There's room for you to fall apart

To rip out the wires on your machine heart

And what comes next…is called the blue hour

Your face is erased

I wanted moonshine

It's everything and then nothing at all

You cancel your plans, decide to stay til four

"I Want the Lights on After Dark"

Memphis

October 3, 2021

U.S. Route 395 N, Lone Pine, California

They had been driving for three hours. The sunset had just begun to fade over the horizon when they left Los Angeles' city limits. The sunlight was gradually replaced by the headlights of oncoming vehicles, whizzing by at the crazy speed Cole was maintaining behind the wheel of his vehicle. The farther away from civilization they drove, the deeper and darker the night became, seeming to swallow the road ahead. They were now officially in the middle of nowhere, still one hour away from Chuck's father's cabin in Bishop.

For now, Stephen was in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as he dozed uncomfortably in the back seat. At first, Chuck had thought the moment they were alone in the car, Stephen would have started his barrage of questions, the ones he had started outside their house in the midst of mayhem. As time passed, and the tense silence stretched on, Chuck realized that initial peppering with questions had been done in a rush of adrenalin, without thought. For it seemed, given the time to ponder on the events he had witnessed, his son had come to the conclusion that he didn't want to know what the truth was. Perhaps the enormity of it, the profundity of that knowledge, was too much for his nine year old son.

Instead of talking about it, Stephen had carried those thoughts into his sleep. Stephen had always been a good sleeper, from the time he was a small baby. Once he conceded to actually sleep, that was. He was too curious, too interested in life to waste time sleeping, especially when everything had been so new and unexplored. His current state in the back seat–twitching, mumbling, repositioning–was a direct result of that trauma he had just lived through. Of that, Chuck was certain.

More than once, Cole had looked over at Chuck, making Chuck think the older man wanted to talk to him. Chuck kept his gaze fixed out the window at the bland, monotonous scenery as it passed. There was more to be said, more to be explained, Chuck knew, not just some random attempt at conversation to pass the time. But his own thoughts were too loud, too intrusive, to allow for any conversation.

What have I done to my son? he thought again, for the hundredth time. The argument went round in his head, an endlessly cycling argument about what was needed versus what was right. It was a very real possibility that they would have been taken and/or killed had Stephen not done what needed to be done to secure their escape. Chuck and Cole had been hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. There had been no other way, Chuck was sure of it. But as a father, he knew somehow that argument was insufficient, for in a very real sense, he had failed to protect his son.

What if Sarah had been there? he asked himself. His brain was split in two again, wondering which version of Sarah he meant. His wife, and Stephen's mother, would have been just as horrified as he felt in the moment. Agent Walker, on the other hand, could have protected Stephen single-handedly, much better than both he and Cole combined. But she was gone, far from them, on a mission to protect them, and her sister, and in an entirely different way.

The sickness exploded in his stomach again as he contemplated how she would react to the news that their home had been attacked, and, at least for the moment, his and his son's whereabouts were unknown.

"Cole, the team in Europe was waiting for an update from you," Chuck reminded him, whispering, knowing he was disturbing a deep silence that had lasted for hours.

"I know, Chuck," he answered, keeping his voice low. "I've been thinking all this time…about what we do next." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth and scratching at his beard. "Only one of those infiltrators survived, and I'm not sure what his condition was." Chuck blanched, knowing he had shot the man, and his son had impaled him with an arrow. The only comfort at all, Chuck thought, was that if the man didn't survive, his nine year old son would be spared the knowledge that he had taken a life. It would be easier in the long run to just assign it to the gunshot wound.

"We both hit him," Chuck whispered, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Stephen was still asleep.

"Regardless, Chuck. They were sent there to take your son. We know that. He is of very little use to them dead. They were all taken down the way they were because they were obviously instructed to acquire the boy at all costs. Everyone else, including you, and themselves, was collateral damage, as far as the Sentries were concerned," Cole explained.

"Ok," Chuck replied in agreement, unsure of where Cole was going with his thought process.

"So, we need to let the powers that be know they made a fatal mistake. I believe they are fully aware the only way they could have taken your son was over your dead body. We need to spread the word, through back channels, that both you and your son are dead," Cole said.

Chuck's nausea intensified and his stomach burned. "Wh..why would we do that?" he asked. "Especially if the survivor knew we–"

"He went down, Chuck. There was no way he knew for sure how many of his friends survived, or where they were in that chaos. All he knows is that he has no idea what happened to us," Cole offered.

"Why though?" Chuck repeated, desperation tingeing the words.

"We force their hand," he answered. "It all hinges on your son. Heads will roll in epic proportion. We would just have to monitor that from afar."

"What about Casey? We would need to let him know that it isn't true–"

"No, Chuck," Cole sharply retorted. "The stronger the response, the safer we are. We have to let them react." Chuck groaned wordlessly as Cole's meaning registered. "I know it's…harsh, Chuck. But it's our best option right now."

"No!" Chuck shouted, flinching as he heard his son stirring in the back seat, disturbed by the outburst. "If you let Casey think we're dead, then Sarah thinks we're dead. If I can't contact her–"

"I know it's awful, Chuck, believe me," Cole said softly.

"You have no idea, Cole," Chuck warned him. Chuck shook his head vigorously, covering his mouth tightly with his hand. "There's no way…I can't do that to her."

"Are you concerned that she'll make a mistake? Lose her focus or something?" Cole asked, tempering his sympathy for Chuck's argument with the needs of the situation.

A chill settled over Chuck that he couldn't shake. He thought about it more, realizing he had believed this all along, and was just unwilling to accept the magnitude of it. "No," he said coldly. "I'm afraid of what she will do…to the people she thinks are responsible for killing her husband and her son."

"She was always there to protect you at any cost, from the very beginning, as a trained assassin, Chuck. You know that," Cole reminded him.

"Of course I do," Chuck argued. "And she will do literally anything to protect me…to protect her children." He hissed out a tight breath through his teeth. "If she thinks we're already dead, it won't be that protector you saw before, Cole. It will be literally the angel of death…out for blood." Cole turned, regarding him with wide, questioning eyes. The deadly earnest look on Chuck's face stopped further argument.

Sarah was always a delicate balance of fierceness and tenderness. Chuck knew he himself tempered her, somehow his love allowed the tenderness inside her to flourish…even to the point where she had relaxed into that simple life of marriage and parenting. No matter what else, that fierceness was still inside her. It was part of her; it always had been, always would be. His greatest fear was just that–what would happen when there was no reason to hold it back?

Morgan had seen it up close when they had been searching for him in Thailand. He had been quick to explain to Chuck what Sarah had been like during that ordeal. At least you know she really loves you, Morgan had mentioned. It was odd to recall, but their early relationship had been fraught with poor communication and his insecurities. After Thailand, he never doubted how Sarah felt about him again. Morgan had just added, almost as an afterthought, that the most terrifying thought he had entertained during that mission had not been Chuck potentially being already dead, but what he would witness Sarah doing to the men responsible for his death. That thought had never left him, and it continued to haunt him now.

October 4, 2021

Budapest, Hungary

Sarah, Carina, and Ilsa had spent the entirety of the night trying to get back in touch with Casey, to no avail. Something had happened, they surmised. It wasn't a communication issue, rather a lack of availability. General Beckman was also unavailable.

Carina had started with the idea that she needed to keep Sarah calm at all costs, thinking the wife and mother in Sarah would take over. It had not taken Carina long to realize, after the constant bombardment of worry and fear, that something inside Sarah had completely shut down. Three of the people she cared most for in the world—her husband, son, and sister—were in mortal danger and their current wellbeing was unknown. And Sarah was glacially calm and still.

"I'm done waiting," Sarah said firmly as she stepped away from the window, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dimness of the room after she had been staring at the sunrise. "Your goal was still to find the Hungarian, right?" she asked coldly.

"I was trying to stop him from retrieving that," Jacques said as he gestured toward the implant as it rested on the tabletop. "He's acquiring leverage in order to take the device to the Sentries. Their base is in the United States at this stage. All of the functional bases used as testing grounds in Europe have already been compromised."

"He seems like he has leverage, but he doesn't," Carina interjected. "Sarah's son and sister are needed for them to complete their goal, right? They may have taken Stephen, but they can't bargain with him. They need him."

"Maybe they don't know we know that," Sarah offered.

"Maybe they think they can set a trap," Carina added.

Sarah worried somehow if Chuck would be used against them. She couldn't even count all the times his life had been put for ransom for some other evil purpose.

"What if we just go after him?" Sarah asked, eyeing Ilsa with calculation, even as she sensed Carina would advise against her plan. "We need to go on the offensive…and take him out."

"We can't do anything until we can talk to Casey or Beckman," Ilsa advised. "The status quo could have drastically changed. We need those facts."

As if on cue, Ilsa's phone, perched atop the table next to the device, began to vibrate. She rushed towards the table, grabbing in haste when she saw the number scroll across the top of the screen. "Go ahead, Casey," Ilsa said crisply.

She listened for a few moments, her face set like stone. Without further explanation, she tilted her head, pulling the phone away from her ear and clicking on the speaker phone.

"Sarah," Casey said, in a tone of voice that made Sarah's blood turn to ice water. It was rough like sandpaper, hushed in tone, and nasally, as if he had an upper respiratory infection. Or he had been crying. Her heart skipped a beat as that thought blazed across her mind. "I'm on my way to England. I've been flying all night. I should be there in another two hours. Take the device that you recovered, and get on the first available flight back to England. I'm sending coordinates to Ilsa."

His voice was robotic, devoid of inflection. It was like he was reading from a note he had written. "Casey, what's going on?" Sarah asked warily, feeling her heart start to pound.

"Kovacs has Molly," Casey said flatly. "Your mother is in the ICU at Westside with head trauma, but she's alive…expected to survive. He demanded the device by 10 pm tonight. In London."

Sarah said nothing, holding her breath as her hand shook violently with the phone in her grip. There was more, much more, she knew, from the way Casey's voice was shaking. The silence on the line was deafening, thick, heavy and full of dread. "I don't know how to say this to you, Sarah," Casey began, his voice gradually losing volume until her name was just a hesitant whisper. "MI6 is confirming that Cole Barker is dead. Killed in action in Burbank, California. Beckman and I have been scrambling for more intel. But, Sarah," his voice broke, and he choked. "MI6 is also telling us that Chuck and Stephen…were killed as well. We don't have proof of…life…or death…at this point."

Casey's last sentence went unheard, as the phone crashed to the floor when it slipped from Sarah's grasp. What Casey heard on the other end of the phone was the loud thud as Sarah's knees hit the hardwood floor, then the heavy screech as she fumbled with the chair to hold the rest of her body upright. Sarah could hear Casey shouting her name from the phone as it lay on the floor several feet away from her. Carina ended up picking up the phone.

The rest of the noisy interactions, as well as the colors and smells, in the room faded away. Carina talked to Casey, relayed information to Ilsa and Jacques. Sarah's entire body shook violently, like she was having a seizure. It made the chair she clung to for support vibrate back and forth, scratching on the floor. Sarah couldn't feel the pain in her throbbing knees…couldn't feel the cool roughness of the floor on her skin, or the cool smoothness of the wooden chair against her arms. Her skin was numb, like her entire body had fallen asleep, only the sensation of pins and needles was absent.

Carina was in front of her, stooping to reach for one of Sarah's arms, when she heard the low rumbling growl emanating from Sarah's chest. Sarah flailed wildly, jerking away from Carina's touch, growling and hissing like a cornered panther. The pain in her eyes crystalised like ice on fire, as she nearly bared her teeth in a snarl. It was a hurricane of rage that billowed from every pore in Sarah's body. In this room, there was nowhere for it to go.

"If they are taking Molly to England, demanding we meet them in England, then we go," Sarah barked. She turned to Jacques, asking in a clipped tone, "If the device was in France, why Hungary? What is here that you, or Kovacs, needed?"

Jacques gazed at her, his eyes radiating his empathy, understanding in the moment all that Sarah believed she had lost. Believing Hannah and his children had been dead all this time had changed him, allowed him to do things he would never have done. Spies with nothing to lose were dangerous. Spies with nothing to lose, and a score to settle, were lethal. He consciously reminded himself of that, for everyone's sake, going forward.

"The schematics for the device are stored at Graphitech Headquarters," he told them. "It's the only thing they have left, without the actual device." He sighed in frustration. "The device in Katalin's head was a prototype. It was implanted experimentally before any field tests or development." He looked directly into Sarah's eyes, searching for the warmth he had seen earlier, noting now that it had been extinguished. "She had a baby. Katalin wanted to be able to hear Anna's voice."

A brief flicker of…something…passed behind Sarah's eyes for just a brief moment before it disappeared. "And they killed her for it," Sarah said.

"And you saved her daughter from them. You defied orders to save her," Jacques said compassionately.

Desperate, as she had seen the cold, calculated killer slowly replace the wife and mother before her eyes, Carina attempted to appeal to that person, the spy who had risked her life to save a baby she didn't know. "Like you did in Pakistan, when you saved me, Sarah," Carina said. "Chuck…believed in that person, Sarah." She flinched as she used the past tense, aching with the knowledge that he was probably dead.

So coldly the air in the room seemed to chill when she spoke, Sarah replied, "And now my husband and my son are dead because of that."

Sarah moved to the door of the flat. "Why aren't they going after the schematics, if they know we have the device?" Sarah asked him.

"They can't be accessed without the device we have in our possession. It was some sort of protection against copyright infringement, something like that," Jacques explained hurriedly. "The Hungarian knows that."

"Then we retrieve those schematics. Right now." Sarah stormed past them without another word.

The rest of the team hurried to collect their things and follow her. Just before they left the flat, Carina mumbled to Jacques, "If her son is dead, what are they going to do now? They needed him to continue, didn't they?"

"They wanted him alive. But his brain, even if he is deceased, may still be of use. They wanted the girl for her DNA. His DNA would suffice, particularly if they also had access to his father's DNA," Jacques explained as they moved into the corridor.

The picture that painted in Carina's mind made her gag, but she turned to hide her reaction from the others. What if somehow they would bear witness to that? How could Sarah ever go on living after seeing that?

She recalled how dead Sarah's eyes were as she'd walked away from them. Rage had provided their sole light. The picture changed in Carina's mind, from thinking about what would be done to Chuck and Stephen…to what other horrors they would witness when Sarah decided to pay them back.

October 4, 2021

Bishop, California

Being in his father's cabin again was strange. His father's computer was one of the most sophisticated systems in the world, more advanced than almost anything the government possessed. The computer was pristine, undamaged and immune to the passage of time, as it was encased inside the wall unit his father had built to house it. Shut away from light, the computer actually maintained itself…cooling, heating, and dusting itself. The rest of the cabin looked like the reality–untouched by human beings for ten years. The last time he had set foot here had been when he and Sarah had run after the Omen virus had been released.

Every exposed flat surface in the cabin was coated in a thick layer of dust. The glass windows were grimy and dirty, though the darkness of night obscured the intensity. The pale swaths of light cut by the glow from the table lamps were full of dancing dust particles, swirling and spinning with each movement in the room. Chuck wasn't allergic to dust per se, but it was affecting his breathing just a bit, irritating his throat and his eyes. He had carried his son into the one bedroom in the back of the cabin, pulling back the dingy bedspread. Holding his son, he had visibly inspected the blanket and mattress underneath, checking to make sure it hadn't inadvertently been overrun with mice or rats. It smelled musty, but it was safe for now. Stephen didn't even wake as he shifted from Chuck's arms onto the bed.

While he had been putting his son to bed and cleaning the bathroom connected to that bedroom, Cole had sent the word through the back channels at MI6 that all three of them were dead. Posing as someone else entirely, he actually confirmed his own death, something Chuck knew would be more difficult to undo once they were out of this situation. If they ever were, he thought morosely.

It was like a bomb had been detonated inside of Chuck's chest. How long would it take until Casey received that information? How long until he told Sarah? What about his daughters? And Ellie, Morgan, and his mother? He could feel the pain he was causing, feel it as it ripped its way to the very center of him.

I'm sorry, Baby, he thought, willing his mind to somehow pass the message to her, somewhere thousands of miles away, across the ocean and now beginning another day. He had no other choice, he knew. He had to follow Cole's plan. It was the only way to keep his son safe. But, he had firsthand knowledge of what believing Sarah dead had done to him, the way it had completely gutted him. Believing her dead for a span of hours. Believing she could die at any moment over the course of days. How long would it be before she could be told that they were both alive? How long was he asking her to suffer like that?

He had no terminus in sight, no way to end the pain he was causing her. All he knew was now that they had to wait, closely monitoring everything. Fortunately, he had complete access to all the CIA mainframe with an undetectable link to their servers embedded in this supercomputer.

Anxious beyond reason, Chuck had set about cleaning the cabin, slowly removing the heavy layers of dust. Rag after rag blackened, and he would grab another and continue, never running out of dirt to remove, no matter how much he tried.

"General Beckman is online, Chuck," Cole called tiredly to him, rubbing his eyes in his pronounced fatigue after driving a good portion of the night before. "She sent a commendation to MI6 in the name of the NSA for me," he said softly. "She talked to Casey, and he sent this report," Cole added, clicking the button on the computer, then waiting as the screen changed to display the document.

Chuck scanned it quickly over Cole's shoulder. Casey thought he was dead, Chuck realized. His anger and outrage showed in the way he had written the report. They were scrambling to find proof of life for him and his son, even though Chuck realized with a frightening pang, that Casey had deduced that they both were dead, because Cole was dead, and he had charged himself with protecting them. Chuck's eyes stung, and he needed to look away.

Cole took up reading where Chuck had stopped. After several beats of silence, Cole added urgently, "Chuck, Casey is en route in England as we speak. Kovacs kidnapped the girl. He must be bringing her there."

"Oh, God," Chuck groaned. The Sentries had moved on both of them at the same time. What would they do to Molly, if they believed that Stephen was dead? The words screamed in his head. "Emma…" he choked, his legs almost giving way as he worried she had been killed during the abduction.

"In critical condition, expected to survive," Cole chimed in as he read down the report quickly.

"Casey had to have told Sarah, Cole," Chuck shouted. "She's heading to England to rendezvous with Casey, thinking that we're dead and knowing they have her sister." Chuck became desperately frantic, pacing in tight circles around the table. "I have to go after her," Chuck shouted again.

"Chuck–"

"No, Cole, listen to me!" Chuck yelled. "You were trying to force their hand. Now it's forced. The Sentries are going to react. But, Cole, if she confronts them in England, thinking I'm dead…" He shook his head vigorously. "I can't let that happen."

"What are you talking about?" Cole asked.

"I know it sounds crazy, but trust me. I'm not exaggerating. I never really understood why, but I swear…I don't know what she'll do in that situation…and it scares the hell out of me," he stressed.

"You don't understand why?" Cole repeated sarcastically. "Are you actually going to tell me you don't know why she loves you?" Mumbling under his breath, he added, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you, but alright." He turned to Chuck, fixing him with a steady stare. "People in our line of work don't routinely have families…husbands and wives or children. We do the job that we do either because we don't want those things, or we think we can't have them, for whatever reason. The opportunity seldom arises. She fell in love with you when it was her job to protect you. She never thought that life was a possibility for her. She never thought someone like you could ever love her."

Hearing Cole talk about something so deep and emotional was unexpected, and slightly disturbing. He obviously had spent a great deal of time analyzing that situation in the past, to know so much of her inner feelings. Especially because at that same time, Chuck had been insecure about Cole and her reaction to him, doing careless things to try and seem more worldly and spy-ish as a subconscious way to compete with him. He had never understood that all along, as Cole had been trying to woo her, she had rebuffed his advances, because she was already in love with Chuck. "Did she tell you that?" Chuck asked quietly.

"Not in so many words," Cole grumbled. "But you can understand that, can't you?" Cole asked. He didn't wait for Chuck to respond. "In order to do what needs to be done, to protect innocent lives, we often have to do very ugly things. You watched her do some of that up close. It can be…repulsive, especially to someone like you, who absolutely abhors violence."

Cole's words made him think of watching Sarah shoot the Fulcrum agent in the Christmas tree lot. It was a horror that had taken him a long time to come to terms with. His logical mind knew she had only been protecting him and his family. But, that image remained, haunting his dreams for weeks, twisting his insides and coloring the lens through which he saw her. But repulsed? It just wasn't the right word.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, all of those images from the past coalesced, taking shape in a way they never had before. Is that what Sarah had believed back then? He had tried to explain, tried to tell her more than once what was bothering him for so long, that seemed to come to a head during the mission to protect Tyler Martin. It was less about what she had done, more about how she had been untruthful when he asked her. In retrospect, it made sense why she had lied to him. Just one more part of her job of protecting him, keeping the horrors of that life he had never wanted at bay.

"You thought she was beautiful, but on the inside. Despite all of that. I knew that was why the moment I knew how she felt about you. Stupid me, though, I thought you knew that. But apparently, after everything that happened between then and now, you still really don't," Cole chastised.

"She always told me that I changed her…into the person that she wanted to be," Chuck said softly.

Cole scoffed to himself, making Chuck wonder the reason. "Maybe she believes that," he added cryptically. He said nothing else.

"I have to go, Cole," Chuck insisted.

"Your son is in the other room, or have you forgotten that?" Cole asked, now testy, because he felt Chuck wasn't listening to him.

"Damn it, Cole, you know I haven't," Chuck shouted back, his face flushed in his anger. "That was the reason why I stayed, and why she went alone. Someplace she should never have gone without me."

Staying for the sake of your children was the honorable thing to do, Chuck heard in his father's voice in his head. They're safe, or at least they will be, once Cole gets him out of here. Not going after your mother was the biggest mistake of my life. I lost her forever because of it. You have to do this, Chuck.

Hearing his father's voice steeled him. "Cole, listen to me, I have a plan," Chuck started. "I need to hack into the MI6 mainframe and download all the information you have pertaining to this."

"Chu–"

"Just do it," Chuck ordered. "Contact Hannah the same way you always did, but make sure you tell her that no one knows that it's you who contacted her. You're supposed to be dead. Tell her to contact General Beckman on the secure line. Using this exact phrase: Operation Eagle is in effect. Then tell her it's Stephen. She'll give Hannah coordinates. We meet her there. You escort Stephen. Beckman should still think I'm dead. Tell her so."

"What's the purpose of that?" Cole quizzed him. "If we're letting Beckman know about Stephen–"

"No," Chuck retorted. "As much as it is killing me to not let Sarah know I'm alive, it makes it safer for me to get there if everyone involved still thinks I'm dead." He just needed to get to her before things got out of control.

Cole sighed, conceding that Chuck's plan was worthwhile. "Alright, we'll do it your way. But I'm coming with you to England. I'm not sending you into that potential bloodbath alone."

"Fine," Chuck replied sharply. "But that potential bloodbath is precisely what I am trying to avoid."