You think I'd leave your side, baby

You know me better than that

You think I'd leave you down

When you're down on your knees

I wouldn't do that

I'll tell you you're right when you want

And if only you could see into me

Oh, when you're cold

I'll be there

Hold you tight to me

When you're on the outside, baby

And you can't get in

I will show you

You're so much better than you know

When you're lost and you're alone

And you can't get back again

I will find you

Darling, and I will bring you home

"By Your Side"

Sade

May 22, 2036

Bishop, California

As the car they had rented slowly rumbled to a stop on the gravel road, Stephen didn't recognize the black van that was waiting for them. It was nondescript, which could have meant a lot of different things. Behind the van, he saw General Casey's Crown Victoria, empty and parked at an angle, partially in a ditch. Del was driving their car and the second he braked for the final time, Stephen was on his way out the passenger door.

The moment his foot made contact with the ground, he heard the low rumbling of the side door on the van as it opened. His vision registered a flurry of pale colored clothing and blonde hair. In an instant, his mother was there, her arms tightly around his neck, almost choking him. She was silent, but he felt how tense she was, how her rigid muscles trembled. It was a strange position in which he found himself…comforting his mother, the woman who had spent her life comforting, supporting, and loving him. He felt older, like he had somehow crossed over a barrier into a different time, and was now forever trapped on the other side.

"It's ok, Mom," he said softly, listening in the background as Del killed the engine and then he and Cozette exited the vehicle. It wasn't ok, Stephen knew, and he was filled with dread when he thought about all he had to tell her, what Bentley had told them after they had landed in Mammoth Lakes.

When he let go of Sarah, Stephen saw his Aunt Ellie and his future father-in-law, Jacques Robert as they disembarked from the same van. Through the open door, Stephen had a quick view of the equipment that was inside the van. It was chock full, with barely any extra space. They had done as he'd asked and come prepared. It was some good news, anyway.

Stephen kept in physical contact with his mother, resting a hand on each of her shoulders. The anxious fear on her face battered against his resolve like nothing else he knew. But he had to tell her. "Mom, Bentley confirmed the Broken Arrow…is Dad. He hi-jacked a nuclear weapons silo in Montana. Dad used the Orion computer to do it. Bentley talked to Casey about two hours ago…but that was the last she's heard from him. She gave Casey an additional 30 minutes…and then they're calling in an airstrike."

"I've been trying to call Casey for hours. He's not answering his phone," Sarah said, her voice chilling with dread.

Stephen sighed a heavy shuddering breath. "So has Bentley. She hasn't been able to talk to him either. Unless we have proof otherwise, the CIA is under the assumption he was…lost in action," Stephen finished, his voice breaking on the words so completely unfathomable to understand.

"No!" Sarah shouted, backing away from her son's grip. "I don't believe that, Stephen. I don't care what his brain is doing. Your father would never do something like that. He would…" She swallowed over the burning in her throat when she thought the next thought. "He would have ended his own life before he hurt Casey."

"Mom, he commandeered a nuclear missile and aimed it at greater Los Angeles! This isn't Dad anymore. Not the Dad that we know," Stephen argued. He sounded sure, determined, as he projected his confidence. All the while, he felt himself siding with his mother, internally disbelieving his own conclusions.

"I don't believe that," Sarah insisted. "I will never believe that your father is…somehow…irreparably gone. I won't."

Stephen stayed focused on his mother, but he heard the soft scuffing of feet as the others moved closer. "Stephen, we have a prototype that's working," Ellie told her nephew. His aunt looked tired, more tired than Stephen was used to seeing her. She was older than his father, despite the chestnut brown color of her dyed hair which made her appear younger than her younger brother. Her features were drawn and her face was pale. Fatigue and worry had etched themselves onto her face. "It would require us to scan your brain, copy the pattern into the new file, and download it the same way your dad downloaded that primer by accident."

"How long is that going to take?" Stephen asked worriedly. The clock was ticking.

"An hour, if everything works according to plan," Jacques answered.

"Damn," Stephen cursed. "We don't have a choice. We have to breach the cabin. That's the only way we can get to my father." He looked down quickly, feeling his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He gasped out loud. "It's Casey!"

He heard his mother sigh, a soft gush of relief, at least for this tiny glimmer of hope. "General, we've been trying to reach you for hours. Wha–"

"You're at the end of the dirt road?" Casey asked. His voice was labored, like he was holding a heavy weight and struggling with it.

"Yes," Stephen confirmed.

"Downloading…the map I made. Mines…booby traps…" Casey gasped breathlessly.

He pulled the phone down quickly to confirm he had received what Casey sent. "Are you all right, General?" Stephen asked warily.

"Follow the map…no time…" Casey gasped. Stephen heard a clunk, like Casey had dropped his cell phone on the floor.

"Casey?" he called. "Casey?" he called again, more stridently the second time. "Damn," he cursed under his breath. He clicked the call button off and spun to face the others.

"I don't know what's happening…but I'm going in. Casey sent me the map of the booby traps. He sounds…like he's barely hanging on. I'm going," he finished. He turned to Cozette and kissed her, comforted by her silent support. He thought for a moment his mother was going to protest, but she didn't. She looked worried, but she nodded her head, accepting what her son was going to do.

Sarah closed her eyes as he started walking away from them. She tried to steady her breathing, stop hyperventilating. Sarah felt a hand on her shoulder, gentle, giving a comforting squeeze. It was Cozette.

"Let's go, Mom," Cozette said, cognizant of the fact that it was the first time she had used that address, one Sarah had encouraged her to use at their anniversary party. God, was that only a week ago?

Sarah smiled at the young woman whom her son loved more than anything. "Stephen forwarded the map. We can follow safely," Cozette assured her.

All that Sarah could think about was the last time she had been here. Twenty-five years ago…ancient history, but filling her head just the same. They had run here together, to hide, she and Chuck. Chuck had tried to tell her he thought he was cursed. She had assured him he wasn't, that he could never be. Because he had her.

That premise had been tested after that, too many times, in fact, as she thought. But it was true nonetheless.

He had her. And she wasn't giving up on him.

XXX

Casey was almost completely numb. He had shifted, just a bit. He had one hand on Chuck's wrist, ensuring the unconscious man's heart was still beating despite the overdose of tranquilizer he'd endured. His other hand was achy and frozen on the detonator wired to a cache of explosives set to blow the cabin sky high. Both of Casey's legs had fallen asleep, the only sensation palpable being the sharp pain where his bones were flush with the floor. Chuck's dose was enough for eight hours easily, but somehow Chuck was at least partially resistant to what Casey had dosed him with. Two hours unconscious and Casey thought he might very well be pushing his luck…while at the same time he was worried Chuck could potentially stop breathing.

He had released Chuck just long enough to call Stephen. He had been feeling his phone vibrating over and over, desperate that he couldn't answer. The names of the callers were all he could see now, a long list that filled the screen on his cell phone. Sarah, Stephen, Sarah another seven times, Stephen, Bentley four times, Stephen, Sarah. Bentley.

He felt certainty without knowing positively for sure. Bentley couldn't allow Chuck to nuke Los Angeles, no matter what other truths were apparent. She would give Casey some specific amount of time, unknown to him, and then time would run out. Bentley would have told Stephen, he was sure. She would know he was racing against time, trying to save his father. But she had her duty to perform; she had innocent civilians to protect. Every breath he took, Casey wondered if it would be his last.

At least he wasn't alone. And neither was Chuck.

"Casey."

It was a whisper, unable to be located in the dark or from his vantage point. He waited, poised, to hear it again.

"Casey."

This time it was closer, sounding like it was almost against his ear. He swiveled his eyes, searching for movement in the dark. A blotch of silvery moonlight winked as a shadow blotted it out.

"Stephen?" Casey hissed.

"Casey, what the hell happened?" Stephen asked. Casey felt hands on his chest, groping.

"Stop!" Casey ordered. "This detonator is live. Wired to the ordinances outside."

"Oh…god…" Stephen groaned as he surveyed the situation in the room. "Casey, is he…" Stephen couldn't finish the question.

"He's tranq'd. But overdosed. I have no idea how long it will last," Casey said.

Stephen reached across Casey's body, touching his father's wrist tentatively. He felt his father's pulse, strong despite Casey's concern.

"All right…all right…one thing at a time," Stephen mumbled. "This needs to be disengaged. I can do that." He swallowed and added softly, "I hope."

"I can't help you, kid. My hand is numb," Casey explained.

"It's ok, Casey. Just hold still," Stephen murmured as he positioned himself alongside Casey on the floor. "I'll do it as fast as I can."

He flashed, on demand, something he could do without thinking. Code breaking had been a skill included in his father's government Intersect. Stephen hadn't known he possessed the ability to do so on his own with his inborn Intersect until he joined the CIA. But he knew it would work. He just had to focus.

It only took Stephen five minutes to disconnect the detonator from the wires to the charges outside, rendering them defused. He set the disassembled components to the side.

"The computer," Casey sighed from beside him on the floor. He was flexing his free hand, trying to ease the cramping. He still held Chuck's wrist firmly with his other hand.

Stephen was already on his feet and moving towards the computer, a multi-faceted construct that filled almost the entire wall in the cabin. Stephen could clearly see the timer, counting down the seconds until the unauthorized launch. The timer read 53 minutes, which meant they had approximately 20 minutes to shut this down before Bentley's air strike could be canceled. There was no way that was enough time, he thought frantically.

"Casey, my father encrypted this. It would take me hours, if I was lucky. We don't have hours. We have less than 20 minutes," Stephen told him.

"Then we have to get Chuck to shut it down," Casey concluded.

It sounded like Casey had just asked him to conjure gold from thin air. "How the hell are we supposed to do that?" Stephen asked.

"You have to try and get through to him. He might listen to you. You might be able to reason with him," Casey argued.

Stephen felt like arguing back. How was he going to reason with him? He felt sick, thinking that if it had progressed to this point, that there was nothing left of his father to reason with any longer. He wasn't confident, but he had no other option. Making up his mind in a split second, Stephen pulled Casey to his feet, holding him steady while the older man was shaking out his numb and prickling legs. He guided Casey to balance himself on the table top while he bent down and picked the lock on his father's handcuff.

"Help me get him up," Stephen asked as he crouched down beside his father. "We can get him into a chair. It might make it easier to wake him up."

The two men heaved Chuck's limp form up from the floor and slid him into the chair on the other side of the table. His body sagged and Casey pressed his hand in the center of Chuck's chest to hold him upright. Stephen left Casey with Chuck to find something to secure his father to the chair, as a way to protect them if he regained consciousness.

Stephen finished fastening the last of the rope when he heard the cabin door click closed. His mother stood in the shadows, just beyond the circle of light from the table lamp.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Casey hissed as he saw her.

She didn't answer. She did make a sound, a strangled noise, as she regarded her husband's state. Pushing past both men, she rushed to him, reaching for his face. Casey's hands on her wrists, firm but not harsh, stopped her. "Casey…" she breathed.

"Sarah, you have to let us handle this," Casey said softly.

"No!" she shouted, pulling her arms away from Casey's grip. "Casey, listen to me," she insisted, a primal ferocity in her eyes as she regarded him. She lifted her chin defiantly, glancing at her son, almost apologizing, as she continued. "Beckman gave you orders to shoot to kill…when I had Ellie in her car at gunpoint…and I made Chuck follow, didn't she?"

Casey blanched as he realized what she was saying. Somehow she had circled back in her mind to one of the worst days of any of their lives. "Sarah…." he started.

"Didn't she?" Sarah demanded him to answer.

"Yes," Casey whispered.

"And you would have, wouldn't you?" Sarah asked. There was no accusation in her tone, just a prodding to get him to admit the truth.

"Ellie was a civilian. Yes, I would have," Casey admitted.

"That would have been the right thing to do," Sarah affirmed. "Chuck knew that. That's why he disconnected the tracker…and he went off mission to try and protect me…and Ellie at the same time. He risked his life to save me. I almost killed him…and he still saved me," Sarah nearly growled, her entire body trembling like a live wire.

Stephen's ragged breathing became so loud it was unignorable. Both Casey and Sarah turned to him. "Mom…what are you talking about?" he asked in disbelief.

Her son knew much of his parents' exploits in the CIA, but a lot was missing as well. Redactions abounded in the documents Stephen had gained access to over the years. His unique Intersect had filled in some of the blanks, but not all. Sarah knew that last mission was something her son had no idea about.

Sarah was still trembling and her eyes filled with tears when she turned to look at her son. "You knew about the Intersect I downloaded…you brought that up when you were little, Stephen," she said calmly, trying to jog his memory.

"Right…but…what does that have to do with this?" he asked, his speech slowed due to his shock.

"That Intersect damaged my brain. I didn't remember who your father was…I was married to him and pregnant with you…although I didn't know about you at the time. I was…convinced…by an enemy agent…that my mission was to kill your father," Sarah said sadly. She took a step closer to him. "You know that scar on your father's back? The one here?" she asked, touching her lower back on her right side to model it for him. "He jumped in front of a bullet for me…while I had a gun to his head. The kevlar was too thin over his back and hip at that angle…so it left a scar."

Stephen closed his eyes, forcing the tears that had pooled on the rims of his eyes down each cheek. He knew how much his father loved his mother. He had said so in the speech he'd written to toast them at their anniversary party. Hearing about the past like that shocked him, but it didn't surprise him in the least, the fact of learning just what his father had actually done, out of love, for his mother. He had always admired his father, as a role model as well as a man. Stephen felt the emotion surge, like a bolt of electricity inside his heart.

"You have to let me help him, Stephen," Sarah pleaded. Her blue eyes glowed in the dim light. He expected more argument, some extraordinary reason about her ability to break through to him. He expected it, but she didn't say it. All she said was, "He would do the same for me…with his last breath. I owe him the same."

Stephen looked long and hard at his mother, sure he couldn't change her mind. Something passed between them, a deep understanding, sharper than ever before. He loved Cozette the same way…he could not just leave her to die, when he thought he could help. Hell, even if there was no way he could help…

Still holding his mother's gaze, Stephen spoke to Casey, clearly and decisively. "Casey, please just get everyone to a safe distance from the cabin. Can you do that?"

"What are you doing?" Casey asked warily.

"Putting all my eggs in one basket," he stuttered nervously. He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze at Casey. "Putting my faith in love." He managed a weak, crooked smile in response to Casey's dumbfounded look. "Don't give me any crap, Casey," Stephen grumbled bravely.

Casey grunted, then growled…but he ended with a breathy huff. "You are your father's son, you know that, right?" Casey asked him softly. No one there had been present when Chuck had said the same thing 25 years earlier, almost standing in the very same spot, about his own father.

Stephen shrugged, giving a sheepish nod. "I think that's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me, General," he added.

"Damn right it is," Casey growled, huffing in surprise as Sarah launched herself at him, squeezing him around his neck.

"Please make sure Ellie is safe," she said quickly in his ear. It would have been Chuck's number one concern. Reluctantly, she let him go, and turned back to her husband.

"Stephen, you don't have to stay," Sarah told him.

"Yes, Mom, I do," he contradicted. "I'm not leaving him, either. I can help, and I will."

They both spun at the gruff noises they heard, emanating from Chuck. His head, bowed forward, started to wag back and forth. He was waking up from the tranquilizer.

"Sarah?" he groaned, his voice still slightly slurred.

She rushed towards him, kneeling in front of his chair. "Chuck?" she asked desperately.

Briefly, he opened his eyes. She watched him searching in the dim light for her face. He was looking at her, recognizing her. She knew it. The softness on his face was unmistakable.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, rotating his head back. He sounded exhausted, like he had just been disturbed from a heavy sleep.

"Chuck, are you still there?" she asked, trying to hold his gaze, though he closed his eyes. "Please stay here with me," she pleaded. She rested her hands on his knees.

"The bomb!" he gasped. "You have to stop…oh…god," he shrieked, terror overwhelming him as he was forced to acknowledge what he'd done.

"We need the code," Sarah pleaded with him. "Please, Chuck, we're running out of time."

"No code!" Chuck growled. Sarah flinched at the sound of his voice, surprised by the vehement anger. He was losing, she thought in desperation. She had been talking to her husband, but the other personality had started to assert itself.

"You…have to kill me."