The Intersect

It had only been a few days since Quinn had taken everything from her, since he’d forced her to flash time and time again, until all of the memories were gone. She didn’t remember the bullet train, but she could remember the pain - she hadn’t been aware that Quinn inflicted it on her, otherwise she never would have trusted him in the first place…it 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 hadn’t taken much to bring it back to her, whatever Quinn had done, maybe it wasn’t permanent. With everything else still missing, with only remembering what it was like to be a spy, Sarah wasn’t even sure if she wanted those memories back, but…they 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.

“Let’s deal with Quinn first,” she suggested. Of course he would want her back, he would want his wife back, the life they’d built together back - but she didn’t remember being that person. Could she really be her again? For the moment, she didn’t really want to think about it, she’d much rather focus on neutralizing Nicholas Quinn, and worry about the rest later. Once he’d 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 didn’t think she needed to tell him to stay quiet. “It’s over, Quinn. It’s done. He’s dead, and I have the glasses.”

“Excellent work, Agent Walker. Meet me at -”

“No. Meet me here, at the apartment. I need to pack so I can get the next flight out to DC.”

“Very well -” he had every intention of killing her, now that the job was done, but it didn’t much matter where that happened. The apartment was as good a place as any, their bodies would be found together. “Fifteen minutes. Once I have those glasses, your mission is complete.”

“Copy that,” she said, before turning the earpiece back off. “He’s on his way.”

“Okay. I’m going to go get a tranq from Casey,“ Chuck said. “Then 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?” It likely wouldn’t 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. 

He could hear the TV playing in Casey’s apartment, what sounded like a documentary on Reagan’s presidency, but it switched off when he knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened. “What happened to you?“ Casey said, although the marks on Chuck’s neck were unmistakable. “Didn’t think you and Walker would be getting kinky so soon after getting her back. Or at all.”

Chuck drew in a deep breath (which was getting easier to do) and ran his tongue between his lips. “My wife just tried to kill me and I need to borrow a tranq gun,” Chuck said, darting around Casey and making a beeline for the nearest weapons’ cabinet. “Long story short, Sarah doesn’t remember anything and Quinn sent her to kill me and you know how Sarah gets about finishing a mission.”

“You’re gonna tranq Sarah?“ 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. “I’m sorry, Chuck.“

Chuck turned from loading the tranq. “The dart is for Quinn - we’re luring him here. I need you up on the roof with your sniper rifle.”

“No.“

“No?“

“You’re acting like you’re in mission-mode right now. But when it comes to Sarah, you don’t have a mission-mode and I’m not gonna stand by and watch you get yourself and probably her killed. How do you know you aren’t the one walking into a trap?“

“Because this is Sarah. Because she brought me back, when she could have just let me die. And because I don’t think she’ll listen to anything I have to say until Quinn’s taken care of. I have to get back.“ 

Gunshots weren’t even something she’d 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 weren’t the kind of situations they should be getting themselves involved in now. It wasn’t as if they’d willingly chosen to be; they’d 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.

“That’s all behind us now,” 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 they’d been through. A few more months and there’d be three of them, they’d 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 ‘someday in the far, far future’ kind of idea, but now felt right. If she wasn’t 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. “Sure, what is it?”

There were things that, if things hadn’t gotten off course, they probably would have started discussing before realizing he’d 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. 

Hypothetically...

There was no way she could quit so long as Chuck still had the Intersect in his head. It was a ‘someday’ idea, a ‘hopefully you’ll get that thing out of your head, and we can figure something out’ 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, wasn’t it just false hope? The very thing she’d been able to avoid, when she’d lied to him while seemingly under the effects of pentathol. She’d made sure she didn’t allow herself to be compromised, made sure he didn’t think something could come of all of this, when it might not. She couldn’t take back what she’d said now though. “I know. I can’t quit now, Chuck. I need to keep you safe. Someday, maybe, when the Intersect is out of your head.”

“Assuming that’s even possible,“ 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 couldn’t just unsee something, you couldn’t just forget something that had been seared into your brain. 

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 wasn’t exactly pleasant. It wasn’t 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 wouldn’t choose to spend the day walking around in a busy, warm part of California - she wasn’t going to let Stevie down anymore, however.

“Nobody is dyeing anything green,” Sarah shook her head, reaching over to wipe a dribble of chocolate off of Stevie’s face, before it could drip onto her clothes. “And nobody needs sticky hair, either. I had enough of that working in the Orange Orange - it beats out smelling like sausage, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“It beats out eating the sausage too,“ 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. 

He’d mostly eaten his ice cream down past danger levels, and Stevie was making short work of hers. “I think green hair looks cool,” Stevie said, “Or bright pink.”

❝ That doesn’t sound so bad. I’m getting the hang of things here. ❞   The silence they lapse into is comfortable, strangely – Elsie never usually likes silence but she’s so at ease with him that it’s alright. She doesn’t feel the need to fill this silence. There’s no threat of being attacked, no need to be scared of anything. It’s nothing like adventuring on the road. Her anxiety hasn’t gone away but she’s starting to relax, at least. Maybe that’s another reason she might want to stay here. 

❝ I… don’t know. I mean, theoretically, sure. I wouldn’t know how but I suppose… it’s possible. Do you want me to? ❞ 

If she’d ever expected to hear those words - and a part of her had, a part of her longed for them, even though she shouldn’t - it wasn’t under these circumstances. She’d 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 they’d actually be here, wasn’t 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 didn’t want to close it. 

“Chuck…” Sarah began. She’d been the one to ask, asked if they could make it work, so why did his answer change everything? ‘I love you’ shouldn’t 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. “There are so many reasons not to. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Getting to the end of my life, whether that’s 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? That’s what’ll hurt.“ He’d spent so long trying to convince himself that what he was feeling wasn’t love. That it was awe. That it was gratitude for the many, many times she’d saved his life. But he’d 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. 

Being a spy again wasn’t something she’d ever wanted. They were parents now, they had a new baby with them, they weren’t 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 they’d gotten through it, they’d 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? He’d 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 Chuck’s arms. They needed to just keep moving. She let out a relived breath when the elevator began to descend, though it didn’t necessarily mean they were safer.

“It might have,” Jack replied, vaguely. “You shouldn’t have stuck around. I coulda handled them.”

“Dad! They’re dangerous. You shouldn’t be getting involved in things like this. You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Do you think I don’t know that? You know as well as I do shady characters make good marks. Not much you can do when you’re robbed when you stole the lot in the first place. It’s just good business.“

“Good - Good business? Jack, you nearly got shot.” And his endangerment of his own life had nearly cost Chuck’s family theirs. His little daughter. “Whatever you’re into, it’s a lot bigger than conning a few ‘shady characters’. Those men - Those men are-“

“Russian mob. Yeah, I know.“ Jack leaned back against the wall of the elevator. “Don’t know how you two do - if you’re still messin’ ‘round with the CIA, you shouldn’t be lecturin’ me on my decisions.“

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 they’d missed out on - she thought so, so she could only imagine how wonderful they were for him, given that he’d been the one with the memories, the one who’d had to suffer for months without her. She couldn’t make up for all of that, not really, but she could offer him moments like this now.

“Thanks…” 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 she’d still been trying to hide it from him. There was no way she’d be able to convince anyone she wasn’t pregnant now, although they were in a much better place now than they’d been those weeks ago - maybe she’d have been ready, all it took was a few memories to get them closer again. If they’d come up a bit sooner, perhaps she’d have been able to tell him. “Didn’t Awesome say eardrums develop in week twelve?” 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, he’d said. She’d freaked. Oh. “Uh, but the book said they can hear properly by eighteen weeks.”

Eyes closed and he let himself savor in every detail of this. The warmth of her beside her. The sudden pressure of the baby’s 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. “Well, then I think it’s important that she knows that she’s loved,” Chuck said quietly. “And that she’s going to have a beautiful home by the time she’s 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.”

“The General of the NSA?” The name was, of course, familiar, she didn’t 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 wasn’t anything huge, it didn’t mean she was going to remember everything. One tiny fact like that didn’t mean much at all, though she understood why he’d bring her into this. Perhaps she could be trusted, though she found herself looking over at him when he spoke again. “If. We don’t know if my memories are going to come back. I don’t remember anything about this place, five years worth of memories aren’t going to come back out of nowhere.” And did one small memory really prove much at all? Thailand wasn’t all that tiny, but it was mere seconds out of five years. It was nothing.

The plan wasn’t what she would have gone with, and she still didn’t have much of a reason to trust him…but she had to admit, it wasn’t half bad. Killing Quinn still didn’t sound like a bad plan either, but she’d humor him for the time being, agree to what he was suggesting, and decide on the best course of action at a later date.”Fine,” Sarah gave a nod. What harm would a brain scan do? She’d agree to his terms, and then figure out where to go afterwards. Could she go back to the CIA, after all of this? “But if this doesn’t work, if anything goes wrong? I won’t hesitate in pulling the trigger. He did this, Chuck. He deserves that.”

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. He’d gotten good over the years, or he liked to think that he’d 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 wasn’t one he would soon forget. But he’d also come back to her lips on his - she’d tried to kill him, but she’d saved him immediately after, like the old Sarah was still in there fighting for him. Just like she did in Thailand.