A/N: Just a little blurb here. Both of my friends who act as my military information checkers are away and not reachable. I kind of winged this info, so if it has glaring errors, I apologize. If I can fix it so it's more accurate, let me know. Yes, it's only FF...but I am a scientist as well as a writer, and I prefer accuracy whenever possible. Also, I'm not one to come right out and ask for reviews, but with the tracker down on this site for about a week, it's harder to know who I'm reaching or if I'm just writing into the void. If you're reading this, you're halfway there. Thank you, regardless.

See these knots around my hands, around my feet

They would take me down my end to meet

And I grow weary of this struggle and this fight

The morning's so far off from out here in the night

The night is cold and you must leave me, this I know

And empty all the places where we used to go

Before I knew you, I went climbing in the snow

And called your name out to the darkness down below

"Crinan Wood"

Alexi Murdoch

May 21, 2036

Elevation 30,000 feet, over the Atlantic Ocean

"Aunt Ellie?" Stephen almost shouted into the phone as he paced the narrow pathway between seats on the small jet on which he, Cozette, and Del were traveling. He was using the satellite link, which was more advanced than his mere cell service, but the connection to the United States was still spotty where they were, apparently smack dab over the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He had tried his mother and couldn't get a reliable connection.

"Stephen?" he finally heard, Ellie's sharp voice piercing through the crackling static. "Can you hear me?" she asked.

"I can now," he said, lowering his voice as he sighed with relief. "Auntie, do you know where my mother is? I've been trying since we got on the plane and–"

"She's with me," Ellie answered. "She may not have seen her phone, so it's good you called me. Where are you?" She breathed in, adding, "I mean, wherever you can tell me."

"We're seven hours out right now, headed straight for LAX," Stephen explained. "One of my partners is with me," he said warily. "He's a friend…and he wants to help." Stephen saw the crooked smile that appeared on Del's face, though he didn't look up to acknowledge he'd heard anything.

"Both of us," Cozette said, loudly enough for anyone on the other end of the line to hear.

"Wait, Zette, we never–" Stephen started, pulling the phone away from his face, as the conversation turned away from his aunt.

"No, Stephen, listen," Cozette said sharply. Her brown eyes were alive as she just stared at him, trying to make him understand. He shook his head ever so slightly, her indication that she was going to get an argument from him. She had been expecting this, and was prepared for it. She flicked her finger at him, indicating he put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear. "This is your family…that means they're my family too," she told him gently, her voice softening. Her voice thickened as her eyes misted. "Even before we got engaged. Your Mom and Dad…everyone in your family…they were always there for us. When my brother died–" her voice cracked, but she swallowed over it. "You all took care of us, not just me, but my mom and my dad, too." She took a deep breath, and finished with fiery determination. "You need me now, and I'm here. No matter what."

Whatever argument inside Stephen's head that was waiting to come out died in his throat as he listened to her. He pulled her into his arms, holding the phone out behind them so everyone could still hear.

"Cozy's right," a male voice said in the background, slightly muted from apparent distance.

"Dad?" Cozette asked in astonishment.

Jacques' voice trembled slightly when he replied. "I'm here for the same reason. I have been since you called me, Stephen. I thought I might be able to help," he said. His accent was a little thicker than usual, Cozette knew, due to the emotion projecting in his words.

"He told me your plan," Ellie said, turning the discussion back to the crisis at hand. "I think between the two of us, Jacques and I, we can get a rudimentary program into the computer. Once you're here, I can scan your brain so I can correlate with the old program, hopefully to reboot what's in your father's head. We've been working non-stop since you called, Stephen."

"Oh, thank god," he breathed, feeling the surge of hope at knowing almost no time had been lost during their mission, because his aunt and his future father-in-law had been working on it the entire time, probably since they had talked to his mother. That reminded him she was there, and strangely silent during that entire exchange. "Mom?" he asked.

The silence on the other end was troubling. He heard soft murmurs, obviously some muted conversation going on in the background in his Aunt Ellie's house. When his mother finally spoke into the phone, the sound of her voice shocked him. He never knew fatigue and despair to make a sound, but he was certain, if he had ever been asked, he would remember how she had sounded in response, and correlate the two. "Casey found your dad at your grandfather's cabin…your dad somehow barricaded himself in there with explosives. Casey's there by now. He's trying to buy us some time."

"Buy some time? What do you mean?" Stephen asked.

He could hear the tears in his mother's voice when she replied. "Before Casey doesn't have a choice…and he has to stop him."

Cozette squeezed him tighter around his waist, offering silent comfort the only way she could. "We're seven hours away, Mom," Stephen said, defeat leadening his voice.

"Casey told me to wait for you, so I'm waiting for you," Sarah said, the dread evident in her tone.

"Wait," Stephen interjected. Over his shoulder, away from the phone, he shouted, "Del, can we land at MMH instead of LAX?"

"We have to update the flight plan. Let me get on the horn with the pilot," Del grumbled as he rose to his feet and moved towards the cockpit.

"Mom, can you leave for Bishop in three hours? We can fly into Mammoth Lakes…which is only about an hour away," Stephen explained.

"Yes," he heard, both Ellie and Jacques speaking the same word at the same time.

"Take everything you need with you, Auntie," Stephen instructed her. "We're gonna have to do this on the fly. If you need something you can't pack, improvise. Let me know and we can adjust the plan."

Stephen was so in control of the situation, Sarah immediately felt calmer. She had been spiraling for hours and hours. His voice and his plans seemed to break into her despair, lifting her with the slightest bit of hope.

"We'll touch base when we're about to land, ok, Mom?" Stephen said in conclusion, his voice lighter. She replied softly and he broke the connection.

"Hold on, Bartowski," Del shouted as he moved in a rush down the aisle towards them. As he approached, Stephen could see how tight Del's features were. Something had shaken him, and he didn't shake very easily. "We have a bigger problem. Bentley sent a priority message on the encrypted line," Del said. "Two words. Broken Arrow."

"Holy shit," Stephen exclaimed as he felt the adrenaline surge. "Details?" he barked, releasing Cozette as he charged forward.

"Almost none, kid," Del said. "That's the extent of what she could send over the encrypted line. I'm sure she'll contact us when we're on the ground."

"What the hell does that mean?" Cozette asked them both, looking quickly between the two men. She focused on Stephen. "Did you flash? I couldn't tell."

Stephen's Intersect worked so closely in tandem with his normal brain function, the older he got, the more discrete his flashes had become. Cozette could almost always tell, but sometimes, she was still unsure. Del almost never noticed.

"Did you, Bartowski?" Del asked, more urgently.

"No," he muttered. He turned to his fiancee. "Nuclear weapon. It's a military code. It means a nuclear weapon has either gone missing, been armed, or been detonated unintentionally."

Her eyes were wide. "Why did she send it to us? The DoD–"

"If they looped her in, it's under her field of influence. And if she sent it to us, specifically, when she knows we're headed to retrieve your father…" Del's voice trailed away, his usually stoic face pale. He looked down, rubbing his open palm across his mouth.

"No, Del…that's…that's…" Stephen stuttered. He stumbled backward, reaching for the seat arm rest to steady him as he fell sitting into the chair. His next vocalizations were incoherent, groaning and growling in frustration behind his hands that he pressed over his face.

Cozette didn't need those extra words. Stephen was on the verge of breaking down because he was almost certain that Broken Arrow had to do with his father. She had known Stephen's father, Chuck, since she was a child. She had worked for him for years before she joined the CIA. There were probably five people in the world with the computer hacking skills to somehow take control of a nuclear weapon in such a manner. Chuck was one of them, but also the only one of that handful that could have stopped the other four.

Casey had to know, Cozette thought to herself. She recalled the tearful words of Stephen's mother on the phone, referring to Casey. She rested her hands on Stephen's shoulders, partially to offer him comfort, partially to disguise how her own hands were shaking.

Del was in front of his computer, typing furiously, following up on as much as he could while they were still in the air. His voice was crisp and business-like when he spoke again. "Cascade, Montana went offline as of 0300 hours. The DoD is acting with the assumption that the computer was hacked," Del said in a crisp monotone.

"Casey is there, right now, Stephen," Cozette said, meaning it as a comfort, a way to calm him while he felt so helpless.

"I know," he groaned. "That's what I'm afraid of." His eyes were full of terror when he looked at her. "Millions of lives versus my dad. I don't know how Casey can buy us that much time."

She hugged him to her, afraid to tell him, unfortunately, that she agreed.

May 21, 2036

Bishop, California

Casey had never felt as old as he did at the current moment. He had always stayed in relatively good shape, keeping his physical fitness routine, though it had been slightly modified as he'd aged. Gertrude had helped him eat healthier, broadening his pallet to include more than just burnt Hot Pockets and scotch or black coffee. But damn it, he was in his 70s. He was sure there were a lot of men more physically fit who could have done this faster. Problem was, it had to be him.

He had started out with daylight, but after a few hours, dusk had gradually turned darker and darker. The burnt orange of the setting sun was the only light left in the sky, minus the few scattered stars far overhead visible in the black ribbon now at the top of the sky. He had scanned every square inch of the terrain, then scanned it a second time, and then created a makeshift map that he was following in order to avoid the mines he had detected. Casey had concluded there were just too many for them all to have been put in place by Chuck. It was only logical to assume Orion had secured this location at some point in the past. The last time Orion had been here, he had created the watch meant to regulate Chuck's Intersect, and then he had been killed before he could return. How did Chuck know?

It didn't matter, honestly, Casey told himself, because Chuck had done more damage than Casey himself could have done, and in a shorter period of time. Something no one quite understood was at work here. However Chuck had discovered the minefield, he had not wasted any time activating them all.

One hour ago, Casey had received the call from Bentley. She had been terse, but thorough. The CIA confirmed a nuclear missile silo had been hacked and was currently under remote control from an unknown location. Bentley told him straight out she thought it was Chuck, but that she hadn't told anyone else, in order to protect Chuck's Intersect status. She told Casey because she knew he was capable of doing what needed to be done, in case the tragedy unfolding could not be stopped. Her parting comments had been strange, a call back to the last incident she remembered concerning Chuck and a nuclear weapon, which had originally led to her demotion as head of the NCS.

The hour has come round again, General, hasn't it? I wish I had as much reason to hope now as I did back then.

XXX

Laszlo Mahnovski.

Chuck had, with the half of his brain that he still had conscious control over, been arguing with himself, wondering why the other half of his brain and the inner monologue he could hear like it belonged to another person…sounded like something familiar.

Those had been Laszlo's thoughts. He had believed there were no good guys, no bad guys…no right, no wrong. His insanity had come from his genius and his extreme isolation, both unmanaged, pushed to the breaking point. He had been avenging his own corruption with more corruption. He had almost hi-jacked a stealth bomber armed with a nuclear weapon.

It was the only way to make them pay for what they had done to him…what they had taken away from him.

Chuck felt the rage inside, burning its red hot path through his insides. He just couldn't make his mind stretch back to the beginning…the reason why. Why was he angry? Who had done this injustice he could barely understand?

It was everyone…everything. Make them pay!

He was seated on the floor of the cabin. The air inside the cabin was cool, as the heat was off and it wasn't yet summer, especially at the higher elevation. Nevertheless, beads of sweat poured down his face, soaking his shirt and making it stick to his skin. His joints ached in the cold, but his palms were sticky with perspiration. His wrist chafed, where he had handcuffed himself to the leg of the table, away from the computer. He had tossed the key away, closing his eyes as it clunked somewhere on the wooden floor. His father's gun, once hidden in the floorboards in the back bedroom, sat beside the open computer console.

He berated himself, wishing he had been able to just pull the trigger while he still had some control. Thoughts of Sarah had kept him from receding, just as he'd hoped, but those same thoughts had also interfered with his plan. Ending his own life was no different than harming her. It was a miracle, mysteriously revealed in bits and pieces, why he had ever been so blessed to be loved the way that Sarah loved him. He had known that, cherished that, for almost 30 years.

Tears fell when he closed his eyes, wishing for strength he just didn't have. He couldn't do it…and now he was out of his own control. He had hacked into the command computer for a nuclear missile silo somewhere in Montana. He didn't even know which one. He knew it was wrong, crazy, absolutely insane, but he couldn't stop himself. The other voice was too strong and it drowned out his reason.

"Chuck."

In his frantic desperation, Chuck's senses were both amplified and muted, depending on what his ever-changing focus was drawn to. He hadn't heard the door or the window, but he was no longer alone inside the cabin. The light from the computer created an eerie blue glow and a small table lamp illuminated just the table and chair next to where Chuck sat on the floor. Every other corner of the room was darkened, full of shadows that shifted with the clouds in the sky that alternately blocked and revealed the moon.

He knew that voice. And yet, he did not. Yes, you do, he screamed inside his head. Casey. John Casey. Your friend…your brother. John. Casey.

His brain continued running the same thoughts to and fro. His mouth was disconnected from his brain.

"Get out of here," he growled, his own voice unrecognizable to himself. He heard heavy footsteps that made the old floor creak as he walked.

"Casey…please," Chuck whimpered, out of breath, struggling against the other to say those two words.

Recognizing the difference in tone, Casey pleaded, "Chuck! Listen to me. Stay here. You have to fight this."

"I…can't…" Chuck breathed. His head lolled down onto his chest, but he didn't lose consciousness. "Get out," he growled, his voice deeper and grisly.

Casey was amazed that he had gotten as far as he had, breaching inside the cabin with almost no resistance once he had mapped the minefield. He was also aghast at what he was witnessing. Chuck looked ill, feverish and crazed in a way Casey had never even imagined he could ever be. Casey saw the gun and the handcuffs, understanding the two different tones in Chuck's voice were in actuality the two halves of him, each one fighting for dominance. He had several back up plans, but the ideal situation was to breach the cabin and tranq Chuck. That could buy them the time they needed for Stephen and Ellie to work on the solution to this. Casey's calcified heart broke in his chest at the sight of his long-time friend. He shot Chuck with his tranq pistol.

He waited, almost double the time he would have expected the tranquilizer to take effect. Nothing happened.

"You can't stop me," Chuck growled. From the shadow, Casey saw Chuck's face, his eyes dark and blank, just the way Sarah had described him. Casey felt sick, angry that after all this time, after all the good Chuck had done for the world, this was all that remained of probably one of the greatest men he had ever known.

He closed his eyes and emptied the tranq pistol of darts, one after the other, hitting Chuck's chest. Five darts more. Chuck was tall, and he was muscular, but the dose compared to his weight was almost a lethal dose, Casey worried. It was enough to stop his heart. If only he could be rendered unconscious, Casey could get him out of here.

After several more seconds, Chuck was still conscious. It had some effect, Casey could see. He couldn't hold his head up straight and he was twitching like a live wire. His eyelids were unequally half-open and his pupils were irregularly dilated. When he spoke, his words were slurred. "The…button…"

Casey couldn't tell if he was hissing out the words or pleading with him. Perhaps it was both. His tone wavered and the drugs changed his pitch. He tried to figure out what Chuck meant, if it was good or bad. He searched quickly with his eyes, straining in the shadowy dark.

That was when Casey saw it, like a remote control, resting on the floor beside Chuck's leg. Chuck's head stayed forward, but his eyes kept moving in their sockets, angling towards the face of the computer. The swiveled eyes were Chuck, Casey thought. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. Casey's eyes shifted to the computer screen. There was an active timer, counting down. Three hours, seventeen minutes, and 36 seconds. Thirty-five, 34…

Horrified, Casey moved closer to the computer. The satellite image showed Cascade, Montana and an active missile silo. The computer was so heavily encrypted he didn't dare touch it for fear of setting something off. The missile was targeted at Los Angeles.

"Casey!" Chuck screamed. He spun, his heart racing as the adrenaline surged. "Conscious…" The last word was just a squeak, followed by Chuck's desperate glance down at his own hand.

Oh god…the button…Chuck was trying to stay conscious…

His body moved before he could even rationalize what he was doing. Casey dove onto the floor, replacing Chuck's hand on the trigger just as Chuck lost consciousness and sagged sideways. Casey held his breath, pressing his eyes closed tightly, waiting for a fiery death that never came. He thought he had heard a click…had he imagined it?

No, he thought with a thought that sent a cold shock of fear straight into his soul. The control was somehow transferred to him. He was on his side, stretched out beside Chuck on the cold wooden floor with his elbow resting in contact with the floor, his hand elevated, the trigger clutched inside. He didn't dare move, unsure of how he was even still alive, let alone what else he could do to stop the detonation.

Three hours. Had Chuck fought with himself, prolonging the time the only way he could fight back against himself? It seemed to be perfectly timed with Stephen's estimated arrival time. Great, he thought. I've just got to hold this for three hours.

His muscles and joints all at once seemed to protest, reminding him of his advanced years.

The longest three hours of his life.