The Mission - May
Being Charles Carmichael caused dissonance in Chuck's mind. At a certain level, almost within reach of his conscious mind, he felt like he was some guy pretending to be a spy. And, despite his success, he would be found out and sent back to the Buy More. It was a whole new level of impostor syndrome. It tended to be felt as a nagging worry of being unable to protect Carina, or others.
So, when he did sleep, Chuck dreams were typically haunted.
From a subdirectory of Chuck's brain, under the Nightmares directory, a subdirectory assigned to worry and self-doubt came thoughts of inadequacy and failure to attack his sleep.
Another portion of his subconscious came forth in defense.
I AM A SPY! I, Charles Carmichael, am a spy. General Beckman and Director Hawthorne call me Agent. Carina says I am great partner. Our new team of analysts definitely act like I am, and our mission tactical teams respond to my orders. I've succeeded.
I wonder if She knows? Surely She does. But is She happy about it, or regretful? I guess it doesn't matter since She isn't here. I've succeeded? I can't deny that a part of my motivation was to bring us together. I guess that shows what I genius I am. Fucking blew up in my face.
I am making a difference, doing things only I can do, helping save the world, or at least whatever the Powers That Be define as "the world", "the greater good". I've succeeded!
I have to believe that. The things that I have done, the people I have k… lives that I've e…., come on Chuck, you can't hide from it. The deaths I have caused.
The good I have done has to balance that out. The spy lifestyle I have embraced is far removed from the nothing life that Chuck Bartowski was leading. It has to be worth it. So what that it may not have repaired or replaced the parts of my heart that I let atrophy. I just need to do more. Build a replacement.
More successful missions will provide the fulfillment I'm looking for. Like Casey always said, the rest has to be sacrificed. I'm not the only one who has sacrificed relationships for the job. Heart takes second place to duty. That's enough. Right?
Charles Carmichael is a force to be reckoned with. Carmichael is a success. Carmichael is admired. Carmichael is happy. Isn't he? Aren't I?
I'll ask Carina, and she'll tell me everything is good. Carina knows because she is a real spy.
The battle ended, for now, Chuck relaxed and finally fell into a deeper, restful slumber.
oooooooooooooooooo
The paperwork said he was an agent. Not your typical agent, but still an agent, or two?
Chuck held the credentials of a NSA agent, and reported to General Beckman.
He also held the credentials of a CIA agent, and reported to Director Hawthorne.
Because, there was no way in hell they were going to give up their piece of the Intersect.
An unwanted arrangement created for an unwanted agent, who controlled a very much wanted tool.
They had operational control over Chuck, while Director Simpson had operational control over Carina.
The needs of the CIA and DEA featured prominently in their mission directives, while also serving the overall needs of protecting America via the NSA. Those 3 agency heads, along with the DNI, and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff came of up with the overall policy needs, which drove the strategic planning of their tactical missions.
Consciously, Chuck knew Team Carmichael was seen as a success. His bosses recognized their success, and their record spoke for itself, to anyone with the clearance to know about them.
And he needed to recognize, to never forget, that it was his innate genius, combined with the Intersect, which delivered those successes.
Chuck Bartowski plus the Intersect equals Charles Carmichael. For too long he, and others, believed that it was only the Intersect that was valuable, it was only the Intersect that could produce the win, that it was only the Intersect that made him worth anything at all. He now understood the truth, but years of post-Stanford self-loathing still poisoned his confidence, when it could.
And now their successes, his successes, would be more widely noticed because now they didn't have to stay in deep cover, and could act like regular agents. Very effective regular agents, but nobody had to know how far they were beyond regular. Well they didn't have to know the Intersect made them beyond regular, because Carina was noticeably always beyond regular. She would never fit in ANY category of regular.
Chuck is so happy to have Carina as his partner, and really, mentor as he fully embraced the Spy life. She was exciting to be around and she made even the worst of spy life fun.
Death would never be fun, but post mission, adrenaline fueled sex could help blot it out of the mind. Fortunately that tonic was less required as their involvement was pulled back from the tip of the spear. Without the need for secrecy from everyone that was required, for the missions against Rings cells or Leaders, the gun play could be now left to the assault teams.
So, sex with Carina could be disassociated from that horror, and could stay in the realm of fun.
If you just went with the flow, her flow, life with Carina was fun. He discovered that she didn't go to parties. Carina was the party. She would just co-exist with someone else's party, or the club atmosphere, but they were wholly unnecessary for her.
The open status of their relationship has to be obvious to any of the regulars in their social circles, but since it apparently wasn't that unusual, it wasn't an issue. They had decided to not pose as a married couple, as being just a committed couple allowed them more mission flexibility. And Carina was flexible, very, very flexible. Chuck blushed, remembered situations that 18 year old Chuck hadn't had the capacity to imagine.
Although, for him it, as always, it was less about the physical. He loved the rare moments that they would spend quietly together. Every so often, she would come to his room, on an afternoon of a day off, and they would sit together on the couch. More accurately, he would sit on the couch and she would lay her head on this lap.
They would listen to some his music (never that Nina Simone album), and he would give her some background about it. They would laugh and chat about happy experiences in their past, and share light kisses. She would hang out with him for a couple of hours, but would always suddenly and abruptly leave. It was like she had a quota for that activity. She would reach capacity, for whatever she was feeling, and then had to extract herself from the situation. Still, Chuck cherished those times with her the most.
Although, he wouldn't be complaining about this moment in time, as they had been assigned to attend an event, at one more resort/hotel.
Definitely beats the Nerd Herd desk. Hell, this is the kind of stuff that Jeff and Lester are back there fantasizing about, Chuck thought enjoying the contrasting feelings of the hot sun and the pool's cool micro-climate. He was keeping an eye on their primary mark, to see if any contacts were made here at poolside.
And I can't deny the view is unparalleled, he considered, as he scanned the crowd of (mostly) beautiful people, and stopped on the vision that is Carina. She was wearing something that was undoubtably sold as a one piece swim suit. Chuck was considering it, "You know, its almost like it is the result of an artist trying to create the impression of a swimsuit. Strings and small patches of fabric wrapped around her body, covering what propriety required, while simultaneously drawing more attention to the covered bits, than they might have garnered uncovered. Might have.
How the fuck am I supposed to get that off later? So many knots, and she will be pissed if I just pull an Alexander and cut it off. Oh, well, she'll probably have it off before I get to close the door. Chuck considered, as he watched her wiggle-walk on by, blowing him a kiss. Carina was flitting in and around the pool, allowing her to maintain situational awareness and essentially patrolling the pool.
He was making a real effort to enjoy this weekend and feel like it was a real vacation. Force himself to shake off his typical malaise, which he hid during the day under constant motion.
At the Villa, Chuck spends a lot of time alone, typically reading Graphic Novels or other Sci-Fi. He keeps a TV on in his room, to distract his quiet thoughts; anything with a laugh track.
Some things changed with his new assignment, different from the Ring war, but some things didn't.
Chuck still just keeps going.
He doesn't really sleep. He analyses data and develops strategies during the day, and helps maintain their jet set, social lifestyle, by night.
And he doesn't really sleep. He tries not to feel. And, he locks down any memories that remind him what is lacking. Morgan, Ellie and Devin, Her.
And he doesn't really sleep. Lying down in a bed, in a quiet room, takes him to dark places.
Instead Chuck works, and parties, and works, and parties, and works, until circumstances allow him to collapse in total exhaustion, to sleep the sleep of the dead. Even then, his mind tries to avoid his memory, preventing recall of any dreams that might have transpired. Whether they contained sorrow and regret, or memories of joy, they would contain the past, so must be suppressed.
So, Chuck is busy trying to embrace the now, Come on Chuck, enjoy the sun, the pool, and the scenery, or should I say Carin-ery. Yowza! I've got to savor the moment; I squandered so many at the Buy More. I have to appreciate that so many people wish they were me. If only he knew which me he wanted to be.