A/N1: If Orion owns Chuck, we'd better track him down soonest. Anybody got any ideas?

A/N2: Welcome to the thirty-second (32nd) arc of New Day which I'm calling the 2nd Orion Arc. It's based on Chuck vs. the Gravitron (season 2, episode 8). Hope no one thought Dr. Jill Roberts would be missing for too long. She believes she has some unfinished business with Carmichael and his team.

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Langston Graham enjoyed driving, but rarely got an opportunity to do so in his current job. There were benefits to being a passenger driven by bodyguards, of course, such as being able to read on the way to or from somewhere, but he missed the freedom of driving himself with the window open and his arm hanging out of the car with the radio playing way too loud. Of course, the second car was right behind him, with his three bodyguards keeping a close eye.

It was a beautiful fall day. October. Sunny, in the mid 60's, with minimal wind. The farms on the outskirts of Mt. Vernon, Ohio were in the middle of harvest time. At least it looked that way to him, but being a city-kid he acknowledged that he might not have any real clue what that would look like. The admission made him laugh at himself a bit.

They had flown into Columbus and taken two cars from there. He didn't want to show up with an army and upset the lady he was visiting. His men would stop their car on the road, keeping the house in sight, but wouldn't interfere unless they had reason to think things had gone to hell.

The GPS indicated that his destination was approaching on the left. He saw a long driveway leading to a white farmhouse with a covered front porch. It could have been a movie set of the idealized Ohio farm. Ma and Pa Kent with little Clark juggling tractors in the backyard (although he knew that was Kansas). Pulling in, he glanced in his mirror and saw the second car stop near the driveway entrance. Good. He gave them a one-handed wave and received a loose salute in return. Getting to the house, he expected to be greeted by a large dog. In his experience, the longer the driveway, the larger the dog. But, shutting off the car, he heard only the slight susurration of the wind.

Up the few steps and onto the porch, he rang the doorbell. A woman's voice called out, "Coming."

The door was opened by smallish energetic woman in her late seventies, wearing jeans and a blouse. She wore her brown hair, shot with gray, short. She had a fun, pixieish gleam in her eye and a welcoming smile. "Director Graham. Welcome. Come on in."

"Thank you, Mrs. Auwater," he said, shaking her hand.

"Oh, posh. You're outside the beltway now. Call me Ellen."

"Thank you, Ellen. Please call me Langston in that case."

"I certainly will. What can I get you to drink? I know it's conforming to the stereotype, but I do have lemonade."

Graham started to chuckle and said, "That would be just fine, thanks."

"Just a second then," she said. She came back in a moment with a jug of cold lemonade and two glasses. "Inside or out?"

"Out, if you wouldn't mind. It's a beautiful day and I spend too much time inside behind a desk."

"Out it is. Can you get the door for me?" Graham held the door and they moved outside to the porch, where she put down the jug and the glasses on a small table between two chairs. "Before I sit, would your men on the road like anything?"

Of course, she'd seen the car. "No. They're good, thanks."

They sat and she poured the lemonade. Taking a sip, Graham said, "Delicious. Thank you. Is your husband home?"

She chuckled lightly. "Nope. When you said you wanted to talk to me I made him a doctor's appointment in Columbus. He won't be back for another hour and a half. Unless he's got to wait in the doctor's office. If that's the case, God knows when he'll be back. We're alone. We can speak freely. Unless one of your men is focusing a parabolic mic our way, this conversation is private."

"Thank you. Your old sensitivities haven't left you," said Graham.

"I left the Company twenty years ago, but some things stick with you," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "What can I do for you, Langston? The way I figure it, you want to know something about the Intersect project." He glanced at her sharply. "Yup. I was right."

"You were, but how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't know, but it seemed the most likely of a raft of unlikely possibilities."

"How so?" he asked.

"Because of all the projects I was ever the secretary for..."

"We call you guys Administrative Assistants nowadays," he said with a smile, taking a sip of the lemonade.

"Not then. Then I was a secretary. But for everything else, there were several of us. That was the only project where I was the only one. I figured if you were interested in any of the other old projects, you'd find a retired secretary who lived closer to Langley. The fact that you'd traipse all the way out here to God's country led me to the conclusion that you didn't have a choice in the matter. I was the only game in town. Therefore, Intersect."

"That's exactly right, Ellen. I went through a box of old files a couple of weeks ago and found slips with your handwriting. I had to go to Margaret Porcelli..."

"Oh my God, Maggie's still there? She's what...a hundred and ten?" said Ellen, laughing.

"I would never ask a woman her age," said Graham with mock offense. "I'm told she threatens to retire every year and then finds another reason not to every year. Anyway, she recognized your handwriting and here I am."

"Um...wouldn't it have been easier to get the roster of the personnel engaged on the project? I mean, I'm glad you found me, but it shouldn't have taken Maggie's memory to do it."

"Yeah. Here's the problem. Those files were lost," said Graham.

"Oh, hell. Yeah. Ok, I guess. So, what do you want to know, Langston?"

"What can you tell me about Orion?" he asked.

"Sweet man. Brilliant. Like really brilliant. Like an order of magnitude more brilliant than all the other brilliant scientists working on the Intersect. I would have no way of knowing that objectively, of course, but from the way the others talked about him...they were in awe of him and his capabilities. Totally in awe."

"Name?" asked Graham.

"Orion," she said with a shrug.

"American?"

"Oh, yes," she said.

"Accent? Could you tell where he was from? New York? Boston? Mississippi?"

"No. Nothing like that," she said. "Non-regional. Or at least I couldn't tell."

"What did he look like?" asked Graham.

"Mid-forties. White man. Medium height, medium build. Sort of tousled brown hair. Hazel eyes. Carried himself with a bit of an absent-minded professor air, as if easily distracted. But I can tell you when he was focused on a problem, he wouldn't be distracted if the building was on fire. He'd forget to eat or drink. I'd have to bring him a sandwich and a pop and harass him to eat it. Never much of a dresser, like he didn't particularly care how he looked. Thank goodness for his wife. She at least made sure he had his pants," said Ellen, laughing.

"His wife?" asked Graham.

"Yeah. He had a wife and at least a couple of kids," she said.

"How many kids?"

"He used the plural of the noun. He could have had ten for all I know, but more than one for sure," she said.

"You ever meet them? His wife and kids?"

"No. They never came to the office. Not too surprising when you think about the secrecy involved."

"Ok. He left the program and they shut it down. Do you know why?" asked Graham.

Ellen started with surprise, "You don't know? Are you serious? All those files were really lost?"

"I'm serious," he said.

"Holy shit. Director...holy shit. Okay. There was a disaster, an incident. The project was shut down after that. Seven people died. Orion almost died. They ran a test and it went wrong, tragically wrong. Orion was never the same after that. I think he blamed himself. He told them he was shutting it down. Said it was too dangerous. The Brits pulled out. When the Agency balked and refused to shut it down, he quit."

"When was this?" Graham asked.

"Twenty years ago. I retired right afterwards. It was just too depressing to be around after the incident. All the joy had been sucked from the project. I understand they tried to run it for a few more months, but without Orion it was a waste of time. And he was vehemently against it." She sat looking at the green grass leading to the road. "Hold on. Hold on. The files that went missing were digital?" Graham nodded. "When did they go missing?"

"I don't know. Twenty years ago I was chasing commies across Eastern Europe. Between then and now, I guess," said Graham.

"Orion," she said. "He erased the files. He must have."

"You think so? Wouldn't they have changed the passcodes?" he asked.

She started to laugh. "Passcodes? To the computers?" She laughed some more, "He wouldn't need passcodes, Langston. This is Orion we're talking about. He could hack into any secured computer system on the planet and make it his personal slave, and the computer's owner would never have any idea."

"Really?" asked Graham.

"Oh, absolutely. While he was brushing his teeth and doing a crossword puzzle," she said with a smile.

"Yeah. I know another guy like that. Why would Orion do that?" asked Graham. "Why would he destroy the files?"

"He thought the Intersect was too dangerous. He didn't want anyone using it," she said. "So, he'd have erased the files and made himself scarce."

"Well, I guess that squares with what we know now. He's certainly leading us a merry chase," said Graham. He thought about Chuck's order to airgap the existing intersect computers to protect them from Orion.

"You're looking for him? Now? Why?" Ellen asked.

"You can still keep a secret, right, Ellen?" She just gave him a look. "The project was resurrected a few years ago. No human trials yet. One of the key scientists involved refuses to allow human trials until we have the technology to remove the download from a test subject. She's concerned that we may need to take it out immediately if something goes wrong."

"She's smart. Smarter than the cowboys running it before, even Orion. If we had that tech as a backstop, maybe the incident wouldn't have happened," she said.

"Yes. I understand and I agree with her. I'm a bit impatient, but I'm not going to try to overrule her. But she's got some impediments in working on the removal and thinks talking to Orion might help."

"Couldn't hurt, I guess. So, you came for the notebooks then?" she asked.

Graham looked at her startled. "What notebooks?"

Ellen looked genuinely surprised by his reaction. "When you started asking about Orion, I thought that's why you were here. You don't know about the notebooks?" Graham just stared at her in confusion. "God. Okay. Orion's notebooks. When he left the program, he told me to scan his notebooks into the computer and then keep the originals safe at my home. I brought them with me when Ted and I moved out here from the coast."

Graham breathed, "Oh my God."

Giving herself a good shake, Ellen said, "Come with me."

Together they went back into the house. He followed her as she opened a door near the kitchen. Turning on a light, she led him down some stairs to a musty smelling basement. Along one wall were metal shelving units. On a high shelf was a file folder bound closed with an elastic strap.

Ellen said, "There. That file. Can you reach it for me?"

He took down the file and handed it to her. They went back upstairs and out to the porch. Sitting once again, she opened the file and handed him five black and white bound composition books, the kind with the marbled cardboard covers such as schoolchildren would carry. Graham opened one at random and saw scribbles and drawings and diagrams and notes with arrows. It was meaningless to him, but might mean something to the men and women working on the new intersect.

"You've kept these safe for all these years. Why give them to me now?" he asked.

"I thought you knew about them and I'd mentioned them before I knew you hadn't." She shrugged. "Once the cat was out of the bag, I didn't have much choice. But even so, I'm good with giving them to you. If the lady scientist is trying to take it out before she can put it in, she's approaching this problem the right way. The safer way. The way it should have been handled before. I want to help her do that."

"Thank you, Ellen," he said. "I know some people who are going to put these to very good use."

"You're welcome, Langston," she said. "If Orion shows up asking for them, I'll tell him to call you." She grinned.

"Is there anything else you can tell me that might help us find Orion?"

"Yeah. Don't bother. He's not going to be found if he doesn't want to be. If you want him, make him come to you," she said.

Graham smiled, "Funny you should say that."

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Sarah opened the door and said, "Hi, Stephen."

"Hello, Sarah. Thanks for having me over," said Stephen. "This is for you." He handed her a bottle of wine.

"Oh, thank you. We'll certainly enjoy this tonight," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, dad," called Chuck from the kitchen.

"Hello, Charles," said Stephen. He looked across the room, surprised, and said, "Oh. Hello, Eleanor. Good to see you."

Ellie hesitated, started, then stopped, then started again. She came across the room and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, dad."

He smiled softly and said, "Are you going to yell at me again?"

"I'm going to try not to, but no promises," she said. She was serious.

"That's all I can hope for then," he said, nodding his head.

"Dad, this is Devon, my fiancée," she said.

"Hello, Devon," said Stephen, shaking his hand. "Happy to meet you."

"Good to meet you, Mr. Bartowski," said Devon, formally.

"Please call me Stephen," he said.

Sarah said, "Can I get you a drink, Stephen?"

"Oh, a glass of wine would be great, thanks," he said.

"Red or white?" she asked.

"Um, whichever is open. I'm easy."

"Ellie and I are drinking white. I can pour you some of that," Sarah said.

"Thank you," he said. He walked into the kitchen and said, "What are you cooking Charles?"

"Chicken thighs with a pernil sauce."

"What's a pernil sauce?"

"It's a Puerto Rican sauce with garlic, oregano, and citrus. And making some lemon pasta. Sarah's making a salad and for dessert we have some left over peach pie from our friend Casey across the courtyard."

"That sounds wonderful, Charles. I can't wait." Sarah gave him a glass of white wine and he thanked her for it. She went back to making the salad.

"So, talk to me, Charles. What are you doing? You were out east just a few days ago. Business?"

Wondering how his dad had known he was out of town, Chuck said, "Yeah. Sarah and I went to DC to talk to some clients. No biggie. We were back soon enough."

"Those government clients, right?"

"Yes. The government needs cybersecurity too," Chuck said.

"Oh, for sure. Can't have the Russians or the Chinese getting into our computer systems. Not good," Stephen said. "We have to prevent the bad actors from causing trouble for us all. I'm glad you and your friends are helping with that. Stopping the bad guys. I'm proud of you. Aces, Charles."

"Thanks, dad," said Chuck. He knew his dad was only talking about the cyber-security work, having no idea about the spy work, but he was pleased by his dad's praise anyway.

Stephen wandered back into the living room and said, "Who has the baby?"

"What?" asked Ellie.

Stephen pointed to the wall and said, "Those little plastic child safety plugs in all the outlets. Sure sign there's a baby around somewhere."

"Oh," said Ellie. "Yeah. Sarah's mom and baby sister live nearby."

"Baby sister?" asked Stephen, sounding a bit surprised.

"She's adopted," said Sarah from the kitchen.

"Ah. Got it," he said. "So, Eleanor, are you doing any interesting research?"

"Why do you ask?" she said.

"Because I'm interested in you and your life and what you're doing. I guess I'm trying to catch up," he said gently.

"I have a few things going on lately. Nothing much interesting, though," she said.

"Ok. Devon, how about you? Anything interesting in your life?"

"Wedding plans. Lots and lots to do. It's going to be awesome," Devon said with a smile.

"I'm sure it will. Two beautiful brides and two lucky grooms. I'm sure it will be the wedding of the century."

"Dinner," called out Chuck, beginning to bring the platters of food to the dining room table.

The guests assembled themselves around the table. Once everyone had started eating and had finished complimenting Chuck and Sarah about the delicious food, Chuck said, "You know, dad, I haven't asked. Where are you staying? You were out in the desert the last we saw."

"Oh, um. Yes. I'm staying at the Dornish Motel near the highway."

"Dornish? Dad, that place is totally crappy. They rent rooms by the hour for God's sake. I'll bet it's not even clean. You can do better than that," Chuck said.

"Thanks, Charles, but it's fine for me. I don't need anything fancy. I get distracted anyway with my research. I barely know where I am half the time," said Stephen with a self-deprecating laugh.

After a while, the conversation moved on to politics. The Obama – McCain race was going hot and heavy with the election in a few weeks. Although the table was mostly split between the candidates, Stephen's opinion was akin to 'a pox on both your houses.'

"It's the same with all of them. All those people in power. There's not one of them who doesn't abuse it. Doesn't spend all their time grasping for more power, more control. They won't be happy until we are all just dancing to their tunes. They're all the same." He was almost snarling with his emotion.

"Um, so, dad," said Chuck, trying to change the subject, "what are you working on lately?"

"Oh, sure. Um. Some interesting stuff. I've got some theories about optically correct lenses for those 3D movies they are coming out with now. Should be much better than the crap glasses they give you at the theaters currently. Unless that rat bastard Roark steals it from me again."

Once again trying to change the subject, this time away from his dad's hatred of the software mogul, Chuck said, "Everyone finished? I can clear the table for dessert."

Sarah said, "I'll help you, sweetie."

As they were in the kitchen, putting plates in the dishwasher, Sarah whispered, "Why don't you invite him to stay with us? At least until he sort of figures out what he's doing."

"You sure? There's no telling how long it will take him to figure anything out."

"Yeah. We go from my mom to your dad. A whole lotta family here. Anyway, we can get him out of that shitty motel and we know he's not going to be staying with Ellie," said Sarah.

"Ok. Thanks, honey. I'll ask him," said Chuck, giving Sarah a kiss.

When the peach pie and vanilla ice cream was out on the table and anyone who wanted coffee had been served Chuck asked, "Dad, how about you come stay with me and Sarah? We have a spare room and we'd love to have you here. I know you don't mind that motel, but it's really crappy and I worry about you there."

"Oh, Charles, that's very sweet, but I wouldn't want to impose. It's certainly not fair to Sarah with all she's got to do for the wedding," Stephen said,

"Dad, it was her idea," said Chuck, as Sarah smiled at Stephen and nodded her head.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Sure, dad," said Chuck.

Stephen turned and said to Ellie, "Eleanor, would it upset you to have me … so close. To see me sometimes?" Again, he sounded gentle.

Ellie was startled and a little touched by her dad's concern. She smiled and said, "I think it would be ok, dad."

He turned back to Chuck. "Well, ok then. Thank you, Charles," he said. "After dinner I'll check out of the motel and move my stuff here."

"Great, dad. We look forward to having you here," Chuck said.

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Zondra was messing around in her kitchen, trying out a new recipe for a chicken, short rib and potato stew from Columbia. She'd tried it before and been dissatisfied with the result, but had decided it was worth another effort.

Her phone rang. She saw that it was Marjorie Waller, the young woman whose rape had started her crusade against Weinberg and his ilk. Picking up the phone she said, "Hi, Marjorie. How are you?"

Zondra put the burner under the stew to low and covered the Dutch oven with a lid. She picked up her wine and took it and her phone to the terrace where she could speak to Marjorie while looking at the nighttime ocean.

"I'm ok. Mr. Barnes is keeping me busy on White Collar. He's managed to put me into a few scenes this week as an extra. Enough to keep the landlord at bay this month anyway."

"Great. I know he wanted to try to do that, so that's great," said Zondra, making a mental note to thank Jeff at some point.

"Can I ask your advice?" the girl said.

"Sure. What's up?"

"A man from Mr. Weinberg's company, Harstan, called me. A lawyer. He said he knows that I have a complaint against Mr. Weinberg and he said he wants to settle the dispute outside of court. Just handle everything like adults, he said. No need to get others involved."

Zondra sighed. "How much?"

"Three million dollars," said Marjorie. "I couldn't believe it."

"Marjorie, they are paying you to keep quiet. The money is a gag. No talking to the press. No pressing charges with the police. Nothing. It's a three million dollar gag. Please don't agree to it. Please," said Zondra. "Your situation isn't some kind of gray area. You were raped."

"I know. But I don't want to talk about it anyway. I mean, I talked to you about it. You and Lisa and Sarah, but I don't want to be in the papers or deal with the police or anything. And it's a lot of money," said Marjorie.

Zondra sighed. "Ok. Ok. I understand. Let me think about it a bit. Ok. Promise me you won't agree to anything until we speak again. Ok? Please."

"Ok, Zondra. Ok. I'll let you know if they call again."

"Good. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Ok. Bye," said Marjorie.

"Bye."

Zondra sighed heavily again. Before getting back to her stew, she used a burner phone to text Sarah and Lisa the gist of the conversation. She should have seen this coming. Maybe she'd talk to Rachel tomorrow and get some legal advice.

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A/N3: The optically correct 3D glasses were released in 2010 by Oakley in collaboration with Samsung. Not by Roark.

A/N4: Settlement agreements were one of the principal tools that Miramax used to silence women who might accuse Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault. Millions of dollars in settlements were paid over the course of his decades of sexual predation.

A/N5: One way or another, we seem to be getting closer to Orion. What do you guys think?