Chuck Ficlet: "Musings On A Killer"
for leiaweasley, who wanted a missing moment from Chuck vs. The Tooth - the conversation Casey had with the Doctor before Sarah arrived. Dr. Leo Dreifus, Casey, talk of Chuck, Sarah, Casey/Chuck, spoilers for “The Tooth” obviously. ~ 620 words, teen.
Musings On A Killer
Major Casey looked for all the world like he was idly inspecting the dust on Dreifus’ living room drawer. Like he couldn’t care less that he was here. Of course, Leo wasn’t all the world. And there was no dust on his drawer.
“Thing is this,” the agent said. “It’s a mistake. You’ve got the same goal as we do - keep the Intersect intact. If you put him away, you’ll just achieve the opposite. You’re making a mistake” - he turned around to face Leo, expression one of casual interest - “in treating Bartowski like a normal spy. He’s not. He’s only come this far because this team happens to work for him. Putting him in isolation will break apart the team, and that’ll break Bartowski. You’ll just lose the Intersect.”
Dealing with spies of a certain age devolved into a game of chess, sly moves and strategies. They believed to know too much about how the game was played, forgetting that psychology wasn’t a game. Leo gave the major a long, sympathetic look, which Casey answered by putting himself up and raising his chin, a subconscious posture of defense that he probably wasn’t even aware of.
“Your worry for the Intersect is commendable,” Leo said. “Yet I fail to see how my treatment could harm him. The Intersect makes Agent Bartowski extremely powerful. It would be unwise to depart from standard procedure without very good reasons to do so.”
The major’s eyes had fallen on one of the pictures on the drawer. It was the one of Ronald Reagan. He traced it with his fingers - calloused fingers, Leo was sure, strong enough to deliver a punch without breaking, but slender enough to dissemble a rifle. “I know a thing about team,” Casey said, then added with a smirk, “Not that my last one’s still alive.” A beat. “This one can’t take seeing Bartowski without dignity. Walker can’t take seeing Bartowski like this. He can’t take dealing with her after she has. Team would fall apart.” He let go of the picture, rubbing dust off his fingers. “And then Bartowski’d fall apart.”
It was so interesting, Leo thought. For all intents and purposes, the man in front of him was a killer. It was what the NSA had recruited him for, what they had made him - and you could see from how he carried himself that it was what he felt he was as well. This man might have been trained in leadership, in social behavior skills, but it had all been meant to be an aide for the kill. Yet he was standing here, on behalf of a teammate, aiming to free him from what a slip of the tongue had transformed into isolation - torture -, rather than treatment. All the while talking of Agent Walker and Agent Bartowski, but never of himself.
He wondered if the agent even knew that he cared about the asset. He might not - assassins were sent in for therapy like soldiers were patched up in the field hospitals, and they weren’t taught to analyze themselves if that meant growing aware of what they’d done. The mind was a marvelous thing.
The Major had been judged a homosexual in his file on the occasion of three different evaluations. Leo wondered if Agent Bartowski even guessed that Walker wasn’t the only protector he had tied to himself this strongly. He had a feeling the young man would just mistaken it for common courtesy - understandable, considering John Casey was the only killer he knew. If Leo wasn’t misjudging the situation, the Major was indeed right, albeit for different reasons than he thought.
He wasn’t all that surprised when the doorbell heralded another visitor.
Musings On A Killer
Major Casey looked for all the world like he was idly inspecting the dust on Dreifus’ living room drawer. Like he couldn’t care less that he was here. Of course, Leo wasn’t all the world. And there was no dust on his drawer.
“Thing is this,” the agent said. “It’s a mistake. You’ve got the same goal as we do - keep the Intersect intact. If you put him away, you’ll just achieve the opposite. You’re making a mistake” - he turned around to face Leo, expression one of casual interest - “in treating Bartowski like a normal spy. He’s not. He’s only come this far because this team happens to work for him. Putting him in isolation will break apart the team, and that’ll break Bartowski. You’ll just lose the Intersect.”
Dealing with spies of a certain age devolved into a game of chess, sly moves and strategies. They believed to know too much about how the game was played, forgetting that psychology wasn’t a game. Leo gave the major a long, sympathetic look, which Casey answered by putting himself up and raising his chin, a subconscious posture of defense that he probably wasn’t even aware of.
“Your worry for the Intersect is commendable,” Leo said. “Yet I fail to see how my treatment could harm him. The Intersect makes Agent Bartowski extremely powerful. It would be unwise to depart from standard procedure without very good reasons to do so.”
The major’s eyes had fallen on one of the pictures on the drawer. It was the one of Ronald Reagan. He traced it with his fingers - calloused fingers, Leo was sure, strong enough to deliver a punch without breaking, but slender enough to dissemble a rifle. “I know a thing about team,” Casey said, then added with a smirk, “Not that my last one’s still alive.” A beat. “This one can’t take seeing Bartowski without dignity. Walker can’t take seeing Bartowski like this. He can’t take dealing with her after she has. Team would fall apart.” He let go of the picture, rubbing dust off his fingers. “And then Bartowski’d fall apart.”
It was so interesting, Leo thought. For all intents and purposes, the man in front of him was a killer. It was what the NSA had recruited him for, what they had made him - and you could see from how he carried himself that it was what he felt he was as well. This man might have been trained in leadership, in social behavior skills, but it had all been meant to be an aide for the kill. Yet he was standing here, on behalf of a teammate, aiming to free him from what a slip of the tongue had transformed into isolation - torture -, rather than treatment. All the while talking of Agent Walker and Agent Bartowski, but never of himself.
He wondered if the agent even knew that he cared about the asset. He might not - assassins were sent in for therapy like soldiers were patched up in the field hospitals, and they weren’t taught to analyze themselves if that meant growing aware of what they’d done. The mind was a marvelous thing.
The Major had been judged a homosexual in his file on the occasion of three different evaluations. Leo wondered if Agent Bartowski even guessed that Walker wasn’t the only protector he had tied to himself this strongly. He had a feeling the young man would just mistaken it for common courtesy - understandable, considering John Casey was the only killer he knew. If Leo wasn’t misjudging the situation, the Major was indeed right, albeit for different reasons than he thought.
He wasn’t all that surprised when the doorbell heralded another visitor.