A/N 3/30/13 - Hey, it's an Easter egg! Another Act of Lost Years painted with fancy colors. The action is starting to pick up its pace now, so grab your body armor.
Thanks again to my betas, somedeepmystery, and Steampunk Chuckster for pointing out some really goofy writing errors, helping me make some sense of the flow of this chapter, and getting the feels of the emotions right. They know their stuff, and they are so darn fun to bounce ideas off.
I don't own Chuck
Chuck Versus the Lost Years
Act 12 - Reaping the Whirlwind
- I -
The four teammates were all sitting in the living room watching a movie. Chuck asked Casey to pick the entertainment for the evening and, with a smirk, he'd picked Casino Royale. Tonight art was imitating their life, and they'd already paused the movie several times to discuss and debate the merits of various fighting techniques, the villains, the gadgetry, who was the best actor to play James Bond and why, and of course, the Bond women. It was all so very unavoidable. It slid down a slippery slope, ending with all of them trying to recover from the laughter… even Casey. It was only going to get worse, too, because Chuck was insisting that they watch the Peter Seller's movie with the same title next.
During the debate about the actors and the way they played the iconic character, Cole Barker's name had come up more than once. Nikki sat and listened, fascinated, as her teammates discussed how closely the MI6 officer matched the Ian Fleming character in function. And when it came to form and the persona the debate was lively if a little guarded. One thing was certain. Under the suave agent veneer, Cole was considered a sincere gentleman who was as reliable as they came.
There was obviously a lot of admiration for the SIS man from his friends, and that made Nikki want to meet the man behind the legend that she knew and one they were presenting to her. She smiled with amusement when Chuck floated the question of whether Cole Barker might have a double '0' number and Casey had answered, "without a doubt," with a grunt that translated into 'are you freakin' kidding?'
Thinking about the values Cole represented, values that kept his cover intact in the worst of times, Chuck's gaze drifted over his three teammates as he also reflected on how fortunate he was to have them all here with him. And especially how very lucky he was to still be married to the one who meant everything to him. Sitting here in this house with the red door and the white picket fence, with these amazing people, it felt like a dream. He turned his head, breathing in the subtle citrus scent, and kissed the soft blonde hair on Sarah's head resting on his shoulder. Giving her a squeeze around the waist, he started to move to get up, but her grip suddenly tightened on his sweater and the hand that had been resting on his leg quickly pushed him back down.
"Where do you think you're going, buster?" she asked, as she turned her face to his and narrowed her eyes playfully.
"Hungry. Thought I'd pop some popcorn for us," he said as he smiled softly and reached up to stroke the hair on the back of her head. The sight, the smell, the touch, the sensation of her under his lips; it consumed him like nothing ever before. The feel of her hair under his fingertips told him that what he was seeing was indeed real.
"Extra butter?" asked Sarah with a smile, after breaking him from his reverie by gently blowing on his face.
"Whatever the super-spy lady wants."
"Don't forget the celery salt," Casey said, absently, "may as well put all the bad stuff on it while you're at it."
Nikki reached over and touched the pause button on the remote when Chuck started to rise from his spot on the couch and laughed when he rolled his eyes at her with a one-sided grin. "Yeah, boss, I know, you've seen this a thousand times already. I just don't want to miss out on any of your color commentary," she said, as she sat back into the couch cushions.
Chuck was staring at the bag of popcorn turning lazily on the turntable in the microwave oven, listening to the kernels pop when he felt a familiar pair of arms snake around his waist from behind. "Mmmm, that smells good," Sarah drawled, her voice soft and sultry, "At least we worked out today and I can enjoy this guilty pleasure, without… you know, too much guilt."
He turned around in her arms leaning on the counter as his eyes met hers, sparkling with mirth. "Which workout are you referring to?" he asked with amusement.
She snerked loudly, "Okay, maybe totally guilt free."
"Even with the extra butter," he quipped, when he tipped his head to kiss her.
Just as their lips touched the microwave dinged.
They were walking from the kitchen to the living room when a loud and insistent knock came from the knocker on the red front door. Chuck started to move towards it when he heard Casey harshly whisper, "Bartowski, don't!" Chuck quickly turned his head, and his eyes grew large when he saw both Casey and Nikki moving towards him with their suppressed pistols up.
"Relax," he whispered back, placatingly, "I doubt very much the bad guys are going to knock first." Taking the last couple of steps to the door Chuck leaned to look through the peephole and his world went into slow motion as he gasped and his jaw went slack. The glass bowl in his hands fell in slow-motion to the floor and shattered, the popcorn flying everywhere. He staggered three steps back and collapsed onto the staircase, his eyes shut tightly and his breathing coming in short irregular rasps.
"Chuck!" Sarah was almost instantly at his side as Nikki shuffled quickly to the door and took a very quick look through the peephole. She lowered her pistol and gave Casey a curt but grim nod while she stepped back, and he opened the door.
Standing on the front porch, surrounded by several large men dressed in black, was General Diane Beckman with a distraught look on her face. She was holding Ellie's fussing daughter, Clara, to her chest.
- II -
The UH-60M Blackhawk helicopter hover-taxied across the north ramp at Edwards Air Force Base and touched down at the end of a line of six more Blackhawks. Parked across from them were two McDonald Douglas C-17 Globemaster III transport airlift aircraft and an Air Force C-40B VIP and command transport plane. The huge concrete apron was a bustle of activity as servicemen hurried about readying the aircraft, and three charcoal gray Humvees, along with two black Chevrolet Suburbans and several pallets of other gear were being loaded onto the C-17's through the rear ramps. Powerful, high intensity discharge lights, mounted on the huge aircraft hangars on the far side of the large aircraft, lit up the ramp like day.
Chuck and Sarah Bartowski stepped down from the side door of the helicopter and, linking tightly clasped hands, strode across the parking ramp, their faces covered with expressionless masks. Suspended under the interwoven grip of those tightly clasped hands was a baby carrier. Every few steps found one or the both of them glancing into it, and each time they did, a small crack would form in the mask.
A crowd of people were visible lingering around several tables inside the open doors of one hangar not far from the C-40. Several familiar faces, and some not familiar, turned to watch them walk across the wide expanse of concrete. They hadn't said a word to each other the entire flight from Pasadena, mostly because of the noise level in the helicopter, but also because they'd both been inundated by a flood of emotions. Seeing all those emotion filled faces watching them sent another wave crashing over them. About halfway across the ramp they looked over at each other solemnly.
"I'm so sorry, Chuck," Sarah murmured when she saw the turmoiled expression his crumbling mask revealed. Sarah's breath hitched when he looked at her. His eyes were cloaked in a darkness she couldn't recall ever seeing before, even with so many recovered memories.
Chuck stopped in his tracks and stared down at his niece for a moment. "It was my idea for her to go home," he said, so quietly that it was almost lost in the noise of the activity on the ramp.
Sarah turned to him and took his other hand. "We'll get them back." She looked into those dark, turbulent, unfocused eyes and was struck hard by a memory. The memory of her and Chuck and Casey locked in the back of an armored prisoner transport vehicle. And the heartbreaking way he had almost fallen apart after watching Daniel Shaw shoot his father.
Her temper flared as she saw the same tragic despair written on his face now, and she gripped his hands harder, demanding his attention. "You listen to me, Chuck," she said, with anger coloring her voice, "don't you dare go there. We will get your sister and Devon back. Clara is not going to be an orphan, do you hear me?"
She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb as his surprised eyes slowly narrowed and refocused on hers with a re-found determination, then he subtly nodded his accession. "You're amazing, you know that? I've never met anyone stronger or more determined than you."
"You're pretty amazing yourself, Chuck. You know what you need to do, I've seen you do it before. Now let's do it again."
Three figures watched them closely from across the ramp. "Is he going to be okay?" asked General Beckman, turning to John Casey and Nikki Lawson, as they stood under the slowly turning rotor blades of the Blackhawk.
"He'll be fine." Casey turned to meet her gaze. "Don't forget what he did to Shaw after that SOB killed his father and tried to take over the CIA."
The General nodded curtly, "I remember, and you could be right, but he's always been too emotional. It's a liability," she said, with a scowl.
Casey's grunt was one of rare disagreement where the General was concerned. "Don't be too sure, Sir. He sure knows how to channel those emotions."
"That's what makes him so effective," Nikki commented in firm agreement.
"I suppose," Diane Beckman said, with a sharp shake of her head, "but I'll never pretend to understand it. Sometimes trying to understand Chuck Bartowski is like trying to understand why gravity holds you firmly to the earth."
"Roger that."
They watched Chuck and Sarah exchange a chaste kiss out on the middle of the ramp and then continue to walk towards the open hangar.
"Let's get this show on the road," the general said gruffly as she started to walk briskly toward the hangar with Nikki and Casey flanking her a half step behind.
When Chuck and Sarah approached the large open hangar, Morgan and Alex walked away from the crowd around the table and met them a short distance outside the doors. For a few seconds, no words were exchanged, but then they both stepped forward to give the Bartowskis heartfelt hugs. Morgan gripped his friend fiercely, and Chuck returned the embrace with one arm because he and Sarah were still holding the baby carrier suspended between them.
"We'll get Ellie and Awesome back, Chuck. Don't you worry about that. This will not stand," said Morgan, quietly into his best friend's ear, "it will not stand." He pushed back to hold Chuck by the arms, giving him a strong but sympathetic look in the eyes. It was a pretty amazing departure from the Morgan of old, and Chuck realized at that moment just how far his short, bearded friend had come.
Chuck returned his friends intense gaze with a grim smile, "I know, buddy, we'll get them back. Thanks for being here for us."
Morgan and Alex linked tightly together with their arms around each other's waists as they continued to hold Chuck and Sarah's hands, forming the four of them and Clara into a tight circle. "About that, Chuck," Morgan said tentatively, "Are you sure you want us to stay here? We want to help."
"You can help, Morgan," Sarah softly but unyieldingly replied, "By staying here. We need you to oversee the analysts and to hold down the fort at the offices. We want you to be ready to help us on a seconds notice, in case we need the capabilities only Carmichael Industries can provide."
"Sarah's right, Morg," said Chuck, with a somber conviction, "The Intersect isn't the end all, be all, in this or in any other situation. We need to work as a team. I need you here, and I need you to make sure we have the edge we're going to need to get Ellie and Devon and Manoosh back. I need my team to be where they can do the most good."
Morgan's fiery eyes darted back and forth between Chuck and Sarah. His mouth drew into a line and he nodded curtly as his gaze fell to the ground in front of him, "Okay, we'll do it, Chuck. But what about Clara?" he asked, as he looked into the baby carrier, "We can take care of her if you want, right Alex?" Morgan looked earnestly at his girlfriend. She would soon to be his fiancé, if only he could work up the nerve to ask. He knew it was inevitable, maybe taking care of Clara was the push he needed.
"Yes! We can do that," Alex affirmed with a wistful smile, one that spoke of heartbreak, love, and an undying commitment all in an instant. She let her eyes travel to Chuck and then Sarah with the question already showing in them, as they fell on Clara, "Do you want us to take care of Clara? We want to, Chuck."
Chuck looked up from his niece, exchanging a quick look with Sarah, and sighed, "No, Alex, we do appreciate it, but we want to keep Clara with us. It's our responsibility to protect her now, and we want her close. When we get Ellie back, I want her to be with her daughter again right away. No matter what Ellie's current situation is, I'm sure she's worried sick about Clara."
"Operative Grimes," an all too familiar voice said brusquely, not far from them.
They all looked up from Clara, following the sound of the voice, to see General Beckman standing a short distance away, behind Chuck and Sarah. She'd apparently been standing there listening to most of the conversation. "I have an assignment for you, Grimes. It's one more reason why we need to have you here. Let's talk," she said, with her typical commanding voice, turning to walk out toward the airplanes on the ramp.
Morgan shot a look of intense curiosity at his best friend, which Chuck returned with a little shrug and a quick tilt of his head in the General's direction. The breaded man didn't need any more prompting, and hustled with quick steps, to follow Diane Beckman out onto the concrete expanse.
Alex's eyes followed him as he hurried away then came back up to meet Chuck and Sarah's, with an expression that, in no uncertain terms, said she wanted some answers, but she held her tongue. She knew that now was not the time to be asking questions, considering the General wanted to talk to her boyfriend in private.
Casey and Gertrude Verbanski then came walking up. To both Chuck and Sarah's surprise they were holding hands, and Casey put his other arm around his daughter's shoulders. "The flight crews are ready Bartowski, we need to get going," Casey said, with his hardened agent voice. His stern voice seemed to be in stark contrast with his body language, as he held on to the two most important women in his life. "Beckman wanted me to tell you we'll have a briefing and a planning meeting ninety minutes after we're airborne."
"Fine, Casey. Then, let's get this bunch on board." Chuck's gaze came up from their clasped hands to fall on Gertrude. "John told us what you did at the Buy More. How you were the one who backed up Nikki and him, and that you saw us being put on that helicopter. I hate to think what might have happened if you didn't seen that. Thank you, Gertrude. I hear I also owe you a new car," he said sheepishly, trying to force a smile. "I think there may be a message about you and John in that."
"That's all right, Chuck," Gertrude said, smiling thinly at him, "the car's not important. Let's go get your sister back, okay?"
"Okay. Let's do this. I'm glad you're with us," he nodded grimly.
"I glad am too, and don't you worry, Chuck, we'll get all of them back."
Casey grunted in affirmation, "And when we get back, you and I, we're gonna be talkin' about a new Vic for me, Bartowski." When his comment failed to get a snide response from his friend or lighten the mood any, he gave Sarah a sharp look of concern. "Hmng, I'll round everyone up. Go ahead and get aboard, we'll be right behind you."
"C'mon, honey," Sarah insisted, looking at her nerd with veiled worry, "Let's get Clara aboard and get settled. It's going to be a long flight."
"Chuck?" They turned to see Alex looking at them with distress written all over her face again. "If you need anything, we're here for you."
Chuck and Sarah both stepped forward and took Alex in a shared embrace. "Thanks, Alex, we'll stay in close touch."
- III -
A restless Clara had finally calmed down and fallen asleep on the helicopter ride from Burbank to the Air Force base. She was now dead to the world in her car seat/carrier, secured in the plush, leather upholstered executive seating across from them. Sarah gazed at her, marveling at how resilient babies could be even when their world had been turned upside-down. Clara reminded her so much of the way Molly had reacted when she'd tried to take care of her before leaving the infant with her mother.
Fortunately, these little ones didn't fully comprehend the situation they were in. Clara only understood that her mother and father weren't with her, but she was quickly settling into the care they were now providing. Ellie and Devon's daughter was fairing much better than her own husband. Chuck was being stoic at the moment, but he'd been swinging back and forth from his current state to a desperate depression.
Sarah knew he felt responsible for what had happened to his sister. She did too. Neither of them felt that Ellie would have ever been involved with this at all if not for the Intersect their father had helped to create and the problems it had caused for both of them; especially what it had done to her. Ellie had been driven profoundly by what had happened to Sarah. Even before her memories had been restored, Sarah had come to realize how much Chuck's sister loved her. But now she had the bulk of those memories back.
Much like what Morgan had experienced with the Ring Intersect, they were discovering there were still small gaps. And the odds were that neither she or Morgan would ever get any of those lost memories back, that they were likely lost forever. But Sarah now knew that the feelings she and Ellie shared for one another were incredibly deep. They'd built a friendship over the years she never could have imagined in her previous life before becoming her husband's handler. She was now fighting the same personal battles over her sister's abduction too.
Sarah gave their interlinked fingers a squeeze, catching Chuck's eye. Over the last few weeks, they'd discovered a way to say so much to each other without saying a word. When they touched it was like the words they were thinking and every emotion they were experiencing flowed like a river between them. Only now the river of emotion she felt flowing from Chuck was a raging torrent of whitewater. She could barely hang on as she tried to maintain her center. She couldn't let go, however, because she knew the placid waters she was working so hard to maintain were one of the things keeping her Chuck from being carried away by the flood.
Her husband's emotional state had become so severe she could feel the connection between them fluttering in and out like a distant radio station. She'd always known Chuck was an emotional person, and that he'd often channeled those emotions in amazing ways when he had them under control. She knew she had to do something to get him to channel them now, even if it meant getting tough with him and becoming his old handler again.
"Breathe, sweetheart," she said, turning to him and placing her other hand on his cheek. "Please, Chuck, I need you to focus on a solution and not dwell on things we can't control. I need my Chuck, the one who can always build an amazing plan from the chaos. Please don't lose yourself in this, because we all need you."
He looked back at her, trying to cover his fears with a calm exterior, but his words gave him away. "I'm trying Sarah, but it's my sister. It's Ellie, the person who raised me and brought me through all those tough times in one piece...more or less," he added with a thin smile. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost her, if they kill-"
The hard expression that suddenly grew on his wife's face broke his words off like a dry branch. "Dammit, Chuck, listen to me! You need to push that kind of negative thinking from your mind. And don't try to tell me those thoughts aren't there, ruling over you right now. I can feel them! And they're not doing either of us any good! We know where she is, and where they are taking her. I need you to do what you do best, to focus on a plan to save her and Devon, and Manoosh. Do it, Chuck! Stop spiraling!"
Chuck stared wide-eyed at her for a moment, then glanced at Clara, thankful that Sarah's outburst hadn't woken her. But then he could feel eyes on him and looked around the cabin to see several of his friends and colleagues watching him closely.
"Listen to me Chuck, and not just my words. Feel the inner calm I'm trying to share with you. We need calm, cool and collected Charles Carmichael, right now," Sarah said loudly with steel in her voice. "Ellie needs Charles right now; the focused CIA agent who has proven he can do anything!"
"I know, Sarah, I can feel it," Chuck nodded solemnly, "I know what you're trying to do, and I'm trying-"
"There is no try, Chuck, only do. Do, or do not."
That snapped him out of it. Chuck snorted a laugh as a tight smile crossed his face, "That's not exactly how the line goes, but you and Yoda are right."
"Well, excuse me if my pop culture nerdism's aren't spot on. I don't exactly make it my mission to memorize that stuff like you do," Sarah said with a soft smile that seemed a bit out of place on her hardened features. "Chuck, if yelling at you is what it's going to take to get your attention, I'm going to do it," she warned.
"Understood. Yoda never yelled at Luke...well, at least not like you just did, but it's okay. I'm listening now."
"Good."
"Oh, and for the record, the proper line from Yoda is in the Intersect."
Sarah's only response was an exasperated smile as she dropped her chin and raised an eyebrow.
"Excuse, me, Agents Carmichael?" They looked up to see an Air Force tech Sergeant in a steward's uniform standing over them. "The General wanted me to tell you she's expecting you in the command cabin for a briefing in five minutes. I'll keep an eye on the baby for you while you're in there."
Chuck and Sarah glanced at Clara and nodded in unison followed by a "Thank you" in chorus. Then they turned to each other and smiled from the mutual knowledge that they were once again at least somewhat in sync.
- IV -
They stepped into a roomy - by aircraft standards - command cabin at the rear of the plane to see Diane Beckman, John Casey and Nikki Lawson already sitting around the small conference table in front of the General's desk. All three people around the table were looking at them appraisingly, but the General's scrutinizing was particularly intense.
"I just got off a long conference call with the White House," Diane Beckman said with tension in her voice. "Have a seat. You're probably going to want to be sitting down for this."
Sarah felt Chuck's hand grip hers tightly as he turned to her, his face darkening. She shot him a sharp look of warning, and gripped his hand with almost bone crushing force, as she pulled him to the table.
The General drew her hand over her angry face as they settled in their chairs. "There's no delicate way to put this, so I'm going to shoot straight," she said, the muscles in her jaw twitching, "Way too damn many people are now read into this program as a result of this fiasco. The plane we think has your sister aboard left Nova Scotia about an hour ago. The Canadian SAS barely missed them. The President's National Security Adviser wants to contain this. He wants to shoot the plane down."
"NO!" Chuck shot from his seat, his hands slamming on the table in front of him. "General, if they do this, there will be hell to pay! You'll have to lock me away in a bunker just to protect the people you work for!"
"SIT. DOWN. CHUCK," the General exclaimed.
"Dammit," Sarah said softly, as her husband slowly took his seat, "They'll have to throw both of us into a bunker... or worse."
"Calm down... the both of you. Do you really think I would allow that to happen? The fate of the entire program and everyone in it is hanging by a thread because of this." Diane glared at them, her eyes flickering with anger as she read their expressions. "Don't go there, either of you. Ellie means a lot to me too, as well as Dr. Depak...on a personal level." Her expression softened, showing a weariness from the day's events, "I'm not all about the mission, you know; at least, not any more. A certain emotional nerd taught me there was more to all of this than just the mission."
"What about the greater good?" Sarah asked quietly, her eyes fixed on her and Chuck's intertwined hands on the table between them.
"The greater good doesn't mean squat if I can't protect the people most capable of looking out for it," the General shot back.
Casey grunted in what sounded like affirmation.
"So they're not going to shoot them down," said Nikki speculatively.
"No. I've been assured by the President that it won't happen. His advisers I don't trust, but him..." Diane took a deep breath. "We're being given a chance to make a rescue, but a SEAL team has been assigned to this operation with orders to sterilize if we fail."
"Sterilize," Chuck whispered. "That sounds bad for all of us."
"A suicide mission," Sarah added darkly. "One of our specialties."
Casey grunted again, "I'd rather suicide the other guys."
Diane Beckman turned in her seat and looked rather pointedly at Chuck. "We need a plan, Chuck. One of those out-of-the-box plans only you can come up with."
This time Chuck grunted, causing the corner of Casey's mouth to turn up. The Colonel's smile, however, was short-lived, when he observed his friend's gradually, darkening, and brooding demeanor. Chuck's breathing started to become shallow and his eyes unfocused; it was becoming obvious he was on the verge of shutting down. "Bartowski," Casey started to growl, "don't you go-"
Sarah's eyes went wide, and she gripped her husband's hand fiercely when the connection between them suddenly severed with a jolt. "General, can Chuck and I have some privacy?" she asked with alarm, cutting Casey off with a death-glare. "We'll get you your plan, but I need some time alone with my husband," she said, turning her hard eyes to him. "We need to... talk."
The General looked over at Sarah inquisitively, studying her stony features. Then her mouth turned up, ever so slightly, and she looked at her Rolex. "We're going to be landing at Andrews in about two and a half hours to refuel. Then we'll have about another eight and a half hours to our CIA station in Pardubice, maybe sooner, if we have a favorable tailwind and we don't have to stop at RAF Mildenhall to refuel a second time."
The General walked to her desk and picked up her briefcase and a notebook computer, before turning back to look Sarah in the eye with a knowing expression on her face. "You can have this cabin until two hours after we take off from Andrews, then I'm going to need it back. Would you like me to look after Clara for you?"
"Yes, ma'am, we'd appreciate that very much. Thank you for offering," Sarah said calmly, as she turned her gaze to her silent and bewildered husband.
"Then the cabin is yours. Colonel, Commander, let's go up front to check on that darling little girl, and talk."
"Now you've really stepped in it, Bartowski," Casey mumbled out of the corner of his mouth to Chuck as he strode by.
The door latched. "Sarah-"
"Shut it, Chuck." Sarah said, snapping the consonants in his name off sharply. She took his wrist with an iron grip and pulled him across the cabin, through a door behind the General's desk. They stepped into the rear berth and Sarah kicked the door shut with her foot as they went in.
It was a private sleeping quarters for the officer in command, or other VIP's on a given flight, complete with a full sized bed and a private bath with a shower stall. The First Lady had traveled on an airplane just like this one, if not this very plane. Sarah stopped abruptly next to the bed, and tilted her head to the side with narrowing eyes as she watched her husband's eyes go wide from... fear?
"Strip," she said, brusquely.
"Sarah, wha-?"
"I said strip, Chuck. NOW." When he faltered she reached for his belt and quickly unbuckled it, then yanked it from his jeans and threw it to the floor. "Don't make me say it again, Chuck," she said with angry conviction.
"Yes, ma'am," Chuck replied with a gulp. He started to fumble with the button on his pants, but froze, watching dumbstruck as his wife disrobed in front of him with blinding speed, stark naked in mere seconds.
Then, she aggressively reached for his pants, finishing his task by yanking them and his boxer shorts down to his ankles in one swift motion before shoving him backward onto the bed. In seconds, his Chuck Taylor's and socks were gone too, along with his pants, thrown across the small cabin with his belt. She pulled his v-neck sweater quickly off of him and roughly pulled his black t-shirt over his head as well.
Sarah then pushed Chuck back onto the bed and jumped onto him, pinning him with a maneuver that would have made an Olympic level wrestler proud. "Sarah," Chuck croaked, "If the General finds out-"
"Relax, Chuck. Breathe," she said as she stretched out on top of him, gripped both of his hands and pushed their arms outstretched over their heads, maintaining contact over every square inch of his skin that she could. "Breathe, Chuck; in through the nose, and out through the mouth. Slowly. Along with me." Their fingers intertwined and she gripped the sides of his legs with her thighs, in firm contact with him all the way to her toes, her eyes locked on his. "That's it, right along with me. Feel my heartbeat. In through the nose. Slowly. Hold it for a count of four, then slowly back out. Breathe."
They laid there as Sarah softly whispered her mantra. After a few minutes they started to fall into a gentle synchronized cadence.
"Feel my heartbeat, sweetheart, let them match," she breathed, gazing into his eyes. "That's it. Calm. Serene. Find your center. It's just us. Nothing else matters right now. It's just us."
"Just us," he repeated, with unexpected calm in his voice.
"That's right." Sarah laid a soft kiss onto his lips, "It's just us, the rest of the world can wait. Find your center, Chuck."
"Our center," he breathed back, with a sigh.
"Yes." Sarah pushed his hands together over his head and gripped them both with one hand as her other hand found its way between them and spread over the center of his chest. "Right here, Chuck. It's right here. Focus on it. Breathe."
"Center."
"Yes. Right with me, sweetheart, one with me."
After a few more minutes passed she could feel the gentle beating of his heart start to fall into rhythm with hers. From the look in his eye, as they gazed at each other, she could tell he felt it too. They were sharing that amazing connection again. Time was slipping away from them anew.
Sarah lowered her lips to his ear, and her hand came back up, running her spread fingers through his hair with gentle strokes, as they nuzzled each other's cheek, softly breathing into each other's ear. She continued to quietly whisper her mantra. And soon, they shared airy kisses on the cheek, and then breezy kisses on the lips. Neither of them hardly noticed when the wheels set down on the runway at Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland.
General Beckman looked again at her Rolex. They were half an hour late. She glanced up from her watch to see John Casey holding her gaze with an almost imperceptible smirk, and rolled her eyes with a thin smile.
"You want me to roust them?" Casey volunteered with a snort.
"No, that won't be necessary. We'll give them a few more minutes," she said, without looking up from her Kindle.
"Oh, c'mon; it would be my pleasure," Casey said, his grin becoming quite real, as he started to rise from his seat.
"Ah-ah. No way, mister. I'll do it," Nikki said, leaning forward to push him back into his seat with her free hand. "Here, make yourself useful."
"Oh, no. No way," he huffed as Nikki set the sleeping Clara in his lap. "I don't even know what to do with this thing."
"She's not a thing, Colonel, she's a beautiful little girl," the General said with an admonishing tone.
Gertrude leaned over to stroke the baby's smooth and chubby fingers, "Maybe you should get used to the idea," she whispered in his ear.
"Oh, good Lord," Casey choked, staring at his girlfriend, turning beet red.
"Haha. Now that was definitely worth the price of admission to see," Nikki said as she stepped toward the aisle. She started to walk down the passage to the command cabin when she stopped short. The door to the cabin had opened, and Chuck and Sarah had come out with easy smiles on their faces, holding hands. They strode up to the group as Nikki gave the General a little nudge to get her attention.
"General, we have a plan," Chuck said confidently, "We thin- Holy unexpected babysitters, Batman, will you look at that."
"One more word, Chuck, and you're a dead Intersect," growled John Casey.
- V -
Eleanor Bartowski-Woodcomb slowly came to consciousness in a tranquilized daze. She was strapped to a gurney and being lowered from the side door of a large private jet. Panic overcame her, and she jerked under the straps as the memory of what had happened in their apartment rushed back into her mind.
Devon! Oh, my, God, Devon! The thought made her swiftly lucid again as she swung her head quickly back and forth trying to take in her surroundings.
They were on a large airport ramp, green grass and trees visible in the distance. The sun was sitting well above the horizon, in a sky partially filled with clouds. She wasn't absolutely sure if it was morning or afternoon, but the warm temperature of the breeze on her face made her think it was later in the day. When her eyes fell on a gurney next to her she froze. Dr. Depak was strapped to it, still very obviously unconscious. She raised her head and looked over her feet. They were being wheeled towards two boxy ambulances with unrecognizable markings on them. Then she saw the third gurney ahead of them with an IV bag hanging over it, and the top of her husband's unmistakable head of hair. "Devon!"
Two hands grabbed her head roughly and shoved it back down onto the thin pillow on the gurney. She looked up shocked, into the face of a very large man dressed in black with jet black hair and hard, chiseled features. "That's right Dr. Woodcomb, your husband is still alive. And the only way he is going to stay that way is if you cooperate with us fully."
Ellie stared up at the hard eyes of Allen Preston for a moment and her blood turned to ice water in her veins, "What about my daughter," she asked in a near panic, "What about Clara? Where's my daughter?"
"You won't be seeing your daughter again, Doctor. Not unless you do everything you're told. And even then you may not recognize her anymore," the Fulcrum operative said with vicious smirk.
- VI -
"I'd call this place beautiful if I didn't know what it was once for," Chuck observed, as they strode across the large concrete ramp. The warm colored light of the setting sun on their faces painted an idyllic scene of the surrounding panorama. Spread out around them were farm fields, trees, and green grass. In front of them were several earthen covered structures also covered with green grass and surrounded by trees. Concrete taxiways led up to very formidable looking blast doors on the front of each large building.
"Yeah, it's a little hard to believe this place had a nuclear bullseye on it at one time," Sarah agreed, as she gripped his hand firmly.
The Pardubice airport was once a Soviet bloc air force base, housing a fighter and theater nuclear attack squadron. The structures they were walking toward were heavily hardened aircraft hangars, linked to a nearby underground command center. The verdant green landscaping was designed to help hide its once destructive purpose.
But the airport was now a public facility and many of the hardened hangars were now privately owned by business' and quazi-government entities. The hangar and squadron command building they were walking toward was now a combined CIA/SIS substation, still linked by an underground road to the main command center, deeply buried a half-klick away. General Beckman and John Casey had gotten off the plane ahead of them with the general's security team and were already inside.
As they walked to an entrance to a facility that was masked by concrete and earthen berms, several people emerged and began to walk toward them. They recognized two of them immediately. Chuck wasn't too surprised to see one of them; Cole Barker was after all working predominately in Europe, but his jaw almost hit the concrete apron when his eyes met those of his mother. "What the hell?" he turned, asking Sarah, "What is she doing here? And how did she get here before us?"
"Those are very good questions," his wife softly muttered as they approached the fit looking older woman wearing a black leather trenchcoat. Sarah almost couldn't stifle a laugh, noticing how closely Nikki and Mary were dressed, in similar black turtleneck sweaters, and tall, black leather boots. The only difference in their fashion statements was that Nikki's coat was a shorter mid-hip cut and more tightly tailored to her figure.
Chuck handed the baby carrier to Sarah and took his mother, Mary, up into an easy embrace, "Mom, what are you doing here?" he asked with unmasked curiosity and a little incredulity.
"I'm here for the same reasons you are, Charles," she said, pushing him back to arm's length, gripping his hands, with hard eyes locked on his, "I'm going to help you get your sister back."
He looked at her agape for a second, "Well, yeah. I understand. But how did you get here ahead of us?"
"I was already in Europe, not far from here."
"Wha-? What are you doing in Europe?"
"It's a long story, Chuck, it'll have to wait. Hello, Sarah," Mary then said, turning her attention to the blonde spy and the little girl she was holding, "I hear you're pretty much back to your old self again... with a few enhancements," she added quietly, with a wry smile.
Chuck and Sarah exchanged a wary glance at each other, "Now isn't the time our place to discuss this, mom," Chuck muttered from the corner of his mouth.
"You're right. We should get inside." Mary's gaze fell onto her granddaughter. "May I?" she asked Sarah.
"Of course, she needs familiar people and things right now," Sarah replied, as Mary picked Clara up from the carrier and started to dote over her.
"Hello, Sarah, Chuck. May I take that off your hands?" Cole Barker asked, pointing to the empty baby carrier.
"Thank you." Sarah handed him the carrier, "You always were the gentleman, Cole."
"I try. But it seems someone always had me beat in that department," he said cryptically, giving her and Chuck a wry smile. "Let me introduce our hosts, CIA Station Chief, Frank Osborn, and his SIS counterpart, my boss, Thomas Claire."
The two, as yet quiet gentleman stepped forward to exchange brief greetings and handshakes with Chuck, Sarah and the rest of the also quiet members of Team Bartowski who'd gathered on the ramp.
"I'm afraid Mrs. Bartowski is correct, we should be getting inside," said Thomas Claire, with a very proper London accent. "Eyes and ears everywhere, you know. Not that we can keep much of this hush, hush, anyway," he added, gesturing at the Air Force 737 on the ramp.
Inside the building, past a pair of very large open blast doors, and a more normal looking glass entry door was a very modern looking office space with a central control area and several glassed-in offices and conference rooms. The team was ushered into the largest of the conference rooms and the blinds were drawn closed with a push of a button when they entered. Three extremely fit looking men were already sitting at the far end of the large table looking at something intently on a notebook computer.
All three men stood when Chuck, Sarah, and the rest of their immediate team walked into the room. The dark-bearded man in the center stepped forward with his hand extended.
"Station Chief Carmichael, Officer Carmichael, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Captain Steven Messner, DEVGRU. We've been assigned by the Joint Chiefs and SOCOM to back you up. These are my squadron leaders, Commander Smith, Gold Squadron, assault, and Commander Jones, Black Squadron, recon."
Chuck smiled at the cover names and accepted the man's hand, shaking it warmly, even though they both knew what the SEAL team's role might turn out to be on this mission if things went sideways on them. "The pleasure's all mine, Captain. It's very nice to meet one of the guys who live and work on the pointy end every day."
"Thank you sir, but with all due respect, your exploits and record of successes speak for themselves," the Navy Captain said evenly, "I'm not at all pleased about the reason we were ordered to be here."
Chuck pursed his lips with a veiled yet slightly somber expression, "Yeah, well, we're going to do our damnedest to prevent you from having to carry out that assignment. I hope you understand, and will give us the opportunity, and maybe a little help with pulling this off?"
"I understand perfectly, Chief. We'll do what we can to help get all of us out of this in one piece. Though I'm not clear why they didn't assign this job to my team to begin with."
"Let's just say there are unusual extenuating circumstances and leave it at that. I wish we could tell you more."
"We hear that a lot, Chief. Not the first time we've been given a mission without all the whys and wherefores. We've learned to live with it," the bearded man said with a thin smile. "General Beckman said you wanted to give us a full briefing on the plan you've devised. Shall we have a seat and get started?"
"By all means, let's get to it. It's actually fairly straightforward and fluid, but we'll need to move very quickly with it," Chuck replied, exchanging a glance with Sarah who was quietly studying the three Navy officers.
The Navy man caught the look between the two married CIA officers and exchanged a brief look of curiosity with his colleagues. "Well as you've already been informed our guys have started acting on the data you've mined and begun an in-depth recon. We're getting your cover gear together now and assessing the opposition..."
- VII -
The man looked like he was in very bad shape, but the medical staff said by some miracle he was going to pull through. His attending physician said a miracle had nothing to do with it, that he was simply as tough as nails. In fact, he was so tough he was already off his ventilator. The surgeons were royally pissed about that because they wanted to keep Agent John Rogers sedated for at least another twelve hours.
Morgan Grimes stared through the window into the NSA agent's room. Only one of the apparently sleeping man's eyes showed because of a bandage that covered half his face from where a bullet had entered his left cheek and exited in front of his ear after shattering two of his upper teeth. As Morgan watched him, trying to get up the nerve to enter the room, the NSA man's uncovered eye opened and met his gaze with surprising intensity. They watched each other for a moment, and then Roger's raised his hand, curling his fingers - one of which had a pulse clip on it - toward his palm, beckoning him into the room.
Special Agent Grimes shuffled into the room under the NSA agent's unwavering gaze. "Hey," he said, "glad to see you're still with us."
"They're gone, aren't they?" the big man slurred, with pain in his voice.
"Yeah," Morgan answered, with a sigh, "but we know where they were taken."
"Damn." Roger's gaze turned to the ceiling, "We let them down."
Morgan shook his head emphatically, "No," he said with conviction "You did everything you could under the circumstances, and this isn't over yet. We need your help, John. Tell me all you can about what happened."
- VIII -
"I can't believe our dumb luck that the bad guys are holed up in an almost identical facility," Sarah muttered, as their group stood in front of a very large blast door big enough to accept a medium sized truck.
"I suppose," Chuck answered thoughtfully as he studied the door, "but these places look formidable. If they manage to get these doors shut before we get in..."
"We have to be sneaky, Chucky. We'll make sure they never knew what hit them. And when they finally do, it will way too late."
Sarah looked at Carina Miller with a sidelong smirk, "No improvisation on this one, Carina."
"Who? Me?" Carina scoffed, "I have no idea what you're talking about. But, you know, sometimes being sneaky means you do have to think on your feet."
"I think if we have to improvise while we're being sneaky, we may already be screwed," Zondra Rizzo commented with a short cynical laugh.
"Oh, ye of little faith," retorted Carina with an evil smile, "Sometimes maintaining the element of surprise means you have to be ready to improvise."
"Uh-huh, listen to you wax poetic, Ms. Bull in the China Shop," Zondra retorted, her laugh taking a sarcastic turn.
The seven of them, Chuck, Sarah, Mary, Nikki, Carina, Zondra, and Cole, were standing at the entrance to a vehicle tunnel almost a quarter of a mile long. It was straight, with very few places to hide, except for some, now unused, nuclear munitions bunkers about a third of the way down the tunnel, ventilation shafts in the walls in a few places, and square, reinforced concrete columns every fifty feet or so along the walls.
At the other end of the tunnel was another huge blast door like this one that could potentially block the entrance to the command center where they suspected Ellie, Devon, and Manoosh were being held. They'd decided that entering through the command center entrance was a no go, because it was too heavily fortified, with a very large contingent of guards watching it, both inside and out. This tunnel, leading from the hangar complex to the command center, was the weakest point, but it was long, and the approach was very exposed.
"We'll need a couple of vehicles for this to work," Cole Barker observed.
"The SEAL recon team says they've been seeing a lot of trucks going in and out," Nikki replied, gazing thoughtfully down the tunnel. "We should be able to steal one or two, and as long as these uniforms are a good match we should blend in."
Everyone but Mary was wearing a green tactical uniform and a ballistic vest that matched what the opposition was wearing. The SEALS had taken some amazingly clear and detailed video of the Fulcrum agents and their security force. Chuck glanced at his mom. For some reason, she was insisting on staying with analyst Julie Peterson at the CIA substation. He'd been fully expecting an argument from her about going along, but it hadn't happened.
"Are you sure your leg is okay, Nikki? If we have to run down this tunnel..." Chuck let his voice trail off as he looked at her and saw her determined eyes.
"Yeah, boss, don't you worry about me. I'll be fine."
"Well, we all know what our assignments are, but let's go over them again while we take a walk down this tunnel and review the layout of the command center," Chuck said, wrapped in deep in thought. "I sure don't want anyone to get lost in this maze with armed bad guys chasing us around, Inter-special intel, or not."
- IX -
"Five minutes," The detached voice said over their helmet headphones.
The six operatives all held up a thumb, "Roger that," Chuck said into the mic inside his oxygen mask. He reached over, giving his wife's knee a squeeze, and Sarah dropped her mask for a second, showing him a toothy grin, mouthing 'I love you.'
Carina and Zondra, who'd been watching the display, both shook their heads and Carina made a very exaggerated roll of her eyes that included a flip of her head to the side. "She is so hopelessly lost, Chucky," Carina said, for the whole cabin to hear, "We should all be so lucky."
Sarah lowered her oxygen mask again to stick her tongue out at her good friend.
"I can't believe that group is going in ahead of us," one of the Navy SEAL's shouted, over the loud din of the aircraft with his mask lowered to the guy sitting next to him.
"I guess you haven't heard the rumors about them, eh?" his partner yelled back.
"No! What rumors?! I thought I was the source of all the juiciest gossip! What have they done?!"
"Oh, only saved entire cities from nuclear destruction! Minor stuff like that!"
"Oh, bullshit! You are so full of it, Beavers."
"Just sayin'! I'll reserve judgment until I see them jump off the ramp!"
"Twenty bucks says it looks like a cluster fuck!"
"You're on, Chief," exclaimed the very large special forces operator with a fist bump.
"Two minutes, Sir." The rear ramp on the C-130 aircraft started to lower, revealing a gray horizon line with a dark, star-filled sky above it, and the cabin suddenly became very chilly as a cold breeze whipped around them.
"Right. It's showtime," Chuck said resolutely as he stood up from the web seat and offered Sarah his hand. "I wish Casey could have heard me say that."
"I'm sure he'll hear about it from someone," Sarah replied as she stood up with a smile that only showed through the goggles covering her eyes. She shook her head toward the cabin at the eighteen Navy SEALs sitting in web seats behind them.
"Oh. Heh, right," Chuck replied with a nervous chuckle. "Shall we?" he asked, with an exaggerated bow gesturing towards the ramp.
"Why, certainly. I've always wanted to jump out of an airplane with you, Charles Carmichael."
"Good God, I think I'm going to be sick," Carina deadpanned as she walked aft.
The six agents stood at the edge of the ramp and took a brief look out.
"Looks like the right part of town," quipped Cole.
"Try not to wake any of the neighbors, okay?" Nikki teased, giving him a wink.
"Quiet as a mouse," said the SIS agent, his wry smile hidden by his O2 mask.
"Shit, that bunch is worse than us," an unidentified SEAL said over the circuit.
"Twenty seconds!"
"I expect a wet kiss after we land," Sarah said saucily.
"You really thought you had to ask?"
"Ten seconds!"
"Who's going to kiss me when I land?" asked Carina as she moved the last half step toward the edge.
Eighteen Navy SEALs started to rise from their seats with their hands raised.
Sarah took Chuck up in an embrace and touched her oxygen mask to his, winking at him and rolling her eyes toward the large group of standing Navy operators.
"GO!" exclaimed the Jumpmaster sharply when the jump light turned green.
Six operatives nonchalantly tipped over the edge of the ramp, all at once, from twenty thousand feet. Two of them were in a tight embrace.
"Dayam! You owe me twenty bucks, Chief!"
"I think I know where I'm applying for work when I get done with this gig," said another anonymous SEAL as several of them moved towards the ramp to watch the falling agents.
They opened their square parachutes at 4,000 feet and glided toward the earth covered hangar complex on the south end of the Hradec Kralove airport below them. The layout was very similar to the one at Pardubice, the blockhouse entrance to the command center and guardpost visible next to the airport ramp about five hundred yards away.
"I've got the one on the right, you take the one by the door," Sarah said as they maneuvered behind the guards on and around the hangar they were going to enter.
"Right. I mean left... the one by the door."
"You goof. Time to get serious, Chuck."
"I was serious. Pardon my excitement. This is like only the sixth time I've done this."
"Well, you're obviously not talking about sex," Nikki said with a laugh that sounded almost macabre over the encrypted radio circuit, "I'm angling for the top of the hangar."
"Roger that, Nikki."
"We really need to find some more privacy, Chuck."
"Sorry, I missed that honey, I was flash- distracted."
"Never mind."
Sarah's boot contacted the guard's left temple with a crack as she flared the square chute to land. She landed light on her feet as the guard crumpled lifelessly to the grass. "Chuck, status!"
"One down, an indeterminate number to go. How are you?"
"He's down for the count. Nikki?"
"Overwatch is secure, no Tangos."
"Okay. Cleanup," said Sarah, pulling her helmet and oxygen mask off and donning her cap. "We'll rally at the entrance in thirty. Switching to ear piece. Team two."
"We're down and secure," replied Cole, "You definitely put me with the right ladies."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, mate," Carina snarked, with a cockney accent.
"Entrance secure," Zondra stated professionally, "Standing by."
"So far, so good," Sarah whispered as she scrambled down the slope of the hangar roof toward her husband.
Just as she reached the doorway the heavy armored door creaked open and light spilled out into the darkness. As the Fulcrum operative stepped through the doorway with his weapon - an FN P90 at ready low - Chuck reached out from the side and yanked the gun forward by the attached suppressor with a snap of the sling, while Sarah flung an elbow into the enemy agent's advancing throat. Chuck's left foot shot forward, sweeping the guards feet out from under him, as Sarah drove her other hand into his chest and down. The guard's head hit the concrete with a dull crack, as Chuck drew his tranq gun, lightning fast, squaring his stance, and then rapidly fired twice through the open door.
Sarah looked at Chuck wide-eyed when the second unseen enemy operative fell with a clatter down the expanded metal steps into the interior of the hangar. She glanced inside quickly to make sure no one else was there, then grabbed her husband by the collar and laid a serious and passionate kiss on his lips. The very wet one she expected.
"Damn, did you see that?" whispered one of the two Black Squadron Navy SEALs in Gilly suits. They were well concealed in a hedgerow just inside the airport fence.
"What? The takedown? Or that kiss?"
"Both. Some guys get to have all the fun. Let the Commander know they're in."
From where John Casey was located the SEAL sniper team looked like just another clump of grass in the landscape, registering just barely on Tony Carmichael's thermal imaging device. He glanced briefly to his right towards where Gertrude had another nest at the opposite end of the airfield and finally let out his held breath. "Jesus H. Christ, Chuck, you guys are going to give me a heart attack," he growled over the radio circuit. He and Anthony Carmichael were on sniper overwatch on a hilltop about a half mile away, and he'd damn near pulled the trigger.
"Sorry, big guy. We need to have a chat with Sarah about the similarity between 'so far, so good', and 'just one more mission.'"
"Oh, haha, very damn funny. Help me move this big lug, honey," Sarah grunted, as she tried to pull the guard over the ground by the drag handle on his vest. "Nikki, if you can't find somewhere to stash the one I took out, drag him down here to us, we'll hide them in the hangar with the jump gear."
"Rog, Sarah."
Sarah snapped the lock shut on the empty shipping container that now contained four heavily tranquilized guards. When they shuffled several quick paces to the rear of the hangar, they found themselves staring down a concrete ramp that led down into a dark expanse below. It was all very familiar. They'd walked through it in detail in Pardubice, and all of it was also in the Intersect. But they still didn't know what they might encounter once they descended down it. The reinforced concrete and steel aircraft hangar was surprisingly large inside, but it's only contents were the several empty shipping containers. Chuck couldn't help himself and chuckled softly when he looked at Sarah and Nikki.
"What's so funny?" Nikki asked curiously with a tilt of her head to the side, glancing down at her uniform a little self-consciously.
"Oh, us. These uniforms." They were wearing green BDU's with ballistic armor tactical vests and green patrol caps. Chuck was staring at the shoulder patch on Sarah's uniform that they had removed from one of the guards, along with their radios. The patch had a large isosceles triangle surrounding the earth with Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man superimposed over the top of it. Combined with the suppressed FN P90 submachine guns they were carrying it all looked strangely familiar. "I'm wondering if we're going to step into a room down there," he said, pointing down the darkened ramp, "and find a huge ring with alien markings on it." He did the eyebrow dance.
Sarah rolled her eyes at him. "The mission, Chuck," she warned, "I better not catch you stepping into any glowing rings."
"Yes, Samantha, I promise to wait 'til we're done."
"Oh! Ha," Nikki whispered, "SG1. I guess we do look a little like them, don't we?"
"A little?" Chuck grinned back, wrinkling his nose, "Carina, status."
"We're getting ready to descend down to the intersection, Chucky."
"Same here. Let's proceed. We'll meet you at the junction."
"Copy, Chuckles."
"She has a way of taking all the tension out of the moment," Nikki commented with a grin.
"Why do you think I called her?" Chuck said with a soft snort, "She never disappoints when things get sticky."
"That's because she has a habit of making things sticky," Sarah quietly hissed as they started to move silently down the ramp.
"I heard that, Bartowski," Carina's voice whispered with mock hurt over the radio circuit.
They moved stealthily into the darkness, emerging out into a concrete-lined tunnel with an arched roof just large enough to get a truck through. Most of the lights were out, but a few of them along the walls were lit, casting pools of light onto the floor ahead of them. At the very end of the tunnel near a dark intersection, one of the lights was blinking. Chuck's eyebrows stitched together and he frowned, caught in the moment by the haunting familiarity of the sight.
He looked at Sarah to see her staring at him questioningly, "What?" she mouthed.
He shook his head briefly and shrugged, "Nothing... I think," he answered with a barely audible whisper.
Sarah froze for a second, staring at Chuck, remembering a once shared conversation about an escape from a CIA facility, then gave his upper arm a squeeze, and they moved silently on.
When they reached the t-intersection of the two tunnels Chuck turned the bill of his cap around on his head and peered briefly around the corner, spotting two enemy guards standing in the shadow between two lights. He looked up and stared at the blinking light across from him. It had to be a coincidence.
The guards were too far away for him to sneak up on them in the open tunnel. As he drew his tranq gun from the holster mounted on his chest he experienced an almost seamless flash, and then the two fulcrum agents crumpled to the ground with a clatter that echoed through the tunnel after four rapid puffs came from his pistol. "Damn, that was way too noisy," he said with a quiet whisper, looking at the two cringing women behind him who obviously agreed with his assessment.
"I'm not sure what else you could have done. Anything else risked them reporting it," Nikki observed as they scrambled around the corner toward the still bodies lying on the concrete. "What do we do with these guys?"
"Let's drag them down there a ways," said Sarah, pointing down the pitch black tunnel on the opposite side of the intersection. "That's odd, why are the lights out?"
"Good question," Chuck replied with a one shoulder shrug, "I don't think it's a coincidence. It's almost like someone has been anticipating our movements and actions, assisting..." he trailed off when he saw his wife's curious raised eyebrow and intense blue eyes flashing at him, lit by the lone blinking light. "Just sayin'."
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Sarah pursed her lips, "Chuck... have you thought of the possibility...?"
"Yeah... and no... it couldn't be... no, I don't believe it," Chuck replied, with a more than a hint of skepticism in his voice. He shook his head ruefully and stared at the guard at his feet. "Let's get these guys out of sight."
After stowing the bodies, they continued silently down the tunnel. Up ahead of them the passage suddenly plunged into darkness, causing the three agents to exchange curious looks between them when another lone light lit and blinked near the intersection of what appeared to be three tunnels. "NV," Sarah said, reaching to pull on her miniaturized set of night vision goggles that were around her neck. "Someone is definitely helping us."
"Uh-huh, why I do feel like I'm being watched by a ghost?" Chuck whispered back with a haunted lilt in his voice. "Mom?" he asked rhetorically. She did, after all, ask to stay at the CIA station with Julie.
"Could she do this?" Nikki asked.
"I don't know." Chuck's voice was dripping with curiosity. "Maybe... I guess. She's done things like this before."
"Chuck... maybe-" Sarah started to say, then stopped abruptly.
Because, as if on cue, Chuck's iPhone started to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, and his breath caught in his throat as he yanked his goggles down, watching the distinguishing green text rapidly appear across the darkened display a character at a time. "Holy..."
Teammates on the left.
Six Fulcrum agents on the
right near the vehicles.
Cameras have been looped.
Ace's Charles
"What, Chuck?" Sarah asked with alarm.
He held his phone up for her to see, speechless.
"Stephen?" Sarah gasped, "Is that really possible? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I don't know what to think anymore, Sarah," Chuck said with a thick gulp. He shook his head, staring down the tunnel trying to remember the details of that awful day. He didn't even feel the phone when it vibrated briefly in his hand again, still facing toward his wife.
"Chuck," Sarah said softly, "look at your phone." She reached up grasping his hand around the phone and his eyes went wide from the instantly conveyed message that shot between them.
Sarah turned it around and watched Chuck take a sudden gasping breath.
Hello Sarah
Believe it son. Sarah
is right. Keep your wits
about you. We need
Agent Carmichael right
now.
Chuck stared incredulously at the display, and it abruptly changed to an image showing the section of the tunnels they were in. Six green dots showed about seventy feet back in two of the tunnels leading to the intersection, and six red dots showed in the third tunnel around four graphic rectangles; two of the red dots were moving. Chuck's eyebrows shot up when he shuffled a few steps and one of the green dots moved.
"Fuck." Words like that hardly ever passed his lips. The display abruptly changed again and his hand flew to his mouth to suppress a snorting laugh.
Charles?
What have your mother
and I told you about
your language?
And what happened to my
wrist computer?
"Ummm, Chucky?" came Carina's whispering voice over their earpieces, "Cole just got this weird green text message on his phone. Who's Orion?"
Thanks for reading!
Mac