. Chuck could tell it was a deep and intense discussion between his twin daughters-stay seated in the living room without their older cousin, or go to the kitchen to talk to Clara and risk being roped in to help. The camaraderie of the only other girl close to their age was too enticing, and they jumped up to help Clara lay out silverware.
Milling about in the dining and living room were all the rest of the adults. Morgan and Alex sat side by side on the sofa, Morgan's arm draped across the back of Alex's shoulders. Mary, Corrine, Gertrude and Diane Beckman stood in a circle. Corrine appeared to be doing most of the talking, General Beckman looking as if she could only just tolerate the social gathering, but doing so with a smile, as she usually did when invited to Chuck's home. That must be an interesting conversation, Chuck thought to himself. Seated on the love seat across from Morgan and Alex were Vivian and her boyfriend, a man Chuck had been introduced to when he arrived, but whose name now escaped him. Devon and Hartley stood near the bottom of the stairs, also another conversation Chuck wished he could overhear. Nothing made him smile more than Mr. Prim and Proper himself, Hartley Winterbottom, call anything awesome in the right context.
Distracted by a blur whizzing by him, he heard his son yell, "I almost forgot," as he charged back up the stairs to retrieve his completed family tree. Chuck smiled when Stephen returned, holding it out for everyone in the living room to see. He smiled as his son charmed everyone in the room, as they appeared heart warmed at being included in what he considered his family.
Raising his voice above the chatter, Morgan called to everyone, even in the kitchen. "Now's a good time, I think." He turned to his wife, lifting his eyebrows.
Alex smiled, able to speak in a quieter tone now that everyone was paying attention. "Stephen should add another line on that rose bush. Morgan and I are having another baby!"
The accompanying ruckus was akin to applause as his home filled with well wishes. Above the din, his daughter Abby yelled, "We need another girl, Aunt Alex."
"April, guys, April," Morgan laughed. Chuck watched as John moved toward them, waiting for Gertrude to step aside so he could hug his daughter. Trailing behind, Chuck stepped in to shake Morgan's hand.
"Food is all set. Dinner's ready, guys," Ellie called out to them, as Sarah was arranging bowls and pans on the counter in the kitchen. Because of the number of tables involved, people were in the process of grabbing dishes from the table and moving to the kitchen to serve, before going back to sit down. None of the children moved from their spot on the floor. Slowly the room started to empty, Chuck motioning with his hand that held the beer bottle for the others to go before him.
He lingered back with Morgan and Casey. "Age before beauty," Chuck heard Morgan say as he gestured for Casey to go before him. Casey growled, but didn't hesitate.
With the room relatively empty, the television that had been droning on in the background edged into the bottom range of Chuck's hearing. It was the evening news, the beginning of the international portion. Chuck preferred reading news on the internet, the computer still inhabiting his brain sometimes overactive with informational flashes that no longer pertained to his life, although information he reported to General Beckman or General Casey whenever necessary.
Chuck only half listened to the tv, distracted as he heard both his sister and Sarah calling to the children to line up for food. He watched his three children fighting over who should go first. He heard Sarah's voice, louder than the rest, attracting Chuck's attention as he heard her concern over one of the younger children potentially getting burned. When he turned, the voice on the tv suddenly caught his attention.
...and sources at the U.S. Commission of Critical Infrastructure Protection said today the recent ransomware attack geared at the West Sacramento Public Works Department has still not been traced to any specific state actors although…
Pictures blipping through his brain in his mind's eye, he flashed. It was like watching a movie on reel at high speed in the dark. The entire sequence lasted about 15 seconds before he got his bearings again. While he was momentarily engrossed, he missed the change in the background noise, how everyone who had been talking had suddenly stopped.
A plate clattered to the floor in the kitchen and smashed on the floor, food splattering out in every direction. Ellie stood with her hands over her mouth, almost every other adult standing there, staring at his nine year old son. General Beckman stepped forward, her face deadly serious.
What broke the silence was Stephen's two sisters, pointing and screaming over each other.
"...He did it again, Mom, that weird thing with his eyes…"
"...Mom, Stephen's freaking out…"
"...What are you doing?..."
Completely confused, but unable to keep the information to himself, Chuck muttered to General Beckman so no one else could hear, "Russia. Russia hacked into the Sacramento water plant."
Beckman looked at Chuck, but quickly looked away, as Chuck realized his son had said almost exactly the same thing, speaking at the same time. "...supply. Uh...I think?" Stephen finished.
Chuck turned towards him, his mouth hanging open. Sarah came running out of the kitchen, sidestepping heaps of food that had spilled. "What just happened?" She rushed to her son, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What just happened, Stephen?" she asked him, shaking him slightly in her intensity.
So stunned he still couldn't speak, Chuck stared at him, open mouthed, as he heard light chatter in the background, all overlapping and at the same time.
Mary: "How is that possible?"
Ellie: "Sarah was pregnant when she downloaded it"
Morgan: "Here we go again…"
Vivian: "Whoa...what the hell?"
Devon: "Awesome, little man…"
Casey: "Oh...no…"
Followed by General Beckman, shouting over everyone else, "What the hell was that, Bartowski?"
"He...flashed," Chuck said slowly, drawing out the words as he stepped forward slowly.
"You mean zapped?" Stephen mumbled, still in his mother's grasp. "Dad, is that what you call it? Flash?"
Sarah released Stephen, meeting Chuck's eyes, her mouth hanging open as well.
In unison, Chuck and Sarah gasped, "Oh, boy."