Authors Note: Sorry for the slight delay. It's my intention to write/upload a new chapter approximately once a week, but between work, my wife, two kids, and other things, I may miss that self-imposed deadline every once in a while. Also, I want to apologize for the pace of this story…I figure its going to take me two more chapters before I am at the point where we are going to be in relatively familiar territory as far as Chuck goes.

Also, a bit of discussion as far as timeline goes. In the real world, until 2006, the United States Marine Corps had no dedicated special operations command or unit. Instead, Force Reconnaissance was integrated as part of the Corps normal forces, and all Marine Expeditionary Units were trained to be "special operations capable." This changed in 2007 when portions of Force Reconnaissance were merged into the Marine Special Operations Regiment and placed under the newly created Marine Special Operations Command or MARSOC. In 2015, the MSOR was renamed the Marine Raider Regiment. For purposes of this story, I've deviated from the real world timeline. Instead, the formation of the Raider Regiment and MARSOC occurred during Chucks Force Reconnaissance training.

July 15, 2005

Al-Qa'im

Al Anbar Province, Iraq

Near the Syrian Border

2300 hours

"Knife, this Variable. Over."

"Go ahead Variable. Over"

"Knife, Variable is in position. Target is in site and area looks clear. Looks like we caught them unaware." Staff Sergeant Charles Bartowski said into the radio. Nearby, the rest of the four members of the Tactical Element he commanded. The team was one of two teams, along with a small command element, that made up the Marine Special Operations Team (MSOT) to which he was assigned.

"Roger Variable. Party kicks off in 5." Captain Mark Highway responded. "Remember, the packages are probably on the second floor."

"Roger." Chuck replied, setting the radio back in its place. He checked his watch, and then signaled the rest of the team. His unit was currently surrounding/observing a building near the outskirts of Al-Qa'im. They had been assigned to conduct a hostage rescue of several aide workers captured by insurgents a few months ago. After several weeks of intense searching, hope had begun to die of ever finding them. Oddly enough, it was a investigation into some questionable bank accounts on the part of former Lieutenant Jack Ryan, now working for the CIA as an analyst, that had ultimately led to the intelligence that provided the location of the hostages.

The plan was a simple one. Captain Highway and the rest of the unit would assault the front of the building, while Chuck's team would breach from the rear. In addition to the team, Command had also assigned two scout/sniper teams who would take out the limited guards on the outside of the building and perform over watch during the operation. On the off chance that things went south, two Cobra helicopters were on ready alert and could be over the target in 10 minutes. Additionally, a platoon of Marines from the 1st Battalion was waiting in Humvees several blocks away.

Chuck looked at his watch again as the last few seconds ticked away. As time ran out, he heard the suppressed crack…crack…crack…crack of the scout/snipers firing at the targets. His team was in motion before the last shot had been fired.

When the breaching element of his team, Sergeant Robin Bautista and Corporal Max Smart reached the rear door, two quick shots to the hinges from Corporal Smart's 12 gauge shotgun rang out. Sergeant Bautista kicked the door down and the two Marines were inside in a flash, covering the rest of the team as they entered the building. Shouting could be heard throughout the building as those insurgents not on duty were rousing from the sleep. Movement up ahead grabbed Chuck's attention as three insurgents, carrying AK-47s ran out of a side room. The air erupted into flashes and the sound of weapons fire as the team engaged the targets, putting all three down quickly.

They quickly began moving up the stairs to the second floor where the hostages were located. Along the way they engaged four more insurgents. Entering the room on the far side of the floor, they found seven frightened and beaten people, all bound and gagged. After having his men check that they didn't have any weapons, Chuck ordered Petty Officer 2nd Class Will Norris, his element's medic, to check them out.

"Variable, this is Knife. First floor is secure and all hostiles eliminated. Status on the hostages?" Captain Highway's voice came over Chuck's radio.

"Knife, Variable. We have the hostages. They definitely look as though they've been through the ringer." Chuck responded. "I don't think walking them out of the area is going to work. Better call the cavalry."

"Roger Variable."

Chuck walked over to the hostages and Petty Officer Norris. "How are they?" he asked.

"All of them are suffering from dehydration and lack off food; they've also been beaten; two of them pretty severely." Norris responded, motioning to a man and woman at the far end of the room. Chuck walked over to look at the two. One of them turned his head just as Chuck approached and both he and Chuck let out a gasp.

"Chuck?"

"Bryce?"

Meanwhile…

Stanford University

Office of Professor Fleming

July 16, 2005

Shit. Fleming thought, quickly closing his door and locking it. The day had started out decent enough, but around lunchtime he got the sense that he was being watched. By the time his last class had ended, he was sure of it. As he was walking from the lecture hall to his office, it was confirmed as a man whose bearing just screamed "agent" walked up to him.

"Professor Fleming?" he enquired.

"Ye..Yes." Fleming replied.

"You're coming with me. Fulcrum would like to talk to you about your work." Horror dawned on Flemings face. Somehow he had managed to pull the CIA-issued pepper spray and discharge it into the agent's eyes before he had a chance to grab him and took off. However, he knew he wasn't out of the woods. He could see several more agents converging after him as he ran to his office.

He knew why Fulcrum wanted him; he couldn't let them get him. But he also knew that the closest CIA response team would never reach him in time and although he had gone through the farm many years ago, he was nowhere near in the form needed to make a serious run for it. That left only one option.

Quickly he sent an e-mail message to his superior, detailing what was happening. Then he began wiping the data from his computer. He stopped when he came to one file. It took only a second for him to make a decision. He opened another e-mail and typed another e-mail, attaching the file and clicking send. With that done, he opened his desk, pulled out a small pillbox and a loaded .357 Magnum revolver. Aiming the gun at the computer, he fired six rounds into the chassis. Finally he opened the pillbox and as he heard the sound of the Fulcrum agents attempting to break down his door, he took out the small capsule and swallowed it.

July 16, 2005

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

"Your intel paid off, Jack." Thomas Harper said walking into the office of former Marine 2nd Lieutenant Jack Ryan's office. "Marine Raiders hit the building last night; all seven aid workers were rescued. In fact, a former subordinate of yours was on the team that hit it."

"Let me guess…Bartowski?" Jack said, grinning. At Harpers nod, Jack continued "I knew he was back in field in the Al-Anbar province; just didn't know where. I tell you Tom; the best move anyone ever made was when he was recruited into the Raiders. I just wish there was someway to clear that black mark from Stanford. He'd make a hell of an officer, not to mention a member of this team."

Thomas Harper sighed; ever since he recruited Jack he had been singing the praises of Staff Sergeant Bartowski and groaning about the unfairness of what had happened to his former subordinate. Tom tended to think that Jack was probably right; based on what he saw of the kid's file, there was not much chance he had actually committed the infraction that got him kicked out of Stanford. Unfortunately, they had no proof. Fleming stuck to his story about him cheating, and his former roommate, Byrce Larkin, was Deputy Director of Operations Langston Grahm's "golden children." Though Harper had begun to accumulate a lot of clout lately, mostly due to Ryan's work, he still didn't have the juice to confront Grahm or Larkin directly without any hard proof.

"Are you and Kathy still on for tonight?" Harper said, changing the subject.

"Definitely boss. Cathy can't wait to meet Linda." Jack replied, referring to Harper's wife. The Harpers had invited him and his fiancé, Dr. Cathy Muller, to their home for dinner.

"Good. We'll see you around seven then." Harper said, getting up and exiting Jack's office.

A few minutes later he was sitting in front of his own desk, going through missed e-mails when one in particular caught his attention. Opening it, he read the message, color draining from his face. Then he played the attached video file.

"Sonofabitch!"