Author's Note: Well, I'm back. Turns out I am expanding this story. Hopefully, those of you who expressed interest in reading more of it are still interested and will come along for the ride. If you read the first chapter before this update, you may have noticed some changes. I felt the original title to both this story and chapter 1 didn't work anymore, so I changed them. At this point, I'm thinking at least two more chapters. However, I can't comment on what the update time frame will be because unlike The First Seventy Two which saw updates every couple of days, this story is not yet written out all the way through. I don't know how the upcoming chapters will play out, so that will effect the time it takes to get them out. Of course, if no one wants to read this then I guess I can end it here. Anyway, for now, I hope you enjoy this one.

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Beckman

Santa Monica, California

August 22, 2016

Chuck woke up feeling more rested than he could ever remember feeling. After leaving the pier the night before, he got in his car and headed to the Third Street Promenade, choosing to eat dinner at one of the restaurants there. He settled on a place named FIG. It wasn't the fanciest establishment there, but for Chuck, it might as well have been the most exclusive place on Earth.

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Looking over at the name of the place again, Chuck vaguely remembered that this particular restaurant had once been located inside some hotel nearby. When he was seated, he asked his waiter why it had moved. He was told that there had been a massive explosion a few years before at some building and the Fairmont Miramar had been collateral damage, too close by. Now the restaurant occupied the location of what used to be a California Pizza Kitchen. Chuck couldn't quite remember, but he had a nagging feeling that he had heard about that explosion somewhere before. As soon as he was handed his menu though, all thoughts of it were pushed aside as his eyes scanned the pages and all the available options for him to choose.

Life on the run did not allow for the most varied or indulgent of diets, it was always something out of a can or frozen box. On a lucky day, when money and circumstances smiled upon him, he might have what passed for a burger or pizza. Nowhere near as good as he wanted, but good enough to break the monotony. It was something different at least, and those chances he got, certainly in the beginning, helped keep the depression at bay. He had felt lonely not having his family and friends nearby, not being able to see them. It got so bad that, at one point, he actually missed the Buy More, Jeff and Lester included. He had never been away from his sister for so long without knowing if he'd ever see her again. That was the most depressing thing of all. Thankfully, when that changed and he did get to talk to her again, the depression wasn't as bad anymore. When he first ran, he'd done it out of fear with no real endgame in mind, he really hadn't thought about anything other than running and not getting thrown in a bunker. After he learned he was going to be an uncle, though, he had a new purpose: he was going to go back to his family, he was going to hold his niece or nephew. The government would not take this away from him. He was going to get back his life. If it was the last thing he did, he would find a way.

"Sir, would you like something to drink?" The waiter interrupted Chuck's eager perusal of the menu.

"Yeah, do you have Coke?" Chuck looked up at the waiter expectantly.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have a coke, lots of ice."

"I'll be right back with your drink." As the waiter walked away, Chuck resumed his pondering. A smile began to form across his face. This was the first time he would get to sit down and truly enjoy a meal. He was free to take his time without worry; well not completely, he still had to deal with Beckman, but this was close enough. Regardless of that, he would finally be able to consume some honest to goodness, made from scratch food. He could only describe the feeling he had as joy. When he realized how he was reacting to the situation, he shook his head and let out a small laugh. The last time that his biggest worry had been what to order off of a menu seemed like an entirely different lifetime ago. It was a foreign feeling to be back in that position again.

"Here you are." The waiter put Chuck's drink on the table and reached for his pad and pen. "Have you decided what you're having or do you need some more time?"

"No, I'm ready to order." Chuck knew exactly what this meal would consist of, and his mouth was practically watering with anticipation. "I'll have the twelve ounce New York Strip, well done, an order of fries," he wasn't about to call them Pommes Frites after his experience in France, no matter what the menu said, "and I'll give the bacon wrapped bacon a try." He finished, looking over at the waiter with a smile.

"Yes, sir," the waiter replied as he took the menu from Chuck.

Twenty minutes later, he returned with Chuck's order on a tray. "Here you go: steak... fries... bacon." Once he finished unloading the tray, he put it between his arm and side. He reached into a pocket on his apron, pulled out a bottle of steak sauce, and placed it on the table. He asked, "Anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you. This is great."

"Okay, well. Just let me know if you need anything."

Chuck decided he had to try a bit of everything first. He grabbed a fry and took a bite. He closed his eyes in delight: it was crunchy, well seasoned, and warm. He ate the rest of the fry and cut a piece of his steak, lightly covering it with the sauce. He brought the fork with the piece of meat to his mouth and chewed. He let out a moan: the steak was juicy, tender, and flavorful, and the sauce tasted great. It was almost enough to make him cry, realizing he didn't have to eat bland re-heated food anymore. He moved on to the bacon wrapped bacon. As it turned out, there was more than bacon involved. It was a piece of bacon wrapped around a center of grouped pieces of avocado, what looked to be arugula, tomato, and the other piece of bacon, as suggested by the name. He took one of the bite-size concoctions and popped it into his mouth. Immediately, he thought that this was now one of his favorite foods, heart attack be damned. The cost of this meal would've made him choke in the past, but at that moment he couldn't care less. He was going to indulge himself, and after so long, it was definitely worth it. Chuck savored every bite he took, asking for a refill of his Coke three times, and so it was an hour later that he asked for his check and headed back to his hotel.

It was only nine-thirty when he reached his room, but he had a long day coming up and he needed to be fully rested. He was going to start piecing back together his relationship with Ellie and Devon, and he was going begin one with his niece. Chuck headed to the bathroom to wash up, turned on his security system, and then went straight to bed; the soft, welcoming bed that pulled him quickly into a deep slumber.

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Chuck looked over to the little side table and picked up his phone. The screen read 9:17 am. He stretched out on the bed and let out a content groan: Well, I guess it's time to get on with the day. He showered, brushed his teeth, and ordered some breakfast. Since he checked in the previous afternoon, this was the first chance he got to sample the hotel's room service. Once he was done, there was no putting it off anymore. Even after ten years, that woman still intimidated the hell out of him. Chuck walked out to the balcony and took in the view of the ocean. It calmed the nervousness down a bit and allowed him to put things into perspective. He was already so far in; this call could only benefit him. He got out his phone and checked the time. 10:05, hmmm, probably at lunch... oh, well I'm going piss her off anyway.He dialed.

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General Beckman sat behind her desk in her office. She was not in a good mood. Casey had called her earlier and informed her of his encounter with Bartowski the day before. That angered her to no end; the nerve of that man. Where did he get off telling her what she could and couldn't do? It was clear Casey wasn't going to bring Bartowski in, now she had to call another agent in to finish the job. It's not like she needed Bartowski anymore, sure he was still the only subject with that high a retention rate, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that Chuck Bartowski had made her look like a fool in front of her bosses and he was going to pay for that. When he ran, she assured her superiors that he was incompetent, had no training, and would be in a bunker within forty-eight hours. That came back to bite her in the ass. It had now been eight years and she had still to apprehend an asset that she had haughtily called an idiot. There were no more promotions coming to her in the future. The only reason she still had her job was because she was able to not only deliver more Intersect agents, but she brought down Fulcrum and the Ring. Well, she took credit for the latter two anyway. Truth was, by the time Walker started her campaign against Fulcrum, there was barely anything left to dismantle. As for the Ring, they did most of the work for her. Sure she sent agents after the traitors, but by that time they were in complete disarray. After the fall of Fulcrum, the other factions turned against each other and started taking the others out. A man who was later identified as the Director of the Ring was found in his office with a bullet between the eyes during a raid on a suspected Ring facility. That meant that Agent Shaw had sacrificed himself for nothing when they blew up the Ring facility in Santa Monica, but he was an acceptable loss. Even the Ring Elders went into hiding when they couldn't hold their agents together. She never found out the identities of the Elders, but that didn't much matter. They had targets on their backs now, the chances of them trying to rebuild were negligible. The General was curious as to what happened to cause the sudden unraveling of an organization the likes of the Ring, but not curious enough to look into it. She had more pressing matters. No one made her look like a fool and got away with it.

She was about to pick up her phone, when the ringing started. She looked at it and saw that it wasn't coming from her office phone. The only other phone near her was her personal one, so she reached into her pocket. The ringing was definitely coming from her cell phone, but when she checked to see who it was, the screen didn't register anything but her normal background. She hated technology, any form of it, never worked the way it was supposed to. She would have to get it fixed later, but she pressed the green SEND button on her phone and put it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Diane! It's been a while, how have you been?" The voice on the other end seemed oddly familiar but not immediately recognizable.

"Who is this?" She asked curtly.

"Oh, general... you wound me. I know it's been eight years, but I had hoped you'd remember your old pal Chuck." The voice of Chuck Bartowski was taunting her. "I mean, you have spent countless resources trying to find me and yet when I come calling, you act like you have no idea who I am. How am I supposed to take that?"

"Bartowski," growled General Beckman, "you may have fooled Casey but you don't fool me, when I get my hands on you, you will regret this little stunt," and she hung up, slamming the phone into the desk.

The phone rang again. And again. And again. She turned it off, and reached for her desk phone to call her secretary. It was time to bring Bartowski in, once and for all. Just as she was dialing, her monitor's screen went black and words started flashing dead center: Answer Your Phone DIANE. You'll Regret It If You Don't. I PROMISE.

She wasn't one to intimidate easily, but Bartowski had just hacked into the NSA's network and no security breaches had been detected. That was something to pay heed to; she couldn't afford any more slip ups. She grabbed her cell and turned it on to find it ringing.

"You have just committed an act of treason; I'm going to have you-"

"Cut the crap Diane. You're going to nothing." His tone was now deadly serious. "Don't hang up on me again. You won't like what happens."

General Beckman had never heard Bartowski talk like this, it was unsettling but she wasn't going to let that show, especially to her former asset. "What do you want Bartowski? Come begging for forgiveness?" She growled out.

He let out a humorless laugh. "Forgiveness? Diane, when did you get to be so funny?" The general growled. "No, I told Casey I'd be giving some proof, now I'm delivering."

"I'm coming for you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Yeah, Alex said you'd say that." Beckman's eyes widened. That name was highly classified, and she knew Casey would never divulge that information voluntarily. "Hey, Diane? Still there?"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Good for you, Diane. Deny, deny, deny. No matter," the taunting tone was back in full force. "See, I know the little precarious situation you find yourself in. How would your bosses react if it got out that they knowingly sanctioned the forced catastrophic debilitation of US citizens? Now of course, your agents weren't really forced and your bosses didn't really know, but that's how it'll play in the media..." Beckman was speechless. She had done everything possible to ensure the side effects of the Intersect were kept quiet. She had officially written up Walker as unfit for the download and emphasized that she was never a candidate. She had compartmentalized all information regarding how many agents were given the download. She was the only one who knew the true number, and only her most trusted scientists were allowed to deal with the burn outs. How the hell did Bartowski find out? "What do you think they'll do to you when they realize that you lied to them? That because of you they'll be crucified before Congressional Hearing Committees? If there's one good thing about politicians wanting to cover their asses, it's that I can use them to burn anyone else just as easily as I can burn you."

A chill traveled down her spine as she listened to what Bartowski was saying. If any of this got out, she would never be heard from again. She knew Bartowski had her but she wasn't ready to go down just yet. "What about Fulcrum? They don't care about politicians. They won't stop coming after you Bartowski. If you knew what was good for you, you'd come in willingly."

"Nice try, Diane. Casey told me about Fulcrum. Not that I didn't already know. Oh, I know about the Ring too, so no use bringing them up. Actually, I bet I know something you don't."

"What would that be?"

"The Elders' identities."

"You're lying," she protested. There was no way he knew when she didn't.

"No, I'm not; and I have my ways of dealing with them. They're not too popular with those Ring agents you didn't manage to snag, you know. I don't think they'll be giving me any trouble if they know what's good for them. Do you?" And with that, he hung up and it was as if the call had never happened. There was no record of it on her phone, and she suspected there would be no record of it with the phone company if she checked. Chuck Bartowski had changed, and it pissed her off that he had played her so well. It was over, she didn't need this, nor did she want to run the risk. Retirement was looking very inviting right now. She would get out and let someone else deal with cleaning up the whole mess, she had done her job.

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Chuck fell back onto his bed and let out a deep breath. That conversation had been nerve-wracking. It took all he had to keep it together and keep pressing forward, but it seemed like he had gotten his point across. After the revelation about the Intersect, he doubted if he ever heard the name Diane Beckman again, let alone General Diane Beckman. He felt sorry for the agents that had gone insane because of the Intersect but they no doubt knew what they were doing. Each one was probably arrogant enough to think they would be the one to beat the Intersect; he was sure Bryce would've thought it. They would've never accepted that there was no way to beat it. Hell, if it wasn't for his Governor, even he would succumb to the strain eventually. That's why he feared the worst when Casey told him Sarah had downloaded the 2.0. That version attacked the brain even faster than the original; he imagined she was locked up in some mental institution somewhere. Now that he knew she had looked for him behind the government's back, maybe there was still a chance for them. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Sarah Walker after all this time, that wasn't even her real name for crying out loud. He knew next to nothing about her. If they were to have a chance at something real, they had a lot to talk about, and he wouldn't stand for anything less than the truth. Of course, first he would have to look for her and find out whether she wanted to be with him. Maybe she was already taken.

Either way, that could wait. Today, his priority was his family. So, he put his phone in his pocket, got up off the bed, and started to pack up what little belongings he had with him. It was time for Chuck Bartowski to head home.

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Author's Note: Dude... BACON WRAPPED BACON! I didn't even know that was a real thing until I wrote this chapter (research, go figure), but now I really want to try it 'cause how is that not the best thing you've ever heard of? Also, nothing to do with this story, but fried Kool-Aid? How in the hell did someone think that up?

I had no plan for this and I still don't, I'm making it up as I go along, though I have a general idea of some points I want to address. If you have any ideas, let me know.