A/N: Just a note here. Almost all of the background stuff in any of my stories is carefully researched, based in fact. There was a lot of poetic license in the show, and for once I added a bit here. Not necessarily fantasy, but the medical part of this was very hard to research (as I don't use the dark web lol.) Take suspension of disbelief into account here, please. Thank you.

If this is redemption

Why do I bother at all?

There's nothing to mention

And nothing has changed

Still I'd rather be working for something

Than praying for the rain

So I wander on

Till someone else is saved

"We Don't Eat"

James Vincent McMorrow

October 13, 2021

Carmichael Industries, Los Angeles, California

"What was that?" Vivian asked urgently, sitting up sharply in Carter's arms. She saw the look of alarm on his face and scrambled to her feet.

He was reaching for the computer. "The alarm was engaged and the door is locked. It's after hours. What the–"

Vivian watched his computer screen as it flashed quickly through the vistas projected from the various security monitors on the premises. The two of them were alone in the building. Everything should have been still and silent. Cued by the sound of breaking glass, he toggled the buttons on the computer quickly until he was at the view of the main entrance, which was half a floor below them.

An armed man had literally shattered the glass and was in the process of climbing through to the inside. He heard Vivian gasp, knowing she had seen the same thing. "Why isn't the general alarm blaring right now?" he asked frantically.

"He must have disabled it somehow," she said quickly, grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door of his office with her.

"Disabled it? Like cut the wires? Is this like a bad horror movie or something?" he asked nervously.

"After everything that you've learned about your employer and his past, the parts that he could tell you anyway…after everything that happened…doesn't it make any better sense?" she asked, her voice hissing as she hurried him down the hall into her office.

"Damn it, Viv, I'm an accountant!" he hissed back as she shoved him aside to close and lock her office door. "This is starting to get to me. I'm not cut out for this…I'm not," he rambled.

She completely understood. His entire life had been turned upside down these past few weeks. Before, his greatest concern had been keeping her from getting stung by a wasp. Now, it seemed their lives were in perpetual danger. She loved him, and felt sympathy for him, remembering when she had felt the same way the night of her masquerade party when assassins had come to kill her at her estate and Chuck and Sarah had rescued her. "I know," she said softly. "But we…don't have time to indulge in that right now."

He watched her run behind her desk, pull out the center drawer, and press the button hidden inside. It was the silent panic alarm. Carter knew it existed…mostly because his primary role at the company, before he had started chasing bad guys, had been paying the bills and there was quite a sum attached to that service.

"The silent alarm?" he asked. "What about calling 911? Someone is breaking in here!"

"Nine one one calls LAPD. This," she said, gesturing to it deliberately, "calls the CIA."

"The CIA?" he asked, his eyes agog. "I have never authorized payment of any funds to the CIA," he explained incredulously.

"It's a black op…above congressional oversight. They have code names for all of that. Do you think you would just wire money to the CIA in plain sight like that?" she argued.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Learn something new every day," he mumbled under his breath. Louder, he addressed her again. "Why aren't we getting out of here? Who is that and what does he think he's going to find here?"

"I don't know specifically. But we obviously tripped some type of back door alarm while we were searching GLF and Juliska Lorcan," she explained hurriedly. She reached farther into the top drawer and pulled out a set of keys.

"Those are public records! Kids in grammar school can Google that for chrissake! How would they know it was us looking?" he asked.

She looked up at him, exasperated. "School children wouldn't ask the same questions you were. They can have key words, code phrases, built into their alert systems." She used the keys on the keychain to unlock the bottom drawer of her desk.

Carter's eyes flew wide when he saw the handgun she had retrieved from her desk. "What is that?" he almost shouted.

She tucked it behind her waist with ease, like she had done so a hundred times. It was frightening to him, like he was looking at someone he didn't know, someone he had never seen before. It hurt worse than she expected to see that look on his face. "Look, Carter, I have owned a gun for a long time. Since I first met Charles and Sarah…for all the reasons I told you about when I told you about me. Charles hates guns. I asked him once all this business started and his family was in danger if I could keep this here, in case of emergencies. I know how to use it. Believe it or not, so does Sarah. So does Chuck…but it's always the very last resort for him. Bloody hell, it's the last resort for me…but…well, that's where we are now."

He did know all about that past and it hadn't affected how he felt about her in the slightest. Her words reminded him of that. It was just the danger, the urgency of the moment, was making everything seem amplified…too real…too close, and he couldn't rationalize in his heightened state. "Why aren't we leaving? Especially if you called the CIA?" he asked.

"Because whoever this is…he's after something. Something he will certainly be able to get if we leave," she explained. "This isn't just data…or information. This is about the Bartowskis. Both Charles and Sarah, their children…I can't let them be put into more danger again because we didn't try and stop this. Everything I told you before…Carter, I owe them my life. Everything I have now I have because of them." Her eyes misted. "You should go, though. Out through the fire door. You'll be safe."

"I'm not leaving you here," he insisted.

"Please," she pleaded. "I'll feel better if I know that you're safe."

"I'm not leaving you here alone," he said again, much more firmly. He grasped her hand, held it so tightly it hurt. His palm was sweaty, but his eyes, when she met them, were like ice on fire, beaming with his determination. "I love you," he said softly, with just as much determination.

She let his words fill her on the inside, calmed despite the urgent situation. Sarah had been right, it seemed. He had been here all along. There was no mistaking the look on his face. She had seen it hundreds of times, only never from those particular eyes, never directed at her. It was the same way Charles had always looked at Sarah.

XXX

Vivian shut the light in her office off, and waited at the door with her gun poised, straining her ears to hear. Carter was behind her, forcing his breathing shallower, to make as little noise as possible, so as not to disturb her concentration. Her mind was racing. Maybe he didn't know they were here…

She heard footsteps…heard the door to Carter's office bang open. The computer was on…his coffee cup was still warm on his desk. Damn it, the intruder would find out soon enough that he wasn't alone. There was only one of him, two of them. There was no way he knew both of them were here. The computer was on…and if he had a way to bypass security…he most likely had a way to bypass the system security as well.

It was no coincidence that he was here right after they had found the information they had. If he could access Carter's computer, whatever advantage they had gained could be lost. Steeled, she opened the door, turning the handle first so it opened silently. "Stay here," she mouthed to him over her shoulder, then slowly crept out into the hallway. She edged to the corner, pressing her body tightly against the wall.

Just as she was going to inch around the corner, she saw the flash in the dark that indicated gunfire, the light traveling faster than the sound. The bang and crash of the bullet followed. The glass wall on the south side of her office shattered into a thousand pieces and covered the carpeted hallway like jagged marbles. She fired her gun in the direction of the first shot. Thinking to herself, she realized she didn't have a lot of extra ammunition here. The CIA was still about 12 minutes away after she had hit the alarm. Charles would have been notified at the same time, she thought. It only made her worry more.

She moved down the hallway cautiously, each step deliberate and her senses on heightened alert. It was a giant square, the way the offices were laid out. The intruder wasn't trapped. She needed to be aware of all directions. Carter's office was dark, the computer screen not visible either. He wasn't in Carter's office. Which meant he knew someone was here…and he was hunting. Her panic edged up a notch.

And exploded in her head when she heard the sound of another gunshot, an angry scream…and then a loud crash.

She ran full speed back around the corner and dove for the light. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the light, and in that split second, the intruder lunged, pointing his weapon straight at her, while her gun was aimed away. She saw the contents of her desk spilled into a jumbled heap on the floor. Carter was there in her peripheral vision, jumping across her barren desk and tackling the intruder to the ground. She turned, caught in the melee, her gun sent flying. A tangle of arms and legs crashed her way, knocking her off her own feet beside them.

The two men were struggling. Carter had both hands on the intruder's arm that wielded the gun, forcing upward with all his strength to keep the man from lowering it and firing the weapon into his head. She scanned quickly, unable to see her gun anywhere close by within her reach. Instead, she dove onto the intruder's back, squeezing around his throat from behind with all of her strength. She felt her fingernails puncture the skin on his neck. He groaned in pain. It was enough to disrupt the wrestling stalemate and Carter was able to bang the gun wielding hand against the side of the desk.

The same arm then came up like lightning, bashing into the side of Vivian's head. It sent her sprawling, crashing into the bank of file cabinets behind them. Her vision swam as she felt the crack as the back of her head hit unforgiving steel. Her consciousness fuzzed. She watched the intruder reach for his gun again, being thwarted by another blow from Carter, who was cracked across the face with the butt of the gun. He lay frightening still.

Still dazed, Vivian saw the gun come around, pointed at her face. Blindly, she clenched both hands together and chopped upward with all her strength. She heard the gun clatter away, felt her fists connect with his arm and then clip him on his jaw. She rose partly, balancing one hand on her desktop, curling her fingers into the lip of the open drawer as a handhold. Like a vise, his hand closed around her throat, completely cutting off her supply of air. She struggled feebly with her free hand, gripping at the hand pressing her windpipe painfully closed. Her face was flaming red, beads of sweat forming at her hairline. Her vision darkened on the edges.

Desperately, using every last bit of her consciousness…of her remaining life…she reached into the drawer. At the edge of her fingertips she felt it…the plastic syringe of epinephrine she kept on hand because of her bee sting allergy. Using all of her remaining strength, she stretched, wrapping her fingers around the barrel solidly. Her thumb found purchase on the trigger. She yanked, pulled it down, and jabbed it against the chest of the man who was choking her.

The pain of the needle to his chest, aimed directly at his heart, made him gasp and release her. She choked painfully, each breath burning as she gulped the air into her lungs through her crushed airway. Her assailant's eyes were wide, terrified as he fumbled to pull the epi pen from his chest. It took only seconds. He fell backward, his eyes still wide, as the artificial adrenaline surged directly into his bloodstream through his heart…and killed him.

Her last conscious action was to reach for Carter's pulse on his neck, relieved when she felt it fluttering under her hand. Knowing he was alive, that he was safe, she gave in to the darkness, collapsing unconscious on top of him.

XXX

"Vivian!"

Chuck's voice…She felt his hand against her cheek. Her throat was in agony, excruciating pain that made it impossible to talk. She opened her eyes, all of her vision blurry. It hurt her head to focus more tightly on Chuck's face. He looked worried. She opened her mouth, but no sound issued forth.

"It's ok," he assured her gently. "You're safe. He tried to strangle you, didn't he?" Chuck asked, glancing briefly at her throat. She nodded, feeling slightly dizzy as she shook her head. "Your throat is badly bruised. Carter is ok. Just a concussion. Medics are on the way," he finished.

Slowly she became aware of the others in the room. The CIA tactical team. There were dozens of men in full tactical gear milling around them. She wanted to tell him what had happened, what she knew, but there was no way to communicate with him. She looked around, searching with her eyes as it hurt too much to turn her head. "He's dead, Vivian," Chuck told her. Something on his face made her believe there was more there that he wasn't saying. She was too foggy at this point to fathom it, but she thought she would eventually find out.

The medics arrived, and Chuck moved out of the way for them. She felt a needle prick her vein and then a dozed hazy feeling overtook her. Sedatives. She welcomed the sleepiness. The last thing she thought she saw on Chuck's face was remorse…tinged with anger. She vowed to herself she would have to tell him when she woke up that none of this was his fault. She had chosen to stay. She still would have. These people were her family.

Chuck walked out into the hallway, making plenty of room for the medics to work on both of his friends.

"Chuck!" Sarah called as she ran into the hallway where he was. He had arrived only a few minutes before she had. "What happened?" she asked breathlessly.

Without even thinking, he reached for her and hugged her before he chose to say anything. "Vivian decided to stay when they knew someone was breaking in. He almost killed them both," Chuck said sharply.

"Are they ok?" she asked, looking around wildly as tried to see where they were.

"Carter took a nasty blow to the head, but he's fine. Vivian was almost strangled…I don't…I don't know," Chuck said, shaking his head back and forth.

Sarah knew by the sound of his voice that he was upset, distraught that innocent people had been caught in the crossfire of this latest crisis. There was something else, like he was struggling to find the right words to say something else to her. "What? What is it?" she asked, pleading with her eyes for him to answer.

He didn't answer, just lightly gripped her by the elbow, beckoning her to walk with him. They weaved through the crowd of tactical officers and medics. The officer in charge of the scene was located at the end of the longest corridor, close to the fire exit. There was a stretcher covered with a body bag. Sarah looked at Chuck, her eyes full of questions.

"Can you show her, Frank?" Chuck asked the man.

"Of course, Mr. Carmichael," the man replied. He bent down, slowly pulling the zipper back, exposing the dead man's face.

"Does he look familiar?" Chuck asked sardonically.

Sarah's blue eyes widened in shock. She had seen the man twice before.

The first time was in the Opera House in Los Angeles. A Fulcrum agent, working with Jill Roberts in secret, playing along with the cover and threatening Jill when she had been Fulcrum all along as well…in order to obtain the list of Fulcrum agents Team Bartowski had obtained from Guy LaFleur, Jill's former boss.

The second time had been on the private jet with Nicholas Quinn, where she had stowed away after her memory had been erased. Quinn had called him Edgar. Only, Sarah thought urgently, she hadn't realized back then that she had ever seen him before. He had spoken to Quinn about Fulcrum and Ted Roark…but that had made no sense to her back then. Once Ellie had returned her memory to her, that had been literally the last thing she thought of…never telling Chuck that she had known him.

"Chuck, he had the first part of the key," she said quickly.

"Wh–what?" he asked, shocked, completely taken aback at her words.

"With Quinn…when I fell out of the airplane…it was him. I had no idea who he was then," she explained.

"I think I just assumed after the Ring absorbed Fulcrum…and then the Ring was defeated…that everyone just sort of…I don't know…was neutralized," Chuck told her.

"But we know the Sentries picked up right where the Ring left off. Why didn't we ever think any of the Fulcrum agents could still be a threat?" Sarah observed.

"They kept a low profile, it seems," Chuck said, pulling her away by her elbow. "But it makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"Why did he come here? All alone? Why was he so desperate?" Sarah asked Chuck but like she was asking herself.

"Was he working for the Director? If she's dying, like Kovacs told you, maybe that was why," Chuck offered.

"Why help her? If they were as decimated as Beckman said…he wouldn't have owed her anything…nothing she has the power to extract any more…Right?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. "But I have a feeling we're going to find out. I checked the files. Carter found the Los Angeles location GLF has been using. We need to let Casey and Beckman know right away."