Chapter 17

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I

June 09, 2012, pt. 2

What weighed most heavily on Beckman's conscience today was Chuck. His actions at their last meeting were… well, she was confronting him in a small, soundproof meeting room right now.

"Chuck, are you insane? You can't use him!"

"Trust me, General," Chuck returned, somewhat defiantly, standing in the back of the room with his arms crossed. A high window streamed light from the midday sun above him, leaving him shadowed. "I know what I'm doing. We can't use me, and we're certainly not using any of my friends for this."

"But what if they're successful? What if the Omen Virus isn't operational anymore?"

"General, do you seriously doubt my ability to handle Daniel Shaw at this point?" Chuck chuckled sarcastically.

"Yes, Chuck," Beckman responded soberly, taking the wind out of his sails, "I do. You've been acting way too erratic this entire operation."

"No I haven't," he protested defensively.

"Chuck, you tried to bait these people into bringing their bioweapon into the Pentagon."

"Hello, so we could analyze it to create our own antidote!"

"The Intersect is not a cure-all, Chuck. It certainly isn't going to stop you from poisoning yourself. Or getting shot, or beaten to death by your sworn enemy after you graciously upload a new Intersect into his head!"

"I can do anything I put my mind to, General. Whether you believe me or not." Chuck angrily walked past the general and put his hand to the door handle to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened, Chuck?"

Slowly, he turned around.

"Do you remember, a couple months ago, I asked you if joining this operation was about Sarah, and you said no?"

"It's not about Sarah," he interrupted. But Beckman just continued.

"But through and through you show how desperately you want to be a hero again. You go out half-cocked, come up with these wild ideas for how you think we can stop these terrorists – plans we both know are never going to work…

"This is about Sarah. So why don't you tell me what happened."

Chuck just stood there by the door, biting his lip, Beckman looking up at him with worry. The light from the window illuminated his torso but left his hung head in the shade.

"I need the old Chuck; this country needs the old Chuck if we're going to get out of this. But we can't have him if you don't talk to someone about what happened with—"

"She remembered," he blurted out. "She remembered everything. I kissed her on the beach and…

"I thought it was going to be like everything was back to normal. But then she told me… that getting a full dose of all the good and… all the 'bad' or… that's what she called it… she said it was a lot to take in.

"But… you know, we tried for a while. And I thought it was going really well… but then in March she just said we were done."

"That's it?"

Chuck didn't respond.

"Well, I don't really know much about relationships, but…" Beckman stumbled, awkwardly looking for a way to reassure her colleague. "You two have been through some very tough ti—"

"She's pregnant. She told me in March. And then she broke up with me."

"Well… it's… yours, right?"

"Of course it's mine!"

"Okay, well… with children, there's custody arrangements. It's not like you're never going to see her again. Maybe you two can work out—"

Chuck shook his head vigorously. "I'm not going back to her until this is over. I'm coming back a hero, and she's going to remember why she fell for me."

"Chuck, come on—"

"No. I know what I'm doing."

Chuck turned and pulled the door open.

"Chuck, wait."

He squeezed the door handle hard. "General—"

"No, it's about the mission. Please. You know their mysterious 'Chairman' who so enthusiastically proposed using Shaw for this experiment? Don't you think it was peculiar how laser-focused that—"

"I'm not listening to any more of this."

He walked out of the room, but the frustrated General wouldn't let up. She walked out behind him and blurted out for all the hall to hear, "Martin de Borgias."

Chuck froze in place. After a moment like that, he turned and briskly walked back into the room, Beckman trailing.

"What the hell was that?" he asked in a half-whisper, even though he had just slammed the door shut.

"a Ph.D. scholar from a top biochemistry university. He vanished the day he graduated, some years ago. We found him in our hunt for suspects likely involved with the Guardians. Why, did you flash?"

Chuck, still dazed, took a moment to nod. "His name… tied to a government records break-in a decade ago. Completely… untraceable… well I guess not perfect since the Intersect—"

"Chuck."

"His name…

"His real name is Martin Shaw."

The dread on Beckman's face was indescribable. "Chuck… you know you can't do this."

Chuck gulped hard, then made up his mind. "I can handle this."

Beckman was flabbergasted. She didn't know what to do to stop this madness. She didn't know if that was even possible.

She knew she was responsible, too. If she hadn't given Chuck this mission…

Then again, if the Intersect wasn't here, the government would be in a much more perilous position.

It was all too much. "Chuck, I can't do this."

But Chuck was too exasperated to entertain his former superior anymore. "Then go. Get a reassignment. Leave. I'll take care of this.

"I don't need you."

II

The gunshot startled Stark, but she realized in an instant (and with the thud of a collapsing body behind her) that she was unharmed. She moved to turn around.

"Don't." It was a voice she recognized. One she never expected to hear again. Damn you, Orion, she thought as the figure of Heather Chandler walked slowly toward her, gun to her back. "Where is she."

Stark responded tonelessly. "Ask the guy you just killed."

"You know, I was wondering when you'd finally find out where your daughter was, but I didn't think you'd come at me like this."

"She's not my daughter. And I didn't send any agents to you."

"Not your daughter? Orion seemed pretty sure she was when he—"

"Yeah, well, Orion's an idiot." Stark defiantly turned to face her old frienemy. "I don't know who she is."

Surprised by Stark's move, Heather put her gun down. "What happened? Got no fight in you anymore? And no offense, but," she added, looking over the exhausted, disheveled, dejected woman, "you look terrible."

"My daughter's dying in a hospital room a thousand miles away. I left her there to go after your 'daughter' but I failed."

"Jesus…" Heather sighed and moved in attempt to console Stark. "I-I was out investigating – you know when Julia didn't come home, I didn't just wait for… doesn't matter," she pivoted, noticing a tear roll down Stark's cheek; "I don't know when she was taken, but maybe we—"

"You know, this is the second time I've done this. I chose the mission over my daughter four years ago and she hates me for it. I did it again just now and… this time she's going to die."

"Well… isn't there anything we can do?"

"Not unless I can get to Winnipeg, pick up some stupid magic serum crap from Betelgeuse, and get it down to Rachel before they take her off life support."

"Betelgeuse?"

"Orion."

"Magic serum?"

Stark just shook her head in frustration.

"Okay, well, why don't you come inside, we can look for flights and—"

"No flights. We can't risk the government knowing where I'm going. It would compromise what's left of this… resistance or… I don't even know what you call us anymore."

"Well, I-I'd go but, I'm technically supposed to still be in prison. I've had to lie pretty low up here as Marianne Howard, and stepping on a plane is a big no-no."

"I'm doing it again," Stark replied after a pause. "I won't allow myself to take the risks necessary to have one last chance at saving my daughter. I'm too much 'spy.' Too little human."

"Jesus, don't talk like that. L-look, I'll drive you. I've crossed the border a few times, I know where to go to avoid the patrols. Here," she continued, walking down the yard, "the keys are still in this SUV. We'll take this."

Stark followed without a word.

"Try and get some sleep," Marianne entreated as Stark put her seatbelt on. "God knows you need it," she added as she turned the engine on.

Before fading from consciousness, Stark managed to ask one more question (in tired gasps, that is): "Why… did Orion… pick you. He had to… break you out of prison… right?"

Marianne reflected for a moment. "I don't know," she finally answered. "Maybe he felt bad for me."

III

The compound outside of Winnipeg was massive – which made sense, having its own airstrip and all. Still, how someone could single-handedly build this place – let alone the global company operating through it – was way beyond Edward Hernandez's comprehension.

Was this how the corporations of the future would operate? Through highly-efficient, fully-automated systems? Or was it all an elaborate shell game funded by wise investments and more than a few shady organizations in need of no-questions-asked money laundering services, built to keep a network of deep-underground former spies and their families a few steps ahead of anyone looking for them? Well, believe whichever you'd like, but you'd think if it were the former, more legitimate businesses would have a shred of the level of efficiency of Pennington Freight.

The compound itself consisted of three large aircraft hangars storing cargo planes and whatever they need to ship, facing a modestly-sized runway with a single airstrip. A small, unmanned (of course) control tower sat opposite the far building; it mainly served to supply radar capabilities and house one of the many backup systems for automation control Betelgeuse had set up in case the primary (stored underneath this compound) happened to fail.

Also stored underground were living quarters for hiding: at the far end of the middle hangar, a broken-down vintage Cessna Airmaster sat - apparently without its front landing gear – flat on the concrete; but if you were to enter and press a precise sequence of buttons in the cockpit, the craft would raise itself from its front, through moving platforms lifting that landing gear from below the surface, exposing under the body a shallow stairwell that led to a surprisingly large underground bunker. At its entrance were two security doors – one keypad-locked, the next biometric. Past those was a large living area with simple furnishings (and an ostentatiously large wall-mounted computer monitor), an open-concept kitchen area on the right, and a hall on the left, down which were various doors to bunkers and a server room (that housed another backup system along with a ton of other random electronic tools and toys of Betelgeuse's creation).

It had now been two days since the pair crossed the border, and with no attempted contact from Stark, no info on Robin Miller or her alias showing up online (according to a sophisticated web crawler Betelgeuse whipped up), and no facial recognition of any missing friendlies from any government security footage infected by Betelgeuse's still-active spyware, the pair were getting nervous. Betelgeuse tried to staunch his anxiety by focusing on some projects he'd been working on since long before being pulled back into the US, but Hernandez could do nothing but pace.

"Hey," he finally asked after a long spell deep in thought, "how long do you think we can stay down here?"

"Well, I int-tended to move us a-all out of the continent, b-b-but there's no s-sign of any overt or covert interest in, in this facility. S-so I think we're safe to w-wait until—"

"Come in, Betelgeuse," a voice he didn't immediately recognized called through his watch radio. "If you can read me, this is Marianne Howard."

Betelgeuse immediately responded. "How did you get on this secure channel? Where's Stark?"

"With me. She's fine, just not in a position to talk right now. We need directions."

Without reluctance, for he had reason enough to trust the former Heather Chandler (and figured Stark would have no problem against "Marianne Howard" in a fight if the latter were untrustworthy), Betelgeuse directed her to his compound. Then he and Hernandez climbed the steps out of the underground bunker. But they barely took one step out of the hanger before the squeal of tires precipitated the arrival of Stark's SUV.

Stark barreled out of the passenger's seat, looking more fiercely determined than Betelgeuse had ever seen. Though to be fair, he only got a passing glance at her face before his focus was distracted by the intimidating barrel of the gun she pointed at him.

"I need one of your planes loaded with as much of that Catalyst shit you can find."

"W-what happened?"

"SHUT UP AND DO IT!" Her voice was full of desperation.

"Walker, why don't—" Marianne's meek attempt to console Stark was returned with a near-miss swing of the weapon at her face.

"L-look, I I I don't, I don't know what you're th-thinking, but w-we don't h-have any, any routes o-over US airspace. And e-even if I did want to d-deal with the FAA, which I don't, I—"

"I'LL FLY IT MYSELF!"

"How will you land? Y-you don't have clearance t—"

"SHUT UP! PLEASE, JUST…" but, coming to terms with the futility of her last-ditch idea, all Stark could do was scream in frustration, punch a wall, and try to keep from falling into another sobbing fit.

Betelgeuse didn't need to be told what had made Stark so upset. Around twenty minutes before their arrival, she had gotten the call she dreaded.

Robin was dead.

IV

Julia finally awoke from her tranq-induced stupor to find herself laying on the floor of a small, windowless, white room. As her eyes adjusted, she realized someone was standing above her, blocking her way to the only exit. As they adjusted further, she recognized the detestable face of the President.

"There she is!" He yelled gleefully. "There's the star of the show! Just give us a moment," he added, prancing around her, "we're still getting set up." To prove this point, he opened the door, allowing the agent Julia recognized as the one who tranq'd her in Seattle to shove a cuffed Director Beckman in. The agent came in with her, shut the door, and stood by it as a guard while Shaw continued his work. "Feel free to, uhh, stand," he added toward Julia, "but you gotta stay on that red X."

Julia, realizing she was unrestrained, pushed herself up while the President uncuffed the Director. "You, madame, stand over here," he directed, pushing Beckman onto a blue X drawn on the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Julia couldn't help but ask.

Shaw ignored her. "No one touch this until I give the signal over the intercom!" he yelled, brandishing a gun which he set carefully on the floor in the center of the room, equidistant from the two women. "If either of you try anything too soon, I will be forced to gas the room." He opened the door to the exit; his guard stood menacingly next to him, keeping either woman from even thinking about trying anything.

"Oh, by the way!" Shaw added before him and his guard left, "Julia, your handler's dead."

Julia perked up in alarm. Beckman slouched.

"Yeah. Police wanted to interview her, got her picture in a database – doesn't matter how, but we found her medical record; earlier today: poof. Ciao!"

The two hostiles left the room.

V

Marianne left almost as quickly as she had arrived: her cover had not been blown, and she was a perfectly capable agent, so she felt no reluctance to return home. Besides, she had her own business to attend to.

Stark had gotten uneasy sleep on the road, but especially with her condition, she needed time to rest. Betelgeuse as well, for the news did not hit him kindly either. That just left Agent Hernandez, who didn't particularly know what to do with himself.

Truly, he was something of a third-wheel: he had joined the troupe in their effort to escape the CIA to avoid the President's insanity, and he wanted to support them through and through as a way of getting revenge for his mother's murder; but with Julia captured, Robin dead, and the other two agents emotionally compromised, he wasn't sure what he could do for the mission anymore. Of course, he empathized with Stark's and Betelgeuse's loss – it was no different from him losing his mother – but he was worried if the remaining members of this team couldn't hold it together, maybe the President could find a way to succeed after all.

Still, it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it – he didn't have the technical expertise of Betelgeuse, and he definitely didn't have Stark's spy skills either. At best, he was a somewhat-capable bodyguard. For now, at least, he just decided to keep a low profile and hope he could at least be of use later.

Ruminating on these thoughts in his room, Hernandez found himself drifting to sleep without even trying to. He would be woken up hours later by the sound of arguing out in the living area.

"I don't care, I'm going!"

"You're not g-gonna find him there."

Hernandez didn't feel great about snooping, but for how big it was, the walls weren't exactly thick in that bunker; besides, he felt safer in his room than out there with Stark as angry as she sounded.

"You underestimate me. I found Rachel when you couldn't; remember that."

"Come – come on, Sarah, calm down for a sec.

"No, I-I'm tired of this 'Stark' crap. Wh-when I knew you, you you you were Sarah Walker and I – I was Stephen J. Bartowski A.K.A. O-Orion. Wh-what happened to to to—"

"Your son kidnapped my daughter, that's what happened."

"Because she was i-in mortal danger! Y-you would've known this twenty years ago if y-you simply would have talked to him."

"Don't you dare twist this onto me! I didn't go no-contact with Chuck. He's the one who didn't talk to me. For Christ's sake, he didn't even come to the custody hearing."

Betelgeuse sighed and lowered his voice. "I… I'm sorry. I'm not, not trying to… turn this around on you. B-but you don't know the whole story. That's not an ex-excuse but… you don't know what was going on at the CIA."

"Yeah, well, Chuck can answer to that when I find him. Right before I put a couple bullets in him."

"What happened? Be-between you and Chuck. N-no, I mean, before we went into hiding. You and and and Chuck broke up, before he, before he went back to the CIA.

"Come on," Betelgeuse continued after a pause, "I-I've heard it from Chuck, b-but I've never heard your side."

Hernandez heard a short sigh. "I… I wanted a break. To process everything I remembered. Chuck… Chuck didn't." Without elaborating, Hernandez heard Stark's footsteps recede.

"L-look, I'm not gonna s-stop you, but… you're not, not gonna find Chuck there."

The sound of a door closing was the last thing Hernandez heard before deciding to join Betelgeuse in the living area.

"S-sorry to wake you."

"'s no problem. Did Stark leave?"

"St-stowing away on Pennington Fr-Freight's next flight to Marrakesh.

"F-first thing tomorrow, you you and… and I are going to Dublin. Un-until the President gets impeached, we're lying low."

"What about Julia?"

Betelgeuse let out a deep sigh. "We… we can't do a-a-anything f-for her now."

Hernandez in this moment studied Betelgeuse's visage. He had expected something more solemn and sad in his face, but at this moment, he just looked tired. Like he had been doing this for way longer than anyone should have to.

"So…" Hernandez treaded lightly, "I guess you know a lot about… I dunno, everything that's been going on with these Guardians and this Intersect thing and…

"Well, I mean I'm just some low-level government lackey…"

"Y-you want to know the story," Betelgeuse concluded. "Why… why we're here." He chuckled a bit. "That, my new friend, is a s-story that takes us all the way b-back to 2012."