Charles Carmichael isnât your real name, Chuck. You made him up.Â
Youâre just Chuck Bartowski, and youâre not a real spy.
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@charlesxcarmichael
Charles Carmichael isnât your real name, Chuck. You made him up.Â
Youâre just Chuck Bartowski, and youâre not a real spy.

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Chuck has moved! A few changes:
Iâm going to be more selective with who I follow
Iâm going to be matching partnersâ style more closely
Threads are carrying over
Heâs on a main blogÂ
(Ellie is on her own main blog too - @neurologellieâ)
Chuck has moved! A few changes:
Iâm going to be more selective with who I follow
Iâm going to be matching partnersâ style more closely
Threads are carrying over
Heâs on a main blogÂ
(Ellie is on her own main blog too - @neurologellieâ)
Charles Carmichael isnât your real name, Chuck. You made him up.Â
Youâre just Chuck Bartowski, and youâre not a real spy.
Chuck has moved! A few changes:
Iâm going to be more selective with who I follow
Iâm going to be matching partnersâ style more closely
Heâs on a main blog (Iâm not sure what I want to do with the other muses)
v.s. the 30 Foot Rule
It had only been a few days since Quinn had taken everything from her, since heâd forced her to flash time and time again, until all of the memories were gone. She didnât remember the bullet train, but she could remember the pain - she hadnât been aware that Quinn inflicted it on her, otherwise she never would have trusted him in the first placeâŚit was a vague sort of impression, rather than a memory. The only solid thing she had, from the last five years, was Thailand, but he was right - it hadnât taken much to bring it back to her, whatever Quinn had done, maybe it wasnât permanent. With everything else still missing, with only remembering what it was like to be a spy, Sarah wasnât even sure if she wanted those memories back, butâŚthey were in there somewhere. If they were going to be triggered by words, or familiar situations, she might not have much of a choice about whether they came back or not.
âLetâs deal with Quinn first,â she suggested. Of course he would want her back, he would want his wife back, the life theyâd built together back - but she didnât remember being that person. Could she really be her again? For the moment, she didnât really want to think about it, sheâd much rather focus on neutralizing Nicholas Quinn, and worry about the rest later. Once heâd been dealt with, they could figure out where to go from there, decide if she could really stay.
After studying Chuck for a further moment, Sarah clicked the comms back on. She didnât think she needed to tell him to stay quiet. âItâs over, Quinn. Itâs done. Heâs dead, and I have the glasses.â
âExcellent work, Agent Walker. Meet me at -â
âNo. Meet me here, at the apartment. I need to pack so I can get the next flight out to DC.â
âVery well -â he had every intention of killing her, now that the job was done, but it didnât much matter where that happened. The apartment was as good a place as any, their bodies would be found together. âFifteen minutes. Once I have those glasses, your mission is complete.â
âCopy that,â she said, before turning the earpiece back off. âHeâs on his way.â
âOkay. Iâm going to go get a tranq from Casey,â Chuck said. âThen I guess I get to have a little lie down for a while. Maybe you could knock things over a bit, make it look a little more like I gave you a decent fight?â It likely wouldnât take Ryker long to get there - it was past rush hour, and the streets would be a lot clearer than they were at nearly any other hour in LA. He rose and, wringing at his hands, slipped out through the Morgan Door.Â
He could hear the TV playing in Caseyâs apartment, what sounded like a documentary on Reaganâs presidency, but it switched off when he knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened. âWhat happened to you?â Casey said, although the marks on Chuckâs neck were unmistakable. âDidnât think you and Walker would be getting kinky so soon after getting her back. Or at all.â
Chuck drew in a deep breath (which was getting easier to do) and ran his tongue between his lips. âMy wife just tried to kill me and I need to borrow a tranq gun,â Chuck said, darting around Casey and making a beeline for the nearest weaponsâ cabinet. âLong story short, Sarah doesnât remember anything and Quinn sent her to kill me and you know how Sarah gets about finishing a mission.â
âYouâre gonna tranq Sarah?â Casey asked, trying not to think of the implications that everything Chuck was saying had for his friends, his team. He took a step over to Chuck, considering putting a hand on his shoulder. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest. âIâm sorry, Chuck.â
Chuck turned from loading the tranq. âThe dart is for Quinn - weâre luring him here. I need you up on the roof with your sniper rifle.â
âNo.â
âNo?â
âYouâre acting like youâre in mission-mode right now. But when it comes to Sarah, you donât have a mission-mode and Iâm not gonna stand by and watch you get yourself and probably her killed. How do you know you arenât the one walking into a trap?â
âBecause this is Sarah. Because she brought me back, when she could have just let me die. And because I donât think sheâll listen to anything I have to say until Quinnâs taken care of. I have to get back.âÂ
Tucking the tranq into the back of his pants, Chuck hurried back across the courtyard and back into the room. âOkay, what are we thinking here? Cause Iâm thinking floor - I can tuck the tranq in under the bed. And it will mostly hide me from view so that I can, you know, breathe once in a while.â

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v.s. the Bump
Gunshots werenât even something sheâd thought about - she was almost twenty two weeks pregnant, their daughter had been able to hear everything when they were down in the substation with Shaw. Muffled, sure, but still, it probably should have crossed her mind earlier. Things had, of course, been fine since then with the baby, but even so, those werenât the kind of situations they should be getting themselves involved in now. It wasnât as if theyâd willingly chosen to be; theyâd been tracked from their home to the restaurant they were going to, but even so, it all needed to end. They needed to focus on actually shifting Carmichael Industries to be a safer business, moving into their home, leaving the spy life behind once and for all. Their baby needed a normal life, not one that would involve looking over their shoulders forever.
âThatâs all behind us now,â she agreed, letting her fingers run gently alongside his. It felt nice to be able to do this, to be close with each other, and with their daughter, after everything theyâd been through. A few more months and thereâd be three of them, theyâd be able to hold their baby close, instead of rubbing their hands over her stomach - it was a surreal thought. Having a baby always felt like a âsomeday in the far, far futureâ kind of idea, but now felt right. If she wasnât pregnant, would they still be here, doing this? Would they have even started talking again, could she have stayed? She glanced up at him when he spoke again, though her hand kept moving gently, even as her attention shifted to her husband. âSure, what is it?â
There were things that, if things hadnât gotten off course, they probably would have started discussing before realizing heâd gotten her pregnant on the bullet train. Their unspoken decision, that day, to start trying... or at least stop trying to avoid getting pregnant might have led to a long night, cuddled up on the couch, discussing how they were going to raise their children.Â
âWell, I might need to consult the internet for some of the topics,â Chuck said, although there were a few that were a given. Ellie and Awesome had to have a long talk about religion, he knew, but neither he or Sarah were particularly religious so that was a moot point. They had the house, so they didnât need to talk about finding somewhere their children could run around outside. And the Volkoff money would get unfrozen within, according to their lawyer, the next ten years which, while exceptionally inconvenient in the short term, would solve any issues of paying their childrenâs way through school. Yet there was one thing that was unique to them and their family. âBut I did want to ask what you want to tell her.â
OOC
Hypothetically...
What is a better URL? SpyNerd or SuperSpyCarmichael?
Talky? Perfect.
v.s. Fishing
There was no way she could quit so long as Chuck still had the Intersect in his head. It was a âsomedayâ idea, a âhopefully youâll get that thing out of your head, and we can figure something outâ idea. It was a vague possibility, and it felt almost cruel to be telling him that maybe someday they had a chance. What if that day never came, wasnât it just false hope? The very thing sheâd been able to avoid, when sheâd lied to him while seemingly under the effects of pentathol. Sheâd made sure she didnât allow herself to be compromised, made sure he didnât think something could come of all of this, when it might not. She couldnât take back what sheâd said now though. âI know. I canât quit now, Chuck. I need to keep you safe. Someday, maybe, when the Intersect is out of your head.â
âAssuming thatâs even possible,â Chuck said. The only real evidence they had that the Intersect could be removed had come from the mouth of a man who turned out to be less-than-pleasant. Outside of significant brain trauma you couldnât just unsee something, you couldnât just forget something that had been seared into your brain.Â
Chuck shifted from one foot to another, and cleared his throat. âBut if it is, and assuming I donât get killed somewhere in between then and now, or dumped in some cell, or - Well, honestly, thereâs a lot of âorâs - Iâm really looking forward to it. Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to do, itâs a date.â

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v.s. Nine Years
The ice cream break was very much appreciated, and any stops along the way would be too. Try as she might to claim she was fine - plenty of people did much more strenuous things pregnant, after all, and after years of being a spy, she liked to think she could handle most things - walking around all day in the heat wasnât exactly pleasant. It wasnât the height of summer yet, but thanks to hormones and the increased blood supply in pregnancy, overheating was something that happened quickly. Sitting in the shade, making quick work of her rocky road ice cream however, was helping a lot. Their son was due in about eight weeks time, most people wouldnât choose to spend the day walking around in a busy, warm part of California - she wasnât going to let Stevie down anymore, however.
âNobody is dyeing anything green,â Sarah shook her head, reaching over to wipe a dribble of chocolate off of Stevieâs face, before it could drip onto her clothes. âAnd nobody needs sticky hair, either. I had enough of that working in the Orange Orange - it beats out smelling like sausage, but I wouldnât recommend it.â
âIt beats out eating the sausage too,â Chuck said, shooting Sarah a taunting grin. Sarah was capable of many extraordinary things, one of which was burning the outside of a corn dog while leaving the inside completely untouched... an extraordinary feat, yes, but generally undesirable.Â
Heâd mostly eaten his ice cream down past danger levels, and Stevie was making short work of hers. âI think green hair looks cool,â Stevie said, âOr bright pink.â
âI think when your mom said that nothingâs getting dyed green, that applied to all other varieties of neon. You done?â Stevie nodded, and Chuck popped the last bit of his cone into his mouth. âOn the subject of sticky, Iâm going to go give this one a rinse off before the flies find her.â
v.s. the Haunted House
â That doesnât sound so bad. Iâm getting the hang of things here. â  The silence they lapse into is comfortable, strangely â Elsie never usually likes silence but sheâs so at ease with him that itâs alright. She doesnât feel the need to fill this silence. Thereâs no threat of being attacked, no need to be scared of anything. Itâs nothing like adventuring on the road. Her anxiety hasnât gone away but sheâs starting to relax, at least. Maybe thatâs another reason she might want to stay here.Â
â I⌠donât know. I mean, theoretically, sure. I wouldnât know how but I suppose⌠itâs possible. Do you want me to? âÂ
Chuck dampened his lips, a frown flinching at his face and suggestions of words half forming on his lips. â I-I mean, I know itâs your home. Itâs everything you know, â Chuck said, taking a bit of his apple to keep from having to say anything for a few moments. â But... well, I mean... â No. No, I donât. â I'd miss you. And - And if you go, then itâs kinda gonna put your Wondercon ticket to waste. âÂ
v.s. the Cover
If sheâd ever expected to hear those words - and a part of her had, a part of her longed for them, even though she shouldnât - it wasnât under these circumstances. Sheâd spent months avoiding him, treating him unfairly, and now they were stuck in this house together for an undisclosed amount of time. There was no telling how long theyâd actually be here, wasnât it worse if he was sharing his feelings now? There were only a few feet between them now, yet the distance felt enormous - and she didnât want to close it.Â
âChuckâŚâ Sarah began. Sheâd been the one to ask, asked if they could make it work, so why did his answer change everything? âI love youâ shouldnât be scary to hear, but it was. They were never supposed to let it go this far, never supposed to fall in love with each other. âThere are so many reasons not to. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. I donât want to hurt you.â
âGetting to the end of my life, whether thatâs at the end of a bullet a week from now or in my bed in seventy years, and not being able to say that you and me, we at least gave it a shot? Thatâs whatâll hurt.â Heâd spent so long trying to convince himself that what he was feeling wasnât love. That it was awe. That it was gratitude for the many, many times sheâd saved his life. But heâd known, since that day she turned up to his Halloween party dressed as Princess Leia and given him just one thing that was real, that he loved her and, looking back, he had for a long time before that too.Â
She had to feel the same, she must. Sheâd wanted to run away with him, and thereâd been that morning at the motel, and the kiss in the warehouse. A dozen suggestions heâd been second guessing for so long. âYouâre not my Handler anymore, Sarah. Every reason you gave before for us not being together. Theyâre gone. So, really, it comes down to whether itâs what you want.â
v.s. the Absentee Dad
Being a spy again wasnât something sheâd ever wanted. They were parents now, they had a new baby with them, they werenât supposed to get caught up in anything like this. It had been bad enough trying to deal with Shaw when she was five months pregnant, but theyâd gotten through it, theyâd made their way through everything. Her memories were back, the business was far safer (though she was on maternity leave anyway), nothing like this was supposed to happen again. But how could she let her father deal with this kind of thing on his own? Heâd gotten in way too deep, clearly.
Though she liked the stroller they had, all she grabbed was the diaper bag hanging off it, leaving everything else behind - they could move a lot quicker without having to push it around with them, and Stevie was far safer in Chuckâs arms. They needed to just keep moving. She let out a relived breath when the elevator began to descend, though it didnât necessarily mean they were safer.
âIt might have,â Jack replied, vaguely. âYou shouldnât have stuck around. I coulda handled them.â
âDad! Theyâre dangerous. You shouldnât be getting involved in things like this. Youâre going to get yourself killed!â
âDo you think I donât know that? You know as well as I do shady characters make good marks. Not much you can do when youâre robbed when you stole the lot in the first place. Itâs just good business.â
âGood - Good business? Jack, you nearly got shot.â And his endangerment of his own life had nearly cost Chuckâs family theirs. His little daughter. âWhatever youâre into, itâs a lot bigger than conning a few âshady charactersâ. Those men - Those men are-â
âRussian mob. Yeah, I know.â Jack leaned back against the wall of the elevator. âDonât know how you two do - if youâre still messinâ âround with the CIA, you shouldnât be lecturinâ me on my decisions.â
âOnly they werenât coming to give you money, are they? At Emmaâs you were getting something. Youâre in debt to the Russian mob.â

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v.s. the Bump
When he moved in closer, she shifted in a little closer to him too, the pizza forgotten for the time being. This was nicer; the closeness, the cuddling, the gentle kick of their baby girl under their joined hands. These moments were better than anything, after all theyâd missed out on - she thought so, so she could only imagine how wonderful they were for him, given that heâd been the one with the memories, the one whoâd had to suffer for months without her. She couldnât make up for all of that, not really, but she could offer him moments like this now.
âThanksâŚâ she said flatly, though she knew what he meant. It did almost feel like she was getting bigger by the day, it was hard to believe not all that long ago sheâd still been trying to hide it from him. There was no way sheâd be able to convince anyone she wasnât pregnant now, although they were in a much better place now than theyâd been those weeks ago - maybe sheâd have been ready, all it took was a few memories to get them closer again. If theyâd come up a bit sooner, perhaps sheâd have been able to tell him. âDidnât Awesome say eardrums develop in week twelve?â she asked, though as soon as the question left her lips, she was confused. It was a random flash of memory, sitting beside Chuck on the couch, while Devon fussed over Ellie. You could be next, heâd said. Sheâd freaked. Oh. âUh, but the book said they can hear properly by eighteen weeks.â
Eyes closed and he let himself savor in every detail of this. The warmth of her beside her. The sudden pressure of the babyâs kick. And the way his soul took a breath of air when she was in his arms again. His hand ran gentle circles over her bump, his daughter mere inches from his fingertips. âWell, then I think itâs important that she knows that sheâs loved,â Chuck said quietly. âAnd that sheâs going to have a beautiful home by the time sheâs ready to come join us, and anything potentially concerning she might have heard, including any loud banging that may or may not have sounded like gun shots, is gonna be behind us by the time she gets here.â
They needed to have music in the house again. They needed to make sure that the words she heard were ones of love and not tear stained arguments over lost memories. Their daughter never had to know they were spies - or, if she did, it didnât have to be until she was old enough to understand. It was a conversation the needed to have, a conversation that was a normal one to have between a husband and wife... at least a husband and wife who used to be spies. âSarah, thereâs a few other things we need to talk about, other than names.â
v.s. the 30 Foot Rule
âThe General of the NSA?â The name was, of course, familiar, she didnât need to ask who Beckman was - the confusion lasted for about a second, before it seemed to click into place. They worked solely under Beckman after Graham had died - the realization was apparent on her face, though it wasnât anything huge, it didnât mean she was going to remember everything. One tiny fact like that didnât mean much at all, though she understood why heâd bring her into this. Perhaps she could be trusted, though she found herself looking over at him when he spoke again. âIf. We donât know if my memories are going to come back. I donât remember anything about this place, five years worth of memories arenât going to come back out of nowhere.â And did one small memory really prove much at all? Thailand wasnât all that tiny, but it was mere seconds out of five years. It was nothing.
The plan wasnât what she would have gone with, and she still didnât have much of a reason to trust himâŚbut she had to admit, it wasnât half bad. Killing Quinn still didnât sound like a bad plan either, but sheâd humor him for the time being, agree to what he was suggesting, and decide on the best course of action at a later date.âFine,â Sarah gave a nod. What harm would a brain scan do? Sheâd agree to his terms, and then figure out where to go afterwards. Could she go back to the CIA, after all of this? âBut if this doesnât work, if anything goes wrong? I wonât hesitate in pulling the trigger. He did this, Chuck. He deserves that.â
Chuck studied her face, trying to pretend that the fading confusion on her face meant that name dropping Beckman as their former CO had come with at least some recognition. Heâd gotten good over the years, or he liked to think that heâd gotten good at reading her, but there was something foreign in her eyes. He could still feel the impressions of her fingertips on his neck, and the feeling of everything switching off inside him wasnât one he would soon forget. But heâd also come back to her lips on his - sheâd tried to kill him, but sheâd saved him immediately after, like the old Sarah was still in there fighting for him. Just like she did in Thailand.Â
âYou remembered Thailand from a single word,â Chuck pointed out. âIt has to all be in there still. Just repressed. Like... Like when I had the Intersect repressed - that was what landed me in Thailand in the first place. We can fix this, Sarah. Everything weâve face, everything weâve managed to overcome - we can fix this too.â It could have been him in Thailand; theyâd tried to take everything from him, thinking that it would leave nothing but he Intersect. And, if he was the one struggling to remember his life, she wouldnât have given up on him.Â