Chapter 9 – A Starry Interlude
A.N.: Disclaimers in Chapter 1. PapaB time. :)
(Despite my best intentions, my son is a spy.) Stephen Bartowski sighs and shakes his head. (Should have known it would happen anyway. Can't trust that Larkin worth anything.)
He takes a champagne flute from the tray of a passing server and can't help but smile. (But Charles is still aces.) The courtyard is strewn with twinkling white Christmas lights, hanging paper lanterns, and the sounds of glasses and silverware being set. The reception is starting in a few minutes, so he retreats from the bustle of the caterers. (They both are aces, no thanks to me.) He sighs and contemplates his children as he sips in the shadows.
(Dr. Eleanor Woodcomb. What a life my Eleanor has made for herself, with this hopelessly devoted young man.) At the thought, the bride and groom arrive. Stephen watches as Eleanor and Devon walk slowly in, hand in hand. Devon looks down at Eleanor in that moment, and Stephen smiles. (Such love, when we didn't model it for them. Thank goodness.) He can tell they knew nothing of Charles' plan for the reception from the wonder on their faces. (Aces, Charles...aces.)
Another car pulls up to the curb, and laughter spills out as the chauffeur opens the door. (Ah, the bridesmaids. And there is one in particular I need to have a chat with...) Spying another tray of champagne going by, he commandeers a second glass, and silently observes Charles' CIA handler.
(I do believe I may have misjudged her.) She walks forward with a look on her face reminiscent of a small child at Christmas, awed and joyful and disbelieving. As her face softened, Stephen's resolved hardened. (One way or another, I am going to get a read on you, Agent Walker.)
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, taking some satisfaction at the surprise that flits across her face. (And I can see you know it's Charles' doing.)
"Hi, I didn't see you there," she says, with an admirable approximation of a smile.
(A little ashamed to be caught off guard, I think?) "I know," Stephen replies with a forced smile of his own. (Time to disarm and confuse.) He hands her a champagne flute and clinks his own lightly against it before he sips. "That was the point." (Because I am going to keep you off your quite formidable toes as much as I can.)
"Did you enjoy the ceremony?" she asks, sipping from her own in return.
(Small talk, how unusual for the CIA. And yet, an opportunity...) "Which, the first one, or the second?" He laughs. (And sorry for the first one, Eleanor...) "The second one was definitely better than the first." (And let the games begin.) He adds, "I'm getting kind of tired of the intrigue, if you'll allow an old man his faults."
"And why would you say it's a fault?" she replies smoothly.
(Ah, a challenge. This should be entertaining.) "Oh, come now, Sarah, you're," he pauses to glance around the courtyard and assure himself no one is listening, "an agent, intrigue is your bread and butter. Or cereal and milk, in the case of my Charles. It's what you thrive on." (It's what's going to break my son's heart.)
He can tell she's discomfited as she smiles with strain. To her credit, her reply is appropriately innocuous. "Things can change, people change constantly."
(Fine, you know what I'm about. Point to you.) "Hmm, some, certainly, but then there are the ones who are just too pure for their own good," he replies, his eyes drifting towards the Morgan Door. (And what a miracle it is, that my Charles is such a man.) Aloud he adds, "There are some who believe so wholeheartedly in the goodness of the world, and of people, that they can blind themselves to the bad. To the things...and people...who would hurt them." (Which much to my chagrin includes me. And which is why I have to know where you stand.)
He watches her struggle internally with a response, only the barest twitching at her temples and tightening in her jaw giving her away.
"And then there are the people who, even seeing the worst parts of humanity, still believe in the best of humanity," she answers evenly. "They're the best of us."
Stephen can see the sincerity in her eyes. (And now I know what you told Larkin is true. You're not leaving with him.) He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and lowers his shoulders. (Now to help you get the rest of the way there...) He turns the Bartowski smile on her. "That they are, my dear. And thank you for that reminder." He clinks his glass against hers again, "Cheers, Sarah," deliberately using her first name.
"Cheers, to the best of us," she responds.
Stephen watches her finish her champagne as he sips at his. A car door slams, and familiar voices reach them in the courtyard. (Not yet...) He takes her arm and gently but firmly pulls her back with him into the shadows as Chuck walks by. (Sorry, Charles.) He watches his son scan the courtyard and enter the apartment.
Sarah is obviously perplexed, and asks, "Um, I'm sorry, is there some reason you pulled me back here?"
(And now to give her food for thought...) "Oh, that's obvious, Sarah," he answers, smoothly exchanging their now empty champagne glasses for full ones. "It's going to take a few more of these to get your guard down enough for you to not hurt my son."
Stephen can tell she's floored as she frowns and absently gulps her champagne. (Shaken from your impeccable manners, I see I've made an impact.) He continues. "You haven't completely made your mind up yet, or you would've contacted Beckman." (And thanks to the tap I have on all your surveillance, I've been privy to all your communications, or lack thereof, today.)
"Excuse me?" she asks disbelievingly. He waits the moment it takes for understanding to dawn on her.
"I'm just getting you to think as a person, not an agent, so you can figure it out." He clinks his glass against hers yet again, and walks away. (It's now all up to you.) He watches with a small smile as she drains her glass. (For Charles' sake, I hope you make the right decision.)
***
He keeps Sarah by his side or in his sights all night. (If she slips away, I want to be prepared.) He watches her face when she thinks no one is watching, watches the smiles and laughter fade as she's left alone. It's a struggle for her, he can tell, and it's a struggle he's achingly familiar with. (The needs of the job versus the needs of those you love. I chose to leave to protect them, and cursed myself for doing it every night. Love is hard, Sarah, but so is life.) As the reception wears on, he takes the chance and contacts Bryce. (I'm going to do my damndest to give you a clear road, Charles. I just hope you're not walking it alone.)
He sees Larkin walk in and allows himself a measure of satisfaction as Larkin spots Charles and Sarah dancing. (She's not yours any more, Larkin, it's her decision to make. You can see as well as I what her answer should be.)
"Mr. Bartowski," Bryce greets quietly. "Or is this an Orion conversation?"
"Bit of both," Stephen replies with a small smile. He lets out a bitter chuckle. "I reconfigured the Cube for you under two conditions: You stop looking for me, and you leave my son alone." (And I know you've done neither of those things. Nor do you likely intend to.)
"We asked Chuck to be on my team, he said no," Larkin responds quickly.
(Exactly. Yet you put Sarah in charge of the team. If I know my Charles, that's a surefire way to insure his continued interest.)
Larkin glances at the couple in the courtyard once more. "Goodbye, Orion," he tosses off as he starts to walk away.
(Not so fast.) Stephen takes a deep drink of the scotch and soda in his hand and pulls Larkin back. "You made changes – to the Intersect, to my initial design. The data architecture is different. What does this new computer do?"
Larkin's answer is not reassuring. "You don't want to know," he says with a shake of his head.
"Agent Larkin, it's time to go," comes a voice behind them.
Stephen turns to look for the source, and winces as a headache blooms full grown.
Three half buried cars
A retinal scan
File photo in uniform
Standardization/Evaluation Records, marked AWOL
A Personnel Action Request
Presumed dead stamped in red at the top of the form
Each picture is accompanied by a merciless spike of pain through his skull. (Damn it.) He comes back to awareness slightly slumped against the wall, thankfully scotch still in hand. (Damn it, damn it, damn it. Sorry, Charles.) The pain throbs through his brain and he drains the glass as he turns to ruin his son's night.
"Chuck, Chuck!" he huffs as he makes it to the couple's side. (Remember your cover, Orion. Stephen Bartowski, bumbling idiot.) "The agent, the agent who came for Bryce," he stammers, "he isn't a CIA agent. He's supposed to be dead."
Chuck looks at him skeptically. "Dad, how could you possibly know that?"
(Confession time. Damn it, Charles, I'm so sorry.) He sighs, winces and struggles visibly before answering. "Screw it...I – I have an Intersect in my head." Chuck's eyes widen in horror as Sarah looks on in shock. (I'm so, so sorry, Charles...) "I tested the computer on myself, I was young and stupid, but the intel was good." (And I got the same upgrades I gave you, Charles.) "Th-That man isn't CIA."
Chuck's breath comes audibly faster as the wheels turn in his head. "Bryce," Chuck panics. "Bryce is getting the upload tonight."
"They're going to kill him. They'll download the Intersect into their team instead." (Damn it, damn it! I tried to clear the path and we're in deeper than ever...)
"Well, if they know about Bryce, they know about Casey," Sarah says worriedly. Chuck turns to look at her, concern all over his face. She meets his gaze wordlessly for a heartbeat, and quickly walks away.
"Sarah..." Chuck starts as he moves to follow her, but Stephen holds an arm out to delay him.
"Let her go, son, you've done your part." (You're free, and you're going to stay that way.)
"No, I have to go," Chuck protests.
"No, no you don't," Stephen says with a frown, shaking his head. (I challenged the CIA and the NSA to insure that you don't ever have to again.) "You're not a spy."
"Dad..." Chuck looks off in the direction Sarah exited, and takes loud, panicky breathes before continuing. "I love her," he declares firmly.
Orion looks his son in the eyes as his thought from earlier repeats itself. (Despite my best intentions, my son is a spy.) He reads the resolve in his son's demeanor. (Charles. I tried so hard to spare you this life. Seems like it's in our blood.)
His decision made, Orion looks around to insure no prying eyes are watching as he maneuvers his hand under his sleeve. "I can't follow you, son, but take this." He hands Chuck his wrist computer. He can see the comprehension on Chuck's face as Chuck looks down at his father's gift. (If I can't be with you to protect you, I will do my damndest to give you the means to protect yourself.)
Chuck looks off across the courtyard again, this time with purpose and determination. "Thank you," he breathes. There's a hitch to his voice, and a look to his face that speaks to the words that escape him.
"Be safe, Charles," Orion smiles at his son.
"Thank you," Chuck breathes again as he follows the path Sarah had taken.
Orion keeps the smile firmly in place as he watches Chuck leave. (Charles, Eleanor, I tried, I truly did. Now is just not the time for us. I love you both.) He finds his daughter surrounded by well-wishers, who thankfully let him through.
"Eleanor, Devon, I'm so proud and happy for you both, but I, I guess it's just a bit much for me right now – I hope you don't mind if I retire for the evening."
Eleanor smiles easily at him, "Of course not, Dad, we'll see you in the morning." She lays a kiss on his cheek that he savors, and Devon heartily shakes his hand.
(I'm so sorry.) Looking at them one last time, Orion takes his leave.
A.N.: So? Thoughts? It's interesting writing a character we know so little about, I took the approach that PapaB is much more than he seems. And yes, the use of Stephen versus Orion is significant. I think of it as Chuck versus Charles Carmichael, the two identities of the Bartowski men. Let me know what you think! Please??