A/N: Chapter dropping a little early this week, as I'll be out of town for the weekend starting tonight. Hope this doesn't mess up anyone's Friday plans. Oh, and...right, right, right. Don't own anything. Blah, blah, blah. Now let's go.
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Graham stood in the courtyard at Echo Park and said to Jerry Barker, the head of his security detail, "I'm meeting Carmichael's team. Do not interrupt for any reason, Jerry. Even if you hear gunfire, don't come in."
"Gunfire? Boss, we are supposed to protect you. My job..." Barker was a fresh-faced, blonde man in his early thirties. Graham liked him a lot and had personally selected him for the security detail. Barker would have preferred to be in the field, but accepted the position next to the Director with good grace.
Graham was dressed in khakis and his favorite leather jacket. He pulled back the jacket to show his Beretta 92 FS (used by the US Army under the designation M9) in a shoulder holster. "Jerry, I'll be the one shooting," he said in a deep growl.
Barker was startled by that and looked at his boss closely for a few moments. "Oh. Ok. Good luck."
"Thanks. See you later," said Graham, patting him on the shoulder.
He knocked on the door to Casey's apartment. Graham was pleased to see that the windows to the apartment had been covered with pulled shades so the interior was not visible to pedestrians in the courtyard. Major John Casey opened the door and nodded a greeting at Graham.
Entering the apartment, Graham said, "Good to finally meet you in person, Major." Casey was almost Graham's height, which was pretty tall. He was muscular and Marine Corps tight. His grip was as solid as his gaze. Graham liked what he saw. Lucky Diane to have snagged this man from the Corps.
"You too, Sir."
To reassure Casey that this was still a joint operation, Graham said, "General Beckman knows I'm here. Knows you have Agent Larkin, but no one else does. Not even my security detail outside." He didn't want rumors floating around Langley.
"Understood, Sir," said Casey.
Sarah approached him and said, "Director". She wore a tiny smile and her eyes sparkled at him with happiness. Upon a moment's reflection, he could never remember seeing her looking happier.
He was delighted to see her, but kept his manner professional, "Agent Walker." He shook her hand, but couldn't entirely keep his pleasure off his face.
Graham noted that the team was smoothly moving around the room to keep Larkin covered with trank pistols, even Chuck. It was calm, quiet, competent and seemed easy (although he knew it was anything but). To Graham's practiced eye, it showed a level of trust and respect among the three and an unspoken understanding of what needed to be done. The team was top notch. He knew they were just quietly doing their jobs, but he was nevertheless impressed – not that he needed more evidence that this particular team excelled.
Next up was Chuck Bartowski, his newest and most surprising superstar. A man who asked for none of this and yet volunteered to help when he realized he could. A man who wasn't even going to ask for anything in return. A man who, at every turn, surprised them all with his skill, intelligence, perception and judgment, none of it having the slightest bit to do with the Intersect in his head. Chuck was as tall as Casey, but lanky. Graham took Chuck's hand in his and said, "Chuck. It's a real pleasure to meet you in person, son. A real pleasure. Thank you for all your help these past few months." Graham took Chuck's elbow in his left hand and looked at him warmly.
Chuck said, "Thank you, Sir. And thank you again for all you've done for me. I'm incredibly grateful."
Graham tried to reassure him. "No worries, Chuck. You've done some wonderful work for us in return. I'm delighted to have you on the team. I really am." He softly clapped Chuck on the back.
And finally, here's that son of a bitch Larkin, complete with smarmy smile. He said, "Agent Larkin." Larkin seemed eager to kiss his ass and tell him some bullshit to keep his own ass out of stir. But the possibility of information on Fulcrum was too tempting to pass-up. Graham had re-read the man's file on the plane ride west. And he had re-watched the video of Larkin and Fleming conspiring to get Chuck kicked out of Stanford. Anger flared in him and combined with his strategic need to set the right tone for the interrogation. He stepped forward with his hand extended.
Larkin did likewise and said, "Director."
While Larkin was focused on his right hand, Graham hit him with the left. He allowed his anger and disdain for the man to lend power to his fist. Larkin was out on his feet and his body flew back to smash a coffee table on its way to the ground. 'Yup,' thought Graham with satisfaction, 'one punch knock-out. I still got it.' Graham felt bad about the table, though.
Graham said, "Sorry about the table, Major. Bill the CIA."
"Good swing, Sir," said Casey, nodding.
"Riding a bike," said Graham. Sitting behind a desk and using his hands for little more than signing his name had softened them and his hand hurt. He shook it out to get some blood flowing through it. It would be sore tomorrow, but he'd be damned if he'd ask the Major for a bag of ice.
"Umm, why did you do that, Sir?" asked Chuck.
Because I was pissed off at the son of a bitch who stole five years from you, betrayed Sarah, and blew up a multi-billion dollar facility. Instead of all of that he simply said, truthfully, "Because I was pretty sure you wouldn't, and I really thought somebody should."
Casey laughed pretty hard at that. Graham caught his eye and shared a little smile with the Major.
"Help me get him on the couch, Major." They did so. Graham bent down and pulled Larkin's shoes off. "Got any rope?"
"I have cuffs," said the Major.
"Naw. I'm old school. Rope can't be picked or shimmed."
"Hang on, Sir," said the Major with a little smile. Casey was back in a minute with a length of rope which Graham used to effectively and efficiently bind Larkin's hands in front of him, where they would be seen.
"You sweep here regularly?" he asked Casey as he was tying Larkin. Casey knew he was asking about an electronic sweep for wireless listening devices.
"Don't have to, Sir. Bartowski fixed up a gadget for us that gives us an alarm if a transmitter enters the apartment. It skips cell phone frequencies and our own internal team communication frequency, but otherwise will alert us."
Graham looked over at Chuck for a second and said, "Yeah?"
"Yes, Sir. It's pretty simple really. I did the same at all our residences and both the Buy More and the Wienerlicious. The Buy More was more complicated because there are a lot of bluetooth and wireless devices working, but I was able to adjust for those. Every once in a while it goes off if a cop with a radio enters the store or something, but we haven't had any real alerts since it's gone active."
"Huh. Ok, remind me to get you in touch with our tech guys. That sounds interesting," said Graham. "You already impressed the shit out of them with your software changes to the tracker."
"Thank you, Sir. I'll do that," said Chuck. Sarah looked pleased and proud and glanced at Chuck with a smile.
Graham grabbed a straight-backed chair from the table, draped his jacket over the back, and turned it around, sitting on it backwards in front of Larkin, his arms leaning on the chairback.
"Could I get a glass of water, please, Major?"
"Certainly, Sir." He was back in a moment with the water. Graham took a long drink of the water and looked at Larkin.
Time to start.
He threw the remainder of the water into Larkin's face and the man woke up, sputtering. His bound hands reached for his face to wipe the water out of his eyes. In a few seconds, his eyes focused on Graham. He glanced for a moment or two at the three people standing behind Graham, who all looked at him stone faced, but then looked back to Graham himself.
Moving with slow deliberation, Graham took his weapon from its holster and a silencer from a pocket. He began to screw the silencer onto the end of the pistol. Larkin didn't show much outward fear, but his eyes never left the weapon. There was a tautness to him.
As Graham was assembling the pistol to his satisfaction, he said, "Larkin. I flew across the country to hear what you have to say. Why did I do that? I'm the Director, right? My time is pretty valuable. I did it because the three people behind me...the man who killed you the first time, the partner you betrayed, and the college buddy you betrayed over and over again...they asked me to. So, I'm here. If not for their request you would be in a deep, dark hole with some sadists in my employ chatting with you. They would have a car battery clamped to your nuts and would be asking you some very difficult questions. But, Larkin, please understand that I have tremendous respect for these three people and when they asked me to listen, I agreed to listen. So, your interrogation is being conducted on a comfy couch instead. If you are wondering about this.." Graham held up the pistol. "I need you to understand something. I had my Red Test years before you were born." He shrugged. "If I kill you here this morning, I will not lose a single minute of sleep.
"So, you need to talk to me now, Larkin. And I want you to think very carefully about what you tell me...what you have to say. This conversation could save your life. Or not." Graham shrugged again. "Frankly, I won't know until it's over. Now, Larkin, you are a smart man. So, I need you to consider carefully what you have to tell me." Graham was waving the silenced weapon around in Bryce's direction the whole time he was speaking, his finger on the trigger. "You don't know what I already know about Fulcrum. You don't know how smart I am or how good I am at smelling bullshit. So, if I were you, I would err on the side of caution and be one hundred percent honest with me. The floor is yours." Graham gestured with the silenced weapon to indicate that Larkin might proceed. As he settled down to listen, he aimed the silenced pistol at Bryce with his wrist braced on the back of the chair. The vibe Graham gave off was one of serious menace mixed with expectation.
"Where do you want me to start, Sir?" The conversation was not going at all as Larkin had expected and his confidence had been badly shaken. He was doing his best to keep his cool, but it was obvious to them that he was already deeply rattled. He, quite reasonably, understood that he was trying to save his own life.
"Your story to tell, Larkin," said Graham with a shrug.
"Ok, Sir. Last March I was contacted by Tommy Delgado purporting to represent an internal agency subgroup. He used my activation codes and ordered me to shed all my agency contacts and head into deep cover for a mission. I did as he instructed. I left Agent Walker without a word and disappeared. My first stop was a safe house in Saint Petersburg, Florida. I have the address if you want it."
"Later. Let's hear the rest of the story and you can fill in details like that later. Why you?" said Graham.
"I'm the best agent you had in the field, Sir. I'm sure..."
Graham interrupted, his voice decreasing in volume as he spoke, "Goddammit. Here's an idea, you arrogant little shit. Why don't you let me decide who my best people are?" Graham was shaking his head. "Did you have success partnered with Agent Walker? Absolutely, but the team you are looking at right now is hands down the best I have in the field today. What's the common denominator? Let me give you a hint...it's not Bryce fucking Larkin. Jesus Christ. 'Best I had'" Graham was almost whispering by this point. "You are twenty-seven years old. I have tee shirts older than you. And you have the chutzpah to tell me that you are better than my veteran agents...Shit, Larkin, climb down off your fucking high horse. You are such an asshole. Can you run faster than a veteran? Sure, but the veteran knows how to arrange things so he doesn't have to run at all. How about you pick another reason they liked you for this deep cover disappearance?"
Bryce looked at the floor as Graham was dressing him down, unable to meet the older man's gaze. When it was his turn to speak, he sighed and said, "I have nobody. I'm alone. No real family to speak of. No real attachments. If I disappear only Sar...Agent Walker would miss me," he glanced for a moment at Sarah, "and even she wouldn't miss me for long." He glanced at Chuck. "I didn't have ties to break." He looked back to Graham.
"Ok," said Graham in a more normal volume, "that makes more sense. Go on."
"I cooled my heels there for over a month. I was visited by Delgado a few times. Once in a while he was accompanied by other Fulcrum agents."
"Name the other Fulcrum agents, in addition to Delgado, that you met and interacted with," said Graham.
"They used code names around me. Wisely, I don't think they trusted me at that point. There was Pegasus, Romulus, Greyhound, Fishtail, and Steelbottom..."
"Steelbottom?" asked Graham.
"Yeah. He had no sense of humor about the name, let me tell you. Anyway, the first two I recognized from other things. Pegasus was Galina Bryant, who used to work in Columbia against the cartels. Romulus was Brandon Stacey. He taught a class at the Farm when I was there."
Graham looked increasingly unhappy at those revelations.
"Anyway, he gave me a file to study. A file about a new computer set up, a new program called the Intersect. I don't know how he got the information on it. All the government's secrets set up for download into someone's head. I knew it was possible from the classes I had with Professor Fleming at Stanford, the work he was doing on the Omaha Project. I questioned Delgado about my orders. From his answers it was clear to me that this was an unsanctioned operation. As bad as that discovery was, it got worse. While we were together, he worked to recruit me to Fulcrum. That's what they call themselves, Fulcrum. But you know that already. When I realized what was happening, I also realized that I was in a very bad spot. If I pushed back or balked, he would have me killed in an instant. So, I played along. I pretended to be a willing recruit. The further along I seemed to be as I was recruited, the better. He began to open up more and more. And what he told me was very, very bad."
"Tell me about their goals, Larkin. What do these guys want?" asked Graham.
"It seems that they formed after 9-11. They are hypernationalists. Certain that the have the monopoly on the only way to protect the country. Neo-fascist in their outlook. America for Americans. Xenophobic. Constitution is a suicide pact that should be trashed in favor of strong-man rule. Due process and civil liberties are luxuries we can't afford. On and on. Very dangerous philosophy, but easy to sell after the attacks. If that was all, it wouldn't be as dangerous. Just another brand of political zealotry. But they have men and women throughout all of the military, the intelligence agencies and even top law enforcement. Some business leaders are on board too, at least Delgado claims they are. According to Delgado, there are thousands of Fulcrum agents and they are biding their time."
Graham was looking increasingly disturbed by what he was hearing. It made sense and was completely feasible. He knew there had been grumblings about the constraints they faced from Congress and the courts in their pursuit of the country's enemies. The fact that the adherents to Fulcrum's warped agenda were trained intelligence officers made it that much more dangerous and, therefore, horrifying.
"What are their plans?" asked Graham.
"They seem obsessed with the Intersect. As if it's some kind of magic bullet. They think that if they can get it and control it, they will have the power to do what they want."
"That's not my question, Larkin. The Intersect is a tool...a weapon. What do they plan to do with it? Or without it, if they can't get it?" asked Graham.
"I don't know. Delgado never said," answered Larkin. "But it's not going to be good. My impression was that whatever they have in mind ultimately will wait for them to control the Intersect. Step one of the bigger plan, I guess."
"Ok," said Graham. "Keep going."
"I realized I had to try to stop these guys. By July, they trusted me enough to send me out from St. Pete. They sent me on a mission here to Los Angeles, to steal a computer component from a developer. I stayed at a safe house here in LA. I took advantage of the time unobserved by them to make a trip up to Palo Alto and contact Fleming at Stanford and tell him to destroy his files. They had told me that they intended to get the Project Omaha files from him. I wanted them destroyed before that, before Fulcrum could get their hands on them. He told me he would do it when he got back from a teaching assignment abroad. I couldn't reach out to the "real" CIA. I had no way of knowing if I would be talking to a Fulcrum agent. So, I stayed with them and did my best to mess up their plans by myself. The component they wanted ...well, I delivered it to them, but made sure it had been damaged in the extraction, without that damage being tied to me, though. I messed up the software so that it fried itself when they turned it on.
"In the beginning of August, they pulled me back east and began the preparations for Operation Sand Wall. That's the operation Chuck knew about from the Intersect." Graham twisted to look at Chuck, who nodded. Graham resumed looking at Larkin. "I was to infiltrate the Intersect facility and steal the Intersect for them. If I couldn't get it out by conventional means, I was to view the images myself and bring it out in my own head."
"Did Fulcrum have any concern for your safety?" asked Graham. "From the downloaded program?"
"What? Why? The Intersect was safe. It hadn't hurt any of the previous test subjects. That wasn't an issue that was raised," said Bryce, apparently slightly confused.
"There were no previous test subjects, Larkin. Chuck was the first. And no one...not one of the scientists ...no one, thought that the entire database could be downloaded into a single individual," said Graham.
Bryce looked honestly horrified. "WHAT? NO. They showed me reports of the testing. Multiple test subjects. They told me it was safe. No..."
"Well, you are either lying to us now or you bought their line of bullshit, Larkin," said Graham.
"Oh, shit." Larkin looked at Chuck and said, "No. Chuck, I would never have sent it to you unless I thought it was safe. Never. I thought it had been tested. I would never put you at risk. It wouldn't be worth it. Never. I swear. I thought you'd be perfect for it because of your test scores on Fleming's tests, but I didn't know it hadn't been tested. I swear, Chuck." He looked and sounded truly upset. "I thought it was safe."
Chuck said, "Ok." The statement was merely an acknowledgement, not an acceptance.
"Are you ok? I mean with the Intersect in your head?" asked Bryce, sounding very worried.
"Peachy," said Chuck, deadpan.
"Focus, Larkin. What was your real plan going in to the Intersect facility? If you weren't going to do what Fulcrum wanted, what were you going to do instead?" asked Graham.
"I planned to get the Intersect, email it to Chuck and destroy the facility to keep it out of Fulcrum's hands. That would leave Chuck as the only Intersect."
"Why Chuck?" asked Graham.
"I needed someone who was not a spy. Someone who couldn't possibly be Fulcrum. That was Chuck."
Graham didn't seem to aim, but the gun in his hand fired once. The bullet clipped a wrinkle in Bryce's shirt, tearing a hole, but didn't touch his skin. Bryce flinched and everyone but Graham jumped slightly from the sudden bang. Bryce's eyes filled with sudden fear. He had felt the heat of the bullet in its passing.
"Bullshit, Larkin. I warned you I might be able to smell it and I just have. Go ahead and try it again and the next shot takes off a finger. Go ahead." Twisting his head around, he said to Casey. "Sorry about the couch."
Larkin said, his eyes wide and fear in his voice, "No, Sir. It's not bullshit. It's true. That's why I picked Chuck. He had no involvement with the Intelligence Community. He couldn't be Fulcrum."
"Larkin, you must really think I'm an idiot. You got him kicked out of Stanford five years ago to keep him from the CIA. I saw the tape of you and Fleming conspiring to do just that. You destroyed his life in order to keep him out. Don't expect me to believe that the first time you needed a civilian you decided to bring him in."
"It wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get expelled. It should have just been a suspension." Bryce looked up at Chuck and said, pleadingly, "It wasn't supposed to happen. I ...we never thought Carroll would kick you out."
"Bullshit again," said Graham.
"Actually, Sir, that does match what President Carroll told me. He admitted he overreacted," said Chuck.
"OK. Still, it's a tangent, Larkin. You kept him away from us five years ago and then gave him the Intersect. Makes no sense. I don't believe that this was the first civilian name that came into your head. It makes no fucking sense. You keep shitting me, Larkin, and you'll end up in that hole we talked about."
Sounding desperate, Bryce said, "But it's true..."
"No, it's not. There was one other person you were 100% certain was not loyal to Fulcrum. You could have put the Intersect there."
"No. Everyone was suspect. I couldn't trust anyone." Bryce sounded even more desperate.
"Bullshit. You could have downloaded it into your own head, Larkin. You could have fulfilled your Fulcrum mission and become the Intersect. But instead you choose to send it to Chuck. You've already told us that you believed it to be safe. Were you lying about that and wanted to give it to Chuck in case it would kill the first person to download it? Is that why you didn't take it yourself?" Graham was really yelling at Bryce by this point, which, at least the members of Team Bartowski knew, was not an indication of real anger on his part.
"No. I swear I thought it was tested...was safe."
"This conversation is over. I've wasted my fucking time here," said Graham, standing from the chair.
"No, please" Bryce barked, wide eyed and more than a little panicked. "No." Graham sat back down and looked at him calmly, waiting. Bryce was clearly struggling with his answer. "I...I...It's ...it's cause you suck," Bryce said with passionate conviction, almost looking like he was fighting back tears. His hands were shaking and his eyes looked a little wild. Both Sarah and Chuck were shocked. Neither had ever seen the cool, calm Bryce Larkin losing his shit to this extent. The guy was coming apart as they watched. Graham was a very skilled interrogator, manipulating Bryce's emotions and expectations to get at the truth.
"Now we're talking," said Graham with some satisfaction.
"And Sarah sucks. And Casey sucks and I suck most of all. All of us are awful, horrible, broken people. The Agency is populated by people just like us. Everything we were taught not to do in pre-school, that's what we fucking do for a living. We lie and cheat. We betray. We murder people...torture people. All for the Greater fucking Good. We suck. All of us spies. He doesn't. He's the only honest to God good person I ever met. I kept him out of all this because I thought this life would hurt him, would destroy him. But over the last five years I changed my mind. I was wrong before. Totally wrong. He's exactly what we needed to save us all. We need him with us. We need him. I need him. I need his... goodness...his honesty, his compassion. I need him to ...to...to help me." Bryce was very upset and looked like he might cry any second, but that didn't slow the flow of his words. "The Intersect is an incredibly powerful tool. And to be the only one...it's like a superpower. I...I didn't trust myself to have it. I didn't trust myself to be the only one. I trusted Chuck, though. I trust him."
"Because he's so good?" asked Graham, in a harsh growl, his weapon still pointed at Bryce. "Come on, Larkin. You can't really expect me to believe that shit can you? That you suddenly found religion and had to bring Saint Chuck into the fold?"
Bryce took a deep breath and tried to calm down and gather himself. He rubbed his face with the back of his bound hands. "Director, there's a comic book called The Infinity Gauntlet. It's about a magic glove that gives the power of God to whoever wears it."
"Sure. By Starlin. What about it?" Chuck looked at the back of Graham's head with surprise. Sarah and Casey with disbelief. Bryce seemed not to notice.
"If you had the Gauntlet...all that power...who would you give it to? Who would you trust with that power?"
"You tell me, Larkin."
"Captain America. He's the only one you could trust to wear it. Because he's good. Thoroughly good. He has a solid moral compass. He wouldn't be selfish, or petty, or vindictive, or self-serving, or unjust. He would just use it to do good. To help." Sudden anger flared in Bryce. "Tell me I'm wrong, for Chrissakes. Tell me that's not exactly what Chuck has been doing for the last two months since he's had the Intersect. Trying to help." Larkin was still emotional, but clearly thought he was on solid ground with his argument.
"Point taken, Larkin. That's exactly what Chuck has been up to since you handed him to us." Graham now appeared satisfied with Larkin's explanation of how Chuck ended up with the Intersect. "Now tell me, what was the rest of your plan? You didn't plan on getting shot by Major Casey. What did you intend to do after blowing up the Intersect computer and escaping?"
"I was going to do then what I did yesterday. I was going to find Chuck and get to him. I'd explain what I had done and why I needed his help. I wanted him to vet Sarah...Agent Walker. I thought he could use the Intersect and identify Fulcrum agents. Once I knew she was clear of Fulcrum connections, the three of us, Chuck, Agent Walker and I, we could take them on. With Chuck as the Intersect, they wouldn't stand a chance. That was my plan. To lead a dream team against Fulcrum. That was my plan. But,… it didn't work out too well."
"No, it didn't. What happened after you got shot by Major Casey?"
"They brought me back to life in an ambulance. Delgado was there. I told him I'd looked at the pictures. That the Intersect was in my head. That I was the Intersect. That I had accomplished my mission. The next thing I remember I woke up in a clinic of some kind being treated for the bullet wound. I was there the rest of the time, until I woke up in your facility in Brooklyn. I didn't know for sure that I wasn't still under their control until I saw Chuck."
"Where was the clinic they took you to?"
"Scandinavia or Russia."
"How do you know that?" asked Graham.
"One night I made a sextant out of two pencils and a rubber band. Checked it against a big clock. I was at about 65° North latitude."
Chuck looked over at Sarah with a questioning expression and she motioned that she'd explain later.
"Why not Canada?" asked Graham after a moment thinking about a map of the world.
"It had European style plugs in the walls."
"Ok. What else can you tell me about the last two months?"
"I acted weaker and sicker than I really was. Confused and sort of out of it. I thought if they had a chance to really question me, they might discover that I had lied to them about the Intersect. Then they might come looking for Chuck. So, I bought time any way I could until I could escape from them. They tried to get me to...what was the word you used, Chuck?...flash. They tried to get me to flash on images. Sometimes I would mumble something or act like it gave me a headache. I didn't know how I was supposed to be reacting to any of it so I didn't know how to fake it. Now I know that they didn't know either. But at the time..."
"Who else was there? Who else can you identify as Fulcrum?" asked Graham.
"All the staff were referred to only by title and first names. Dr. Pete, Nurse Anna, like that. I didn't recognize any of them. I was visited by Delgado, and a couple of the agents I've already mentioned. They were getting increasingly frustrated by the lack of evidence that I even had the Intersect much less that it was useful. Eventually they decided to bring me back to the States. They thought that maybe seeing things in person, rather than through pictures might trigger the Intersect. They drugged me in...well, wherever I was, and I woke up in Brooklyn. I came here because I assumed that the real Intersect, Chuck, had cleared Agents Walker and Casey of Fulcrum connections. That I could trust them as a result. With their help, I knew I could get to the real CIA, the non-Fulcrum part of the CIA. That I could get to you, Sir."
"Ok. Anything you want to add to the story, Larkin? Or are we done here?"
"That's it, Sir. I've been honest with you here, more than honest maybe. I'm on your side, Sir. I'm not Fulcrum." Bryce looked and sounded desperate for Graham to believe him.
"Here's the thing, Larkin. I still don't know if I can trust you. You did a good job of telling your story, but I know you are an accomplished liar. It's one of the reasons I hired you. So, how do I know if you're lying now? That's the question I have to answer. And I'll be honest with you. I don't know. I don't."
"Sir, I'm..."
Graham held up his hand to silence Larkin. He looked like he was thinking hard. Larkin began to sweat. He looked genuinely scared of what Graham might conclude. Finally, Graham said, without turning around, "Major, do you trust him?"
Casey said, "No."
Graham nodded his head a couple of times. Then, he said, "Agent Walker?"
Sarah stood there staring at Bryce for a long time. He was looking back at her with pleading eyes. Conflicting emotions were warring on her face. She was silent for so long that Graham twisted around in his seat to look at her. Finally, she said in a slightly choked voice, "I don't know."
Graham said, "Not helpful, but honest. Ok. Chuck?"
Chuck, who by that point had expected the question, was also torn. He stood looking at Bryce for a long time also, Bryce holding his gaze. Eventually he said, "Yeah. I do. I don't want to trust him, but I think he's been telling us the truth. And his story hangs together logically. It makes sense of what has otherwise been some pretty inexplicable behavior."
"Ok...Ok, Larkin. Tie score. It's back to me." Graham fell silent and just looked at Larkin without expression. Long minutes of silence ticked by as he considered Larkin's fate. A bead of sweat ran down Larkin's temple, although it was not particularly warm in the room. His eyes were glued to Graham's weapon. The silence was broken when Graham said, "I'm going to go with Chuck. He knows you longest and probably best." Graham began to unscrew the silencer from the end of his pistol. "Chuck just saved your life, Agent Larkin. Say thank you."
Bryce took a gulp of air, as if he'd been holding his breath, and let out an audible sigh of relief. He seemed to slump a little as the tension left his body. He said, "Thank you, Chuck." He sounded like he really meant it.
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A/N2: The names and code names of the Fulcrum agents come from the list eventually obtained by Team B in Chuck vs. The Fat Lady.
A/N3: So, a sextant out of two pencils and a rubber band. That's a real thing. In the Northern Hemisphere the angle between the North Star and the horizon is your latitude (the measure of how far north or south you are). If the North Star is directly over your head, a 90° angle from the horizon, you are at a latitude of 90°, the North Pole. If the North Star is on the horizon, a 0° angle from the horizon, you are on the Equator. Any two straight sticks connected to each other at one end and sighted down, one pointed to the horizon and one pointed to the North Star, will give you that angle. So long as you don't move the sticks relative to each other after the sightings, you can measure the angle against any sort of protractor or compass rose (or even a clock) and obtain an approximate latitude. Longitude isn't so simple.
A/N4: Canon never did adequately explain Bryce's seemingly inexplicable and contradictory behavior. I have tried to do so. I am forever indebted to Zettel, David Carner, Vurich23, and Beckster1213 for their guidance and patience as I struggled to make some sense of what was a pretty difficult set of actions to reconcile. How'd I do?