Sleepingwiththeenemy4

Day 114

Operations Center
Winter, Nevada

The debriefing was by phone. Fulcrum had somehow managed to break the encryption codes on the video channels and so any briefings were held via hard-wired fiber optics that were impossible to breach without an alarm. The 'engineer geek' in Chuck often wondered why they didn't just send the video feed via the same link but figured it was none of his business anymore. Agents weren't 'geeks' or even 'Nerds'. No way.

"Good work, moron. I'm sure Jill is pleased you aren't full of holes or dead. Why didn't you wait for security to clear the operations room before charging in there? You know the rules, Chuck. They're 'rules' with a purpose – to keep your worthless ass alive to protect what's in your head."

"General Casey, Chuck was aware of the time element. The Fulcrum combinations were more heavily encrypted than your intel reported. And he's not a damned moron! He breached the new encryption like a hot knife through butter on-site, something your best and brightest would have taken hours to do. We accomplished our mission and withdrew without significant casualties. What more do you want, Casey?"

"Jill, calm down, baby. Um, Casey, I just wanted to get it done. We were behind the time line because of faulty intel on the mag-locks. Everything else was smooth sailing. What's next on your agenda?"

"Nothing for now. Take a week off. Why don't you swing down to the Baja and get in some surfing and fishing. I think your wife needs a break, Bartowski. She's pushing my buttons!"

"Damn you, John Casey! Ever since you made frikkin' General you've been…"

The rest was muffled as Chuck covered her mouth with his hand and told Casey "that's a good idea, John. Sorry about her…it must be that time of the month. I'll talk with you again when we're in place. How's the foot? Still aching in the cold up there?"

"Uh, no. It's fine. Just keep her in line and away from me until the damned hormones are back in balance. Casey out."

She bit his hand and he jerked it away. "Damn him! You ran a perfect mission and he jumps all over you for…" He stopped her rant with a kiss and then hugged her, afraid she'd say something they'd both regret.

"Shhh. He was right but wrong too. He wasn't there. I swear he's getting like Beckman. All stoic. It's cold as hell up there and his foot is probably aching but he wouldn't admit it. He's still pissed at me for shooting his toe off."

Jill sobered up immediately. The 'toe incident' happened at the Buy More and wasn't part of their conditioning scenario. Was he shaking off the conditioning and hypno-suggestions or was he simply reintegrating his memories and accepting that some things didn't make sense?

"I can't believe he called you a 'moron', Chuck. He just pisses me off so badly…" Another rant stifled by lips and then he whispered, "Jill, I want to do nasty things to you, baby. I love it when you go all postal on anyone but me. Makes me so hard. Here, feel for yourself!"

He put her hand on his crotch and then waggled his eyebrows. She practically dragged him back to their apartment. The memory of the previous night's 'sex experiments'...

It wasn't that time of the month at all. He just wanted to 'aim' Casey at someone other than Jill.

'Why didn't Casey make a snarky comment on his 'widdle piggy' like he always did? He never passed up the chance to rag me on his sole 'friendly fire incident'. Thankfully Jill's got post-mission hornies or she might have noticed the slip. Was it a false memory or something that really happened? It seemed so real.'

Across the compound, the man impersonating the voice of John Casey reviewed his case file. Was Bartowski's reference to Casey's foot a reference to something that actually existed or was he testing the veracity of the unseen voice? He sent an email to a mole at the NSA asking for any information on a 'condition' re John Casey's foot. He also alerted Medical to a possible conditioning failure and asked for their recommendations.

Bartowski Apartment
Restricted Units

Jill collapsed onto Chuck, breathless and still reeling from his sexual assault. He'd been all over her, kissing, caressing and she'd been all over him as well. It had been one of the most intense and satisfying times since they'd first made love the night he was brought out of conditioning.

'Whoa! When did fucking and screwing the mark become making love? I can't be that far gone, I just can't. He's my mark and I'm going to have to do terrible things to him before he's dumped on the trash pile and picked up by his team. Distance. I need some distance to center myself. My mission comes first.'

"I love you, Jill. Those words don't begin to cover how I feel."

"Chuck, don't. Just savor the moment. I know you love me, baby, and I hope you know how I feel. I just want us safe so that we can raise our baby in peace without any of this spy crap."

"Jill…you're pregnant?" He rolled her over on her back and stared into her eyes. She could see the love and the longing and she hated to crush his euphoria.

"No, honey, you haven't knocked me up yet. We'll keep trying. I'm glad you want a baby, Chuck. I was so afraid last time that you'd be angry with me for an unplanned pregnancy that I almost got rid of it…"

"No! No, I could never be angry with you for bringing our child into the world. And don't ever think of an abortion! Never. We'll disappear and go somewhere and live under the radar. We can do it, y'know?"

She was momentarily shocked at his vehemence and at his determination to bring a child into their marriage. Maybe…no, it wasn't possible, was it? Maybe…maybe a child would keep him here with her and Fulcrum. What better hostage could she have? What leverage a child would be to keep him with her always? This was something to think about and perhaps bring to the Council for consideration.

There was an alternative but it was almost unthinkable after all this time but it would provide a means of extraction for the both of them if things failed to develop as the syndicate desired. She waited until Chuck was asleep and then made a series of calls on a secure phone to initiate certain steps.

Day 118

Buy More Parking Lot
Burbank, CA

John Casey finished up his shift at the Buy More. He'd been promoted to assistant manager and soon he'd be offered the manager slot when Big Mike retired to his beloved fishing boat. He looked across the locker room at Chuck's locker. There were still 'offerings' taped to it, and photos of him and his friends. He missed the moron. Things had settled down into a rut without him to harass. The only good thing to come out of all this was that he'd finally found someone he could be himself with – Ellie Bartowski.

He walked out to the lot and unlocked his truck. A note had been taped to the steering wheel. He opened the folded piece of paper and almost dropped it. It was two words. Only two.

Bartowski Lives!

He shook off his moment of shock. Idiots. It was like a rallying cry for the Nerds. Whenever things got tense one of them could be counted on to shout "Bartowski Lives!" as if bringing his memory alive for the moment could make a virus wither and die or a cranky drive suddenly begin performing to specs. Idiots.

'How the hell did they get into my truck without tripping the alarms?'

Day 121

The Farm
Outside Langley, VA

Senior Training Agent Emily Tucker strolled behind the row of agents-in-training as they threw knives at a target 10 feet away. She shook her head in dismay, her dark brunette ponytail braid flicking back and forth like the tail of a hunting lioness.

Not one of the 10 trainees in her group had thrown a blade that actually stuck in the target. Many hit the target on the handle, the full extension of the blade and a lot of them missed outright. But not one trainee had thrown the knife and had it land point first in the target.

"You trainees are the most pathetic bunch of losers I've ever seen. I've given you demonstrations, I've shown each of you individually how to hold and throw the blade. I've trained you and retrained you and this – this display of ineptness is humiliating." Her voice was cold and unemotional and delivered with a hint of disgust.

Just then another training agent came up to her and handed her a sealed intra-agency envelope.

She opened the envelope and read the folded note inside and said "Trainees, slit your wrists with your knives and save some Fulcrum agent the trouble of shooting you. Dismissed!"

She crumpled up the paper and threw it down, hurrying after the man who delivered the note. Tears were coursing down her cheeks and several of the trainees had seen them and were talking among themselves. One of the students picked up the offending note. It was two simple words:

Bartowski Lives!

"You, Agent! Who gave you that note? Where did you get it? Answer me, damn you!"

The stunned agent turned and caught the full blast of her laser-like glare. Blue eyes, ice cold, waited impatiently for a response.

"The envelope was in the daily distribution from Langley. Jesus, Tucker, what happened? Someone send you to a collection agency or something? Check the return address on the intra-office envelope. You need to dial down the intensity a notch, Agent. You're wound tighter than a cheap watch."

His eyes widened in fear and he turned around and walked briskly away. She had growled at him and his vestigial monkey brain told him to scurry into the treetops to escape the predator.

The one line entry for the address read 'Burbank, CA'. There no longer was a functional office in Burbank, CA. There'd never been an official or recognized operational Castle in Burbank.

The entire thing was so deep-cover that not even the operational name had been recorded but few knew about the Omaha Project and fewer still about the 'intersect program' and only a closely-guarded handful, no more than a half dozen, knew the name 'Bartowski'.

Totally flustered and feeling the need for some validation, she checked her watch and smirked. 'Screw him. He retired. Let him start his day early'. She dialed a number from memory and listened to it ring and ring until finally a sleepy woman answered 'Dr. Bartowski'.

She almost dropped the phone in shock. Casey and Ellie? What about…what about Devon? One of her trainees handed her the crumpled note she'd discarded without thinking. She smiled at him and he recoiled in horror of what he'd just seen. 'Tucker the Fucker' did not smile – unless she was 'fucking over' some poor trainee who failed to live up to her incredibly high standards.

"Ellie, hi. It's..."

"I know about you and Casey. He told me everything. Now I understand why your relationship with my brother was 'complicated' and I'm sorry I wasn't more supportive. Wait a minute and I'll wake him. And before you say a single word, it's OK. Talk to him. Maybe you can convince him to see someone about his nightmares. I'm going to make coffee."

She heard Ellie trying to wake Casey and smiled. Casey and Ellie. Who'd ever have figured…

"John, John, sweetie, someone's on the phone and she needs to talk to you. Wake up and talk to her. I'm making coffee."

"This is Casey. What's wrong with waiting an hour or two to call me? Jesus, it's not even 6am here."

"John, I got a note in the intra-agency distribution this morning. The note read 'Bartowski Lives!'. Nothing else just two words."

"Jesus, a couple of days ago, taped to the steering wheel of my truck. I got a note with the same message. I thought it was one of the green shirts or Herders playing their usual games. You got one? What the hell do you think it means?"

"Is someone trying to tell us something?"

"I think this is way above my pay grade. I'm out of the service now. My contacts are limited. You're still active. Check with Beckman. Tell her I got the same note. I'll wait for your response. I – I didn't think anything about the note, Walker. I just…I just didn't put any credence to it."

"Casey, could we have missed something? Could Chuck still be…alive?"

"Check with Beckman. She'll contact me if she needs my side of it."

Secure Residential Apartments
Washington, DC

General Diane Beckman stared at the note taped to the refrigerator door in the kitchen of the apartment she kept in DC for crises and overnight meetings.

'Bartowski Lives!'

Her cell phone chirped and she answered automatically. "Beckman, secure." She didn't check the caller ID. She was totally stunned.

"General, this is Agent Emily Tucker. Ma'am, both Major Casey and I have received notes saying…"

"'Bartowski Lives', right? I'm looking at one taped to the refrigerator door of my DC apartment. How did you and Casey receive yours?"

"Casey's still in Burbank. His was taped to the steering wheel of his truck during broad daylight a few days ago. He thought it was one of the Buy More guys just having some fun at his expense so he just blew it off. I got mine intra-agency mail from Burbank, California an hour ago. I called him and he confirmed his note."

"I haven't been to this apartment in the past week so I can't really say when mine was 'delivered' but they defeated some of the best security in the business to get in here, not to mention into the building itself."

"General, could it…could it be true? Could Bartowski still be alive and a prisoner some place? Could it be true?"

Beckman noted the hope that bled through Tucker's words – and the longing. So, someone was compromised? Big deal. There was more at stake here than either Casey or Tucker knew.

"Agent Tucker, you service to your country is appreciated but not longer required. Agent Walker, pack your bags and prepare for a long-term assignment with the NSA. Casey is coming back on active duty and the three of us will meet in my office in a few days to discuss this and make plans. I'll take care of the transfer. You get to DC ASAP! Contact my Chief of Staff for instructions and a schedule. I'll notify Mr. Casey of his recall to active duty."

APR