Scene LXXIII – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room

The three agents, exhausted but exhilarated, strolled into the main interrogation room. Chuck decided he would be all too happy to leave this room knowing he wouldn't be coming back for a while.

Chuck marveled at what a terrific day it had been. Between everything at Buy More going so well and successfully completing the mission, he couldn't ask for anything more. All that was left was the debriefing, and then Chuck planned to have a hot shower and a long one-on-one meeting with his pillow. As Casey activated the communication station, Chuck closed his eyes, savoring the idea.

His eyes snapped open when he heard General Beckman's voice. "Report?"

Casey began, "Good news, General. We successfully infiltrated the facility and captured a large number of cell members."

"You say 'a large number'. Did any escape?"

Sarah said, "Unknown, ma'am. We killed three and captured nine, including Gomes, but we have no way of knowing if there were any more."

Casey smirked, "I don't know; a little water-boarding might loosen their tongues a bit."

Chuck wasn't sure what upset him more: that Casey would make the suggestion, or that he was the only one who seemed at all bothered by that idea. He wondered if he would ever accept things like that as calmly as the others did.

Director Graham inquired, "Did you find anything to indicate what they were planning?"

Sarah answered, "We seized a number of documents that are worth reviewing, and the cell was stockpiling an interesting variety of equipment. With further analysis, we should be able to determine their plans."

Chuck's heart sank. Documents and equipment typically meant a parade of items in front of his eyes. He was beginning to think he would never get any sleep.

However, General Beckman threw them a curve ball. "No, you three have done enough. We'll send a team of analysts to examine what you found. It will be better to keep you free for other missions that may come up."

Casey, intrigued, asked, "Anything we should know about?"

"Not right now. But good work."

The door to the room opened, and Agents Norris and Phillips escorted Cush into the room. Cush immediately looked hopefully at Chuck, wondering about Davis. Chuck gave him a tight smile and a nod, and Cush's face broke into a toothy grin.

Director Graham asked, "Something funny, Bartowski?"

He answered, "No, just letting Mr. Cushman know that we successfully retrieved Mr. Davis."

The director mused, "Ah, that's right. We still have a couple of loose ends."

"Loose ends?" Chuck suddenly got a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes. Mr. Cushman was caught breaking into a top secret CIA server, and Mr. Davis was an accessory."

Chuck glanced at Cush, who was suddenly white as a sheet, his face tight. He looked back to the director, giving a disbelieving laugh as he said, "Surely you're not going to…" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought.

"What do you suggest we do? Give them a parade?"

"Davis doesn't know anything dangerous. And…"

"Mr. Davis will be released under certain conditions. But Mr. Cushman is a different story."

"He knows an IP address. Change it."

Sarah tried to slow him down. "Chuck…" She never got any further.

The director continued, "That's not what I'm referring to. We had his code analyzed by our experts. Their conclusion was that he could figure out how to break into any server he wants. He's dangerous."

A desperate thought occurred to him. I hope you can forgive me, Cush. Chuck licked his lips. "Then make him dangerous for you, not against you."

"What do you mean?"

"If the guy can figure out how to break into your servers, he can show you where your vulnerabilities are. He can make your security better."

"Are you suggesting we take an un-vetted man and give him access to our entire network?"

"Well, it's not like the vetting process weeds out all the bad apples. Remember Dr. Zarnow, the guy who wanted to kidnap me and sell me on the black market? What about Laslo; he almost blew up the Santa Monica pier. And then there's …"

Casey grabbed Chuck's shoulder, and uttered, "Idiot. Cushman doesn't have clearance for any of this."

Chuck pushed Casey's hand off his shoulder. Through gritted teeth, he responded, "Well, either he'll get clearance, or he'll be dead." Casey looked a little surprised at Chuck's assertiveness.

Chuck turned back to the monitor. "Look, you're talking about putting Cushman in a hole in the ground anyway. Fine. Put him in a bunker somewhere. Train a video camera on him as he works. Vet him during a probationary period. The guy's too good at what he does to just discard him … and he certainly doesn't deserve it."

For once, their superiors were speechless. The general pushed a button on her keyboard to mute the volume on their end, and the two held a private discussion, covering their mouths as they spoke.

Chuck checked on his friend. His face had a glimmer of hope; Chuck wanted to offer Cush another smile, but he honestly had no idea what would happen next.

On screen, the pair completed their conversation; the general unmuted the volume. The director said, "OK, Chuck. We'll try it your way. But you'd better hope this works out."

His first thought regarding the unspoken threat was to make a flippant remark, but Casey grabbed him by the shoulder again, warning him off. Instead, he looked over and grinned at Cush, whose face showed all kinds of relief … and more than a little excitement.

The director added, "We will contact Agent Phillips with orders for transporting Mr. Cushman. He will leave in twenty minutes."

General Beckman said, "Good work. Agents, please file your final reports, and then you may consider this mission closed." She signed off.

Casey and Sarah shared a grin, looking like the weight of the world was off their shoulders.

Chuck walked over to Cushman, trying to read his face as he crossed the room. Ignoring the two agents flanking him, he asked Cush, "Are you OK with this?"

Cush let out a big grin. "OK?! Not only do I get to live, but I get a government license to break into a top-secret computer network. Are you crazy? That seems like a pretty sweet deal to me."

A smile lit up Chuck's face.

Agent Phillips said, "Sorry, gentlemen, but we have to get Mr. Cushman ready for transport."

"Wait, can I stay with him? You know, until he actually leaves?"

Phillips looked over at Sarah, who gave an assenting nod. Chuck grinned back in gratitude. He was so excited for his friend as the group left the room that he didn't notice the strain in her answering smile.

Scene LXXIV – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room

As soon as the four left the room, Sarah walked into one of the interrogation rooms and shut the door. Eyeing the light on the camera to make sure Casey didn't eavesdrop, she speed-dialed a number.

"Graham here."

"Walker here. The package is being wrapped."

"Think Chuck bought it?"

Sarah steadied her voice. "Hook, line and sinker, sir."

"Good. How did you know he would push for Cushman to work for the CIA?"

Despite the fact Graham couldn't see her, Sarah shrugged. "I know my asset."

"Excellent work." Click.

Sarah's eyes glazed over as she guiltily stared off into space. The CIA never had any intention of killing Cushman; he was simply too talented. Once Director Graham read the reports of what he could do, Cushman was going to be forcibly recruited, much as Chuck would have been had Bryce not interfered. The vetting process had been expedited the prior day. Initial findings looked promising; the guy had a clean record.

The ploy with Chuck accomplished three things. It prevented any possibility of resentment on Cushman's part, at least in the short term. He was just happy to be alive, and would gladly go and do what he was told, especially since a person he trusted had so genuinely fought for the opportunity. Without that, there would have been a potential need to threaten the subject to accept his assignment.

Another small benefit was that the agency earned a credit with Chuck for taking care of his friend at his request. One never knew when a credit like that would be useful with an asset, but they picked one up for free.

The only risk was that Chuck would draw a parallel between Cushman and himself. Sarah pointed out that the ploy involved a claim that they would need to terminate Cushman for knowing the one IP address. Chuck was already worried the CIA was going to terminate him because of his flash on the network, so in Sarah's mind, this would only reinforce that fear.

However, Director Graham was confident that this episode would actually be useful for assuaging Chuck's fears. They could argue that the CIA always had a place for good people, as Chuck had now seen firsthand. They needed to defuse any thoughts Chuck had about being terminated, and the director though this would be a useful tool for that.

Sarah caught herself fiddling with the heart around her neck again. If she wasn't careful, she was going to rub the glint right off the pendant.

Needing to think about something else, she left the interrogation room. Casey was over at the communication station working on his mission report. Without looking up, he asked, "What was that about?"

"Just wrapping up a few things."

"Right." Casey obviously smelled the ruse with Cushman, but he knew he wouldn't get anywhere asking her about it. He changed the subject. "Listen, I never thanked you for calling me in today."

Sarah walked across the room to the table, looking for one of her file folders. "No thanks necessary. I was just calling in my partner." She offered a friendly smile.

"I think we both know it was a little more than that."

"Hey, I may have dated Bryce while on the job. But just to be clear: not interested." She pointed to herself with her thumb to emphasize the point. She couldn't keep a straight face, and laughed.

Casey actually smiled, but only a little. "I'm trying to be serious here. After what I said outside the coffee shop, nobody could have blamed you if you had just called in the CIA cavalry."

Sarah nodded, waiting.

"So, why'd you do it?"

The moment became a bit uncomfortable for Sarah; romantic feelings weren't the only ones she had trouble expressing. Finally, she said, "You're my partner, so I'm going to look out for you. Getting Gomes was important to you."

Casey studied her for a moment, his face a mystery. "That it was," he said. Sarah thought it might be as close to an apology as she'd get from him. She was wrong.

Casey walked over to the monitoring desk, and opened up a drawer with his things in it. He pulled out an unmarked CD, and brought it back to Sarah, offering it to Sarah without a word.

She looked curiously at the disc, not taking it. "What's that?"

"Surveillance from the Bartowski residence. Night before last."

Sarah blanched, but tried to cover it. "What's on there?" she asked, feigning nonchalance.

Casey looked Sarah straight in the eye. "Let me guess; you don't remember?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I caught the 2:15 and 2:45 showings. Seems like you went a couple steps over the line with the margaritas."

Sarah's façade crumbled. He knew; there was no point in denying any of it. "I did. That isn't like me."

"Neither is the pass you made at Chuck."

The what?! If Casey was bluffing this time, it was a good one. Sarah felt her face grow hot. Regardless, the drunkenness alone meant that he had her over a barrel. "Casey, I … I don't remember any of it."

"I know. That's part of why you're still here."

She swallowed hard: he wasn't bluffing. What had she done? "What's the other part?"

"The other part is that Chuck took the high road. He did the right thing, and that couldn't have been easy for him. I'm not going to punish him for that. Assuming you do the right thing as well." Casey handed her the disc. "You'll especially want to check the entries at 10:45 and at 11:17."

Sarah was beyond words. The old Casey would have gotten her reassigned just out of principle.

Casey cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Besides, I wasn't going to be left here alone with a mopey Chuck while they shipped out your replacement. I would have been the one suffering the real punishment." Casey winked at her, and walked over to the communication station to finish his report.

Sarah stared after Casey for a bit; then, she turned the stare at the disc in her hand. Shaking herself from her trance, she went over to the monitoring equipment and stuck the disc into a slot. Putting on a set of headphones, she used the computer monitor to scroll through different time segments with labels identifying where the audio was captured. The early time segments were all in the kitchen or living room, while the later ones were all from Chuck's bedroom. Casey had basically put together a recording of her entire evening.

The bedroom recording started at 10:42. The sound of muffled music, laughter and applause filled her ears. Something about the music tickled her memory; she remembered Chuck's allusion to her "hat dance"; she couldn't remember it. She wondered if this recording was made while she was dancing in the other room.

Just after 10:45, she heard a door open. She heard a female giggle she didn't recognize: it was happy, it was joyful. With a jolt, she realized it was her! She tried to remember the last time she giggled like that.

The mattress creaked. She heard Chuck order, "Wait here." The bedroom door closed, and the mattress creaked again. Then silence for a moment.

Chuck protested, "Sarah…"

She heard herself say, in a brazen voice, "What's the matter, Chuck? You promised to protect me tonight. And I am in dire need of some protection…"

The audio grew silent. She puzzled for a second before rewinding, turning up the audio. She heard … kissing? Had they kissed again?

She rewound the audio again, turning it up even louder. This time, she heard the kissing, and the faint sound of Chuck's rapid breathing. She must have been kissing his ear, or his neck, or something. She felt a little warm at the thought, but not as uncomfortable as she might have expected.

Suddenly her own voice screamed in her ear; she quickly paused the audio, closing her eyes in pain. She rewound the audio a few seconds and turned down the volume.

Sarah spent twenty minutes reconstructing the events of about five. In the end, she thought she had a pretty good idea of what happened. Casey was right; she had made a pass at Chuck and Chuck had gently refused her advances.

A few minutes later, Chuck re-entered the room, helping her put on his sweatshirt and drink some water with some aspirin. She supposed it was possible that he saw her topless, but at this point she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Had he decided to, he could have done far more than see her topless.

Casey had mentioned an entry at 11:17; using the audio software menu, she started the audio at 11:16 to be safe. The room seemed deathly quiet; she wondered what could possibly have happened half an hour later.

At just after 11:17, she heard a subtle noise. Turning the volume way up, she tried to decipher the sound. As if Chuck was right behind her, she heard him whisper, "Good night, Sarah." A long moment later, she heard the rustling of sheets and a click as a light was switched off.

Sarah frowned. He had sounded wide awake when he said the words. What could he have been doing? Reading? She skimmed back through the audio for the previous few minutes. She heard no pages being turned, which pretty much ruled that out. Listening to headphones? Maybe, but Chuck wasn't the type to just listen to music; he was always doing something else at the same time. So what had he been doing?

She covered her mouth with a hand. Had he been watching her sleep? She listened to the words again, volume amplified a little further. There was a sweetness, a fondness to the way he said the words. She felt a catch in her throat.

Casey put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She slid off her headphones, her hair tangling in the earpieces, trying to hide her surprise … and her other emotions. She failed utterly.

He simply said, "You have to talk to him."

She didn't dare respond. She had no idea what she would say … to Casey, or to Chuck.

Scene LXXV – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room

Chuck whistled a happy tune as Agent Norris escorted him back to the interrogation suite. Cush was safely off, seemingly content with his fate. The two had even managed to work up a scheme for him to get in touch once he got settled. He had high hopes things would work out for Cush.

All in all, he just wanted to get back to the safety of his room. Things had been too perfect; at his point, he didn't want to risk the other shoe dropping.

Agent Norris opened the door for Chuck, and with a nod to Agent Walker, left Chuck in her custody. He looked as eager as Chuck to find a quiet room with a comfortable bed.

Shutting the door behind him, Chuck stopped whistling and asked, "So, when are we out of here?"

Sarah looked up from the monitoring desk, where she finished labeling a disc, and then dropped it into her drawer. With a look to her right, she answered, "We're about ready. We just have a little more debriefing." She nodded towards the middle interrogation room, implicitly asking him to join her.

Chuck frowned. They had already done their debriefing … hadn't they? Unless it was about Cush. It didn't make sense to him. Nonetheless, he followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

"So, what's this about?" he asked.

Sarah intertwined her fingers as she answered, "Listen, Chuck, I owe you an apology."

Chuck was sure his eyes betrayed his bafflement. "An apology? For what?"

Again she looked away before answering. "For the other night." When it was clear he still didn't understand, she added, "'Casa Bartowski'? Your room?"

Chuck smiled playfully. "Oh, that. Yeah, in case you don't remember, I cut you off from Awesome's margaritas for a while."

She laughed almost gratefully, her professional demeanor dropping away. "Believe me, no need. I'll definitely be staying away from tequila for a bit."

He noticed that her smile faded a little too quickly. Puzzled, he asked, "Sarah, what are you trying to say?"

The professional demeanor was quickly back in place. Again, she seemed to choose her words very carefully. "Getting drunk isn't what I need to apologize for. It's what I did while I was drunk."

"You remember?"

"Casey jogged my memory."

"Ah, I should've known."

"What I did was very unprofessional. I'm embarrassed that it happened."

He directed a piercing gaze at her. "Are you really? Because it seems to fit with the other hints you keep dropping."

"Hints?"

"C'mon, Sarah. You kissed me when you thought a bomb was going to explode, then tried to pretend it never happened. You flirted with me all through the holidays, which may have just been the cover, but I don't think so. And…"

"Chuck…" she tried to interrupt. He wasn't having it.

"And then when you get a little tipsy, you make a pass at me. You're sending out an awful lot of signals here. What am I supposed to think?"

"I'm trying to apologize for all of that."

"I don't want an apology if that's how you really feel."

Her eyes softened for the briefest of moments. "How I feel is irrelevant."

"Not to me it isn't."

"I'm a handler and you're my asset. It's my job to protect you as best I can, and I cannot do that if I am compromised."

Chuck's heart skipped a beat. "So you admit you're compromised?"

"Quit twisting my words. As long as we work together, that's all that it can be. Work."

Chuck felt frustration growing within him; the repeated, awkward denials were getting the better of him. "That makes no sense! You worked with Bryce."

"Bryce was a mistake."

"You seem to make a lot of mistakes with men."

"That's low. With Bryce, I let my emotions get the better of me, and it's something I still haven't recovered from."

"Is that what this is about? You're still in love with Bryce?"

"No. But as an agent, I have to be impartial in my decisions, and Bryce affected my judgment. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

Chuck's eyes flashed angrily. "Why is it that you end up referring to everything that happens between us as a 'mistake'? I refuse to believe that feeling this way is a mistake."

"What does it take for you to understand that what I feel is irrelevant? I'm doing what I have to do to protect you. That's all that matters. All that matters is..."

Chuck could no longer contain himself. With a yell, he picked up the surprisingly light chair and hurled it into the back wall. One of legs tore a hole in the cheap drywall before the chair plummeted, a cacophony of metallic clattering filling the room as the chair settled to the floor.

Sarah's eyes grew wide. Unconsciously, her hands went to her face, covering her mouth.

His voice ominously quiet, he stared her down as he said, "That's not what matters to me."

Sarah's eyes darted between him and the wall, unsure of what was more unsettling.

After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, Chuck regretfully surveyed the damage for a moment, but his anger quickly overcame him again. He looked down at his visitor's badge, and in a humorless voice said, "Tell the CIA they can take the repairs out of my paycheck." He gave her a final frustrated look before walking towards the door.

Sarah watched him walk away. A tear broke free from her left eye, leaving a salty trail down her cheek. She tried to call after him, but she lacked the strength to put voice to the word. "Chuck," she uttered noiselessly, unconsciously taking a step forward.

It was impossible that he heard or saw her, but he stopped anyway. Without looking at her, he said in a dull voice, "I'm sorry about the wall." After a long pause, he added, "Maybe it would be best if Casey watched over me for a few days."

He walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Scene LXXVI – CIA Facility, Main Interrogation Room

Sarah walked out of the interrogation room a while later, eyes wide and unseeing. Casey's voice startled her from her reverie. "You know, you could have been honest with the guy."

She looked over to see Casey standing at the monitoring desk, fiddling with the equipment. It took a moment for Sarah to process what he had said. "What do you mean? I was."

"Really. You told the whole truth in there?"

In a defeated tone, she asked, "What should I have told him? In another time or place, things might be different? What good would that have done?"

"Well, for one thing, there wouldn't be a hole in the wall. At the end of it all, you still won't tell him how you really feel. You keep hiding behind your job to avoid that."

"It would only have hurt him more."

"Really. I think you underestimate the guy, at least when it comes to feelings. Besides, the chair in the wall says you've already hurt him plenty."

Sarah found that she couldn't deny the last part; that made all of this all the more difficult.

Casey pulled a DVD out of a recording tray, sticking a finger through the hole to keep the surface clean. He had obviously recorded what went on in the room. Had this all been a ploy to get even more damning evidence against her?

Sarah looked nervously at the disk. "Um … what are you going to do with that?"

Casey looked down at the DVD. "What, this?" He looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Without a noticeable shift in expression, he took the disc and snapped it in half between his hands. Small pieces of the shattered disc skittered across the floor. He dropped the remains of the disc in his hands into the small trash can by the monitoring table.

Offering her a tight smile, he started walking for the door. Sarah looked after him, questions in her eyes. "You know, I don't get you sometimes."

Casey stopped with his hand on the door knob, looking back at her. "Who, me? I'm easy to get. You did the right thing by keeping things professional with Chuck. And I don't punish people who do the right thing."

Sarah gave him a genuine smile, her eyes still wet with tears. Casey, obviously becoming uncomfortable, decided the tender moment had dragged on long enough. "I'd better catch up with Chuck before one of the hall monitors gives him detention."

Casey left the room, shutting the door behind him. She watched his departure, trying to figure out the puzzle that was Casey. It was so much easier to think about Casey than Chuck right now.

Scene LXXVII – El Segundo, 729 Lairport Street, Warehouse, Storage Space

A pretty girl with brown, almond-shaped eyes lowered herself from her hiding spot, cleverly conceal above the raised ceiling tiles in the office. Delicately finding her footing on the crate to avoid making noise, she lowered herself to the floor just as delicately, snatching a small white plastic rectangle from the floor before she fled out the side door.

Her whole team had been taken. FBI, NSA, CIA, she wasn't sure who, but it didn't really matter. In one raid, all their carefully laid plans were threatened.

As soon as the agents had slipped the trap and taken out more than half the team, she took the opportunity to slip into her hiding place. At the end of the day, she was a survivor.

She headed for a pile of junk in the front corner of the parking lot. It looked for all the world like she was walking into a dead end, but with surprising agility, she hopped off a series of items as easily as if they were stairs, clearing the fence with a fluid leap off an old shipping container.

She walked down the street as fast as she could without attracting attention, occasionally making a deliberately casual glance behind her to see if she was being followed. How had the agents found them? Their team had been so careful to stay off the grid. Unless somebody made an amateurish mistake, there seemed no good reason for it.

Making a tight right turn around a corner, she kicked into a jog for half a block. On the right side was an IHOP; she quickly ducked into the shop, seating herself at a table that allowed her to watch both the main entrance and the front window. Nothing. She seemed to have eluded notice by the agents.

When a waitress finally approached to ask about her order, she muttered an apology for changing her mind and left the restaurant, continuing up the street. No, there was no good reason for the agents to find them. They had been too careful.

That could only mean one thing: the Intersect. As they feared, the stupid thing could spoil all their plans. But Bryce Larkin was known to have left Los Angeles…

Lizzie looked at the white plastic badge in her hand. It belonged to one John Casey, ostensible Buy More employee and one of the agents who had raided the Fulcrum hideout. Maybe he could lead her to the Intersect … and redemption in the eyes of her superiors.

Scene LXXVIII – Washington DC, DNI, IT Department

The phone receiver hit the cradle with the sound of plastic on plastic. "God bless America," the technician exclaimed in a cursing tone.

Another technician looked at him from across the room with an amused expression, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What now?"

"That was Director Graham. He just tore me a new one; apparently some virus got through our defenses and infected his admin's computer. And now his computer is infected as well."

"Seems the good director is on a rampage. My buddy in L.A. was telling me that he was calling their department on a daily basis, not going through channels, etc."

"Well, I better go see what's up with the virus. Wonder how it got on her computer." He got up, and started putting a few things he might need into his briefcase.

The other technician waved it off. "Ah, the admin probably opened an email she shouldn't have."

"Probably." Without another word, the technician threw the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder and left the room.

Scene LXXIX – Casa Bartowski

Chuck wandered aimlessly into the living room, a numb look on his face. He didn't feel the bruises on his body. He didn't feel the fatigue in his muscles. He didn't feel anything except the vast emptiness inside of him.

Without thinking about it, he walked to the refrigerator, pulling it open and feeling the cold air wash over him. He stood hunched over, motionless, for a minute or more, searching for something to fill the emotional chasm.

Frustrated, he stood up and shut the door gently, resisting the urge to slam it home. He wouldn't find what he was looking for in the refrigerator.

Slowly he shuffled back to the living room, meandering through the furniture. He didn't want to sit, but he didn't want to stand. He searched the room for … something.

He thought about calling Morgan for a moment. Anna was off visiting her parents in advance of Chinese New Year's, and would be gone for a couple of weeks. In her absence, Morgan was eager to log some serious gaming time.

Chuck decided that would be a bad idea. He really wasn't up for the company ... or having to explain his depression.

He finally settled on heading over to Ellie's CD collection. There was a song he remembered from a time long ago, from an album Ellie used to play endlessly while she studied. One of the lyrics echoed what Sarah had said. The name of the song was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite recall what it was.

Slowly he scanned through the titles, using his index finger to help guide his eyes. Ellie, in typical fashion, had the collection alphabetized by artist, but that wasn't helping him now.

About halfway through, he paused. He smiled, appreciating the irony. The song was even sung by a Sarah.

He picked up the CD, and went back to his room. Stepping over the broken picture frame on the floor, he inserted the disk into his player, and set the song number. A soft voice and a gentle piano filled the room; he stood, transfixed, listening.

What ravages of spirit conjured this tempestuous rage

Created you a monster broken by the rules of love

And fate has led you through it; you do what you have to do

And fate has led you through it; you do what you have to do

And I have the sense to recognize

That I don't know how to let you go…

He turned up the volume and put the song on repeat. Casey would likely hear the song, and he would just as likely understand the reason for it. But that really didn't matter. At the moment, nothing really mattered.

He collapsed onto the bed, his head on his pillow, staring at the ceiling.

Scene LXXX – Casey's Apartment

Casey was wandering his apartment, cleaning and storing the equipment from the mission. As he worked, his mind puzzled over the conversation between Chuck and Sarah. The conversation had confirmed what he thought: the two had strong feelings for each other. However, it had also dispelled his belief that the two were sneaking around behind his back. The emotion was too genuine; too real. No wonder Sarah backed away.

He had seen agents fall for each other before. Their jobs were lonely ones, requiring them to shed all contacts at a moment's notice to assume a new role halfway around the world. Inevitably, some of them would succumb to temptation, if only to not feel so alone for a moment. But the moment would pass, the call would come, and one of them would disappear.

The other alternative was to take up with a civilian. In some ways, that was easier: at least one of them didn't realize that the relationship was doomed from the start. The down side was that it became so much easier for the agent to deceive himself. Casey knew that from firsthand experience.

His mind was starting to go down a road he preferred not to travel, so Casey decided to check in on Chuck. He probably should keep a close eye on him for a bit: Sarah would pull herself out of her funk, but he wasn't so sure how Chuck would react.

Flipping a pair of switches on his monitoring console, he threw the audio from Chuck's room onto speakers so he could keep working. A woman's voice and piano music filled the apartment.

From the tone of the song, Chuck was taking it hard. That wasn't a surprise. What surprised him was how caught up he became in the lyrics filtering through the transmitters in Chuck's room.

Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul

I'm ever swiftly moving trying to escape this desire

The yearning to be near you; I do what I have to do

The yearning to be near you; I do what I have to do

But I have the sense to recognize

That I don't know how to let you go

I don't know how to let you go …

The word "apparitions" struck particularly close to home. Casey instantly found himself traveling the road he had tried so desperately to avoid.

Part of him had hoped he had managed to forget Ilsa. Part of him knew he never would.

Without really thinking about it, he found himself searching for his bottle of scotch and a glass. He wasn't prepared to travel that road without some company.

Scene LXXXI – Gym

Sarah was alone in a gym, the air stale and unmoving. Mirrors lined three of the walls; some blue mats were neatly stacked in a corner of the wooden parquet floor. Sunlight flooded in through a small window high in the back wall, highlighting particles of the dust as she stirred the air. She had only switched on one of the four banks of lights; having most of the room dim tightened her focus … and matched her mood.

Knowing what would happen if she went back there with nothing to distract her, she had stopped by her apartment long enough to collect her gym bag and workout clothes. A workout seemed like a good idea, especially since she had been recently taken down in a fight. She was obviously getting rusty.

Gloves on her hands, she struck the heavy bag in a series of combination blows. Thwap, thwap. Thwap, thwap. Each strike dully echoed from the corners of the room.

Getting into a rhythm, her mind wandered back to Chuck. She had done the right thing, she told herself. A handler having feelings for an asset could only end badly. Besides, as she had told him a while ago, it was common for an asset and a handler to perceive feelings that weren't there.

But, she had to admit, the feelings sure felt like they were there.

Stopping to catch her breath, she looked around the room. On many days, there was something peaceful and introspective about only the sounds of her strikes breaking the silence. It allowed her to collect her thoughts, or sort through a problem.

Today, she didn't want to think. She needed something else to fill the silence, something to fill the void inside of her. Unfortunately, there was no sound system in the room, and in her haste to leave the hotel room, she had forgotten her ear buds for her iPhone. Ah, well. There was no help for it.

She switched to kicks, alternating strikes between her legs as she warmed up. In the back of her mind, a favorite ballad from her days before the CIA started playing. It started on an unconscious level; she didn't even realize that she was thinking of the song until she started humming the second verse.

When she recognized the song, a lump formed in her throat. She furiously kicked the bag harder and harder, as if trying to beat the song out of her head with each successive blow. Still, she heard the song playing.

Switching back to punches, she pounded the bag in rapid succession as if trying to change tactics, but still the song advanced. With each punch, she recalled a memory of Chuck.

Meeting him in the Buy More.

Dinner at the Tex-mex restaurant. "I like you, Chuck."

In the courtyard as the door to the apartment shut, hands lingering a touch too long.

Kissing him in front of the "bomb".

"Friends?" Their hands lingered.

Christmas Day at the Bartowski's.

Kissing on New Year's Eve.

Her punches flew harder and harder, but she still found herself thinking of him, muttering sporadic words to the last verse as she struck.

A glowing ember, burning hot, and burning slow

Deep within I'm shaken by the violence

Of existing for only you

I know I can't be with you;

I do what I have to do

I know I can't be with you;

I do what I have to do

A last angry punch glanced off the edge of the bag. Anticipating more contact, Sarah lost her balance; she was forced to grab the bag to keep from falling. Letting out an angry cry, she pushed away from the bag, ripping off the offending glove and hurling it to the far end of the room. The second glove quickly followed the first. Her anger turned to sobs; she wrapped her arms around her body, sinking to her knees as the last lines of the song echoed through her head.

And I have sense to recognize

That I don't know how to let you go

Across town, Casey lay back in his recliner, glass of scotch in one hand on his lap, staring vacantly at the far wall.

I don't know how to let you go

Chuck lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. One cheek was wet; his face was an anguished mask.

I don't know how to let you go.

Editor's note: This story, as mentioned, I view as episode 11b. It feeds nicely into episode 12, "Chuck vs the Undercover Lover", as it explains things such as why Casey was suddenly thinking of Ilsa again.

It even feeds into episode 13, "Chuck vs the Marlin", explaining big things such as how Lizzie sniffed out where the Intersect might be and Chuck's comment about how he and Sarah don't work together any more, and even little things such as why Casey might be willing to ply Morgan with grape soda and why Anna might not be around.

There's a lot of little tidbits like that scattered throughout this story, along with some other little hidden gems for those who are truly interested.

I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it…