The drive through Angeles National Forrest didn't take more than a couple hours. that his father had been living so close had been both a surprise and a disappointment to Chuck as he pulled off the road and onto a lesser known dirt lane that led, ironically past Hermit Falls, to the cabin in which the man who had abandoned him years ago was to meet him. The area was beautiful, peaceful, he had to give his father that, but to be so close but not reach out to his children, Chuck couldn't fathom why a person would want to do that.
Just off the dirt lane was a gravel path that led up to where the cabin was. The thick copse of trees that lined the gravel path quickly hid the car from view. He pulled his car up beside a dirty jeep and turned off the ignition. He sat for a moment contemplating if he really wanted to knock on the cabin's door or if he should just start up the car and drive away. It only took a moment for Chuck to realize that driving away without even setting eyes on his father would make him no better than the older man. With a sigh, he opened the door and unfolded himself from the interior. Closing the car door behind him, he stretched, his lower back popping, sending relief up and down his spine, leading him to arch his neck first left than right to release the extra tension that had settled in his neck and shoulders. His adjustments done, he walked around the car and up the steps that led to the cabin's small porch which held a rustic chair and table.
The moment of truth was upon him. He raised his hand to knock, but just as his hand was about to connect to the door, it swung open revealing the long-missing Stephen J. Bartowski. The man before him looked older, as one does after a decade and a half, his formerly brown hair now bore streaks of grey throughout it, his laugh lines were slightly more creased than they had been, but his eyes were still the same intelligent eyes that Chuck himself saw in the mirror every day. Chuck had heard growing up that he took after his father in many ways, from his looks to his intelligence and curious nature, but it never really hit him how true the statement was until he saw his father standing before him. At least he now knew what he would look like when he hit his mid to late 50's.
"Charles!" The older man smiled up at him, the look on his face making it clear he didn't realize the son he remembered might have grown taller than him as the younger man now stood nearly a full head taller than his father. "You made it, come on in, take a seat anywhere. Would you like something to drink? I've got coffee, beer, soda…"
"I'm fine, Dad," Chuck assured him, taking a seat on the well-worn dull cream and yellow floral couch which looked to be a relic from a 1970's home décor magazine. Stephen returned, two bottles of beer in his hand. Handing one to his son, he took a seat in a nearby chair which was decorated in the same upholstery as the couch. It was clear neither man knew how to start as they proceeded to sit in awkward silence, staring at each other.
"I sure did miss that face," Stephen sighed, breaking the silence.
"Well, it didn't take me long to get here," Chuck pointed out, "Clearly you are close enough you could have come back for a visit."
"No, I couldn't," Stephen shook his head sadly, "For your safety and the safety of your sister, I had to stay away."
"What possible danger could you have been in?" Chuck challenged, "You were a professor, an inventor, and apparently, if yesterday's show of digital prowess is any indication, a very skilled hacker."
"I'm a little more than that," Stephen admitted, "Charles, there is a great many things you don't know about me, your mom, what was once the family business that we worked so hard to shield you from."
"What does Mom have to do with this?" Chuck's curiosity was piqued. "And how does that relate to the reason you summoned me to some cabin in the middle of nowhere?"
"All in good time, Son," Stephen admonished him, "I will answer all of your questions if you just let me speak."
"Fine," Chuck rolled his eyes and sat back on the couch, nursing the beer in his hand, it was only early afternoon, a little early for him to be drinking, but he had a feeling he would be here for a while, and the beer tasted good after the hot, dry trip through the forest. "Speak away."
"Thank you," Stephen nodded, "As you mentioned, I was a professor, a lecturer, first at my alma matter, MIT before I started teaching at UCLA. Your mother's bosses were able to create a position for me there when they transferred her out to the LA office."
"What do you mean they created a position for you?" Chuck inquired, a searching gaze trying to discern more from his father's facial expressions.
"Well, by that point, I was kinda working for them as an agency contractor," Stephen continued, not acknowledging his son's question, "You see your mother had originally been my handler, but one thing led to another and then Ellie came along. Normally, such relationships are verboten between handlers and assets, but once we found out about Ellie and eloped, there was not much more they could do. They upgraded my position, first to analyst, then company scientist. What had originally gotten their attention was my thesis project for my doctorate. I theorized that information could be transmitted to, and subsequently stored in, the human brain by using pictures encoded with information not noticeable to the naked eye.
"At first, they just wanted to see if it was doable, and after several years, they wanted proof that we were able to move past theoretical to implementation," Stephen explained, "A friend of mine, Hartley, volunteered to be a test subject. Your mother and I both tried to talk him out of it, we didn't feel it was ready, but he insisted, and we were coming up against our deadline to show results or lose funding. I reluctantly gave in and designed a small data packet for him. The original use we were asked to look into was to see if we could implant a personality matrix into the programming, so that agents were less likely to break character and risk operational security. It was only supposed to be temporary, I had built a kill switch of sorts into it, but it failed to deactivate the programming."
"What happened to your friend?" Chuck asked, concerned for his father's friend turned human lab rat.
"To this day, he believes he is the person who was in the personality matrix, it's been nearly 20 years, and my friend who was once a soft spoken, kind, genteel man, is now one of the most ruthless and feared men in the world." Stephen sighed, "Your mother was meant to be his handler until the programming disengaged. When it didn't, we tried a few more ways of switching it off, for lack of a better term, but nothing worked. By this time, Hartley's other persona had taken a… liking… to your mother. Since your mother and I were the only ones who really knew anything about the program, and as I was the programmer, it was decided by the powers that be that your mother would stay with him as his secret handler until the day we can figure out a way to turn off or remove the programming. I didn't want her to go, but of the two of us, I was more valuable to them as I was the programmer. To them agents like your mom were and are expendable." Stephen couldn't keep the disdain for his employers out of his voice.
"What do you mean agents like my mom?" Chuck pressed, "You keep using these phrases like I'm supposed to know what they mean, 'asset,' 'handler,' 'agent,' 'company scientist,' and the like. What company did you work for?" Chuck paused a moment when realization hit him, "Wait, did you, do you, work for some intelligence agency like the CIA, FBI, or NSA?"
"You forgot MI5," Stephen pointed out, "Hartley was MI5, your mom and I were CIA. Your mother had been recruited out of Yale, me out of MIT, Hartley was an Oxford man, himself."
"Mom was a spy?!" Chuck nearly leapt from his seat, "Is that what you're telling me?"
"Technically speaking, she still is," Stephen shrugged slightly, "Very deep undercover, I cannot tell you where for your own safety, but she has not set foot on US soil for at least 14 years."
"Wait, 20 years ago… 14 years ago…" Chuck murmured to himself a moment before looking over to his father, "This project of yours is why you both left, isn't it?"
"Yes," Stephen nodded, "It's why your mother seemingly vanished without a trace. She would always leave behind her personal items, when she would go, and I knew what she wanted done with them. It's why I gave you her charm bracelet when you turned 13, and why Eleanor has her pearl jewelry and is holding on to her wedding set for the day you find the right girl. The only thing she ever took with her was that silver necklace you and Eleanor gave her for Mother's Day a couple years before all this happened. The chain is long enough for her to hide under her clothes, on the same chain is the plain silver ring I bought her in Vegas when we eloped. The set your sister has is the one I bought after you were born, and we'd renewed our vows."
"So, you've explained why Mom had to leave," Chuck reminded his father, "But why did you have to go too?"
"Alexi, the personality we implanted in Hartley, grew very jealous of me as he had fallen in love with your mother," Stephen explained, "He ordered me killed so that he would be free to pursue your mother. The day I promised you and your sister pancakes in celebration of her high SAT scores, and then never returned, your mother contacted me. I had a pager that was only for her, she sent the alert code that indicated that a hit had been put out on me. There was a separate one for if you and Eleanor were also in danger, thankfully, Alexi either didn't remember or didn't know we had children, so you were safe. To make matters worse, Alexi had sent your mother, herself to kill me, thinking that she was in love with him too and would do anything for him. Instead, she killed her team and told Alexi that I had a CIA team monitoring me that foiled the assassination attempt, she then helped me to get off grid. Luckily, we had contingency plans for what we would do in any given situation. This included setting up accounts to help pay for Eleanor's and your college education, which should have come to you in the form of Pell grant type programs or scholarships. We knew your sister had access to our bank account, I knew she was balancing the budget while I tinkered away at my projects, and I let her, so that I would know she would take care of things if the need ever were to arise. The annuities you and your sister started receiving when you turned 18 from a distant relative was also part of the plan to help take care of you. Also, when your sister sold the house and moved you into the apartment complex in Van Nuys, we made sure that a few agency contacts also moved in around the same time."
"Who?" Chuck's curiosity got the better of him.
"Mr. Lewis, for one," Stephen admitted, "When his wife passed, he moved to California to be closer to his daughter and son-in-law, Virginia and Warren. He was actually the station chief at the LA CIA office. A while after you left for Stanford, his daughter and her family moved back to New York, and he took the opportunity to move back to DC and teach at the Farm under his agency persona."
"Who else?"
"Mr. Calavicci and his wife," Stephen admitted, "The Taskers, and the Turners."
"That actually makes sense," Chuck scoffed, "They were the ones who always helped pay for my band tours and uniforms in high school. When Mr. Lewis found out I had to wear a tux for concert competition, he took me to a tailor to have my tux altered, said that a man is not truly a man until he owns a well-fitting tux, a good suit, and can make a perfect martini. I think I still have the white dinner jacket he gave me when I graduated high school, something about it being a good tool in attracting the opposite sex… I don't know."
Stephen couldn't help but chuckle at that, "Back at the Farm, that's known as the Montgomery; white dinner jacket, bottle of Chateau Margaux, and a red rose. I can't believe he's still pushing that."
"Well, apparently, he is." Chuck shrugged, "But we've gotten off track. While knowing a little more about why you and mom had to leave is all good to know, that's not the reason I came all the way out here. You said that you could help me locate Bryce Larkin."
"Yes, I was able to find his universal contact number," Stephen nodded, "Hopefully, he will do the right thing."
"Well, he doesn't really have a history of that," Chuck sighed, "At least him sleeping with my girlfriend saved me from following through with the worst decision of my life. I really wish he hadn't met Sarah, but at the same time I don't, because then we wouldn't have Molly…"
"Life's a real kick in the pants sometimes, isn't it?" Stephen shook his head, a sad smile on his face, "I ought to know." He got up and retrieved a slip of paper from a desk in the corner that bore some legal pads, a cup of pens and pencils and a picture of their family before he and Mary both left. Returning, he handed the paper to his son. "Well, good luck in getting Bryce to do the right thing, and I hope that someday, if I'm able to, I can see you and Eleanor again. I want to meet this husband of hers, do they have any kids?"
"Yes, a five-year-old girl, name Clara." Chuck gave a small smile, "They've recently been talking about doing Doctors Without Borders, they've wanted to do it since med school but then they had Clara. They're now trying to figure out if they can bring her along. If they had to leave her behind in order to join, I don't think they would go."
"Doctors Without Borders is a wonderful program, and I can understand their hesitancy about leaving their daughter behind," Stephen nodded, "Although if it was only a short time away, I'm sure you would step up to take care of Clara. Maybe that girlfriend of yours can lend a hand."
"I wouldn't mind doing that," Chuck agreed, "But after what we went through with mom and you leaving us as you did, I doubt Ellie would be willing to part with Clara in order to participate."
"I also hope to meet your family someday." Stephen pointed out, "I assume that you needing to find Bryce is a means to that end?"
"Something like that," Chuck admitted, standing as he noticed the waning light outside. The visit had taken longer than he'd anticipated, "I should get going."
"Yeah, that's probably for the best, before it gets too dark to see," Stephen nodded, rising and reaching out his hand to his son. When Chuck took it, his father used it as leverage to pull him in for a hug. "You know I love you, Son, don't you? I wouldn't have left if I'd had any other choice. The same goes for your mother."
"I know, Dad," Chuck nodded, pulling back and patting his father on his shoulder. "I love you too. I hope we can see each other again someday, hopefully not in another 14 years."
"I guess we'll have to see," Stephen agreed, walking his son to the door, "Drive safe."
"I will," Chuck gave his dad a small smile, "Goodbye, Dad."
"Goodbye, Charles," Stephen watched as his son walked to his car and started it up. He kept watch as his son's car slowly made its way back down the gravel path toward the dirt lane that would eventually connect him with the narrow roadway that served the national park. He stayed standing on his porch until the red taillights of his son's car could no longer be seen. "Good luck, Son," He whispered softly into the night air, "I hope you get everything you are wanting."
