The will once ceded (Part 1)
A/N: This fic was written in just a few pieces (which I have to re-read and chop at the appropriate junctures because LJ apparently hates long entries), but since my laptop is in for repairs and I only have part 1 on my USB devise, there will be a short break before the rest is posted (which I plan on posting all in the same day). Also, this is a present for bgeminorum. I hope you enjoy it, my dear.
(Also, I plan on updating everything...just as soon as I can get my head back in the game. Watching season 4 will do us all a bit of good, I think.)
Title: The will once ceded (Part 1)
Pairing: Cole/Chuck, and hints of Casey/Chuck (because how often do I not write them?)
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to, and including Episode 2x15, Chuck versus the Beefcake
Warnings: violence, torture, language, angst, and UST. This is also an AR fic: bgeminorum challenged me to write a story in which not only does Team Bartowski fail to encounter Cole Barker (who is currently working undercover for MI6 as a Fulcrum Agent), but Fulcrum is able to obtain the microchip from Brad White’s belt containing the identity of the human Intersect...
Summary (AR):
The first time he meets Charles Irving Bartowski, their introduction is brief-Keith and Shelby drop his half sedated body at their superior’s feet and watch in mild amusement as the kid fights tooth and nail to stay conscious.
Agent Acheson, one of Fulcrum’s senior members, fancies the idea that he’s a funny man and rewards their captive’s effort with a swift kick to the head.
Keith tells them that ‘Carmichael’ is the head analyst of the CIA team currently stationed beneath the Burbank Buymore. They caught him after he set off the homing device of the microchip hidden in Brad White’s belt buckle-a microchip rumoured to contain the identity of the human Intersect. Agent White was due to deliver the information to his team when his untimely death cut their plans short, going so far as to let his body slip into enemy hands before he could find another way to deliver the information. For all purposes and intents, it looked as though Fulcrum had failed again.
Tampering with the microchip without the proper equipment led them to Charles Carmichael, posing as a computer technician at the local Buymore and pretending all the world as though he had no idea what either Keith or Shelby were talking about. When they bumped into him again later that evening, out in the parking lot between a truck and a black van, they refreshed his memory with a tranquilizing gun and packed him away for delivery to HQ. As soon as they hit the road, they fished the microchip out of his pocket and savoured, for the first time in a very long time, the sweet taste of victory.
It is a bitter experience for Cole.
When MI6 told him Fulcrum needed to be stopped at all costs, he thought posing as a fellow agent and killing Brad White would do the trick. The Intersect is more than just a compilation of information-knowledge is power, and the power of the US has often been likened to a sleeping elephant. All America has to do is roll over and the rest of the goddamn world will suffocate under its weight. ‘Protecting’ America-for lack of a better word-serves the best interests of both his Queen and Country.
“Do you have any last words?”
The kid looks dazed. Cole’s been standing there in the corner of the room for the last fifteen minutes or so, watching in silence as they beat him senseless. He’s broken a few ribs, his left wrist is swollen, and there are bruises blossoming around his throat where Acheson grabbed him and pulled him to his feet; strangled him, watched his eyes lose focus as he asked him to name everyone at the Buy More working for the government. Now Charles is hanging limply between Keith and Shelby as a gun is levelled at his head. He’s afraid, Cole can tell-everyone can tell-but then the kid asks Acheson if he’s going to kill him and somehow manages to look oddly at peace with the idea when the Fulcrum agent says yes.
“Okay...” he says quietly. “I think I’m okay with that...”
Analysts are rarely-if ever-sent out into the open unless they’re swarmed by army of field agents. They haven’t been trained to withstand torture. Death is welcome to them.
But the kid looks content and that’s about the only thing stopping Cole from stepping in and trying to convince them that they may need him later if the microchip proves to be a dud. As frightened as Charles Carmichael is, the kid knows it’s imperative that he dies, now, whatever his reasons may be.
“If it helps,” Acheson sighs, “most men in your position usually cry. You’ve left us with a good impression.”
Keith nods a little. Shelby grunts in assent.
Out in the hallway, someone is racing toward them, yelling, barrelling past security like a bat out of hell. Cole can see him through the tiny glass window in the door and realizes that this execution needs to happen, hand itching for the gun at his belt, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat... If Acheson doesn’t pull the trigger soon-
But Acheson is just staring at the kid, really staring at him now, as though he’s noticed something he couldn’t believe he missed. “I think Tommy has you on file somewhere. Labelled you as one of Larkin’s acquaintances... If you tell me where he is, I won’t have to shoot you, you know. Believe me, you’ll be doing your country a service.”
“...No.”
“ ‘No’, you don’t know him, or ‘no’, you’re not going to tell me?”
The kid swallows; tries to lift his head a little so he can look Acheson in the eye. “...‘No’, I don’t know where he is.”
“I guess that doesn’t matter anyway. The microchip will tell us-I just thought you might be interested in knowing why we do what we do. You’re supposedly one of the best... Could save the lives of millions if you worked for us... Doesn’t that matter to you?”
The kid shakes his head and let’s it drop again. Cole doesn’t miss the pained expression on his face.
“We’re wasting our time,” Cole mutters, hand still itching. “Shoot him already.”
“Cold, Barker. What’s wrong with a little mercy?”
“It’d be mercy if you shot the poor bastard and put him out of his goddamn misery.”
Acheson frowns at him a little but raises the gun anyway. Cole feels a prickling on the back of his neck as the man squeezes the trigger-
“Stop!”
One of their own analysts, a tiny guy with a shock of red hair, bursts through the door without so much as a warning and stumbles into Cole, eyes wide, entirely too absorbed with Carmichael’s presence as the beaten man lifts his head once more.
“He’s the Intersect!” the little man gasps, holding up a printed photo as proof. “Charles Irving Bartowski...formally known by the agency as Agent Carmichael.”
The colour drains from Acheson’s face as he processes the information. He still holds the gun levelled at the kid’s head but Cole can see the proverbial gears turning, piecing together the kid’s level of security, the number of operations he’s foiled, his ‘acquaintance’ with Bryce Larkin... It all makes sense when you look at it from this angle.
Then Carmichael-Bartowski laughs. It’s a little pained and a little desperate, but it’s a laugh all the same and everyone takes care to pay attention. “Glad to know you got the dud.”
Their analyst purses his lips. “Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Quiet please,” Acheson murmurs. “Both of you...”
But Cole interjects anyway, because this is as good a chance as he’s ever going to get and life is going to be practically hell from this point forward if this development turns out to be true. “That can’t be right. Why an analyst? Just look at him.”
Charles doesn’t say anything, but Cole can feel him watching him out of the corner of his eye. Cole can see the hope and fear all twined together in the sudden stiffness of his spine, the utter silence...
“But look at his track record!” their analyst rebuts. “And look at the lengths the government goes through just for his protection. Agent Casey isn’t exactly known for pea shooting.”
“Protection?” Cole scoffs. Then he looks at Keith and smiles a little. “Be honest, mate-how difficult was it stealing him off the street?”
Keith squints at their captive in consideration. He doesn’t want to say it, but Cole can pretty much read his mind: it was a lucky break. Acheson can see it too.
The senior agent stares at the poor boy for a good long minute...and lowers his gun. “Larkin didn’t have all the time in the world to send the Intersect wherever it needed to be. I can believe that he sent it to someone he trusted, even if that someone is an analyst.”
Bartowski looks horrified. “You don’t understand-you’re wrong! I’m not-”
Their Fulcrum analyst renders any pending argument as moot when he lifts a second photo, this one of a woman on the streets of Paris, trying discreetly to open her umbrella in the rain.
Bartowski freezes midsentence, eyes glazing over as the computer inside his head does its stuff. Keith and Shelby hold him steady until the moment passes. And then Acheson is smiling.
“Let me be the first, Mr. Bartowski,” he says almost reverently, “to welcome you to Fulcrum...”
A/N: ...On a totally unrelated note, I heard Team Bartowski will be battling an individual villain this season instead of an entire organization...Well, they’ll still be up against “evil organizations” in general, but Chuck finally has his Moriarty! Hurray!
I only hope it’s not his mother...
(Also, I plan on updating everything...just as soon as I can get my head back in the game. Watching season 4 will do us all a bit of good, I think.)
Title: The will once ceded (Part 1)
Pairing: Cole/Chuck, and hints of Casey/Chuck (because how often do I not write them?)
Rating: R
Spoilers: Up to, and including Episode 2x15, Chuck versus the Beefcake
Warnings: violence, torture, language, angst, and UST. This is also an AR fic: bgeminorum challenged me to write a story in which not only does Team Bartowski fail to encounter Cole Barker (who is currently working undercover for MI6 as a Fulcrum Agent), but Fulcrum is able to obtain the microchip from Brad White’s belt containing the identity of the human Intersect...
Summary (AR):
The first time he meets Charles Irving Bartowski, their introduction is brief-Keith and Shelby drop his half sedated body at their superior’s feet and watch in mild amusement as the kid fights tooth and nail to stay conscious.
Agent Acheson, one of Fulcrum’s senior members, fancies the idea that he’s a funny man and rewards their captive’s effort with a swift kick to the head.
Keith tells them that ‘Carmichael’ is the head analyst of the CIA team currently stationed beneath the Burbank Buymore. They caught him after he set off the homing device of the microchip hidden in Brad White’s belt buckle-a microchip rumoured to contain the identity of the human Intersect. Agent White was due to deliver the information to his team when his untimely death cut their plans short, going so far as to let his body slip into enemy hands before he could find another way to deliver the information. For all purposes and intents, it looked as though Fulcrum had failed again.
Tampering with the microchip without the proper equipment led them to Charles Carmichael, posing as a computer technician at the local Buymore and pretending all the world as though he had no idea what either Keith or Shelby were talking about. When they bumped into him again later that evening, out in the parking lot between a truck and a black van, they refreshed his memory with a tranquilizing gun and packed him away for delivery to HQ. As soon as they hit the road, they fished the microchip out of his pocket and savoured, for the first time in a very long time, the sweet taste of victory.
It is a bitter experience for Cole.
When MI6 told him Fulcrum needed to be stopped at all costs, he thought posing as a fellow agent and killing Brad White would do the trick. The Intersect is more than just a compilation of information-knowledge is power, and the power of the US has often been likened to a sleeping elephant. All America has to do is roll over and the rest of the goddamn world will suffocate under its weight. ‘Protecting’ America-for lack of a better word-serves the best interests of both his Queen and Country.
“Do you have any last words?”
The kid looks dazed. Cole’s been standing there in the corner of the room for the last fifteen minutes or so, watching in silence as they beat him senseless. He’s broken a few ribs, his left wrist is swollen, and there are bruises blossoming around his throat where Acheson grabbed him and pulled him to his feet; strangled him, watched his eyes lose focus as he asked him to name everyone at the Buy More working for the government. Now Charles is hanging limply between Keith and Shelby as a gun is levelled at his head. He’s afraid, Cole can tell-everyone can tell-but then the kid asks Acheson if he’s going to kill him and somehow manages to look oddly at peace with the idea when the Fulcrum agent says yes.
“Okay...” he says quietly. “I think I’m okay with that...”
Analysts are rarely-if ever-sent out into the open unless they’re swarmed by army of field agents. They haven’t been trained to withstand torture. Death is welcome to them.
But the kid looks content and that’s about the only thing stopping Cole from stepping in and trying to convince them that they may need him later if the microchip proves to be a dud. As frightened as Charles Carmichael is, the kid knows it’s imperative that he dies, now, whatever his reasons may be.
“If it helps,” Acheson sighs, “most men in your position usually cry. You’ve left us with a good impression.”
Keith nods a little. Shelby grunts in assent.
Out in the hallway, someone is racing toward them, yelling, barrelling past security like a bat out of hell. Cole can see him through the tiny glass window in the door and realizes that this execution needs to happen, hand itching for the gun at his belt, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat... If Acheson doesn’t pull the trigger soon-
But Acheson is just staring at the kid, really staring at him now, as though he’s noticed something he couldn’t believe he missed. “I think Tommy has you on file somewhere. Labelled you as one of Larkin’s acquaintances... If you tell me where he is, I won’t have to shoot you, you know. Believe me, you’ll be doing your country a service.”
“...No.”
“ ‘No’, you don’t know him, or ‘no’, you’re not going to tell me?”
The kid swallows; tries to lift his head a little so he can look Acheson in the eye. “...‘No’, I don’t know where he is.”
“I guess that doesn’t matter anyway. The microchip will tell us-I just thought you might be interested in knowing why we do what we do. You’re supposedly one of the best... Could save the lives of millions if you worked for us... Doesn’t that matter to you?”
The kid shakes his head and let’s it drop again. Cole doesn’t miss the pained expression on his face.
“We’re wasting our time,” Cole mutters, hand still itching. “Shoot him already.”
“Cold, Barker. What’s wrong with a little mercy?”
“It’d be mercy if you shot the poor bastard and put him out of his goddamn misery.”
Acheson frowns at him a little but raises the gun anyway. Cole feels a prickling on the back of his neck as the man squeezes the trigger-
“Stop!”
One of their own analysts, a tiny guy with a shock of red hair, bursts through the door without so much as a warning and stumbles into Cole, eyes wide, entirely too absorbed with Carmichael’s presence as the beaten man lifts his head once more.
“He’s the Intersect!” the little man gasps, holding up a printed photo as proof. “Charles Irving Bartowski...formally known by the agency as Agent Carmichael.”
The colour drains from Acheson’s face as he processes the information. He still holds the gun levelled at the kid’s head but Cole can see the proverbial gears turning, piecing together the kid’s level of security, the number of operations he’s foiled, his ‘acquaintance’ with Bryce Larkin... It all makes sense when you look at it from this angle.
Then Carmichael-Bartowski laughs. It’s a little pained and a little desperate, but it’s a laugh all the same and everyone takes care to pay attention. “Glad to know you got the dud.”
Their analyst purses his lips. “Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Quiet please,” Acheson murmurs. “Both of you...”
But Cole interjects anyway, because this is as good a chance as he’s ever going to get and life is going to be practically hell from this point forward if this development turns out to be true. “That can’t be right. Why an analyst? Just look at him.”
Charles doesn’t say anything, but Cole can feel him watching him out of the corner of his eye. Cole can see the hope and fear all twined together in the sudden stiffness of his spine, the utter silence...
“But look at his track record!” their analyst rebuts. “And look at the lengths the government goes through just for his protection. Agent Casey isn’t exactly known for pea shooting.”
“Protection?” Cole scoffs. Then he looks at Keith and smiles a little. “Be honest, mate-how difficult was it stealing him off the street?”
Keith squints at their captive in consideration. He doesn’t want to say it, but Cole can pretty much read his mind: it was a lucky break. Acheson can see it too.
The senior agent stares at the poor boy for a good long minute...and lowers his gun. “Larkin didn’t have all the time in the world to send the Intersect wherever it needed to be. I can believe that he sent it to someone he trusted, even if that someone is an analyst.”
Bartowski looks horrified. “You don’t understand-you’re wrong! I’m not-”
Their Fulcrum analyst renders any pending argument as moot when he lifts a second photo, this one of a woman on the streets of Paris, trying discreetly to open her umbrella in the rain.
Bartowski freezes midsentence, eyes glazing over as the computer inside his head does its stuff. Keith and Shelby hold him steady until the moment passes. And then Acheson is smiling.
“Let me be the first, Mr. Bartowski,” he says almost reverently, “to welcome you to Fulcrum...”
A/N: ...On a totally unrelated note, I heard Team Bartowski will be battling an individual villain this season instead of an entire organization...Well, they’ll still be up against “evil organizations” in general, but Chuck finally has his Moriarty! Hurray!
I only hope it’s not his mother...