Out of the island and into the highway
Past the places where you might have turned
You never did know this
But you still hide away
The anger of angels who won't return
"Everything You Want"
Vertical Horizon
October 5, 2021
London, England, United Kingdom
…The medics are on the way…
…MI6…but they'll do just as fine a job…
…dead? Everyone? Now we have no way of knowing…
…Chuck! How is this possible? We thought…
…safe, I promise…with Nigel…with Beckman…
…through and through…good thing she had a vest on…
…distraction…wasn't trying…
…the best we could…three days and no sleep…
…This! We were trying to stop this!…too late…
…it's all right…
Sarah drifted in and out of consciousness. The different voices and their pitch pulled her forward or lulled her back. Carina, Casey, Cole, Jacques, Colin…Chuck?…then others, quiet mumbling, unintelligible speech.
"It's all right," she discerned, a repeat of the last thing she'd heard, only the voice was different…closer to her ear, leaning down from behind, the sound of his voice more beautiful than any piece of music she had ever heard. She felt a cool hand against her cheek, the gentlest of caresses, familiar in a way that cut her open.
"Chuck?" she gasped, wondering why her voice sounded slurred, like she was drunk.
"I'm here, Honey," he whispered close to her ear again. "Help is coming. It went straight through your shoulder. Clean. You'll be ok."
"Molly…" she murmured.
"She's fine. We rescued her," Chuck told her reassuringly.
"…babysitting…my mother's phone died…" Sarah rambled, shifting as her shoulder burned, feeling Chuck's legs beneath her and his arms around her.
"Sarah? What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, flashing a look of concern up at Casey, worrying that she sounded delirious.
"…couldn't reach you…or anyone…I was hemorrhaging…" she murmured, tears filming her eyes as she squeezed them closed.
"You remember?" Chuck asked, in a disbelieving hush. He was dumbfounded, shocked that she was recalling the past so vividly, and now.
"What the hell is she talking about?" Casey hissed, still confused.
Sarah started sobbing loudly, her entire body shaking, vibrating almost out of his arms. "He's not safe…I'm so sorry…I should have known…I felt it before you left…but I…I…oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry…"
He cradled her in his arms as he felt his heart breaking inside his chest. Chuck was crying, oblivious to his own tears that dripped from his chin. "It's all right, Sarah," he replied, his voice soft and passionate, the jolt of her sudden memory recovery shaking him.
She thought she was dying…then and now. Somehow all of this made those memories surface…
She cried until she lost consciousness again. The hallway filled with people, moving to and fro, noisy and deliberate in their movements and words. Chuck remained focused only on his wife, stretched across his lap as he knelt on the floor.
"She didn't remember that entire day," Chuck told Casey, his voice deep and hoarse. "The miscarriage and the DIC. She lost that entire day. But she just remembered it, Casey."
"It was probably the most traumatic day of her life," Casey murmured. "Although thinking you were dead was probably worse." Casey's voice was flat and humorless, ever so slightly tinged with bitterness. "What the hell were you thinking, Bartowski?"
Overwrought, something inside Chuck snapped. "I don't know, Casey…maybe that I saw my house being shot to pieces and my nine year old son have to shoot another person with an arrow! Cole put that message out there to protect us. Every Sentry agent in the U.S. is after us!" Chuck's face was flaming red and he was shaking with rage.
"Easy, Chuck," Casey urged. He was out of quips. In a rare show of emotion, Casey cleared his throat, then reached for Chuck's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm glad you're not dead."
"The truck is downstairs," Cole said as he leaned into the small group circle on the floor. At the questioning looks he got from Chuck and Casey, he clarified, "Ambulance." He nodded his head once. "Go with her, Chuck. I'll try to clean this mess up."
"What's the problem?" Casey barked.
"Kovacs is dead, that's what. We have all of the pieces out of the Sentries' hands, but no way to trace them in the U.S. He was the contact," Cole told them. "She was that blinded by rage, she didn't think about any of that?" Cole accused.
"Listen, Barker. I don't know what your plan was, but we were doing the best we could—" Casey retorted.
"Damn it, arguing won't fix this!" Chuck interjected. "Carter had information he found while he and Vivian were investigating for us. I ran out of time, but that's our next move. Once we get the hell out of here."
XXX
"How is she?" Carina asked, creeping up behind Chuck as he stood outside Sarah's hospital room. He jumped a little, but smiled weakly at her. Carina's perfume and the scent of stale coffee interrupted the steady waft of antiseptic in his nostrils.
"She's fine," he sighed. "Physically." He gestured towards the blind-covered glass wall that separated him from his wife. "The nurse is drawing blood. They don't let visitors stay when they do that," he rambled quickly.
Carina smirked at him. "Still squeamish around needles? After all that, Chuck?"
He rolled his eyes at her, half of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile. Turning back to the window, his smile evened out. "If she wanted me to stay, I would have," he added seriously. Carina knew perfectly well that nothing could stand in between Chuck and Sarah, not even needles.
"I was just checking on Z," Carina offered quietly, changing the subject, affected by Chuck's strange mood. "She's awake, eating, complaining about the food…you know, her old self."
"That's good," he offered.
"Sarah scared the hell out of me, Chuck," Carina continued. "And I don't scare easily."
"I know," he sighed, shifting his eyes downward towards the floor.
"I'm not sure you do, Chuck. She thought you were dead…for almost 24 hours. She was like a different person. You know…the girl I used to know. The one who didn't care about anything…least of all about herself," Carina proclaimed. "You think she can just go back…and drive your kids to soccer or music lessons or whatever else it is that she does…like none of this happened?"
She had spoken his greatest fear out loud and he felt it wash over him like cold water. "No, I don't. I think this is going to be one of the worst things we've ever had to go through together."
Carina chuckled to herself softly, his specific choice of words not lost on her. Not her, them. Together. "You know, for all the crap we give you two, I know you're the best thing that ever happened to her. She has you. That's all she needs." She punched his shoulder gently, winking. That was about as heartfelt as Carina got, and he was touched.
He just hoped she was right.
XXX
"You're sure he's all right?" Sarah grilled him the second the nurse allowed Chuck back into the room. She was inquiring about their son.
"He's in protective custody with Beckman. I promise you, he's safe," Chuck assured her. He felt almost backed against the wall, figuratively, buried in the onslaught of Sarah's questions. Something was just…off. He felt ill at ease, jumpy, being in the room with her. He couldn't remember feeling this way around her before.
"No, Chuck. Not that. The…the…shooting. What did he see?" she asked, her voice squeaking in concern.
Chuck had been standing at her bedside, ready to sit, when he stopped. He tucked his hands in his pockets and spun on one heel to face the wall. "It's not just what he saw," Chuck said, losing his breath in the middle of the sentence. He tried to say something else, but all she heard were a series of frustrated stutters.
He spun backwards, locking eyes with her. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Sarah read the apology on his face. "Oh my god…he thinks…" She couldn't finish either. She shrieked and broke down once again.
Watching Sarah unravel caused dichotomous emotions. The ice he feared he would encounter was gone, melted, but replaced by sadness and remorse. He was glad she was showing her emotions—so fearful she had pushed them down so far they were irretrievable. However, he was also troubled by how volatile those emotions at the surface were. Neither piece was the woman he knew as his wife, and it frightened him.
He rushed to her bedside, kneeling on the floor so he could be close enough to her. He ran his hand over the back of her head, buried in her pillow as she wept. "It was the only way to keep the cover. I couldn't ask him to lie to Beckman. Sarah, somehow they broke through the NSA security net. We didn't know if something was compromised. Gertrude circled the wagons at Ellie's, and we got everyone else out of harm's way. There was just no other option. We had to shoot our way out of there." He stopped, hating the sound of desperation in his voice, squashing that need to keep explaining and explaining, hoping she would understand.
"I know," she murmured, not lifting her head. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet floral scent, kissing her head gently to offer comfort.
The passage of time became unnoticable. Eventually, he felt her hand smoothing the back of his neck and her fingers twirling in his hair. She turned her face upward, her lips just inches away from his cheek. He could feel her breath against his face, and listened to it shudder as she struggled to regain control.
Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes were bloodshot. Regardless, what caught and held his attention was the deep blue of her eyes as she scanned his face, stopping when their eyes locked. He could see it radiating from her eyes…how much she loved him. She was relieved, even in her anguish. "I didn't know how I was going to live without you…" she gushed.
Her words went through him at the center like an arrow. The strange revelation about her memory recall while she had been drifting in and out of consciousness prickled at him. Everything was close to the surface. He knew exactly how she had felt. He had lived that horror for a full week…feeling like he was walking on a tightrope and at any moment he would just tumble…keep tumbling, with no ground to break his fall.
He kissed her lips, softly and gently, more to stop her from saying anything more that would dredge up more pain than for any other reason. She whimpered against his lips. He felt her settle against him, leaving both arms wrapped around his neck. His discomfort at the awkward angle was forgotten while he waited for her to calm down. "Casey and I are getting on coms soon…and start getting this fixed. I will let you know once I know. Right now, I want you to sleep, ok?" he asked.
Exhaustion descended upon her like a heavy coat and her eyelids drooped. He was relieved when he heard her breathing regulate, knowing she had calmed down enough that she was sleeping. He waited until she was deeply asleep before he extricated himself from her, not wanting to disturb her.
October 6, 2021
London, England, United Kingdom
"Our sole survivor was very forthcoming. We were lucky," Colin told the group assembled in the spy base.
"Stupid, foolish luck, it seems," Nigel grumbled.
"We'll take whatever good we can, gentlemen," Cole affirmed, not wanting to listen to any more squabbling about how Sarah had compromised the mission with her lack of emotional control.
"Kovacs put out the word once he thought Stephen Bartowski was dead. We apprehended everyone we were searching for…dead or alive, but everyone. They're regrouping in the U.S.," Colin explained.
"They made their move and took down the entire security net and a tactical team surrounding my house in Burbank," Chuck interjected. "We have Molly…and Stephen…and the prototype they've been searching for for ten years. They have nothing…no leverage at all."
"They know that we do," Casey told them. "But the Director and Assistant Director are in the U.S. Kovacs told Sarah the Director is dying. Are they desperate now? Ready to make a mistake?"
"What does her health…or lack thereof…have to do with anything?" Carina asked.
Jacques, quiet until that moment, seated at the end of the table and brooding with his arms crossed, decided to speak. "Every version of the prototype they tried to implant, using their methods, failed horribly. Disfigurement, insanity…even death. That was always why they were after the children."
"But their Ultimate Intersect…they've been trying to build that since the U.S. started building our computer Intersect. That is the motivating factor, is it not?" Chuck questioned.
"They have," Jacques answered. "It is," he stressed. "But…desperation, as you call it, is more…personal than what we're seeing. Don't you agree?"
Chuck thought silently for a moment, feeling the other eyes in the room on him. "Even when we think they're defeated…because we have all the cards…they won't just give up. Because they need it. Is that what you're saying?"
"I can't be sure, but it makes sense. Instead of looking for a blueprint to implant the prototype…they were looking for a map to repair damage done by a faulty implant," Jacques explained. "Maybe both goals always at the same time. But losing one doesn't negate the other."
"Then they're still plotting…in the U.S. and we have no idea how to find them now," Casey said flatly.
"Carter found the link. The company that the Sentries have been funneling their funds through, trying to make everything look legitimate and above boards. We were only starting to look into it when the whole…ambush started," Chuck choked out, the memory fresh and still jangling his nerves.
"So then we head back to the states. With your authority, of course, General," Cole said, deferring to Casey, who needed to give the greenlight for MI6 to work on U.S. soil.
"Agreed," Casey said crisply. "We need to make one…long and complicated call to Beckman, though," Casey added, squaring Chuck with a look. Beckman, Stephen, and probably Ellie and the rest of the group assembled inside Ellie's house, all thought Chuck was dead. "And…" Casey continued. "Hannah as well."
Jacques paled, leaning forward across the table, looking like he was about to be sick. The entire time he had been composed, stoic…the perfect spy. One mention of his wife and he nearly crumbled. Random words in Chuck's head from long ago… Spies don't fall in love. Such a silly platitude. What both Carina, and Sarah at the time, for that matter, had meant…love left you compromised, when you had a job to do and your work was espionage. Jacques and Hannah, ironically, had just been two more victims of that.
"Only she thinks I've been dead for two years!" he groaned, folding his head into his hand. "She could be married to someone else for all I know."
"If you don't mind my asking, why didn't you ever try to contact her? Let her know you were alive?" Cole asked with sympathy.
"I thought she was dead. The DGSE staged it. You know…take away the reason why I went underground in the first place," he sneered with bitterness.
"They did that?" Chuck asked. "They would do that?" he asked again innocently.
"Alina confirmed it," Jacques said.
"Ilsa, Chuck," Casey said softly. "Alina was her new cover." Chuck's eyes widened in response to that news, but he said nothing else.
"You saved them all," Jacques said to Cole, his voice hushed with gratitude. "You defied orders and protected them at great risk to yourself."
Cole shifted uncomfortably under the praise. "I'd like to take all the credit. But I had an ulterior motive." Cole's gaze shifted to Chuck.
Chuck heaved an enormous sigh. "He thought there was a chance I was the biological father of Hannah's twins."
Jacques nodded, fully aware of the story he had heard from Sarah.
"Whatever your motivation—you still saved their lives. Everyone in the world that I love," Jacques replied.
"She's not married. I don't even think she's moved on. The way she talked about you…she loves you, very much," Chuck swore.
Jacques' eyes misted with tears. "That was before she knew our entire life was a lie."
"Your entire life?" Chuck countered contrarily. "You left the spy world to be with her. You were protecting her. She'll understand," Chuck told him. It sounded so familiar to him. He had every faith that Hannah would forgive him.
But he had no such faith in his own family…and they had only believed the same for 24 hours.
XXX
Casey called General Beckman first. The conversation was long and full of information. She had already touched base with MI6 and the DGSE and confirmed what they had already deduced: the Sentries were defunct in Europe…but desperately grasping with what was remaining in the U.S. Beckman seemed more troubled than perturbed when she learned of Sarah's neutralization of almost everyone of interest.
She had started angry as hell at Chuck, but softened, much the same way as Casey had.
Of everyone, she was the most understanding of his plan and its emotional repercussions, acknowledging that once the NSA had failed to protect them, faking death was the safest way for everyone. "You did what you had to do to keep everyone safe." He had heard those same words out of his father's mouth after Ellie's first wedding had been destroyed by Fulcrum. He hadn't expected that undertone of relief, her voice trembling ever so slightly at the sight of him. In a better mood, during a better time, he would have teased her about her concern for him, but it was too awkward there.
Beckman thought telling Stephen right away that his father was alive was the best option. The boy was heartbroken, and the wounds were fresh. Telling him the truth now could be confusing, but it would allay the grief he was struggling to contain. The room full of people in London sat in silence and waited while Beckman retrieved Stephen.
Carina and Jacques slid to the side purposely, so that only Chuck was in the shot of the camera. In an ideal world, they would have left Chuck in private to talk to his son, but it just wasn't possible in the current situation.
On the screen, Chuck watched as the shadow moved across the wall, indicating the door had opened and then closed out of the angle of the camera. Stephen was a blur across the screen, running full force until he was so close to the camera all that was visible was the view of his neck under his chin. "Dad!" he yelled, his voice cracking and breaking.
When he backed up, Chuck could see him more clearly. His eyes were swollen like bee stings, red-rimmed and bloodshot. The grime left on his face was streaked with smudged tears. Chuck forced the smile, struggling to keep his face neutral and his eyes dry. The distance between them with the video monitor was excruciating. "Hey, kiddo," he said cheerily, more slowly and softly than he normally would have under different circumstances. "Are you ok?" Chuck asked with concern.
"General Beckman thought you were dead," he explained as his eyes overflowed with tears. "She told me you were dead."
"I'm sorry that she had to tell you that. I am," Chuck apologized, knowing just his words like this were not sufficient to explain to his son. That explanation, however, was much more involved than he was going to get over the comm like this. "Those people that came after us at our house…they weren't going to stop. The only way to keep everyone safe was if they thought that we were dead."
Stephen's blue eyes widened, still glassy with tears. "They're after…the thing…the thing in my head…like you told me they would be. This is all because of me," he wailed.
"Stephen, Stephen, Stephen…" Chuck urged, talking over his son's remorse. "That is only part of it. There's a lot we have to explain when we get home. Things that you need to know. I promise you we will. You just have to wait a little bit longer, until we get there. Can you do that?" Chuck asked.
"Where is Mom?" Stephen asked stridently.
Chuck refused to lie to his son. "She's in the hospital, but she's fine now, ok? She's leaving with me tomorrow morning and we should be home by dinnertime."
"I miss you guys…a lot," Stephen sighed, smiling crookedly, blushing slightly in embarrassment.
The tears burning behind Chuck's eyes suddenly surfaced, threatening to spill from his lower lid. He purposely held his eyes open without blinking to keep the tears from falling. "We miss you, too. All of you. We'll be home soon, we promise," he said, reaching his hand forward and touching the screen with two of his fingers. His heart melted completely as he watched his son kiss his own index finger and press it to the screen on his end in return.
Chuck felt wrung out and spent when he cut the connection.
"I can't talk to her again like that," Jacques blurted into the silence hanging in the room. "I need to wait until I see her…face to face."
"But…you can tell her you're alive…and not waste another minute. Don't you want to do that?" Chuck asked him.
"It's been two years she's…they've…been suffering like that. Twelve more hours is nothing…so long as I can see her, talk to her. Telling Pierre and Cozette will be enormously difficult. I need to talk to her before I do that. Can you understand that?" Jacques replied.
Chuck could hear it when he spoke…a father's love for his children. Hannah had explained to him how much he loved her twins, though they were not his biological children. He had vowed to take care of them before he even knew there were two babies and not just one. Everything Jacques said made perfect sense, about waiting, about breaking it to them gently, something traumatic and difficult to explain. Chuck already believed everything the man had said, and now it was underlined. Love had been his reason for everything. He wasn't sure why he was so sure, but he knew Hannah would be able to see that sincerity as well, regardless of the lies he had needed to tell. "I can," Chuck finally replied, smiling in understanding.
He took a deep breath, feeling his fatigue in his bones amplify when he thought that now…he needed to call his sister.