A/N: Sorry it's been awhile since I've last posted. You can blame the fact that I'm no longer sick which means I'm free to go out again. It was nice to get some fresh air. Anyway, thanks to everyone who left reviews, and for those who didn't, I shake my finger in your general direction. Kidding! Or am I…? ;-)
Another 'thank you' goes out to Frea O'Scanlin, the author of one of my favorite FFs, What Fates Impose, for even mentioning my story in her author's note. I cried tears of joy when I saw that.
And a BIG "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE THE BEST! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR HELPING ME (times a million more exclamation points)!" for mxpw for beta-ing this chapter. Without him, and his help, you all would probably be scratching your heads by the end of the chapter, and asking yourselves, "Is 22 on drugs?"
And lastly, thanks to everyone who are investing their time into this story! You guys are so awesome that you put Devon to shame!
September 30, 2007
Langman Electronic Security Basement—aka—Castle
After lacing up her combat boots, Sarah inspected the chamber of her trusty Smith & Wesson before she holstered it. She grabbed a couple extra magazines, and tucked them into the pouches on her vest.
"Is your head on straight?" Casey asked, clicking on the safety of his Sig Sauer.
"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, tying her hair up in a loose bun. Without waiting for a response, Sarah headed up the stairs to meet the rest of the tactical support.
Casey followed. "Because you threw a bitch fit earlier, and you almost killed President Reagan," he said, "And that statue cost a lot…had to get that sucker custom made."
"Reagan died three years ago," she snapped, causing Casey to growl angrily. Okay, that was uncalled; she knew. Reagan's death was a sore spot for good ol' Major Casey. "I'm sorry. Just in a mood."
"Well, get your head out of your ass," said Casey, jumping into a large van with their tactical support already waiting.
"Will do, sir," said Sarah, rolling her eyes as she slammed the door shut.
She settled into the seat closest to the door in time to feel the van jolting forward. Casey spread out the satellite pictures of the docks that Beckman and Graham had sent to them about an hour ago. The operatives all leaned forward as Casey began to explain where they were to be stationed, what their objectives were, and all the other mission specs that Sarah already knew by heart.
So as the truck rolled and bumped along the road, Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. She was still frustrated about the lack of a kiss goodbye from Chuck. But Chuck was a shy guy. He always has been. But she figured that being a billionaire would increase his confidence.
She desperately wanted to hit something. She looked over at the operative sitting beside her, tempted to just give the kid a hard right hook to his face. Then she remembered that she was going to be out of the van soon, and she would be able to kick some Fulcrum ass. Maybe that masked freak's ass too. It would be nice to catch Osiris—
If you turn in Osiris, then you would have to leave, her mind reminded her. Then you wouldn't be able to see Chuck again.
Touché, brain, Sarah thought. I could just give him a swift kick to the sack then.
"Atta girl…" she mumbled to herself, smiling.
As she walked as silently as she was able in combat boots, Sarah listened for any sign of disturbance. So far, the only thing she could hear were the gentle waves crashing against the concrete and the sounds of distant gunshots. It seemed as though everyone was in the shit except for her.
Sarah peeked behind a large, faded green storage container. When she saw a group of about five Fulcrum operatives, she held up a fist to halt the two other operatives behind her. She turned, ready to signal her them, but before she could sign anything, a bullet flew through the man on her right. Not even a second later, the operative next to him fell to the ground, and Sarah heard two faint echoes of gunshots coming from the cranes.
Cursing herself for not even having the thought to check the cranes, she grabbed an M4 carbine off one of the dead agents, and ran out from behind the container. The operatives were ready for her, but she was faster than them. She fired five three-round bursts, and saw five men falling backwards. On instinct, she sprinted as quickly as she could carry herself to the concrete pillar five yards in front of her. When she dove behind the pillar, a bullet ricocheted off the ground where she had been standing a millisecond before.
She brought her watch up to her mouth. "Casey, we've got a sniper up on one of the cranes," she said. Casey didn't respond. "Casey, do you copy?" She pressed the earwig deeper into her ear, and she heard a faint static. "Damn it!" she cried aloud. Fulcrum must have cut off all communication devices.
She dug a mirror from her pocket, and held it out to the side of the pillar to check out the crane. It was a good 250 to 300 yards away. But there was no sign of the sniper. She tilted the mirror a little to the left, and that's when she saw him. The sniper was crouched at the base of the crane. Sarah toggled the switch on her M4 from semi-automatic to automatic. She exhaled a breath. Peeking out from behind the pillar, she whipped her head back in time to dodge another bullet. She dropped down to a knee, leaned over to the side of the pillar, and began to fire the rifle in the direction of the sniper. She kept firing until the loud bang from the bullets stopped, and the only sound that emitted from the carbine was a dull click. She had emptied the magazine, and she brought her body back behind the pillar, hoping that she had shot the sniper.
"Looks like you got him," called a voice from her left, answering her silent question. Sarah took her pistol out of the holster, and aimed at the direction of the deep, gravelly, almost Clint Eastwood-like voice. "Yeah, you definitely got him."
A man walked out of the shadows, and stepped up to Sarah with both his arms above his head. The first thing she noticed was that he wasn't dressed in field gear. Instead, he was dressed in a black pair of slacks, and a raincoat. Her eyes moved up to his face, and she saw that he was wearing a black phantom mask. It was Osiris.
"Don't come any closer, or I will drop you!" He stopped next to a container, and she could see him smiling a tight lipped smile. "Who are you? Fulcrum? Ring?"
"I'm Osiris," he replied, still smiling in a way that made Sarah want to shoot his ass down. "And you're Special Agent Sarah Walker of the CIA."
"How do you know who I am?" She cocked her gun, and aimed it at the masked freak's head. He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Sarah heard the thudding sounds of footsteps coming closer.
"Sonar," Osiris mumbled. Two pearly white lenses dropped from the slits of his mask's eyes. Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Off," he mumbled again. "There are about a dozen Fulcrum agents heading this way from the north. You should run. I'll distract them."
Sarah was about to tell Osiris that there was no way she was going to let him leave, but he was already climbing to the top of a container, and was out of sight. The footsteps grew louder behind Sarah. She knew she should run, but she just could not say no to a gun fight. She crouched behind the pillar once more, and dug out three magazines, placing them on the ground in front of her to make for a faster reload.
Sarah peeked her head out from behind the pillar, her gun drawn out in front of her, in time to see a blinding white flash. A high pitched noise rang in her ears, although she was just barely out of the range of the stun grenade. Had she been any closer, she would have been temporarily blind and deaf.
Ignoring the ringing in her ears, Sarah looked out from behind the pillar once more to see Osiris leaping off a container and onto a group of stunned Fulcrum operatives. Sarah watched as Osiris quickly got up to his feet and aimed precise kicks and punches to the other operatives around him. He was fast, she noticed, as he ducked punches. He sent roundhouse kicks, and right hooks all about. There were spinning heel kicks and haymakers flying every which way. There were even some knees to the faces, and some elbows to the throats. Finally, she saw him flicking his wrists, and two pistols sprang out from under the sleeves of his coat. He held his arms out to his side, like helicopter blades, and spun around in a circle while firing tranquilizer darts. Soon, all of the operatives around him were on the ground.
Osiris turned in Sarah's direction, grinning. There was something familiar about that grin, but before she could put a finger on it, the grin faded.
"Behind you!"
Sarah, still crouched, turned in time to see a man lunging toward her with a knife. By instinct, she double tapped the trigger to her pistol. Two rounds hit him square in the chest. Sarah fired another round to his head. The man crumpled down. The head shot wasn't to ensure that the man was dead. Sarah always fired into her victim's faces so that she wouldn't have to see them. She didn't need even more nightmares of the surprised faces of the people she'd killed.
"You okay?" Osiris asked from behind her. She turned around to see he had offered her his hand, but being as stubborn as she was, Sarah quickly scrambled to her feet, and aimed her gun at his head. Osiris held up his hands. "You better save your bullets."
"Why would I do that?"
"There were twelve guys. I only took out ten," he replied, looking around. "You took out one. Which means there's another Fulcrum agent out here…just have to figure out where he is…"
"Why don't you use your sonar thing?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"I forgot about that," Osiris mumbled, turning to Sarah. "It's new, and…never mind." He brought his left arm up to his mouth and mumbled, "Sonar."
Once again, the white lenses dropped from underneath the mask. Sarah watched as Osiris gazed around.
"Do you see anything?" she asked, looking around the docks as well.
"I think…" He shot his head up, looking behind Sarah. "Watch out!"
She felt his fingers wrap tightly around her arm. Then there was a yank, and she felt herself being pulled toward him. He wrapped his arms around her body, and turned both of them around. A loud gunshot echoed off the containers all around them, and she was thrown backwards. Osiris landed on top of her, groaning in pain.
Sarah pushed him off. She quickly sat up, and fired three rounds in the direction of the previous gunshot. When she heard the thud of a body hitting the ground, Sarah turned back to Osiris.
As Sarah lifted herself back up to her feet, Osiris began to cough.
"God that hurt," he groaned, getting gingerly to his feet. When he straightened up, she heard a clang of metal as the bullet that had hit him bounced on the ground.
She wanted to ask if he was okay. It was the least she could do. The freak did just save her life. But the thing was, unless this freak explained himself, he was considered her mark. Sarah knew what she should do. She should shoot him in the head, and be done with it. But as Osiris bent backwards to pop his back, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"You're going to have to come with me," she said, reaching behind for handcuffs. "I'm going to have to bring you in."
"Afraid I can't let you do that, Agent Walker," he said softly. "I have a job to do. You should get out of here. There could be more Fulcrum agents."
"The thing is, I have orders," Sarah said, bringing her gun up, aiming it at Osiris's head. "I could either bring you in, or I could kill you."
"You follow orders often?"
"Yep," she replied.
"Hmm…" he mused. "Well, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
The words barely made it out of her mouth, before she saw Osiris's eyelids fluttering. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her forward. She felt at least seven quick, sharp prods along her spine. Her arms began to feel heavy, and her gun slid unwillingly through her fingers. Her legs were shaking as though they were carrying 500 pounds.
"What…what did you do to me?" she mumbled as she began to fall back. Osiris caught her before she hit the ground.
"Pinched a couple of nerves on your spine," he replied, lifting her up. "You're temporarily paralyzed. It should go away in about thirty minutes."
"You…fu-uhk-uhr…" Sarah slurred. Her lips felt as though they weighed thirty pounds. Osiris began to carry her away.
"I said I was sorry," he stated. "I'm taking you back to your van. It's too dangerous for you out here."
"I…cahn tekk air of mah self."
"I know. But seeing as you can't move, I don't think it would be very nice of me to leave you out here."
Sarah's whole body was now numb. She couldn't say or do anything. Osiris walked quickly, pausing every now and then to look around for more agents. Sarah's head dropped at an odd angle, and Osiris hitched her up. She watched as they weaved through all of the metal containers, and soon enough, she could see the van that she had arrived in. Osiris gently put her down on the ground as he pulled the back doors open. Again, he lifted her, and laid her down on the barely cushioned benches.
"You're going to be fine," said Osiris softly. "I promise."
The next thing she heard was the slamming of the first door as Osiris left. When the second door slammed, all she could see was darkness as all light was omitted from the van.
She's walking down the cobbled street, passing by old cafes and pubs. When she turns the corner, she sees her mark, a young brunette woman. She freezes. She can feel the cold metal of her gun, tucked safely in her raincoat, but she can't bring herself to use it. Instead, she pauses, for a split second, and exhales as she continues to walk. She takes a deep breath, and grips onto the handle of her gun tightly. Just as she's about to open fire, her mark drops something: a piece of jewelry. She just can't shoot her. Not when she's crouching on the ground. But when she looks in a rearview mirror of an old BMW, she sees her mark reaching for something in her purse. Without hesitating, Sarah pulls her gun out of her pocket, and fires a round into the woman's chest.
The only thing is that this isn't the same woman that she had just seen a second ago. This woman is blonde, nearly identical to Sarah except for her eyes. This doppelganger has green eyes, and her hair is a darker shade of blonde than Sarah's.
Sarah's mouth falls open. Her heart is racing and beating rapidly against her ribcage. She tries to breathe as the old architecture and cobbled streets begins to fade away, revealing hockey sticks, soccer balls, golf equipment, ski equipment, and football gear. She's no longer in Paris. She's in her parents' old sporting goods store.
Sarah looks back to the blonde woman, gasping for breath.
"Sarah, sweetie," the woman gasps, trying to hide the fear from her eyes. "It's going to be okay."
"Mom!" Sarah cries, trying to reach for her mother as the life in Dana Walker's eyes begins to fade.
October 1, 2007
Sarah's eyes shot open as she woke up with a start. Sweat dripped down her face as she took deep breaths to calm her startled heart. It was always the same dream night after night. Her red test in France—the second worst day of her life—combined with the first—the day she watched the life disappear in her mother's eyes.
Kicking the blankets off her, Sarah rolled out of bed. She walked up to the vanity, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was almost translucent, as the sweat drops slid down.
Sarah sat down in front of the vanity, her head resting in her hands. She exhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes. This was her morning routine. Sarah would take a few minutes every morning to reflect on her life; to feel sorry for herself. She would wonder how her life would have turned out if the robber never came into her parents' store. Her mother would have lived. If Dana never got shot that day, then Sarah and her father would have never gotten into a life of conning.
Instead, she would have grown up with a normal life. She would have grown up with Chuck. Who knew what would have happened to them if they grew up together? They could have drifted apart. Maybe they would still be friends to this day? Maybe something more—?
Sarah took in another breath, and remembered the day she was recruited into the CIA. She was driving home from San Francisco; sad that she had to leave Chuck again, but happy that she was able to even see him. That stupid Chumbawumba song came on the radio, and she laughed happily, remembering how Chuck had bounced excitedly to the beat of the song after they had snuck out of their hotel for the first time. Hearing that song then had made her forget that she was driving back to a distorted life of conning.
But as she had approached her house, there were cop cars parked outside. When she parked her car, she saw her father being escorted out by the police. Just like that, her father was out of her life. She ran away as quickly as she could to the park just a few blocks away. Sprinting, as she wove around playground structures and children playing soccer or catch, to the woods behind the park where her father had left her money in case he ever got caught.
Then Langston Graham and the CIA entered her life. Feeling as though she had to pay for her and her father's sins, Sarah joined the CIA. But it wasn't like she had any other choice. It was either join the CIA or go to jail.
For years, she focused on her training. For years, the agency molded her into becoming a spy. They thought they were able to shed her of her emotions. They believed that they had turned her into a cold hearted spy. But that was just another one of Sarah's cons.
What they didn't know, and would never know, is that every night before she fell asleep, and every morning when she woke up, Sarah always thought about the normal life that she wanted, and maybe needed, but knew she could never have.
The knock on her door snapped her away from her brooding. Sarah pulled back a drawer, and grabbed her pistol.
"Yeah?" she called through the door, her gun at the ready.
"It's Casey," the gruff voice replied. Sarah placed her gun back into the drawer, and made her way to unlock the door.
"What's up?" she asked when she opened the door, revealing Casey.
"Briefing with Graham and Beckman in thirty," he replied. "Prepare to get your ass chewed out for letting the masked freak escape."
Sarah huffed out a breath. It's not like she had asked Osiris to give her the world's craziest spinal tap and briefly paralyze her.
"Fine, I'll be ready in twenty," she said, rolling her eyes.
She slammed the door and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
March, 1998
Sarah and Chuck sat on the hood of her car, leaning back against the windshield. As there were too many lights in San Francisco, it was nearly impossible to see any of the stars; so instead, they gazed up at a starless sky. The mix tape that he had made her played softly from her stereo system. Sonic Youth's cover version of Superstar was playing, and she bobbed her head to the slow tune.
"Do you…" Chuck began, clearing his throat. "Do you regret leaving Encino? I mean, I know you didn't have much of a choice, but do you miss it?"
"Every day," she replied, looking over at Chuck who had propped himself up on an elbow. "I miss my old life."
"Why did your dad want to leave?"
Sarah shrugged. "He never really talked to me about it. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because everything there reminded him of my mom. I can see why he wanted to leave, but sometimes…sometimes I hate him for it."
"But he cares about you—"
"Yeah, I know." Ahe nodded. She did know. Yeah, there was that time when she got steamrolled by the armored truck, but her father wouldn't intentionally let anything happen to her. "But sometimes, when I can't sleep, I just wonder about things."
"Like what?"
"I don't know…the normal life, I guess?" she replied. "My dad and I are constantly moving around the country. I went to a lot of different schools, but they always had one thing in common: other kids with their groups of friends, and then me…the kid who sits in the back corner of the cafeteria."
"If we didn't know each other, and you went to my school, I would sit with you…" Chuck said softly.
"Oh yeah?"
"Definitely," Chuck replied, grinning. "We could swap sandwiches. I'd probably bring a good ol' turkey and Swiss with a dab of honey Dijon."
"What do you think I'd bring?" Sarah smiled.
He looked up to the right in concentration. "You would probably bring…a salami, black ham, and provolone, with light mayo. If you did make the trade, I would probably be your best friend."
"So you're saying that your friendship can be bought with food?"
"Definitely. It makes me wonder how we became friends when we were younger," said Chuck. "I bet you gave me a cookie or a cupcake or something."
Sarah giggled.
"Actually, my mom told me the story a long time ago," she said. "Apparently I threw a ball at your head, and made you cry. Then I felt bad, so I gave you a kiss on your forehead, but that made you cry even harder, so I started to cry."
"Aw…bonding over tears…" Chuck laughed. "But now, I'm hungry—" He looked at his calculator watch that always made Sarah have to hold in her laughter whenever she saw it. "And it's way too late for anything to be open."
"I'm sure we could find some place that's open."
"In the mood for a sandwich…I doubt Subway would be open this late." Chuck shrugged. "Oh well…we always have the complimentary 'continental' breakfast bar to look forward to."
"What's up with the air quotes?" Sarah asked, chuckling.
"I just don't get why they call it 'continental,'" Chuck replied, grinning. "When I hear that word, I think of something foreign. The most foreign, or whatever, breakfast item they have is English muffins."
"Such a dork," she teased.
"I'm just passionate about food is all," he defended.
"I know you are. So how did this talk about food come up again?"
"Um…"
"Oh…" Sarah remembered now.
"Yeah…but anyway…" Chuck cleared his throat. "Do you think we would still be friends?"
"What?"
"If you didn't leave."
"Of course we would be." Sarah couldn't imagine what would ever come between them that would be able shatter their friendship. "I mean, we're still friends, right?"
"Right…I think we always will be," Chuck said with a smile.
October 1, 2007
Precisely twenty minutes later, Sarah pulled her hair back into a simple pony tail, and began putting on some light make up. Once she was done, she made her way out of her penthouse and down the hall to where Casey's penthouse was located. She had mentally prepared herself for getting her ass chewed out by Graham and Beckman.
Without knocking, Sarah walked into Casey's penthouse to find him digging into a burnt Hot Pocket, Casey's self-proclaimed "breakfast of champions."
"How's the back?" His voice was muffled on account of his mouth being full of whatever the hell they put in Hot Pockets these days.
"A little bruised," she replied, fixing a cup of coffee. "But other than that, it's fine."
"Wonder where the freak learned that move," said Casey. "I heard rumors about it from my old sensei, but supposedly, it's a lost method."
Sarah shrugged, and sat across from her partner. She sipped her coffee in silence as Casey enjoyed his Hot Pocket in silence. Once Casey had taken his last bite, a familiar beep echoed in the room. Sarah got up off her chair, and she and Casey made their way into the living room to see the familiar faces of Graham and Beckman scowling back at them. As per usual, Beckman began their debriefing without preamble.
"While you were unable to apprehend Osiris, I am pleased to inform you that Osiris was unable to attain Fulcrum's intel," the General said. "However, I regret to inform you that Fulcrum has moved their headquarters, and we don't know where."
"I apologize, General," said Sarah. Beckman ignored her.
"But we can easily find out," Beckman continued. She pressed a button on her keyboard and two pictures of men popped up on the screen—a middle aged round-faced man with short, graying hair and a younger man, possibly in his mid to late twenty's, with longer, brown hair that was tied back. "The Demetrios family. Yari Demetrios owns the shipping lanes that Fulcrum used last night to ship out their data drives. We believe that you will be able to find out where exactly Fulcrum shipped them by using his son, Stavros. But more on that later."
"Agent Walker," said Graham. "Yesterday, you asked us to run a background check on a…" Graham filed through a folder, "Jill Roberts, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Sarah replied.
"Well, it seems that Dr. Roberts is a Fulcrum operative," said Graham. Sarah swallowed a lump down her throat. "They recruited her out of Stanford to develop bio-chemical weapons for them. Fortunately, she has yet to be successful."
Sarah nodded.
"However, she works on the main campus of Legends Enterprises," said Beckman. "And we, the NSA and the CIA, along with the United States military have a special contract with Legends. They provide the satellites that we use for cellular telecommunications. We believe that due to the history that Dr. Roberts and Legends CEO, Charles Bartowski, share, Fulcrum planted Dr. Roberts inside LE's the pharmaceutical department to get close to Mr. Bartowski."
"But why—?"
"Mr. Bartowski, General Beckman, and I, are the only people that know the access codes to the satellites," Graham said. "The deal we made was kept quiet; under the radar so that the Ring and Fulcrum wouldn't be able to tap into our lines. To make it seem inconspicuous, we also had him sign a deal with the military to develop software and to provide them with a cellular telecommunication network. That's one of the reasons why his company is so successful.
"However, we believe that Fulcrum and the Ring know about our satellites, and that was most likely the reason why Dr. Roberts was planted inside Legends. We believe she is there to try and get the access codes from Mr. Bartowski."
"We sent out two agents to apprehend Dr. Roberts last night," said Beckman. "Unfortunately, she had an escape plan ready, and we were unable to apprehend her. And that's where you and Major Casey come in."
"Want us to look for Dr. Roberts?" Casey asked. Beckman shook her head.
"We want you to be Mr. Bartowski's handlers," said Graham. At his words, Sarah choked on a bit of spit. Casey pounded his palm into her back. "He now needs around the clock protection."
"Excuse me? You want us to be Chu—Mr. Bartowski's handlers?" she clarified. Graham nodded.
"You and Mr. Bartowski have history, am I correct?"
"We were friends when we were children," Sarah replied, her heart racing.
She did not want Chuck to know she was a spy. She didn't want him to know that she had lied to him about what she did for a living. All she wanted to do was arrest Jill. Okay, she wanted to get Jill out of the picture, and show Chuck that his pretty, egghead, ex-girlfriend was a treasonous, scumbag whore. And then maybe she could have offered him comfort. Yeah, it was crazy, and borderline stalkerish, but Sarah remembered the way that Jill had looked at Chuck. All was fair…
"And the two of you have spent some time together since you arrived in Burbank, yes?"
"Yes, sir, but—"
"Then he has already developed some trust in you," said Graham. "We need you to do this because Jill Roberts got away. There is a chance that Fulcrum will either try to or has already planted more of their agents inside LE. You, Major Casey, and Agent Hansen need to protect Mr. Bartowski."
"Surely there's another way," Sarah tried to reason.
"It's either that, or we let Fulcrum torture him for the code, and let them kill him when they realize that he gave them the wrong code," said Beckman. Sarah's heart skipped a beat "We informed Mr. Bartowski of this not ten minutes ago. We changed the access code to the satellites, and now, the Director and I are the only people who know it. However, Mr. Bartowski did us a great service by constructing and sending the satellites out. Without him, we wouldn't have been able to find out who Fulcrum and the Ring have in our agencies. We feel that we should offer him protection."
"10-4," said Casey, nodding. "So we protect Bartowski for how long?"
"Until you either capture or kill Osiris," said Graham. "Then we'll send in new agents to take your places."
"Which brings us to your covers," said Beckman. "At the moment, Agent Hansen is flying into Los Angeles, and starting tomorrow, she will be Mr. Bartowski's executive assistant. Agent Walker, you will be working in the finance department, and you will be required to find out if there is any more Fulcrum or Ring agents working at the corporate office. That should keep you busy for several weeks."
Sarah didn't respond. She hated this assignment already. All she could see was the look of betrayal on Chuck's face.
"And Major Casey," Beckman continued. "You will be—"
"Head of security at Legends?" he guessed, rolling his eyes.
"Actually, no," replied Graham, a small smirk forming on his face. "You will be Mr. Bartowski's butler."
This time, it was Casey's turn to cough in surprise. Despite Sarah's objection to this assignment, she couldn't help but let out a chuckle as she imagined Casey in a long-tailed tuxedo.
"Excuse me?" Casey choked.
"Someone needs to monitor Mr. Bartowski in his private residence and make sure he's safe," said Beckman.
"Hansen can be his maid then!" Casey argued.
"No," said Graham. "You know how Agent Hansen operates. She's too unpredictable to be put in such close proximity to Mr. Bartowski."
Sarah nodded in agreement.
"Then kick one of his neighbor's out and I can move in next door! Monitor him from there!"
"Mr. Bartowski lives in an estate. His closest neighbor is a mile away," said Beckman sternly. "Major, this is your assignment. It's either this or you come back to Washington and continue to train new recruits. Do you accept this assignment?"
Casey glared down at the ground. "I accept, ma'am," he grunted.
Graham turned back to Sarah, leaving her to wonder what else they could possibly throw at her.
"Walker, you're going to have to embark in a cover relationship with Mr. Bartowski," he said. "He's expected to attend a lot of parties and conventions. You'll go with him as his girlfriend. As the two of you shared a childhood friendship, we trust that the people around you will accept your relationship. They'll probably even think it to be a romantic story."
Sarah clenched her jaw. She really loathed this assignment. A fake relationship with Chuck? Having to appear as if they were a happy couple when in reality they're not even a real couple?
"Which brings us back to the Demetrios family," said Beckman. "With Mr. Bartowski's status as CEO of one of the fastest growing companies in the world, we can use him to get us access to the Demetrios family's shipping business."
Sarah and Casey just stared blankly up at the screen.
"Stavros Demetrios owns and operates a number of LA nightclubs," Beckman explained. "He's wanted to build a new nightclub for awhile now, and he's looking for investors. We want you, Agent Walker, to take Mr. Bartowski to Club Aries tomorrow, and have Mr. Bartowski act as if he wants to invest in the new club. Set up a meeting with Stavros at his office for the next day. His office is located on the same pier from last night. From there, you will be able to copy their network database using a PFI230 that Agent Hansen is bringing."
"Ma'am, is it safe to bring Chuck along?" Sarah asked. "Wouldn't it be safer for him to—?"
"It is necessary that you bring Mr. Bartowski along," said Graham, answering for Beckman. "That way, the Demetrios family won't suspect anything. Agents Casey and Hansen will provide backup should anything go wrong. Mr. Bartowski will be safe, so you just keep your eyes on the prize, Walker."
It was nearly impossible for Sarah not to glare at her superiors, but miraculously, she was able to maintain her stoic expression. "Yes, sir," she grumbled.
"Once you extract the data, you should be able to find which dock Fulcrum sent their data to," said Beckman. "That way, we'll be able to know where Osiris will most likely strike next."
"What happens when we spot Osiris?" Casey asked.
"Either you, Walker, or Hansen stay behind with Mr. Bartowski. And two of you will go after him," Beckman replied.
"Understood." Casey seemed satisfied, if not determined. Sarah knew what he was thinking. He wanted to kill Osiris to get this assignment over with.
"And Major Casey, Agent Walker?" Graham started. "We highly doubt it would ever come down to this, but if Mr. Bartowski is compromised for any reason, we may have to burn him; hide him in a bunker. I trust the two of you will be able to comply to that order?"
"Gladly," Casey snarled.
No, Sarah wanted to reply.
"Yes, sir," Sarah lied, her jaw clenching.
"Very well," said Beckman. "Mr. Bartowski has been notified, and he'll be arriving shortly. Meeting adjourned."
The screen Sarah had been staring at for the last ten minutes blinked black. Once it did, Sarah kicked the leg off of a side table by Casey's couch, causing one of his bonsai plants that had been resting on the table to topple down.
"Damn it, Walker!" Casey growled, gingerly picking the plant up. "If you need to take out your frustrations, then take it out on your own shit!"
Sarah didn't respond. She plopped herself down onto Casey's couch, and crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
"I don't know why you're so pissy anyway," said Casey. "If you ask me, I think I got the shit end of the stick. Having to be a butler…it's a damn good thing I love my country."
"No," said Sarah, glaring at Casey. "I got the shit end of the stick, Casey. I'm the one that actually has something to lose. Chuck's the only…the only person that I can think back to remind me of who I really am. If he gets involved with this, then—"
"This is the life we chose, Walker." Casey carried the plant away to his dining room, most likely to inspect it for possible injuries. "It's a shitty one, but at the end of the day, the people that we cared about from before, they're safe. That's all that matters."
"I'm going outside to wait for Chuck."
"You do that, Walker," said Casey. "You owe me thirty bucks for a new bonsai tree."
Ignoring Casey, Sarah walked out of his room, and made her way down to the parking lot. When she stepped outside, she sat down on the curb, and stared out passed the nearly empty lot, save for her Porsche and Casey's Crown Victoria, and over to the entrance.
The thing that upset Sarah the most was the fact that Chuck was the only person in her life that had nothing to do with the spy life. Over the years, she would read about Chuck and how quickly his company grew—how successful he turned out to be—and she would be happy. There were times, as silly as it sounded, where she thought she had something to fall back on after her career as a spy was over. She imagined herself meeting up with Chuck sometime in the far future. Of course, Chuck would be married to some beautiful woman and he'd probably have a bunch of cute, curly haired kids, but she at least took a little comfort in the fact that she would have someone…normal in her life after her spy life was over.
But now, Chuck was a part of it, and who knew how he'd react? It's as if all of the wishful thoughts she had were slowly fading away. As if the cruel bastard that was life was taunting her, telling her that everyone she meets, everything she touches are destined to be tainted by her.
Now she understood what a fool she had been for the last two days. How she had been acting like a giddy teenager around Chuck, and she scolded herself over her silly crush. Chuck was a billionaire. He could have any woman he wanted. Why the hell would he want someone like her? Especially now that he knew what she did for a living? This thing—these feelings for Chuck—it had to stop. She has to be professional. The faster she shoots Osiris in the head, the faster she can leave LA, and be gone from ruining Chuck's life.
The thoughts soon dissipated when she looked across the lot to see Chuck walking toward her. He looked…awful. Even from about twenty yards away, she could see the dark shadows under his eyes. When he got closer, she saw that his eyes were bloodshot, and his lower face was covered in stubble. Yet, somehow, the cold hearted spy that she had been determined to become, disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.
"Oh, Chuck," she said, getting up from the curb. "Are you okay?"
He looked at her with a confused expression on his face.
"It looks like you haven't gotten any sleep."
"Oh…yeah, I had to go to a launch party," he replied, scratching his head. "Uh…when I got in this morning, I got a call from…your bosses, I guess? They're your bosses, right?"
"Yeah…listen, Chuck, I'm so—"
"Its fine," he said, giving her a tired smile. "I knew that something like this could happen when I signed the contract."
"No, I'm sorry that I lied to you," she said, ignoring Chuck's last statement. "You know…about being…what I am."
"I already knew, Sarah," said Chuck. "I should be the one apologizing…"
Sarah raised an eyebrow up at Chuck. "You knew? How?"
"Bryce Larkin, well, he goes by Bruce Leonard now, told me. Only thing is, you should keep that on the down low. I've seen your bosses and they give me the willies. I don't wanna get Bryce in trouble, you know?"
"He…he told you?" she stammered. "Why? When?"
"After his car accident," Chuck replied, leaving Sarah confused for a second. Then she remembered. "He works as an accountant at my company, and well, yeah. He told me that you asked him a long time ago if he knew who I was, and he was wondering why you would ask…so he told me that you work for the CIA."
"Oh." Well, this wasn't going as badly as Sarah thought it would.
"It's pretty cool that you're a spy," he continued, grinning now. "I always knew you'd be a bad ass."
"It's not like that, Chuck," Sarah said, shaking her head. "It's actually…well, sometimes it's fun, but for the most part—actually, I shouldn't be telling you this."
He chuckled. "Yeah, but Sarah? You have nothing to be sorry for. You had to lie about what you do, it's part of the job, I know."
"Yeah…I hate that part," she mumbled, kicking a loose pebble on the ground. "Does Ellie know?"
"No, I never told her," he replied.
Sarah nodded, but she didn't say anything.
"So…cover relationship, huh?" Chuck asked. "How does that work?"
"Just like how it sounds," said Sarah, a hint of sadness in her voice. "We appear like a normal, happy couple in public, but when…when we're not around other people.…"
"It's over?" Chuck asked.
"Pretty much."
"That sucks," he sighed.
You have no idea, Chuck, she thought to herself.
"At least I get a butler out of it," he joked.
Sarah laughed. "Not sure you should be happy about that."
Chuck's face fell. "What do you mean?"
"Well, uh…your butler, Casey? He's…he's a happy person…but he doesn't really show it."
"Repressed, huh?" Chuck guessed.
"Yeah, so he, you know, he's grumpy," said Sarah.
Chuck shrugged. "He won't have to do much," he said. "Devon told me that he's going to ask Ellie to marry him, so Ellie's going to move out soon."
"Devon?"
"Oh, he's an awesome guy," Chuck said with a smile.
"Oh, well, that's good for Ellie," said Sarah. "And Casey should be happy knowing that he won't have to do much."
"All I ask from his is a British accent."
Sarah giggled. "Probably won't happen." Chuck snapped his fingers. "So you're okay with this, Chuck?"
"Not really," he replied, shrugging. "I mean, constant surveillance, you know? It doesn't sound like fun, but I was warned something like this would happen when I signed the contract with the government. Hopefully, it won't take you guys too long to find the people who are after me."
"We'll do our best," she promised. "C'mon, we should go upstairs. Casey and I need to debrief you."
"Dirty," he chuckled as he followed Sarah into the building. "Take me out to a nice dinner, at least!"
She giggled, and smacked him playfully on his shoulder. He pressed the button for the elevator, and leaned his back against the wall.
"So, uh…speaking of dinners," he said shyly. "I did say that I'd take you out tonight to celebrate your new job, and ironically, you just started your new job today, so…do you…maybe still want to go?"
She couldn't stop the smile or the blush from spreading over her face. "Okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Cool…it should be good," Chuck said, blushing slightly. "For the cover, I mean."
Sarah felt her heart drop. Already he was thinking about the cover.
"Definitely," she replied, stepping into the elevator. "Good for the cover."
"Yeah, you know, apart from the fake relationship, this is almost like middle school," he remarked. "You know, you protecting me from bullies."
"Sure," she sighed. Her new, most hated word was now, 'fake,' she decided.
She led Chuck over to Casey's room, but Casey was already standing outside with a terrible scowl on his face. He approached Chuck, and grabbed him roughly by the shirt.
"Whoa!"
"Casey!" Sarah cried, trying to pry the giant's hands off Chuck. Casey paid no mind.
"First things first, Bartowski," he growled. "Don't expect me to call you 'Master Charles' or 'Master Bartowski.' Second, for breakfast, I'll only make you and your sister toast and coffee. You two are on your own for lunch and dinner. Lastly, if you purposely make a mess for me to clean up, I will end you."
"Nice to meet you too," said Chuck, rolling his eyes at Sarah as Casey released him. "And relax, my sister's going to move out in the next week or so. It all depends on when her boyfriend proposes. So you won't have to do anything once she leaves. Plus, she likes to take care of things herself."
"Good," Casey spat, shoving Chuck into the room. "Now, sit. We have to debrief you."
Sarah stifled her giggling when she saw Chuck struggling to keep himself from saying a joke.
Nine Hours Ago
Orion's Den
Chuck pulled the mask off his face, ignoring the accusing glares from his father and Bryce.
"Sonar works fine," he said, tossing the mask onto the table.
"How come you didn't bring back the hard drives, Charles?" asked Stephen. "You knew the container number. You should have been out of there in ten minutes at the most."
"It was Sarah, Dad," Chuck said. "She was in trouble. I couldn't just…leave her."
"Sarah's a trained CIA agent," said Bryce. "She would have been able to handle that situation."
"She almost got killed twice," Chuck countered. "If I wasn't there, she would have died."
"You can't make this personal—" Stephen began before Chuck cut him off.
"Don't even give me that crap, Dad," said Chuck, rolling his sore shoulder that had gotten shot. "Correct me if I'm wrong, you're doing this for Mom, right?"
Stephen opened his mouth to retort, but Bryce interjected first. "We can get to the family drama later, guys. Orion, we have bigger problems, remember?"
"What do you mean, 'bigger problems?'" asked Chuck.
"Jill's been made as Fulcrum," Bryce replied. "The CIA just tried to extract her at her apartment, but she got away. She's on her way here right now."
"How did I know that was going to happen?" he remarked dryly. At the very least, he was glad that Jill had been able to get away. However, that didn't stop him from being angry with himself for telling Sarah that Jill worked at his company earlier that day. "What happened?
"Sarah called in a background check on her when she saw her at the coffee shop earlier," said Stephen.
Chuck groaned, and laid his head down on the table. "Damn it!"
"Graham and Beckman are going to assign Sarah, Carina, and Casey to be your handlers in the morning," said Bryce.
Chuck's head shot up. "Why?"
"They think Fulcrum's after the satellite code," he replied. "And they want to make sure that you're safe from them."
"So what do I do now? Run?"
Stephen shook his head. "We still need the satellite for the Intersect updates, and if you run, the CIA will probably destroy the satellites or send new ones to be sure that they weren't compromised."
"What about the mission—?"
"Well, from what we've heard, it sounds like Beckman and Graham just want to make sure nobody else at your company is Fulcrum," said Stephen. "They're going to plant Sarah in the finance department, and she'll read over all of your employee's files. Once they see that you don't have any more Fulcrum agents in the company, they'll lessen your surveillance."
"So I just go along with it?" Chuck asked.
"Do you think you can, buddy?" asked Bryce.
Chuck shrugged. "I guess, but even if they find out there aren't any Fulcrum or Ring agents in the company, it doesn't change the fact that they're still going to be here until they find Osiris," said Chuck. "This means they'll still keep an eye on me to protect me from Fulcrum or the Ring."
"We're going to have to recruit them," said Stephen. "I don't like it; I want to keep the operation small, but Charles is right. They're still going to have to protect him whether there are Fulcrum or Ring agents or not."
"So should I just let Sarah know, or what?" Chuck asked.
Bryce shook his head. "Sarah's been in the CIA since she was seventeen, and she's very loyal to them," he said. "The same goes for Carina and Casey. If you just tell them, then they'll report it. If the CIA or the NSA find out about our operation, Omega will know who we are, and that can't happen."
"So how do we recruit them?" Stephen asked.
"Chuck is going to have to get them to trust him," Bryce replied. "To make sure they won't report us to their bosses, he's going to have to develop a friendship with them. Sarah should be easy. I can take care of Carina. Casey might be a problem, but if we've already recruited Carina and Sarah it should be easier to recruit him. Or he'll probably just shoot us all, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Chuck laughed humorlessly. This all seemed flawed. It could all backfire on them, and they could all end up in a CIA detention facility or worse. He had heard stories from about how Sarah was practically an ice queen and extremely proficient on missions. Hell, he had seen just how proficient she was! He shuddered when he remembered the image of the Fulcrum agent getting shot in the face.
"So I just bring Carina over to you, and say, 'Hey, Carina! Look who works here; your old friend, Bryce Larkin, that's who!' And then you and Carina get all…whatever, and you magically recruit her?" Chuck scoffed.
"Carina's going to be your new executive assistant," said Bryce. "And seeing as I work in your department..." his voice trailed off.
"I have to get rid of Marjorie?" Chuck cried. Marjorie was his current executive assistant, and she was just the sweetest old gal in the world. Every Friday, she would bake Chuck some cookies or brownies, and they were freaking delicious. He didn't want to let her go.
"She's pushing sixty, Chuck."
"I know, but she has grandkids, and she really likes her job," Chuck pouted. "On top of that, Bryce, you've had her cookies! They're delicious!"
"I'm going to miss the cookies too, but it's time for old Marge to enjoy the rest of her life, man," said Bryce. "Anyway, you're going to have to let Sarah and the rest of them know that you know I used to be a spy. They shouldn't freak out about it too much. After that, I'll take care of Carina at work."
"I'm sure you will," Chuck deadpanned, leaving him to wonder if Bryce's…if Bryce worked. He shook the thought out of his head.
"So just get Casey and Sarah to trust you and make sure that we can trust them," said Stephen. "If we can't, then…well…we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Chuck nodded. "How exactly am I going to get them to trust me?"
"Well, Sarah should be easy—er—easier for you to gain her trust than Casey will be," said Bryce. "You're just going to have to charm her, which, now that I think about it, might be hard. She's really professional, and she's probably going to try to push you away. Handlers and their assets aren't supposed to get close to each other, but I'm sure you'll find a way to break her walls down."
"How?"
"Just charm the shit out of her." Bryce shrugged.
"That doesn't—I don't think I'm comfortable with that," Chuck admitted. Although he was aware of his feelings for Sarah, he didn't think toying with her emotions was a good way to recruit someone into a secret operation.
"But seriously, Chuck," said Bryce. "Sarah turns into something different when she's on missions, and technically, protecting you is a mission. She'll probably be cold and she'll want to have a professional relationship only. You need to melt her a bit."
"And how exactly do I do that?"
"Like I said, charm her." Bryce grinned. "You'll be able to do it. Jill said she saw Sarah flashing you some serious 'do me' eyes at the coffee shop earlier."
Chuck coughed. "What? She did not….pfft…" he sputtered, and then he finally settled with, "Shut up. You don't know…"
Chuck sighed, leaned back in his seat, and stared down at his hands. His father and Bryce began to draw out their plans He didn't listen to what they had to say, or what they planned to do. Instead, his mind wandered. Sure, it would be great to have a reason to spend time with Sarah, but that didn't stop the visions of Sarah shooting a man in the face after she had double tapped two rounds into his chest. It was brutal, and…cold. And it scared him to know that his old friend was even capable of executing a man like that.
That's what bothered him the most—knowing that that man wasn't the first person that Sarah had killed. Yes, if she didn't kill him, she would have been killed. But the sight of the poor guy's face caving in from the bullet was never going to be erased from his mind. The CIA had turned his once warm and loving friend into a cold, hard spy, and Chuck didn't know if he'd be able to thaw her.
A/N: That's it for this chapter! Thank you for reading! As always, I do this for the reviews!
And I'm totally stealing this idea from Frea, but I feel that I should give you all a little preview of what's coming up in the next chapter.
"So, I'm supposed to be one of those jerk billionaires?" asked Chuck.
"You need to be a prick, yeah. That shouldn't be so hard for you," Casey sneered, "Let Walker do all the talking, and you just sit and look bored."
"Can I ask another question?"
"No."
"Wouldn't it be, I don't know, a little weird that I want to invest in a nightclub when I can just build my own if I wanted?" No wonder Omega has so many people inside the CIA, he thought. "Wouldn't that come across as, I don't know, fishy to this Stavros fella?"
…
"Don't worry about me."
He turned to face her, but she didn't meet his eyes. Instead, she just stared straight at the elevator door, looking determined to not meet his gaze. He studied her briefly, and saw how exhausted she looked: her eyelids drooped, and her skin was devoid of the usual rosy blush.
"How could I not worry about you?" he asked