A/N: Chuck and Sarah have started to gain some trust with one another. Sarah will continue her pursuit of the truth but will she find the answers she's hoping for? What's to become of Chuck?
I know it's been a while since I've had an update to this story. Thanks to those that have sent PMs expressing their continued interest. I hope this update doesn't disappoint.
Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck
Chapter 5
Sarah had spent hours going over documents, some of them two and three times, trying to find anything she may have missed. She soon discovered that Bryce must be the lynch pin to all of this because everything seemed to lead back to him. But with so much heat on him right now, his file was untouchable, unless she wanted to alert every alphabet soup agency that she was digging.
It was nearing midnight when she was startled by a pop-up on her laptop. It was an incoming call from Graham. Given that it was nearly three in the morning in DC, this didn't bode well.
Hesitantly, Sarah accepted the incoming secured video call. "Director?"
"Walker," he said in a hushed tone. The lights in his office were noticeably dimmed, which only added to the mystery behind the call. "Listen carefully. After our conversation I did some digging of my own. I knew I recognized the name 'Bartowski' from somewhere, and it was niggling at me. Then I got a notification that someone —you— was looking into George Fleming, one of our recruiters at Stanford. Somebody put some flags on his file, more particularly any documents mentioning Project Omaha."
A knot began to tighten in her stomach, both at realizing that she'd unwittingly triggered an alert and at Graham mentioning Omaha by name. "Sir, I—"
"Sssh. Walker, just listen. This is all beyond classified, but it's become evident that you need to be read into this." He blew out a breath and glanced around before continuing. "Omaha was a military project with the intention of imparting 'subjects' with pertinent information for a given operation. They believed that they could use specially encoded images —subliminal images— to somehow upload all the information that a soldier or agent would need for a mission. Documents, maps, photos, and schematics; you name it. That would give us an untold advantage in the field."
Sarah nodded her understanding. "I sense a but coming."
"Indeed," Graham said. "They quickly discovered that only certain subjects could handle the upload. Those that weren't well suited ended up with varying degrees of psychosis, brain damage or worse."
"Jesus," Sarah gasped, not prepared for that revelation.
Graham hummed his agreement to her sentiment. "That leads us to Fleming and his work at Stanford. He was testing candidates to see how well suited they were for this Project. Those that tested in the 80th percentile or higher were pulled into the project. One of those candidates was Larkin, but he was already an agent at the time, and we weren't prepared to use him as a guinea pig. We spent far too much time and money on his training to run that risk. However, there was one standout in that same class."
"Chuck," she breathed out, the pieces beginning to click into place.
"Yes," Graham said, sounding tired. "That's where I remembered the name from. His score was so high that it prompted Fleming to send a memo to the project leads, as well as myself. However, he was forced to rescind his claim, saying that the results were somehow invalidated. That's the last I heard of Bartowski, and that was years ago.
"Project Omaha was mothballed not long after that, but the technology proved to be too tempting to other government agencies. After 9/11, the CIA and NSA came together, pooling all of their intelligence data into a single, all-encompassing database. That database was called the Intersect."
Sarah groaned softly at the revelation, closing her eyes briefly.
"Yes, that Intersect," Graham said, picking up on her reaction. "The hope was that, with all of our combined intel, we would be able to prevent similar disasters from happening. The problem was that we didn't have the computing power to cross-reference all of that data to find anything actionable in a timely manner. It was believed that the human brain was the only … computer that was able to make those sorts of connections."
Sarah laughed dryly. "And in walks Project Omaha with a means by which to get data into a person's brain, presumably."
"Exactly." Graham paused to look over his shoulder again before turning back to the camera. "All of the Intersect data was encoded in preparation for the next phase. This was to be human trials with a very small subset of images. However, just days before those tests were to begin, Bryce Larkin broke into the facility that housed the Intersect and stole the entire contents of that database, destroying all the servers during his escape."
Graham was silent a moment as he let all of that sink in. For her part, Sarah had no trouble acting surprised. Although she had pieced a lot of this information together, she now had confirmation and a better understanding of the true scope of the situation. It was more frightening than she could have imagined.
Clearing his throat as he glanced over his shoulder, he turned his focus back to the camera. "Walker, you know I don't believe in coincidences. I'm no Intersect computer, but I can put some pieces together."
"Director, I—" Sarah paused, her fear of telling him what she knew was now ten-fold given that she knew the enormity. Still, if Bryce was working with other entities, if there were traitors within the organization, there were few people she could trust.
Graham leaned in closer to the camera, speaking in a more hushed tone. "I need to know, Sarah. Did Larkin send that data to Bartowski? Is that how he figured out about the hotel bombing? Larkin and Bartowski were roommates in college. They both took Fleming's class. If I can put the pieces together, Sarah, so can the people that Larkin is working for. Is it true?" he asked, sounding more concerned than she'd ever heard him. When the Director of Special Operations for the CIA sounds concerned, there's probably a damn good reason for it. Given what she'd learned, she understood.
Taking a giant leap of faith, Sarah steadied herself and quietly replied, "Yes, sir."
"Ooohhh, fuck!" Graham slumped into his chair with a groan of frustration.
Her fear for Chuck's fate was growing by the second. If she could show his worth, perhaps she might be able to save him. "Sir, he seems to be able to recall, with vivid detail, all manner of classified information. That's how he was able to learn about the bomb in LA. He pieced together seemingly unrelated bits of intel, from different organizations, and was able to see the whole picture.
"Those idiots assumed he was some whack job, so they ignored him." Sarah couldn't keep the disdain from her voice. "He was trying to warn them, trying to save those people's lives, but instead was forced to helplessly watch them die. And then he was tortured to near death for his trouble."
She paused to take a calming breath, her anger and frustration causing her volume and blood pressure to rise.
After a moment of silence, Graham blew out a breath. Leaning into the camera again, his brow was knit with determination. "Walker, what I'm about to ask of you is above and beyond, and nobody but the two of us can know. Do you understand? Nobody."
Sarah mutely nodded her response as the knot in her stomach pulled even tighter. Was he going to call upon the "Ice Queen" to make this all disappear?
"You need to take Bartowski … and run." Graham's declaration caused Sarah to gasp, her eyes growing wide as she pulled away from the computer screen.
"I-I'm sorry. W-what?" she stammered out when she was finally able to produce words.
Graham placed his elbows on his desk, pressing his fingers into his temples. "The NSA has some of their best digging into this Larkin fiasco. It's only a matter of time before they piece some things together. They'd love nothing more than to muscle the CIA out of the Intersect project and take it… him… for themselves. If they ever found out about him—"
Graham left that hanging in the air. He didn't have to say it. They both knew. "As if that wasn't enough, clearly there are people in this organization —maybe beyond— that are working toward their own agenda. Larkin couldn't have pulled off that heist without help, and with him in the wind we have no idea who was working with him. Bartowski is now the single greatest intelligence resource that the U.S. government has—that you and I have. If he falls into the wrong hands, it would be beyond devastating."
Blowing out a breath, he ran his hand across the top of his nearly bald head, the stress of it all clearly getting to him as well. "The textbook says the safest choice is to eliminate Bartowski. The risk he poses is too great."
Sarah inhaled deeply, as if preparing to object, but Graham waved it off, nodding in understanding to her unspoken objection. "If anything has come out of his unfortunate time in that bunker, Walker, it's that the kid's made of pretty strong stuff. While he may be a risk, he's also a powerful weapon against those that seek to undermine our agencies. With the data in his head, he may be able to identify these moles, find their weaknesses, and help us infiltrate their ranks. He will be an invaluable asset."
Sarah bristled at his words, straightening her spine. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't believe that treating him as an asset is the best course of action. Thanks to Decker, we've seen that physical threats don't work on him, and he's too smart to fall for… well, other methods of gaining compliance."
Sarah shifted in her chair slightly, the topic being one she found abhorrent. "What I know of Chuck Bartowski is that he's a good and kind person. If we tell him the gravity of the situation and ask him for his help, I think he'll give it willingly."
Graham's expression had slowly morphed from serious to amused as Sarah spoke. Once she stopped to take a breath, he let out a hum of amusement. "Are you quite finished?"
Realizing that she'd just lectured her boss on how to handle a potential asset, Sarah nodded contritely.
"When I said 'asset'," Graham said, gesturing with air quotes, "I only meant that he would be of great use to us. Not that I intended to coerce him into servitude of some sort."
He let out a soft chuckle before growing serious again. "I'll say it's good that you're standing up for him. He's going to need that. What I'm asking of you is to get yourself out of that facility and take him with you. People may be coming to find you, try to figure out what you know and why you're digging into Omaha. It's entirely possible that they don't know about Bartowski yet. I'll cover up what I can to buy you some time. Maybe a day or two, but I need you to go into hiding and protect him at all costs. When things die down, I'll contact you through secure channels. Do you understand your orders?"
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat but nodded her understanding. "Yes, Director. I understand. You can count on me."
Letting out a soft grunt, Graham gave a nod as well. "I know I can, Agent Walker… Sarah. Be careful, huh?"
With that, he disconnected and the screen returned to the documents she'd been studying. Sarah sat unblinking as she stared at the screen, the ramifications of her new assignment washing over her.
Run? How was she supposed to do that? It was one thing for her to go into hiding, staying off grid for long periods of time, but with Chuck? He was a civilian, an injured one at that, who had no useful training. He was a babe in the woods.
That thought sparked a flash of her last mission. Budapest. Running with that baby had been one of the most challenging —and terrifying— things she'd done in her life. Her nerves were still a little raw from that experience. Secreting that child across Europe and back to the States, all the while fearful that Ryker was hot on her trail, the stakes had never seemed higher. That is, until now. Sure, Chuck was a grown man, but similarly, he would be solely reliant on her to keep him safe, but this time from a far larger threat. Was she ready to take on a mission like that again? Was she strong enough? She would have to be.
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Given the late hour, there were fewer staff wandering the halls of the facility, making her task that much easier. Gaining access to the supply room, Sarah packed two duffel bags with anything she thought could be useful. Spare BDUs, socks, gloves, boots, an emergency SAT phone and a couple sets of earwigs that might be helpful while on the run.
From there, she moved to the small infirmary. Thanks in part to her insistence that Chuck receive some medical attention, the medical personnel saw fit to stock the infirmary well when they arrived. Sarah packed the necessary medical supplies to address Chuck's injuries. Planning for the worst, she grabbed a trauma kit and stuffed it into the duffel as well.
Lastly, she visited the armory. It was surprisingly well stocked. Given the black site's distance from major cities, and the type of people housed there, she supposed it made sense to be prepared for anything. In addition to the personal items she had back in her room, Sarah collected a few more knives, two Sig P226 pistols, a MP5A3 and ample spare magazines for all of them. For good measure, she grabbed a few flashbangs and smoke grenades, plus a couple of breaching charges… just in case. As she was about to leave with her booty, she spotted a small black Pelican case that piqued her curiosity. Popping the latches, she opened the case to reveal a CR-27 tranquilizer pistol embedded in the foam of the case. With it were extra magazines and a tray of 24 darts. Her first reaction was to snort, finding the idea of using such a weapon as comical. But then, as she thought about it, the idea wasn't so absurd after all. In fact, she already had a use for this new toy.
Loading the two magazines with darts, she placed one in her pocket and the other in the pistol before stuffing it, and the remaining darts, into one of the duffle bags. The bags were nearly bursting, so she zipped them up and placed them beside the door of the armory and stepped out into the hallway.
Casually, Sarah walked to the security office, the halls currently barren. When she reached the office, it wasn't surprising that the guards who worked the night shift were distracted, the boredom lulling them to sleep or steering them toward mindless entertainment to pass the hours. Slipping into the room unnoticed, Sarah delivered a tranquilizer dart to the neck of the guard playing solitaire on his computer. As the man slumped toward his desk, she gently guided him down so as not to alert the other guard. Glancing over, she could see that he hadn't budged, his chin still pressed to his chest in slumber. For good measure, Sarah tranquilized him as well, taking the spent darts to leave no evidence. Begrudgingly, she searched their pockets and took a set of keys from each. A quick examination showed that both sets had car keys attached, so she pocketed them and continued her work.
Looking over the floor plan of the facility mounted on the wall, she found the exit to the underground parking garage and plotted a path to it. Pausing the recording of the surveillance camera that would monitor their escape, she left the security office to retrieve her bags.
A few minutes later, Sarah had returned to her quarters, changing into a pair of black BDUs and boots she pulled from one of the duffle bags. She strapped on her knives and stuffed her Smith and Wesson into the concealed holster in the back of her pants. Loading her laptop and her few personal effects into the now lightened duffel, Sarah took a minute to ensure she had everything she needed.
If she stopped for too long, she was sure that she'd start to second guess herself, reconsider if this was the right course of action. It was too late for any of that now. She was committed to this. If she was honest with herself, she was committed before she ever tranq'd those guards… before Graham had even ended their call. This was so much bigger than her, or even Chuck. Even so, a part of her knew that if push came to shove, regardless of Graham's orders, keeping Chuck safe was her mission. And she never failed a mission.
Taking a cleansing breath, she slung one bag over her shoulder, carrying the other, as she left her quarters. Chuck's room was only a short walk away. Before turning the corner to his hallway, she dropped the bags, leaving them out of sight for now. As she expected, upon turning the corner, she could see the guard stationed outside of Chuck's room.
Sarah approached the guard, ramrod straight, walking with a purpose, trying to enact a hard-set glare. The guard turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowed until she was close enough for him to focus on her face. She recognized this guard. He was one of the men guarding Chuck when she first found him, hanging naked in that dank cell. The thought still caused her blood to boil, so she was going to enjoy this.
When he met her gaze, his eyes widened, and she could see his Adam's apple bob up and down.
"Where is the second guard that's supposed to be posted here?" she barked, causing the guard to jump. "There's supposed to be two guards at this door at all times!"
"I-I'm sorry. I don't know. I thought I was the only one ordered to—"
"Do you have any idea what this man is capable of? When was the last time someone had eyes on the prisoner?" The color drained from the man's face and Sarah had to bite back a smirk. The effect she could have over people never got old.
"A-a f-few hours ago, A-agent Walker… sir… uh-uh m-ma'am." A sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. As she expected, the guard turned to look into the door's small window. With his neck exposed to her, she removed another dart from the magazine in her pocket and jabbed it into his neck. She drove it in a little harder than was necessary, but she had to admit it felt good.
Helping his limp body to the floor, she leaned him against the wall before jogging down the hall to collect her bags. There were other guards on patrol within the detention areas, but these halls were largely reserved for staff. Relocating Chuck, days ago, from that cold cell to this lower security room was definitely working in her favor.
Pulling the keyring from the guard's belt, she quietly unlocked the door and slipped in, leaving one bag to prop the door open. Chuck appeared to still be asleep, but fitfully so. His body twitched and he moaned as if in the throes of a nightmare. Her heart broke for him a little more as she again witnessed what the torment he'd gone through had done to him. Steeling herself, she leaned over him, gently gripping his arms to jostle him awake. Sarah almost recoiled at the slickness of his skin, a sheen of sweat covering him.
"Chuck," she whispered, giving him a firm shake. "Chuck, wake up."
He groaned louder, his breathing speeding up and his body tensing.
"Chuck!" she said again, this time a little louder, giving his arms a firmer squeeze.
"No!" he yelped, snapping out of his nightmare with a gasping jolt. In the dim light she could just make out the glassy, terrified expression in his wide eyes as he panted to catch his breath. When his gaze focused on hers, she could slowly feel his coiled muscles relax beneath her hands, his body slumping back into the bed. Blinking a few times, his brow furrowed once he regained some of his faculties.
"Agent Walker?" He blinked a few more times, shaking his head slightly. "W-what are you—"
"Chuck," she said, giving him another gentle shake. Sarah leaned in closer to ensure he met her gaze. "Listen. You need to come with me. Right now."
Chuck's eyes widened again as he looked around the dark room. "W-what? Wh-why? Where are we go—"
"There's no time, Chuck," she rushed out. "I need you to trust me. Please." She could hear the sense of urgency in her voice, and it seemed to curb any further questions he had. He silently nodded his head, swallowing thickly as she released her grip on him.
Sarah pulled the duffel from her shoulder and placed it on the bed. Reaching inside, she retrieved a set of black BDUs, socks and a pair of boots; ones she hoped would fit Chuck. "Put these on. Quickly."
Gingerly, Chuck slid from under his sheets to sit on the side of the bed. Slowly pushing himself up to stand, he began the task of getting out of the scrubs he'd been wearing. When he lifted his shirt, groaning and wincing when it pulled at his shoulder, Sarah let out a sharp gasp. His torso was still so battered and scarred; she was momentarily taken aback. It was just another reminder of what he'd endured in this place.
Sarah turned her back to him, trying to convince herself that it was solely to offer him some privacy, but she couldn't deny that the sight of his injuries made her sick with equal parts guilt and anger.
After a few more grunts and groans, Sarah could hear his exasperated sighing, causing her to chance a glance back at him. He had changed into his BDU pants and shirt, though the shirt was still unbuttoned. Chuck was now sitting on the bed, looking at his boots in frustration.
Recalling his damaged ribs, Sarah knew from experience that bending in the middle would be painful. Wordlessly, she took the boot from him and kneeled down beside him. Sarah helped get his feet into his socks and boots and laced them up tight. She spared a glance up at him and could just make out the shame on his face.
"Thanks," he said with a weak smile. Looking down at himself, he seemed to notice his shirt was still undone so he quickly began work on the buttons.
Sarah watched as his shaky hands fumbled with the buttons. He let out a nervous chuckle as he flexed his fingers. "I can't seem to… these … these damn buttons..." She could hear the emotion in his voice, his building frustration and aggravation.
"Let me," she said, taking over the task of buttoning his shirt.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out, watching her work on his buttons.
"Don't be," she chided, pausing for a moment to look up at him. It was at that moment she realized just how tall he really was. Now that they were standing so close, there were a lot of things she was beginning to notice about him.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said before getting back to her task. Once she was finished, she absentmindedly smoothed down the no-snag flap over the placket. Hearing him gulp in the relative quiet of the room, she instinctively looked up at him to see his gaze quickly shift away from her, looking anywhere and nowhere.
Sarah took a breath as she stepped back from him, slinging the duffle back on her shoulder. "We need to get going. Follow me and stay quiet."
She didn't bother to look back at Chuck, taking it on faith that he was with her. Opening the door into the hallway, Sarah picked up the other duffle, but felt a firm tug. Looking back, she saw Chuck taking hold of the straps as well.
"I can carry it," he insisted, giving it another tug. Sarah leveled a glare at him, flicking her eyes to his hand. Chuck's eyes went wide and he quickly let go of the bag.
Sarah tried to soften her features, seeing the hurt look on Chuck's face. "You're still healing. The last thing we need right now is for you to pull some stitches or re-injure a rib. Besides, I'm a big girl. I carried these down here all by my lonesome."
Chuck's brow furrowed and she realized that her attempt at humor had fallen flat. She needed to work on her delivery. "It wasn't out of … benevolent sexism. I know you're more than capable. I just wanted to help."
Sarah sighed, nodding her understanding. "Noted. Thank you." She gave him a small smile before shouldering the bag. "When you're healed, I'll let you carry all the bags you want." Thankfully, he returned the smile.
When they stepped into the hallway, Chuck stumbled over the foot of the guard who was still slumped on the floor.
"Gah! Jesus. Is he… did you?" Chuck looked ashen as he gestured between her and the guard.
Sarah just rolled her eyes, somehow finding his reaction humorous. All that he'd been through, likely at the hands of some of these guards, and he still seemed to have some compassion for them. "A tranquilizer dart. He's just asleep." She could see the relief wash over Chuck, and she found herself sighing along with him for some reason.
Shaking herself from those thoughts, she realized that she shouldn't just leave the guy here. Setting the bags down, she grabbed the man's arms and started to drag him across the linoleum floor and into Chuck's room. Dropping him just inside the door, she heard a loud thud when his head hit the floor. She could hear Chuck hiss over her shoulder as she winced herself at the sicken sound.
"Sorry," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if it was directed more at Chuck or the sleeping guard. Regardless, she needed to move things along. Taking a few seconds to search the guard, she found a set of keys in his pocket as well, so she added those to her pocket along with the others she'd collected.
Standing up, her foot kicked the hat that had fallen off of the unconscious guard's head. Snatching it up, she pulled the door shut behind her, brushed off her clothes and blew a stray hair out of her face.
"Here. Put this on," she said, handing the hat to Chuck. He looked at it skeptically, but after brushing it off, he put it on and pulled the bill down to help hide his face.
"Good." Sarah gave him an approving nod. "Okay. Now we can go." Sarah grabbed the two duffle bags and they started to make their way through the halls toward the underground garage. Hearing Chuck's foot falls behind her was reassuring, so she pushed on without looking back.
Finally reaching the security door, Sarah placed her hand on the biometric scanner and the door slid open with a whoosh, revealing the tunnel beyond.
"That is so damn cool," Chuck whispered in awe. Sarah couldn't help but feel amused. They were fleeing a government black site in the dead of night, a place where he'd been brutally tortured, and he was geeking out over the hand scanner.
As they began to walk down the tunnel side by side, she glanced over at him, unable to keep the grin off her face. Chuck noticed and gave her a sheepish grin in return, shrugging his shoulders as best he could. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head, not sure what to make of this man that was now her protectee. She was getting the feeling that this was going to be a mission like no other.
After a few turns, they reached the end of the tunnel, faced with yet another security door and biometric scanner. Chuck began to tentatively reach toward the scanner when Sarah quickly gripped his wrist, stopping him before he got too close.
"I get that it's tempting," she said in a sympathetic tone, "but you aren't authorized. If you put your hand on there, alarms will go off, and we—"
"Shit!" He jerked his hands back, pulling them to his chest and wincing at his mistake. "Sorry. Sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"Calm down. It's alright," she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just let me deal with the doors from now on. Okay?" She looked up at him through her lashes, hoping that she wasn't being too harsh with him this time. He'd been through so much, with a lot more to come, and she didn't need him freaking out over little things.
He met her gaze for a brief moment and nodded his understanding, giving her a tight smile. He stepped back, allowing Sarah to place her hand on the scanner, which lit up green. The doors slid open and they saw the subterranean parking garage on the other side.
Sarah led them through the relatively small garage, glancing side to side as she examined the vehicles. Unsurprisingly, there were a few black SUVs, along with ATVs and four-wheelers, likely in case of a prisoner escape. Beyond them were roughly a dozen other vehicles of various makes and models. Pulling a set of keys from her pocket, Sarah pressed a button on the key fob and watched as the lights on a blue, late-model Ford Taurus flashed. The next set of keys belonged to a pickup truck without an extended cab. They would need a back seat and a trunk to hide things in, so that wouldn't work. Doing the same with the last set of keys, the lights of a gray Ford Crown Victoria flashed from across the aisle.
"Boy, if that doesn't scream 'cop car'," Chuck said with a snort. Sarah let out a chuckle, having had the same thought herself.
"You're right. It'll draw too much attention, so would the Suburbans. Let's take the Taurus." Gesturing with her head toward the light blue car, she pressed the key fob again and the lid of the trunk popped open.
Sarah tossed both duffle bags in and closed the trunk.
Opening the back door on the passenger side, Sarah gestured for Chuck to get in. "Lay down in the back seat and pull that hat down to keep your face hidden."
Chuck huffed with a small grin on his face as he eased himself into the back seat. "This is the worst remake of Driving Miss Daisy ever. Jessica Tandy would have never stood for this sort of treatment." Ordinarily, movie and pop culture references escaped her, but she at least had a passing familiarity with the movie. When laying low in a hotel room by yourself, there wasn't much else to do but watch TV.
Sarah let out a soft grunt in response. "So, you're saying that makes me Morgan Freeman then?" She couldn't help but grin even though she tried to offer a serious tone. When Chuck snapped his head around to look at her through the open door, his worried expression fell, replaced with a warm smile. Sarah had to twist her lips to the side to keep from smiling fully as she watched him wag a finger at her.
"You're full of surprises, Agent Walker." Closing the door, she circled the car allowing some of her smile to show through before she got in the driver's seat. Fastening her seat belt, she adjusted her mirrors and started the car.
Shifting into reverse, she craned her neck to look out the rear window. Taking a quick peek in the back seat, she saw Chuck's face staring back at her through the darkness. "Tsk. I said to cover your face. Do I have to hide you in the trunk?" She watched his eyes widen before he tried his best to pull his hat down and his BDU shirt up to cover his face while turning over to face downward.
Sarah chuckled to herself as she maneuvered the car out of the parking space and through the garage. The exit tunnel gradually spiraled upward and after about thirty seconds of driving leveled off. A short distance later, they came upon a heavy steel garage door and, for extra security, there was a row of thick steel bollards across the driveway. On either side of the tunnel was a door leading into what she assumed was a guard station.
As they pulled closer, a guard leisurely stepped out of the room with his thumbs hooked into his belt. Sarah adjusted herself, preparing to put on the charm. If that didn't work…
"You're leaving awfully early, Ray," the man said, leaning down to look in through the driver's side window. The guard was clearly taken aback if his scrunched-up face was any indication. Sarah gave him a beaming smile as she rolled down the window.
"Hi," she said with a small wave.
"Umm… who are you and what are you doing with Ray's car?" The guard peered through the window to look at the interior of the car, but Sarah tactfully leaned her head on the door frame to obscure his view into the back seat.
"Hi. I'm Sarah. I was flown in a few days ago." To further distract him she waved her ID in front of him as if offering proof. "I just needed to run into town and Ray was nice enough to let me borrow his car." She used her playful, bubbly tone, following the stereotype that many men believed about pretty blonde women. The guard's demeanor softened, and she noticed him stand up straighter, even sucking in his gut a little. Sarah had to call upon all her training not to roll her eyes.
"Goin' into town? It's pretty late… err, early I guess," he corrected, checking his watch. "What's got you out so late? Won't be much open in town at this hour." He was likely correct with it being almost three in the morning. Thankfully, she had a tried-and-true response that most men wouldn't question.
"It's um… sort of personal," she said, looking up at him as she subtly batted her lashes. "In a base full of men, there's a decided lack of… feminine products." She left that hanging in the air and watched as realization dawned on him. His quizzical expression quickly morphed into wide eyed embarrassment.
"Oh. Oh, r-right." Stammering, he rubbed the back of his neck as the color crept up his neck and cheeks. "The um… the CVS might be open, but-but if not, there's the um… the mini-mart at the Pilot station. They're probably open." The guard turned to face the large garage door and acted out his directions for how to get into town and where each of the stores were. Sarah just let the man ramble on even though she had no intentions of actually following his suggestions.
"Thanks. You've been a great help…" Craning her head forward, she made a show of squinting at his name tag. The man turned his body, proudly showing off the patch on his uniform. "Steve! Thanks, Steve. Would you um… mind?" Sarah gestured at the closed garage door in front of the car and Steve nearly leapt in the air as he raced for the guard station.
"Yeah. Sorry. Sorry 'bout that." Within moments, the large door lurched upward, slowly climbing out of sight. At the same time, the bollards lowered into the ground, clearing the way for them to pass. "See you in a little while," he said with a dopey grin, waving as Sarah pulled the car out of the garage.
"Idiot," she mumbled to herself, feeling rather amused how well that had worked.
Sarah slowly pulled the car out of the garage. There was a concrete retaining wall on either side that stretched for about fifty feet, sloping downward until it tapered off completely. The door behind them was inset into the side of a large hill, the retaining walls helping to keep the hill at bay, as well as obscuring the entrance. The bollards raised and the garage door lowered until there was nothing but darkness behind them.
The dirt and gravel access road came to a T-intersection and Sarah turned to the right as "Steve" had instructed. The road was well worn and bumpy, lined with rows of gnarled trees and shrubs on either side. She continued driving for several minutes, doing her best to dodge the larger of the potholes.
"Is it okay if I sit up now?" Sarah nearly jumped out of her seat when the voice called out from behind her.
"Jesus!" she breathed out, holding a hand to her chest.
"Did… did you forget I was back here?"
"Wh- No!" she retorted, but there was an unfortunate hitch in her voice that she couldn't manage to control.
"Oh my God. You did! You forgot all about me."
"I didn't forget. I was just … concentrating on the road and our next moves and I—"
"And you forgot about me."
"I didn't—" Sarah cut herself off before her frustration got the better of her. As she took a deep breath to calm herself, she could hear the distinct sound of snickering coming from the back seat.
Sarah looked into the rearview mirror but all she could see was blackness. "What? What's so funny?"
"I'm sorry. I was only teasing you," he said, barely able to hold back his laughter. "It is a little humorous that I was able to startle the 'Ice Queen' though."
That name, she had always hated it, but hearing it from Chuck's mouth, it felt like a punch to the gut for some reason. She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from saying something she'd regret later. Breathing heavily through her nose, she gripped the steering wheel and continued to drive in silence.
Sarah was brooding, and she knew she was. Perhaps Chuck could sense it too because he'd grown quiet as well. She had a tendency to clam up when she got angry or frustrated, internalizing it until it festered and boiled, threatening to explode. That was how she dealt with most of her emotions. Thankfully, in her line of work, there were plenty of outlets for that pent up anger.
Sarah doubted that Chuck had intended offense when he used that name, but that didn't take the sting out of hearing it. They were going to be on the run together for the foreseeable future and having this tension toward him would eventually cause her to lash out at him. She knew it was inevitable. Before it got to that, she knew she should just tell him, explain how she felt, even though it pushed her out of her comfort zone.
"Chuck," she said, trying to get his attention.
After a moment of silence, he replied. "I'm here." His voice was soft, tentative, and she could barely hear it over the sounds of the car.
"Could I ask you to please not use that term anymore?" She reflexively looked at the rearview mirror, only to see the same darkness as before.
"Which term? The… 'Ice—"
"Yes!" Realizing she was getting angry again, she paused to collect herself. "Yes. That one. That name isn't one I chose for myself. There are a number of reasons why people have given me that moniker, and none of them are good."
"Oh my God," he gasped. "I'm so… so sorry. I had no idea. I thought it was just because you were so cool under pressure, unflappable. Something like that. I never meant to—"
"I know you didn't." Sarah breathed out a sigh. "The reason you just gave is probably the nicest of them, so thanks for that. Regardless, it still … hurts when people say it. Most of the people that use that name are assholes anyway, so I couldn't care less what they think. But you… well, you're not an asshole."
"Thanks for that. I try not to be, but sometimes I stick my foot in my mouth —case in point— and I come off looking like an ass." Chuck paused as he was about to say something else, only part of a word escaping. Sarah glanced through the rearview mirror to see him now huddled in the back seat, the moonlight peeking through the clouds to bathe him in a faint glow.
"What are the other reasons they call you that?" She could hear the apprehension in his tone, so she didn't dismiss him outright. "You don't have to tell me, obviously, but I'm just curious why it bothers you so much." She was momentarily taken aback by the sincerity in his words. From what she'd learned of Chuck Bartowski, he was a caring person, a devoted friend and brother. Was he offering those "services" to her or was it simply to satisfy some curiosity? Perhaps if he understood why it bothered her, maybe that would be incentive enough for him to not use it again.
Blowing out a breath, she adjusted herself in her seat. "There're a few that I know of, besides the one you mentioned. You've seen my file, sort of, so you know what I've done in the line of duty. I've had to kill a lot of people; more than most. The 'Ice Queen' is synonymous with the Grim Reaper, the bringer of death. When I close my eyes, I see all the reminders I need of the horrible things I've done in the name of the greater good." She took a deliberate pause to allow that to sink in for Chuck.
Checking the rearview mirror, she could make out Chuck's furrowed brow in the dim light. She half expected him to interject but he remained silent, so she continued. "I try to always remain professional, keeping a certain … detachment. People don't know what I'm thinking or feeling, and I can often use that to my advantage. Because of that, people believe me to be cold and unfeeling. Maybe that's true to some degree." Sarah was quiet as she played over the moments in her mind, the times when people had used her moniker in vain and she could still feel the ache in her chest from it.
She could hear Chuck shift and feel his weight press into the back of her seat. "Is that all?" She looked down to see his head between the seats, looking up at her, his face visible in the faint glow of the dashboard lights.
Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the road ahead. "The CIA is a good ol' boy institution, as are most law enforcement and military organizations. Throw on top of that the fact that CIA agents are trained to seduce and manipulate people, it tends to breed overconfident, smarmy, egotistical douchebags."
"And being a beautiful woman in that environment," he interjected, "they feel entitled to certain… liberties?" Sarah appreciated that he was smart enough to put the pieces together without her having to spell everything out and kind enough not to blurt it out.
Nodding, she cleared her throat before continuing. "They don't take kindly to being told 'No'. Let's just say that 'Ice Queen' isn't the only name they called me."
"What assholes," he spat, the anger clear in his voice. 'Why do men have to be that way? I mean, it's the twenty-first century. Haven't we evolved past that by now?"
Sarah felt a warmth growing in her chest that he would see her side of things and come to her defense. Not many men in her life had ever done that.
"I don't know you well….," Chuck said, pulling Sarah from her thoughts.
"Says the man that literally has my entire file in his head," she added before he could continue.
"You are not your file, Agent Walker. Just like I'm not the person that's in my file. We're so much more than that; you're more than that. What I'm trying to say is that what I do know about you has proven to me that you're anything but cold and unfeeling. While I concede we haven't met under the most ideal of circumstances, I'm glad you're in my corner." Clearing his throat, he leaned back, letting out a small groan as he tried to get comfortable in the back seat.
The warmth that had started in her chest was spreading up her neck to her cheeks and ears. Chuck just seemed to have a way of cutting right through her training and emotional armor to strike her in her most vulnerable spot: her heart.
"Umm… don't hate me," Chuck said, pulling Sarah from her thoughts. "Is there any way we could find a restroom somewhere? I have to pee."
A/N2: They just left and he's already gotta go to the bathroom? What a way to start going on the run.
I enjoy hearing from you and you thoughts on the story. Please feel free to share a review or PM.
We'll see what being on the run has in store for these two next time. Until then, be safe and stay well.
JW