A/N: We meet Major John Casey. Not quite the canon one, though.
One step closer to the meeting we're waiting for.
Thanks to michaelfmx for his incisive and encouraging beta services.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
—
SECOND CHANCES
Chapter Three: Feeling(?) Something?
After she exits the airport, Sarah pulls over into a Starbuck's parking lot and takes out her phone. Pulling up her contact list, she mulls over the choice of which agent to approach first.
Even before she read the team's file, she'd immediately dismissed the idea of meeting the two agents at the same time, knowing that neither partner would likely speak freely with the other present. But now, knowing much more about their rocky inter-personal dynamics, she realizes to do so would be like bringing gasoline near an open flame.
Sarah shakes her head. No desire to get caught in the middle of that war-of-words.
Looking at the names again, she makes her choice. She sends a text.
Less than a minute later, she gets a reply.
OK. Echo Park it is.
She inputs the destination into the Explorer's GPS.
As she drives down North Hollywood Boulevard, something begins to stir within her. Something she'd once felt in what almost seems like a log forgotten previous life.
The tattered remnants of my pride?
Even as she chides herself over the flowery prose, she thinks it's been so long that she's not sure.
But there is a growing determination.
If this is gonna be it, I might as well do it right.
…
Walking through the arched gateway, Sarah is immediately struck by the tranquil beauty of the building's courtyard and the residences that surround it. She stops for a moment to take it all in.
Lots of greenery. A burbling fountain in the middle. Little nooks and crannies with small patio table and chair sets.
I would like to live here. It feels like…a home.
The sudden thought, unbidden, catches her by surprise.
Home, for the better part of her younger years, had been, at best, a fluid, nebulous concept.
More often than not, she and her father had stayed in run-down motels in less than attractive parts of the towns and cities they'd traveled through, usually only for a few days before moving on to the next swindle. From time to time, when they were flush, they'd been able to afford nicer places, but had never stayed for more than a few days at a stretch, barely enough time to get to know what all the light switches did.
However, there'd been one time, just after she'd turned twelve, when they'd stayed in a nice furnished apartment, part of their cover for a longer than average con.
On that occasion, she'd done what she could to personalize her bedroom. Her father had misread her actions, had told her not to bother, that none of their marks would ever see what she was doing. Therefore, there was no need to put on the pretense that it was a real place, an actual home. She hadn't been able to find the words to explain (even to herself) exactly why she was doing it, so had just nodded. But she'd kept on, adding some books, a few pictures, posters, little things she'd scrounged up, a response to a longing she couldn't clearly define.
She'd found an abandoned kitten during one of her wanderings, the little mewling thing stuck in a box in some freezing back alley. She'd been very careful to hide it from her father, feeding it and holding it only when he wasn't around, which was often. Fortunately, the tiny creature was quiet, his meows almost inaudible, even at night when everything was quiet. He'd sleep snuggled up against her chest, his gentle purrs sending an unaccustomed thrill through her as she laid there, very careful not to roll over and hurt him.
In the end, the con had gone wrong, disastrously so. They'd had to flee in the middle of the night, with barely more than the clothes on their backs, leaving behind the pitifully meagre personal possessions she'd accumulated.
Her father had caught her just as she'd managed to coax the kitten, frightened by the tense atmosphere in the apartment, out from under her bed.
He'd told her they couldn't take it with them. When he said he'd take of things so the animal wouldn't suffer, she'd openly defied him for the first time in her life, furious at the callous implication of his words. She'd stood between him and the innocent, her fists balled at her sides, silently daring him to try and get by her. He'd relented, had almost seemed a little frightened of her. He'd walked away, telling her, over his shoulder, to hurry.
But, in the end, she did leave the kitten behind, knowing, with an understanding beyond her years, that there was really no place for it in their nomadic lives. She'd left food, water and, in a stolen moment, a hastily scribbled note under the door of the kindly old George, the building caretaker, asking him to please take care of the helpless animal.
Later that morning, two hundred miles down the road, she'd managed to find a few spare minutes while her father was in the cafe washroom. Just time enough to get to a payphone and call George. She'd asked if he'd found the note when he'd awoken. When he'd said he had and solemnly promised to do what she'd asked, she'd fought hard, but had failed to blink back her tears. When he tried to ask where she was and if she was OK, she'd hung up.
After that, defeated, disheartened, she'd given up on the idea of a place to call her own, and just went along for the ride, literally and figuratively. Even during their time in San Diego, her room had remained generic. Free from the stamp of personality. And free of pets.
Her furnished apartment in D.C., provided by the CIA, was the same. Except for few photos (now long gone) of Bryce and herself, she hadn't done a single thing to change it from the way it was on the day she walked in.
She didn't actually live there.
She existed.
Sarah envies Major Casey, living in a place like this. But then she wonders if he too simply exists here. Maybe his place will be generic as well, a standard Mark One bachelor's apartment as defined in the manual for undercover assignments.
She'll find out soon enough. Turning, she walks to his door, knocks briskly.
He'd told her in his text that Bartowski's sister and her husband (she'd guessed right on that one), were both on duty at the hospital, so she wouldn't have to worry about running into them unexpectedly. Which was just as well. She's already laid out in her mind the plans for that first meeting.
There's movement from within the apartment, but there's a delay, time enough for the Major to check the image from the almost invisible security camera mounted in the doorframe. The door opens abruptly, a faint odor of cigar wafting her way. The man filling the doorway is big, solid, barrel-chested, well over six feet tall.
She's never met Major John Casey before, only recognizes his unsmiling face from his unsmiling file photo. However, she does know of his formidable reputation, in some aspects, the NSA's equivalent of her own, or, more correctly, her former reputation.
Not that it was always something to be proud of.
The two silently size each other up for a few seconds.
He nods. "Agent Walker."
She nods back. "Major Casey."
He grunts, then backs up a step, allowing her to enter. Sarah takes a few steps in, stops in the short hallway, unsure where he wants her to go. She glances at the bookcase in front of her, sees that it contains, unsurprisingly, a number of titles dealing with military themes, including Heller's Catch-22. What does surprise her, however, is God Knows by the same author. And a Sidney Sheldon novel. Not the kind of reading material she'd thought the Major would indulge in.
Window dressing?
Sarah hears him close the door behind her. He brushes by her in the cramped space, leading the way further into his place.
"Let's go into the kitchen."
She follows, noticing a photo of Ronald Reagan on a side table. She sits down at the somewhat battered kitchen table, sees a Bonsai over in one corner, a few tools laid out on a cloth in front of it.
"Coffee?"
She nods.
"Black OK?"
"Yes, thank you."
He sets down a substantial mug in front of her, sits down across the table from her, his own in his large hands. No cups and saucers for John Casey.
He regards her for a long moment. Takes a sip of his coffee.
"How's the leg?"
His inquiry catches her off guard. Of course, she should have realized he'd have checked out her file as she'd done with his.
"Fine."
He grunts. "Caught a ricochet that broke my shin bone a few years ago. Still some pain when the weather changes."
His attempt at commiseration, even though gruffly delivered, is oddly comforting.
No one has asked how she is for a very long time. She surprises herself by instinctively responding to his overtures. "Yeah, it does bother me from time to time." Then she catches herself, firmly says, "But it doesn't slow me down."
"That's good."
He pauses.
"You're here to replace Forrest." A statement, not a question.
"Yes."
"Better late than never, I guess. That woman has been a pain in my ass for way too long."
Sarah hadn't been sure what to expect from him, but this level of honesty, this soon, catches her a bit off guard. While she has a pretty good idea why he feels that way, she's come here to get first-hand impressions, so asks, "How?"
"You know what she called the team?"
She nods.
"Kinda sums it up right there, doesn't it?" He shakes his head, angrily. "Agent Alexandra Forrest is a glory hound. Never could abide glory hounds. They have a tendency to get the people around them hurt…or worse."
Sarah, feeling the same, nods her agreement.
Time to get down to business.
"Major, you and I both know that this is a make-work project for me, but I want to do it as well as I can. I've been sent here to shut things down and watch over him. Openly, not undercover."
He gives her a long look, then nods.
"I've read the reports, but you know as well as I that a lot of stuff never makes into the official documents. I'd appreciate a firsthand account from each of you before I go and introduce myself to Mr. Bartowski. Consider anything you want to say as being off the record."
He grunts, "Got it, but I won't give a damn if what I say about her is put it on the record."
Thinking back to his candid reports, she's not surprised by his declaration.
"Where do you want me to start?"
"How about the circumstances behind your first meeting with him. I know the bare bones, but I'd like your impressions, your feelings."
He appears uncomfortable, but, after a few seconds grudgingly replies, "OK."
He pauses, seemingly to gather his thoughts. "After I shot Larkin—"
She flinches, just a tiny bit, but he notices.
"Sorry." He sounds genuine.
After another moment, he continues, "After, we were able to determine that the recipient of the stolen files was Charles Irving Bartowski, residing in Echo Park, LA.
"I caught the first flight for the coast, but, even so, Forrest arrived at the Buy More at the same time I did, both of us looking to track him down. Neither of us wanted the other to get to him first, so we contacted our superiors. In the spirit of inter-agency co-operation," he practically spits out the phrase, "we were instructed to play nice and work closely together in reacquiring the data from what they then told us was called the Intersect.
"At the time, we thought the data would either be in his computer or transferred onto a portable device of some sort.
"We decided that I would break into his apartment that evening and grab his computer and backup drive. His sister and her boyfriend both had late shifts at the hospital. Forrest would keep Bartowski occupied in the meantime."
She raises an inquiring eyebrow. "Oh?"
"No, not like that. She turned on the charm, conned him into taking her out for dinner and after, to a club. She was supposed to pry out anything he knew about Larkin and the Intersect. And find out if he had the files on him."
"Isn't she a little old for him?"
"Yeah, she is. But when I watched her approach at the Buy More, I could tell it really didn't matter. It turned out Bartowski hadn't had a date for years and Forrest knew all the right buttons to push. I don't think the kid stood much of chance."
Sarah hears what seems to be a subtle note of affection creeping into Casey's voice, but doesn't comment.
"While they were out, I grabbed his computer and his backup drive without incident, then took them to the nerds at the local NSA sub-station. The backup drive had crashed. No trace the file had ever been on it. Then they informed me that the hard drive in the computer was a complete write-off. Not just overwritten, but physically destroyed. They talked about how the platters in the drive had actually melted from some sort of power surge. End result was they wouldn't ever recover any useful data from it.
"I texted Forrest. Told her it was a no-go on my end. She texted back that she hadn't gotten anything from him yet, and that we needed to go with Plan B. I would approach them at the club they were going to be at and pretend to pursue the two of them, hopefully scare him into telling her what was going on.
"To make a long story short, I chased them up to the top of a local office tower. We played a warped little version of Mexican stand-off, with a weapon always pointed his way. But aside from terrifying the kid, we were no further ahead. I was just beginning to think he really didn't know anything, when he caught sight of a hotel a few blocks away.
"He blurted out that a Serbian terrorist he'd seen earlier in the day was about to blow up General Stanfield who was speaking at a security conference. When he told us he figured out what was happening because the NSA had intercepted blueprints for that hotel and the CIA had found some schematics for a bomb in Prague, we knew we were on to something. No way he should've known any of that intel or connected it. Then he babbled on about remembering stuff he shouldn't know, how there were all these pictures in his mind from an email Larkin had sent him."
"Neither Forrest or myself had been told this kind of thing was possible, but we were able to put two and two together.
"Bartowski didn't have the Intersect. He was the Intersect."
He pauses. As she tries to visualize the scene, Sarah can't help but feel that the man isn't usually this much of a talker.
"Major, I don't need the details of how you defused the bomb, but I would like to hear about the aftermath, how the two of you came to decide how you were going to handle things moving forward."
His expression sours. "We argued. Forrest was determined to throw him into a psych tank, let him bounce off the rubber walls for the next ten years while we extracted the intel from him."
"You felt differently?"
He nods. "Strongly."
"Why?"
"On the way to the hotel, we gave him the chance to stay away from the bomb. Hell, I threw him to the ground and told him to stay put."
Sarah doesn't recall reading that tidbit in the official report, but again, doesn't comment, just listens as the Major goes on.
"But he got up and ran toward the danger. It was easy to see the whole idea scared the crap out of him, but it didn't stop him." He pauses. "Seen that before, men and women putting aside their own safety to try and save their buddies, or even perfect strangers.
"Anyone who'd do that shouldn't be thrown into a bunker as a reward for their courage."
Bravo, Major.
She nods. "I get it, but that couldn't have been a good enough reason on its own. He was an incredibly valuable asset, after all."
He shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. There was more. When I'd read the file on him, I'd realized just how critically important his family and friends were to him. Sister had practically raised him. Morgan had been his best friend since the first grade. I believed that isolating him from that circle would have made him unproductive."
Sarah's surprised at the astuteness of the Major's observation.
Maybe those books aren't just window dressing.
"We knew that if he could consistently generate the kind of intel we had seen that night, he would be a huge boon to the country's security. We needed him. In any case, he overheard us arguing about the whole bunker scenario. It took some cojones, but he stood up for himself, told us flat out that there was no way he'd co-operate if we threw him in a hole somewhere.
"Forrest wasn't happy, but even she could see the man was deadly serious. I guess she finally understood it was the only way we would get to use what he had.
"We asked him to give us a few minutes while we contacted our superiors. After, we called him over and informed him about the Intersect. And that we were going to let him live his life, but we would be inserted into it to protect and work with him.
"It was clear he didn't like the world he'd been shoved into, but he was, is, the kind of guy who can't stand by and see others suffer if he can do something about it. So he agreed, but only after he extracted a promise from us that we would find a way to get that thing out of his head. ASAP."
"He believed you?"
"Yeah, we told him what he wanted to hear. He was too naive to realize there was no way they'd let him have it removed if it proved to be as valuable as first appeared. At least not until we figured out a way to replace it."
Sarah suddenly feels guilty. Ashamed.
Why? I didn't lie to him.
But the feelings persist.
She pushes them aside, asks, "Was that it?"
"No. He also wanted to know what roles we'd be taking on. I told him the best idea would for me to work at the Buy More where I could keep eyes on him. Forrest told him she'd find something nearby, someplace she could monitor the store.
"He thought about it for a bit, then saw the hole in the arrangement. He asked about his off time, how either of us could plausibly be around then. Things blew up when Forrest told him she'd be posing as his girlfriend.
"To put it mildly, he wasn't keen on the idea." He adds dryly, "It seems their date and its aftermath had taken the bloom off the rose.
"Under the facade, Forrest's a stone-faced, heartless bitch. It hadn't taken him very long to figure that out.
"So he refused, point-blank. Last straw kinda thing. He told us that no one would believe the two of them as a couple and he wasn't about to put his emotional life on hold for some fake girlfriend in some fake relationship. But then she took him aside, talked to him for a couple of minutes. I couldn't hear what she said but when they came back, Chuck looked pale, agreed to go along with the charade."
"What did she tell him, Major?"
Casey shakes his head. "You'll have to ask her. She wouldn't tell me and if I ever got close to the subject with him, he'd veer away."
Sarah's has a pretty good idea how Forrest had gotten Chuck's cooperation, and it only serves to add to Sarah's already sizeable antagonism towards the woman in question.
I knew she was a bad fit for him. I'll have to deal with her later.
"Thank you, Major. I'm not going to keep you too much longer, but I would like your thoughts on how and why things eventually went wrong."
He grunts. "That's easy. One word. Forrest. She wouldn't stop pushing. Kept after the kid even when it was clear he was on the ragged edge. Exhausted. Worn out."
"Exactly how did she do that?"
"Chuck was basically working two jobs. If nothing happened in the normal course of his day to cause a flash, she'd often, under the pretense of a date, take him back to her place and bombard with images, news articles, anything she thought might trigger something. Either way, when he did flash, we'd tackle the situation ASAP, often going late into the night." He shakes his head. "It was wearing me out, damnit, and I'm trained for this sort of stuff. He wasn't."
"I understand." Bitch is too kind of a word.
She bites off her growing anger.
"But it was more than just the missions and work. His personal life was an absolute shambles. As he'd said, no one could understand him being with Forrest. He had to lie pretty much all the time about their relationship, not just in words, but actions as well. He had to pretend he cared for her. Hold hands. Sit close. All the standard PDA crap that was expected of a couple.
He shakes his head, disgusted. "And she'd sleep over once in a while. To reinforce the cover."
She's upset, disturbed. Why?
"They didn't—"
"God, no! After Chuck made sure the door was locked, he'd sleep on the floor. Whenever they were in private he'd stay as far away from her as possible."
Why am I relieved?
"How did you know?"
"Surveillance cameras."
"In his bedroom?" She's appalled.
He grimaces. "Graham's insistence. For his protection, he said. Beckman caved."
Giving the Major a hard look, she asks, "What were you'd doing the whole time this was going on?"
There's what sounds like a mixture of regret and shame in his voice. "I did try to get her to dial it back, at least a little. But she had Graham backing her up and he carried more clout than Beckman.
"But the truth is, I didn't push. Not as much as I could've and not as soon as I should've. Fulcrum was far too dangerous. They had to be stopped. And we were doing stuff, accomplishing things I never would've thought possible. We had them on the ropes." He stares over her shoulder at nothing in particular. "So I closed my eyes. Went along with it.
"Kept telling myself it was for the greater good."
He brings his gaze back to her.
"Or I did, up to about a year ago."
"What changed your mind?"
He hesitates. "Off the record, right?"
She nods. "You have my word."
His eyes search her face, then he nods, seemingly satisfied. "OK. Last September, there was a late briefing, during which Graham and Beckman informed us that the new Intersect computer was ready to come online early the following morning. Bartowski would get his old life back and Forrest and I would be reassigned. I could see the kid was practically in tears, he was so happy. We were instructed to meet again at 0800 where Chuck's retirement would be discussed in detail.
"However, it turned out that Graham's idea of retirement was a little different than Chuck's."
"What do you mean?"
"Graham had his own private briefing with Forrest back at her place."
"And just how did you come to be in possession of that information, Major?"
He looks her straight in the eye, his expression neutral. "It seemed that I'd carelessly misplaced one of the NSA's newest stealth micro-bugs. Somehow, it found its way to the into Agents Forrest's hair, where, by accident, it managed to capture the conversation between Graham and Forrest."
"Seriously?"
He shrugs his shoulder. "Truth is, it was way too easy. I was suspicious. So I 'accidentally' placed the bug on Forrest."
"And what information did it 'accidentally' convey to you, Major?"
His expression remains neutral, his voice even flatter than a moment ago. "That, as it was much too risky to have another Intersect running around, Agent Alex Forrest, at the verbal direction of CIA Director Langston Graham, was ordered to terminate the asset the next day."
For a moment, all Sarah can see is red, the anger she'd been fighting all along, finally making its way past her defenses. Her expression hardens, her voice low with menace. The Major abruptly leans back into his chair, actually slides it back a couple of inches.
"Are you trying to tell me that…that son of a bitch ordered his…execution…after all the lives he'd helped save? After all the times Chuck risked his life without recompense of any type? And all this while they took away any chance he had of leading a normal life?"
He just nods, doesn't say a word in reply.
She spits out the words. "Damnit, Casey, how the hell did Graham think he had the right? To toss him aside just because he's suddenly become redundant.
"It's unethical. Illegal. Immoral. And wrong. So freaking wrong."
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Hold on there, Walker! You're preaching to the choir."
Sarah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, tries to sublimate her rage.
Calm down. You don't even know Chuck Bartowski. Not really.
Remember, he's just an asset. You've burned them yourself. Just an asset, nothing more.
You know what Graham was like.
Then why am I still so angry?
She opens her eyes, sees Casey looking at her curiously.
Get a hold of yourself, Sarah. You're letting him see too much.
She takes another deep breath, puts her agent mask back on. "OK, Major. Clearly, she didn't carry it out. Care to tell me what happened?"
He considers her for a few seconds, appears to reach a decision. "His sister and brother-in-law were on vacation, so I figured she'd take care of it in his place, most likely in the middle of the night. I've always found somewhere around 0400 to be a good time. Probably make it look like a burglary gone wrong. Knew I had to get him out of there and keep him away until I could figure out what I was gonna do. So I invited him over for a little liberation celebration. He was a little surprised. We had a rather...cautious relationship at the time. But he was in a good mood, so he accepted. I cooked up some steaks. Then I initiated him into the world of good scotch.
"After a few drinks, he started talking about the things he was going to do now that he was free. He went on about how he could finally get his degree. A good job. A good woman. Kids. Meantime, I was drinking one to his three. Just before midnight, he passed out, so I dumped him on my bed and threw a blanket over him. Then I turned off the lights, grabbed a chair and sat, facing the door, which I'd left unlocked. Threaded in my Sig's suppressor and waited."
He smiles, just a little. "Sure enough, around 0430, I heard someone try the door. There was a pause, as if the person was surprised to find it unlocked. Then it swung open, and Forrest stepped in, dressed in black. A silenced Glock in her hand."
...
"Alright, Casey. Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Don't be an ass. The asset."
"You mean Chuck Bartowski?"
"Yes. The Intersect. What have you done with him?"
"Introduced Chuck to Mr. Johnny Walker. They really seemed to hit it off. However, come morning, I suspect he's going to feel he's been the victim in an abusive relationship."
"I told you to stop being an ass. Tell me where he is. Now"
"Upstairs, sleeping it off."
"What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
"I could ask you the same question."
"I'm obeying orders. Or trying to. And you?"
"Obeying my conscience."
"You expect me to believe you actually have one?"
"Yeah, it was a bit of surprise to me too. Not exactly sure where it came from."
"I don't know and I don't care. You gonna get out of my way?"
"Nope. Don't think I can do that."
"I'll go through you if I have to."
"You can try."
"How are you going to stop me? Shoot me?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"And just how the hell would you explain that?"
"Armed intruder? Dressed in black? Middle of the night? How was I supposed to know it wasn't a Fulcrum assassin?"
"They'd never believe it."
"Not sure I care. Just as long as I don't let you get anywhere near him with a weapon in your hand."
"Graham wants it done. And what Graham wants, he gets."
"Graham's order is illegal. You don't have to obey it."
"You make it sound like I have a choice in the matter."
"You do. Safe your weapon, and we'll sit down together and have a cup of coffee. I'll talk to Beckman and we'll come up with a better exit strategy for Chuck."
"Do you really think Beckman will stand up against him? For you? For the asset?"
"I think there's a decent chance. She's not quite as heartless as that bastard Graham."
"And if I decide to carry out my orders?"
"I'll shoot you down right here, right now."
"You can try."
"Don't kid yourself, Forrest. You're good, but I'm better. And don't think I'd make the mistake of going center mass. You're probably wearing a vest. Headshot only. Wouldn't miss from this range."
"If you take me down, Graham will just send someone else. I hear Walker's recovered. You know her rep. If he sends her, the Intersect's a dead man walking."
"Well aware. Just need a little time to sort things out. Make our bosses see reason. Besides, what kind of idiot would dispense of the only working Intersect before he even knows the replacement will function?"
"Not up to us to make those kinds of decisions. We just enforce them."
"Always have, but not this time. It's clear someone's not thinking things through."
"Why are you doing this, Casey? We're partners."
"No, we're not. Not really. Partner wouldn't work behind my back. Sneak in and murder a good man like Chuck."
"Good man, Major? He's just an asset. He's outlived his usefulness to us."
"Seems like it. Doesn't mean he deserves a bullet in that brain of his."
"You've gone soft."
"Maybe. But I prefer to think that I've finally realized what it is I've been fighting for."
"Which is?"
"To allow honest, decent people like Chuck Bartowski to live their lives."
"Honest? He lies all the time."
"Only because we made him do it. Hell, if Diogenes had met pre-us Chuck, he would've put away his lantern and gone back to his wine-cask. Mission accomplished."
"You're delusional. He's no better than a half-dozen other assets I've burned over the years."
'You believe that because you've never stopped to look at him as a person. Other than cover situations, you never refer to him by name. Always the asset or the Intersect. Your way of dehumanizing him. Once you've done that it's easy to keep your distance, dismiss him as just another game piece to be used and disposed of as necessary."
"Don't try to tell me you felt any different about the targets you were assigned."
"You're right. I didn't. But he isn't the same as them, and I'm not the same as then."
"So Major John Casey has had an epiphany. He's a better person now."
"Don't know about that. But I do know I won't let you have him."
"Do you actually believe that this little show you're putting on tonight will make any difference in the long run? That this pathetic display will somehow let him live some idyllic life, free from worry?"
"No, there'll always be worries of some sort or other. But at least he won't have to worry about someone who was supposed to his protector turning around and killing him just because he's an inconvenience."
"Like I said. You're delusional."
"Maybe I am. Doesn't change the fact that you've got a decision to make.
"So what's it gonna be, Forrest? Sit down or fall down? Your choice."
"You know, I've had enough of this crap. I'm not gonna get myself shot just because Major John Casey has come down with a sudden case of lady feelings. I'm going home. Let Graham sort it out.
"Oh, and I'd be more careful about leaving this door unlocked. Next time, it'll probably be Walker. You know, Graham's soulless killer. The machine. Don't expect she'll be one for chitchat."
…
Sarah has to wrench herself back to the present, engrossed as she was in the Major's terse description of the tense confrontation. She can't stop her eyes from momentarily drifting to the apartment's entranceway, thinks she can almost feel the residual tension radiating from the area.
Soulless killer? Machine?
She's confused. Genuinely puzzled.
How can people not see that each time I pulled the trigger, I killed a little part of myself as well? I'd always thought it would have been so glaringly obvious.
Like a spot of red ink on a white shirt.
She stops. Maybe I'm nothing but spots? No white left.
It that all Forrest could see? All that Casey does see? An indelible crimson past, unfaded by the passage of time?
He's studying her, apparently waiting for a response, a reaction of some sort.
She tries to focus on the matter at hand, somehow manages to quietly ask him, "What happened then, Major?"
"I locked the door, stood guard. Later that day, we found out Graham had been killed."
He looks at her inquisitively. "They ever tell you the actual circumstances?"
Sarah shakes her head. "No, I wasn't in the loop. We were told there'd been an accident, but that the details were classified. There were rumors of some sort of secret project, but I only got the full story recently."
"You can probably guess the kind of situation we faced in the briefing that morning. To call it chaos would be an understatement. Graham had kept most of the Project Omaha details from the Deputy Director, his pro tem replacement, so the man was out of his depth. Beckman took charge of the meeting.
"When I brought up the termination order, it was obvious that neither of them had any idea that it had been issued. Beckman was furious. The Deputy Director bewildered.
"Forrest used the opportunity to jump in and tell them that she had used her initiative, with my cooperation, of course, to postpone carrying out the order until it was clear the replacement Intersect was up and running. Both our superiors praised her for using her quick thinking to avert what would've been an intelligence fiasco."
Casey shakes his head. "I'll give her credit. The woman's an opportunist of the first order.
"She had me over a barrel. Forrest knew very well that I couldn't pipe up and tell them I'd been prepared to shoot a fellow agent in defiance of orders from the director of the CIA, so she could lie with impunity."
Let's add manipulator to the list, shall we.
"None of this was in the file."
"Are you surprised? None of the parties involved wanted what happened on the official record."
"You're right, of course. What happened next?"
"Graham's assassination panicked the intelligence community. How did Fulcrum manage it? Was this a resurgence or just a last gasp? No one seemed to know. The upshot was that, even though I did manage to get a guarantee that termination orders were off the table, we were ordered to push the Intersect even harder. We needed to finish off Fulcrum once and for all. And Chuck Bartowski was our best tool to accomplish that."
"I tried to reason with them. Tried to warn them that he was close to burnout. But they weren't in a mood to listen.
"They got their way and so did Forrest."
"How did he take it?"
"About as well as you could imagine. After he woke up later that morning, we explained what had happened, that he was still the only Intersect and how desperately we needed that final push. He was crushed, but I'll give him credit.
"He still stepped up to the plate. Worked hard, pretty much without complaint. In the next few months, working together, we pretty much finished Fulcrum. But it was easy to see the toll it took on him. He was flagging, badly.
"I tried to give him every opportunity to grab some rest. As often as I could, I got him out of the Buy More by making fake service call requests. Let him grab a couple of hours of sleep in the back of the van. Pushed Forrest to cut back on the 'date' nights. She did, a little, but in the end, it wasn't nearly enough.
"The flashes started to become irregular, and much more difficult to trigger. Sometimes, he had to go over data two or three times before anything happened, nothing like the immediacy of the first months. A few times he'd go for a day or two without anything whatsoever happening.
"Then, about a month ago, he collapsed. Nervous and physical exhaustion. After he basically slept for three days, we tried to get things going again, but it became clear, quite quickly, that the well was dry.
"Our bosses were happy that Fulcrum was basically finished, but I pointed out that we could've accomplished so much more if we'd managed him with more compassion and understanding. They listened politely, but I could tell they really didn't care. They shut us down. Told him they would be sending someone to watch over him and make sure he stayed safe.
"And that's why you're here, Agent Walker."
Casey gives her a hard look. "Or is it?"
She's caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"I can't quite understand why someone like you would be sent out to babysit an Intersect-less Chuck Bartowski. It makes me wonder if you have a hidden agenda."
"Excuse me?"
"Seems like a waste of resources to tie an agent like yourself to a job like this. Maybe this whole 'make work' thing is just a scam. Could it be that Chuck will have a fatal 'accident' shortly after I leave? Just to make sure there's no chance that the Intersect could ever come back and haunt us?"
She slams her mug down on the table, coffee sloshing over the side, abruptly furious. She growls, "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming off as if you know me? You haven't got a freaking clue. If you did, you'd realize that I would never obey such an order. I don't knowingly hurt innocent people like Chuck. And what's more..."
Her voice trails off as she sees him smirking at her.
"What the..."
"Just needed to be sure, Sarah."
Sarah? She's bewildered. "You were testing me?"
He nods. "I needed to know where you're coming from. I know you've been in the doghouse since Graham died and pretty much figured that this assignment was their way of getting rid of you. But I couldn't be sure how you viewed it
"Maybe you saw it as an opportunity to get back in their good books. For all I knew, you may have told them you'd watch him for any signs the Intersect was working again. Then you'd either tell your boss and they'd force him to start using it again, or simply take him out so he couldn't pose a threat."
"And now?"
"I'm sure you're on his side. I watched carefully when I told you about the termination order. And about the showdown with Forrest. And just now, when I accused you."
She can't decide whether she should be offended with his test or pleased she'd passed it. "So, I've convinced you I'm on the up and up? I've earned the John Casey seal of approval?"
There's a brief rumbling chuckle. "Yeah, you have." He pauses, gives her a look. "Do you know what it was that clinched it for me?"
She shakes her head. "No."
"When it came to the crunch, you called him Chuck. Not the Intersect. Not the asset. Chuck."
I did, didn't I? Why?
"I had to make sure you weren't another Alex Forrest."
"Is that why you stayed around, Casey?"
"Partly. But there's another reason."
"Which is?"
"I know I'm in the minority, but I believe the Intersect isn't completely gone. I think it's in hibernation, just waiting for the right circumstances to wake it up. With the right approach and with the right team supporting him, we could do great things again."
"And you believe we could be that team?"
"Possibly. What I've seen today tells me we'd have a chance. Forrest was totally wrong for him. But you, you've shown more concern for his well-being in the last half hour than I saw from her in two years."
"I don't even know the man, Casey."
"There you're wrong. You do know him. You just haven't met him. Yet."
"And what if you're wrong? If it's really over and done?"
He shrugs. "Then I'll have wasted a few months in order to be sure. No big deal. You'll have your quiet little swan song and I'll move onto something else."
She shakes her head. "I don't know."
"Tell you what. You go and have your meeting with Forrest. Try not to hurt her too badly. Then go and meet Chuck. He's at the Buy More until nine. See what you think of him. Then get back to me."
"He's back at work?"
"Yeah. You've read his family history, so you know how resilient the Bartowskis are. Sure, he's still tired and the Buy More's a joke, but he feels an obligation to the people he works with. You'll find out real quick that Chuck Bartowski is the only reason that place doesn't self-destruct.
"And, by the way, watch out for Ellie when you get around to laying it all out for them. She couldn't stand Forrest, which shows she has great instincts. She only put up with her because she thought it made Chuck happy. I think she'll be a mite upset when she finds out what's been going on for the last couple of years."
"Duly noted." She pauses, makes sure she has his attention. "But I expect you to be there too, Major. She'll need to hear your side of the story. Especially if you're going to be staying on."
The man's face actually pales. "You're not serious?"
"Deadly."
"Damnit. I guess you're right. I should be there. But I want a seat near the door."
"Done."
Sarah rises from her chair, holds out her hand for him to shake. He does so.
"Thank you, Major. It's all been very informative. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. I'll contact you tomorrow."
"Sound's good. You know the way to Forrest's?"
"Maison 23, 322 North Pass Avenue, Burbank. Right?"
"Yep." He smirks. "Hope you like green."
TBC
—
A/N: Had thought we'd get to meet Forrest this chapter as well, but things went on a little longer than I'd planned.
Thank you all for following along. As always reviews are appreciated. Really like to know your thoughts.
Next time, Alex Forrest and the Green Room. (No, not the title.)
PS If you're wondering about the books (some of them at least), take a close look at the background when Casey gives the cipher to the fake courier in First Date.