The Mission – July: Casey Interlude

It was decided to do a major Intersect update the week after the 4th of July, so Chuck had flown to DC. Carina would make her own trip, the week following, as Chuck returned to Rome.

So Chuck found himself walking into General Beckman's office, mid-morning, and there was Casey, big and broad, hunched over a keyboard, doing 2 fingered hunt and peck.

Spontaneously, Chuck calls out "Casey", feeling suddenly light hearted, seeing his old friend.

Casey looks up and grunts, possibly a happy grunt, since it was accompanied by the suggestion of a smile. He must have been very happy, in his own way, because he actually gets up, walks over to Chuck and uses real words. "Hey Moron, I'm glad to see you are surviving both the field and Carina. I don't know which is more challenging."

Chuck just laughs, "You chose to be a fighter not a lover, so somebody has to keep her entertained." They shook hands but Casey growled, when Chuck tried to pull him into a one armed hug.

Beckman's door opened and an aide motioned for Chuck to enter. "Agent Carmichael, if you please."

"Hey John, duty calls. You got a number?" Chuck asks.

"I'm currently stationed here, so let's meet up after your meeting," he suggests, as they part.

After the meeting, which ran past normal hours, Chuck finds Casey still at his desk, keeping busy, while waiting.

Chuck steps up to the desk. "Hey Casey, you good to go?"

Casey grunts an affirmative.

"Let me hit the head and I'll be ready." Chuck heads to the bathroom, while Casey tells him, "OK, meet me in front of passenger pick up zone 4A".

On the short drive over to his apartment, Casey grumbles about the boring fleet vehicle he is stuck driving, while Chuck shares what mission stories he can, and avoids Carina stories.

Chuck steps into Casey's apartment and is struck still, feeling a punch to the gut that almost buckled his knees. It's Burbank. Casey's apartment is filled with all the stuff from Burbank. The picture of Ronald Reagan, the collection of John Wayne movies, the Bonsai tree on the coffee table, the rest of the apartment superficially different in layout. And, it immediately reminds him of Her. Thank God Her scent wasn't here too. With a deep breath, he composes himself.

Casey, busy hanging up his suit coat, and settling into his home, didn't notice Chuck's reaction.

"Whiskey?" Casey asked, moving to his bar.

"Sure," Chuck replied, continuing his scanning of the room. Some things never change. Some people never change, at least in their core. He smiled; it's good to have someone you know is reliable and will always have your back.

Casey pours their drinks. "Yeah, I'm sure your genius brain has figured out that there's something up with my leg, huh?" lifting up his left pant leg, exposing part of the prosthetic.

He steps over to Chuck, handing him his drink, and then leans back into the bar.

He looks down and off to the side and mentions, "It happened in Afghanistan. I had been given command of a special mission combat team. We were a tip of the spear team, a blunt force sent in to help. When a mission ran into heavy resistance, we broke them through." Looking up, he met Chuck's eyes, insisting on recognition.

Casey again stared off into space, "We weren't even in battle yet and we got blown up. We were part of a convoy heading towards an operation site. My APC was the lucky one that triggered the blast. We drove over an anti-tank mine, and it blew straight up through the bottom. I was up top, manning the Fifty, and it just popped me out like a cork. Woke up in a field hospital, beat to hell and missing some of my leg.

He paused; his voice rough and low, cleared his throat, and took a big sip of his drink.

"No one inside survived." Casey took a deep breath.

"Costas had just gotten married. Odom's wife just had a kid. Robertson was getting out in 6 months. I lost a lot of good men that day. After another big sip. "Should have been me." he said quietly, his voice smothered under the pain of loss, remembrance, shame.

He drained his glass and in a clearer throat, continued, "I ended being patched up and treated for a concussion, and then fitted with this handy high-tech foot."

"Which, let me remind you, I can now put it up your ass without feeling a thing, if you get out of line." He finished, with a smirk.

"Gee whiz Casey," Chuck replied, "that sounds so useful. I'll keep that in mind." the twinkle in his eye showing that he wasn't really bothered by the tease.

"Yeah, useful." Casey, quietly said, suddenly depressed and looking down in thought.

He looked up and met Chuck's eyes with a fierce firmness, "That's what Beckman calls me, useful. I think it's just one step above pity. A broom is useful. I was making a difference, I was needed." He said again, quietly, "I was needed."

Chuck had always admired Casey's commitment to cause, so he told him. "Casey, you have become more than a friend to me, you are like my older brother. You always were the definition of a stand-up guy. Your commitment to cause is beyond anything I've ever seen. You caught me when I fell. I knew I could always count on you. I knew you would always have my back.

And, with all that I am dealing with in Europe, I need you to have my back now. "

"Casey, I need you."

Maybe having Casey around will help me understand how to deal with being a spy. Because it sure seems like it is slowly killing me.