A/N: We've finally arrived. The end of Chuck Versus The Man Who Never Was. As told in three Arcs. Or alternate story lines. Call it what you will.

You'll notice that Beckman is not treated kindly in this story. As one reader pointed out this is a first-two-season General Beckman, not the mellow one of later seasons.

Not that this story is canon. Canon-ish at best.

Thanks to michaelfmx my beta whose invaluable assistance has helped to me to reach this point.

Thanks as well to Zettel and Grayroc (with whom I've had a number of enjoyable face-to-face encounters) for their advice and assistance.

Don't own Chuck, et al.

On to the epilogue!

—

CHUCK VERSUS THE MAN WHO NEVER WAS-THE THIRD ARC

Epilogue

"Deputy Director MacNamara. The President will see you now."

The man stands and, nervously clutching his slim briefcase, follows the office assistant to the door of the Oval Office. Even after all this time as the pro tem head of the NSA, he still finds himself apprehensive when meeting with the Commander-in-Chief.

However, the news he brings today should help dispel the uncertainty that has plagued his organization since General Beckman's mysterious disappearance six months ago. Hopefully, they'll be able to move on and appoint a permanent replacement for the diminutive woman who'd ruled the roost at Fort Meade for so many years.

And James MacNamara, safely ensconced as a civilian bureaucrat, is very, very glad that he's in no position to even be considered for the position. Experiencing firsthand the stresses of the top job has made Beckman's past bouts of irascibility much more understandable.

And, of course, he'll be very happy to finally rid himself of the whole Intersect mess. Let Beckman's successor take care of the fallout.

The President rises from his desk as the Deputy Director enters.

Pointing to the couches in the middle of the office he says, "James, good to see you. Please sit down. Would you like some coffee?"

It seems he's in a good mood, which makes things a little less tense.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. President. That would be nice."

After placing the order, the President sits down on the opposite couch.

James waits for him to speak first.

"So, James, I understand you've finally found General Beckman."

James flinches a bit at the "finally", but replies quickly, "Yes, Sir. Were you informed of the details?"

The man shakes his head. "No, just that she's alive, but perhaps not very well."

"That's basically correct, Sir." James picks up his briefcase. "If you don't mind, I have all the details here."

The President nods. "Go ahead."

The Deputy Director opens his briefcase, takes out a folder and places it on his lap.

Opening it, he looks at the first page, more to calm his nerves than any need to be reminded of what it contains. "Sir, as you know, we'd been searching for General Beckman since November 18th. last year. After three months, the search was scaled back, as no trace of her whereabouts had come to light.

"However, two days ago, a Marine Captain," he glances at the page, "by the name of James Davis, who was on leave, happened to stop at a roadside café in Cortez, Colorado. The Captain, who had spent some time at Fort Meade, immediately recognized the waitress who served him as General Beckman."

"What?"

There's a knock on the door, which is then opened by an office assistant bringing in the coffee tray. Both men remain silent while the tray is deposited on the table between them.

"Thank you, Allison."

"You're welcome, Mr. President." She closes the door behind her.

The President speaks first, shaking his head. "So you're telling me that Diane Beckman has been hiding out in…where was that again?"

"Cortez, Colorado. About 380 miles southwest of Denver. Near the Utah and New Mexico state lines."

"So, a respected General, the head of the NSA, decides to give that all that up to become a waitress at…"

"Bob's Country Kitchen, Sir."

The President shakes his head again. "Why on earth would she choose to do that?"

"It's not quite as simple as that, Sir."

"What do you mean?"

"General Beckman appears to be unaware of her true identity, Sir. She believes herself to be a woman by the name of Diane Shirley. While being interviewed by the agent in charge, she emphasized, a number of times I might add, that it is Diane with an 'E'."

"I gather that was important to her."

"It certainly appears so, Sir. She told the agent that she'd been orphaned when very young and had spent her early life being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Very unsatisfactory ones, it seems. However, she'd eventually been adopted by an older couple from Rhode Island, a brother and sister. It seems they'd misread the name, thought they were getting a boy by the name of Dane. Nonetheless, they'd kept her and they grew close. She eventually became a teacher, living on the family farm for many years after her adoptive parents died. Later on, she decided she wanted to travel, so rented the farm out and has been traveling around the US in her RV, taking odd jobs as the situation required."

"James, I can't quite put my finger on it, but a lot of that story sounds familiar. Like I've read it somewhere before."

"You're not the first to remark on that, Sir. Her history appears to have been based, at least partially, on a children's book titled—"

The President snaps his fingers. "Anne of Green Gables! I remember reading it to my daughter."

"Yes, Sir. That's the one."

"How the hell did she wind up believing that story?"

"Sir, do you remember the conversation we had about Project Summer Crest?

"Yes, of course." He pauses. "Oh, I see."

James' mind flashes back to the meeting five months ago, one much less pleasant than this one.

...

"How the hell do you not know what's going on in your own organization? You're the Deputy Director for god's sake!"

James MacNamara feels the sweat pop out on his brow, but dares not wipe it away. He's tired. So tired. The last two weeks have been hell, and he once more inwardly curses the woman who'd left behind such a freaking mess.

"I'm sorry Mr. President. General Beckman seems to have kept quite a number of things hidden from virtually everyone, myself included. It's only since her disappearance that I've been able to access her private files."

The President, still fuming, curtly asks, "What have you found?"

"Sir, it appears that the General exceeded her mandate most often in relation to Project Omaha. Specifically, the part of it known as the Human Intersect Project."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it. Some civilian wound up with all our secrets in his brain by accident, right?"

"Yes, a man by the name of Charles Irving Bartowski unwittingly became the Human Intersect. Agent Sarah Walker from the CIA and Major John Casey from the NSA were assigned as his bodyguards and eventually, his teammates. The team was instrumental in our successful battle with Fulcrum and, later the Ring."

"I know all that, Deputy Director."

"Yes, Sir. I'm sure you do. Just wanted to bring you up to speed in order to better understand the most recent events." James takes a deep breath. "Approximately fourteen months ago, Mr. Bartowski, commonly known as Chuck, started to show signs of severe mental degradation, brought on, it was determined, by the presence of the Intersect. In order to save his life, or at the very least, his sanity, the Intersect needed to be removed. He, accompanied by his extended team, was taken to a medical facility in Virginia for the procedure. After which, Beckman agreed that Mr. Bartowski would have no further involvement in the Human Intersect Program. However, shortly after the procedure was performed, there was a fire at the facility.

"A single fatality was reported." James pauses. "It was thought that Mr. Bartowski had died in the fire."

"The way you say that makes it clear he didn't."

"Yes, Sir. I've discovered that General Beckman had, in effect, kidnaped Mr. Bartowski from the hospital prior to having the fire set. The intent being, of course, that everyone not in the know would think him dead and she could proceed with her plans."

"Which were?"

"To download a somewhat newer version of the Intersect into Mr. Bartowski's head, Sir. So she could continue to reap some benefit from the Intersect's capabilities."

"Why would he agree to that after it almost killed him?"

"Chuck Bartowski would not, but Charles Carmichael seemingly did."

"I'm not following."

"Sir, have you ever heard of Project Summer Crest?"

The President thinks for a few moments, shakes his head. "No, nothing I can recall."

"Summer Crest was a secret, off-the-books project designed to allow us to download an entire history and personality into an agent's mind, providing him or her with a virtually unbreakable cover. Because the agent would actually believe that he or she is that person, there would never be any slip-ups, even under enhanced interrogation. However, due to concerns over our ability to later retrieve the agent's real identity, the project was shelved and all further work on it was brought to a halt."

"Let me guess. Beckman secretly revived it?"

"Yes, Sir. It seems she did. Shortly after Chuck Bartowski 'died', a Charles Carmichael suddenly appeared on the books. I've been able to determine that, using the cover name Charles McNeil, he was sent to run a far from the mainstream NSA listening post in Casper, Wyoming. I've examined General Beckman's encrypted private communications with him and have come to the conclusion that Bartowski and Carmichael are one and the same person. And that he's a human Intersect once again. Logic seems to indicate that the only way the man would take it on again would be if he believed himself to be Carmichael and that his previous memories of the Intersect, along with those of his past life, had been erased."

The President scowls. "Let me see if I've got this right. The head of the NSA basically kidnapped an American citizen, after subjecting him to an unsanctioned procedure, just so she could have her own private Intersect. And doing this while everyone who cared for him thought he was dead. That about right?"

"Yes, Sir. That sums it up."

The man actually growls, which startles James. "What a goddamned mess! If I ever see that red-haired little gnome again, I swear I'm gonna strangle her myself!"

James, while feeling the same way, wisely says nothing, just sits quietly as the President works to bring his anger under control.

"OK. OK. We need to do some damage control. Have you tried contacting this Bartowski Carmichael character? See if we can bring him in and try and fix what's been done to him? Find some way of compensating him, apologizing to him and his family?"

"Unfortunately, it's too late for that, Sir. It's just come to light that, despite Beckman's efforts to hide him, Walker and Casey somehow managed to find Bartowski and extricate him. Then they dropped off the grid."

"Have you tried contacting his family or friends? See if they might know where he is?"

"We tried, but it turned out that his sister, her husband and his best friend also disappeared around the same time. We assume they're together somewhere, Sir. And that his sister, a neurologist, has been working on Chu—sorry, Mr. Bartowski's problem.

"We also believe, without any hard evidence to support it, that this group is behind the disappearance of General Beckman, Sir."

The President nods. "Makes sense. Do you think they plan on killing her?"

"It's hard to say, Sir. The files of both agents indicate they're certainly capable of doing just that. Agent Walker more so than Major Casey."

"Why would you say that, MacNamara?"

"A number of reasons. Beckman was Major Casey's superior for a number of years, and personally knowing the man's sense of loyalty, I'm not sure he would normally be willing to go quite as far as physically harming the General. However, he would expect that loyalty to be, in turn, shown to him. If it wasn't, if he felt betrayed by her actions, it's possible that all bets would be off."

"And Walker?"

"In light of all this, I've read through her service record." He pauses. "It was…profoundly disturbing. For a number of years, before Director Graham's demise, Agent Walker was his personal…I guess the best word would be enforcer. Basically a sanctioned assassin. And, if I had to guess, Graham used her for a number of unsanctioned missions as well."

"So you believe one or both would be capable of killing her?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Have either of them ever showed signs of going off the reservation before?"

"No, Sir, not to our knowledge."

"OK. So what was the trigger for this incident?"

"Sir, I found clues in some of Beckman's handwritten notes that she made in the margins of the private file she maintained on what came to known as 'Team Bartowski'." James rustles through the papers in his lap until he finds the one he's looking for.

"Shall I read a few of the highlights to you, Sir? I believe it will make matters clearer."

"Go ahead."

James starts reading.

"Major Casey seems reluctant to follow my direction on how to handle the asset. Is he going soft? Developing some sort of connection with the Intersect?"

"Agent Walker isn't what I expected her to be. When I suggested she take whatever measures were needed to make sure the Intersect cooperated, she was evasive. She indicated that she felt her current approach was working, so didn't need to go beyond that. Don't understand why she's reluctant to take the Intersect into her bed. The man would be as docile as a lamb if she did."

"Casey sided with Walker today in defending the Intersect's unorthodox actions, saying the results speak for themselves. It appears my plan to keep the two at loggerheads may not be working. What's uniting the two of them against me?"

"Has Walker compromised herself with the Intersect? Has she deluded herself into believing the cover could become something real? That she could lead some sort of normal life? I'll need to watch her more closely."

"Major Casey balked at an order I gave today regarding the disposal of the Intersect, suggesting that it wasn't the best course to take. He's never done that before. If he continues to be difficult, drastic measures may need to be taken."

"I believe Walker thinks she's in love with the asset. This is intolerable. I will not let my control of the Intersect be compromised by a woman who can't rein in her juvenile feelings. I may need to bring in another agent to fracture the team's interpersonal relationships in order to reestablish my dominance."

"There's more, Sir, much more, but that gives you the gist. That last entry was written shortly before Mr. Bartowski began to show signs of mental breakdown."

The President is silent for a few moments, clearly thinking over the implications of what he's just heard.

"It seems both agents had developed a strong attachment to Mr. Bartowski, to the point they were willing to go against orders."

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you think that Agent Walker went beyond that attachment, that she actually did fall in love?"

"It's impossible to say with any certainty, Sir. Those types of entanglements are discouraged amongst agents, but are even more frowned upon between agents and assets."

"Given your description of her, of the things she's done, it seems unlikely that she would even be capable of the...softer emotions."

"I agree, Sir, but her subsequent actions seem to indicate she did have strong feelings for the asset. After a prolonged, and ultimately fruitless search for the perpetrators of Mr. Bartowski's 'death', she resigned from the CIA, then fell off the face of the earth. That type of behavior would fit someone who'd lost a person they truly cared for."

The President nods. "And would make her feel all the more strongly about Beckman's actions."

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you think Beckman's dead?"

James thinks for a few seconds before replying, "No, Sir, I don't believe she is. If they'd simply wanted her dead, there would have been no reason to take her from her home. It's not as if they're using her as a hostage. There haven't been any demands. No, I believe they took her in order to do something much more complex than shooting her. What, I'm not sure."

The President shakes his head. "Well, whatever it is, I'm glad I'm not facing a woman who's as pissed as Agent Walker must be right about now."

"I agree, Sir."

"You'll keep looking for the General?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And you'll keep me informed if Bartowski contacts us."

"Yes, Sir."

"If he does, I want this all swept under the rug. Generous compensation for what was done to him in exchange for his silence on the matter. And immunity from prosecution for him and his team for any criminal acts that may have been committed. That clear, James?"

"Yes, Sir."

The President nods, thoughtfully. "I wonder what they've done with her?"

"I expect we'll find out at some point, Sir."

...

"They did to her what she had done to him."

"Yes, Sir, it appears so."

"You have to admit, there's a certain poetic justice in that."

James doesn't comment. It's not his place to do so.

The President goes on, "You'll be bringing her back here?"

"Yes, Sir. The scientists involved with Summer Crest feel they'll be able to restore her memories."

"Should we do that, James? Maybe it would be better to leave her as she is."

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"It sounds like she's reasonably happy where she is. Even if we do get her back, I'll be asking for her resignation. She's done in this town. Maybe she'd be happier not knowing that."

"I see your point, Sir. However, I don't believe we have the right to decide that for her. If we made that decision for her, we would be doing basically the same thing she did to Mr. Bartowski."

The President sigh. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Pausing, he asks, "Speaking of Bartowski, how did the negotiations go?"

"Quite satisfactorily, Sir. We established contact, as you remember, not too long after I briefed you about Beckman's actions involving Summer Crest. He and his team came out of hiding after we were able to deliver the needed assurances that we wanted to resolve this matter amicably.

"Chuck's sister and her husband were offered positions, which they accepted, at the West Los Angeles VA hospital. He as a surgeon and she in research. They still live in Burbank."

"Morgan Grimes, Chuck's friend, now has his own Comic Book combination Game Store in Burbank."

"And the rest?"

"Major Casey took his pension, which we've enhanced considerably. Agent Walker, despite her age, was also granted a substantial pension."

"And Mr. Bartowski?"

"He seems to be fine. Even without the Intersect, he seems to be very capable. Using the generous compensation we gave him, the three of them have started a private cybersecurity a firm. They'll be bidding on government contracts. Given what they bring to the table, I believe we'll be able to use them.

"Oh, one more thing, Sir. Chuck and Sarah have been married for a few months now."

"That's good to hear. I guess that puts to rest the question about her feelings."

"Yes, Sir, it does."

The President stands and offers his hand. James stands quickly, takes the man's hand in his.

"Thank you, James. You've done a good job the last few months. And you've done it honorably."

"Thank you, Mr. President. That's kind of you."

"Now that we've got the Beckman thing sorted, I'll be suggesting possible candidates to fill her position."

"That's good, Sir." James can hear the relief in his voice.

The President smirks. "That way, someone else will be responsible to make all these nerve wracking visits to the Commander-in-Chief."

James grins back. "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome, James."

…

John Standing Bear has just about finished dressing the deer when he hears the series of pistol shots echoing from the direction of Sarah's place.

He listens carefully. At his side, Saridj perks up his ears as well.

Please come to the cabin.

John looks around, gauging how much daylight is left, calculates whether he can make it to her place before nightfall. Seeing he cannot, he returns to the task at hand, but only after firing off two quick rifle shots to let them know he'd heard.

At least this way, he'll have some fresh venison to take with him in the morning.

He's glad to be out in the open again, grateful for the early spring. While there are still patches of snow around, the weather is comfortable. When he'd called Sarah on the satellite phone to tell her of his intentions to return to the woods, she'd commented that his timing was good, as she and her husband would be coming up in a couple of days. That was a little over a week ago.

He hadn't been in the least surprised to find out that she'd married the man he'd met last fall.

Even in the brief time he'd seen them together, it was blatantly obvious that they had an unbreakable bond. The only thing that had concerned him was whether the memory issue the man had experienced might prove to be a hindrance to their progress.

Clearly, it hadn't.

He had been surprised, though, by how she'd lingered over the word "husband", an almost childlike wonder in her voice.

He shakes his head at the thought, pondering if, now that they're married, she'll finally start to accept that she deserves to be happy. And if the darkness John had seen within her would start to fade from her mind. And her heart.

He sighs. Only time will tell, but with Chuck at her side, the chances are good.

…

The next morning, as he clears the trees at the edge of her property, he sees the two of them sitting on the porch, seated in comfortable looking chairs, new ones.

Ed is sitting on the ground in front of the porch. With his sharp eyesight, John can tell, even from this distance, that the dog is patiently exasperated (or what passes for the canine version of patient exasperation). The reason being a small black and white pup which, much to the amusement of the two people on the porch, keeps trying to tackle the older dog, who pointedly ignores his smaller companion.

But then Ed notices the newcomers and runs toward them. The pup, after a moment's hesitation, gamely follows, tripping and stumbling over its own feet a little as it does so.

Saridj looks up for permission, and John nods.

The three dogs meet halfway. The pup's initial courage somewhat wanes, so it stays close to Ed, curious, but not sure of the stranger. Saridj is curious as well. However, after a few tentative sniffs and odd little movements, the three start playing together.

"John!"

He brings his eyes back to the porch, sees Chuck and Sarah standing, waving in his direction.

He waves back, resumes his walk toward the cabin.

The two come off the porch, walk his way, holding hands.

Sarah moves in close, hugs him, a little awkwardly considering the large backpack he still has on. "John, it's so good to see you."

She releases him as Chuck offers his hand.

As the two shake hands, Chuck says, with a smile, "John, it's nice to see you again."

He nods. "Sarah. Chuck. It's good to have you back."

Sarah puts her arm through Chuck's, leans her head on his shoulder.

"I've just made fresh coffee, John. Would you like a cup?"

He nods. "Yes, Sarah, I would. Thank you."

They walk back to the cabin. John slips off his backpack, places it on the ground near the porch. His rifle remains slung over his shoulder.

"Chuck, could you please grab another chair. I'll bring out the coffee."

"Sure." Sarah disappears inside, while Chuck grabs one the folding chairs that John remembers from previous times.

Chuck gestures towards one of the more comfortable chairs. "John, you can sit there. I'll take this." He points to the one he'd just placed.

"Thanks, but I prefer that one. The others look a little too soft for me."

Chuck nods, smiling. "No problem."

John sits, leans his rifle against the railing, within easy reach.

The screen door pushes open, Sarah coming through the doorway with a tray, upon which are three coffee mugs, cream and sugar. She places the tray on a small table, then turns to John.

"Cream, one sugar, right?"

Pleased that she remembers, he nods. She prepares it, then hands him the mug. After preparing Chuck's (without asking how he takes it), she picks up her own mug which contains a teabag.

Chuck looks her way, eyebrow raised. Something passes between then that John can't decipher.

"Already had my cup for today, Chuck."

"Oh, right."

She sits facing their guest.

After taking an appreciative sip (good coffee being one of the few things he misses about civilization), John comments, "You have a new pup, I see."

Sarah briefly looks out into the yard.

Fondly she replies, "Yes, we adopted him. We named him Chas."

John glances Chuck's way before commenting, "It's a good name. Ed needed the company." It's left unsaid that Ed wasn't the only one who does so.

At this, all three fall silent for a few minutes as they watch the dogs playing. John notices that Saridj heads off any tendency for the group to drift toward the tree line. At the reminder, John glances towards his rifle, knowing he can grab it at a second's notice if need be.

Sarah breaks the silence. "John, Chuck and I would like to thank you for all you've done for us."

He waves it off. "I should be thanking you. Allowing me to stay here over the winter was a kindness."

Chuck asks, "Weren't you lonely? Isolated up here?"

He shakes his head. "No. Saridj was with me. There were lots of books and I had almost everything else I needed. And when I did need something, I was able to get into town." He nods toward the Defender parked under a tree. "It's a good vehicle. Had no serious problems getting around. Although, it did help that the snowpack was a little lighter this year."

"That's good."

There's a pause in the conversation as he studies the couple before him, remembering the last time he'd seen them, the haunting anxiety about their future that the two had tried so hard to hide from each other.

There's no sign of it now. In its stead is a quiet joy, a bone-deep contentment.

He nods. It's what he'd hoped for. What they deserved.

He asks, "Everything went well? Your memories are back?"

Chuck nods, Sarah close beside him looking up into his face. "Yes, for the most part. The impediment was…shunted aside. I remember most things, but there are gaps here and there. Less of them each day, though, as events or words," he looks down to Sarah's hand entwined with his, "or a touch triggers a recollection. All the big stuff, the really important stuff, is back.

"And there's been an unexpected benefit that's come out of this whole mess. There were certain...apprehensions about our relationship," he glances, shamefully, at Sarah, "that returned alongside the memories, ones that, in light of recent events, I came to realize were baseless...foolish. And always had been.''

He looks her way again, a little apprehensively, but all she does is nod and give him an encouraging smile.

Relieved and heartened by her actions, he goes on, much more cheerfully, "And best of all, of course, is that I got to fall in love, a second time, with the most amazing, most beautiful woman in the whole wide world."

She blushes, buries her head in his shoulder, mumbles, "Chuck, you're embarrassing me."

He grins, then drawls, "Ain't nothin' but the truth, honey."

John smiling, watches them for a few seconds, then, to spare her, changes the subject.

"What happened after you left here?"

She brings her head back up and, after shooting Chuck a look, turns to John and says, "It took some time, but Chuck's sister was able to sort out his issues. And we also figured out how we were going to deal with the person who brought all this on. We created a false identity for her, one she herself would believe to be true. Like what she'd done to Chuck."

The big man nods, thinking. "So, this Diane Shirley, the woman you asked my cousin to hire at his restaurant, was she the one who was behind all this?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you exactly why I asked the favor from you, from him. We didn't tell you the details to protect the both of you. Her false identity documents were impeccable, so there was nothing that could come back on him. And they couldn't make any connection between you and us either."

"I understand. But now you can speak of what happened?"

"Yes. I can't go into it too much, but we've cleared things up with the government. We no longer need to hide."

"Even after what you did to her?"

Chuck shakes his head. "No, not even with that. In fact, they asked us to put everything behind us, pretend it never happened. Let's just say there were certain...events that they wanted to keep quiet."

John nods once again, taking it all in. "Now you can move on."

Sarah firmly replies, sitting forward. "Yes, we have some plans, something that we, Casey and the two of us, can do together. We'll each bring our own unique skill set to into the business. We'll govern our own course, no longer subject to the whims of the ones we had to answer to previously."

John can only imagine what kind of things Sarah had been forced to do before, but it's clear from her words that she'll no longer accept being controlled in that way. By anyone.

Sarah breaks into his thoughts. "They found her two days ago."

"Diane?"

"Yes. They've taken her back to Washington."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not really. We knew it would happen sooner or later. And that they'll probably be able to restore her memories. However, I was informed by someone in the know that, either way, she's finished in D.C. She'll be forced to retire."

He asks, quietly, "Will that be enough, Sarah? To balance the scales?"

She glances at Chuck before answering, "The person I was…before…would've said no, that something more...drastic needed to be done."

She gives herself a little shake. "But that's not who I am anymore." She looks at Chuck again, gratefulness in her little smile. "So this will be enough. She'll live the rest of her life knowing what it's like to suffer the loss of everything that was precious to her.

"And in the end, that's worse for her than the...alternatives."

Chuck, reaches over, takes her hand from her lap, squeezes it gently.

John says nothing, just watches the silent communion pass between them, the tenseness evaporating as she leans back into her chair.

This time it's Chuck who breaks the silence. "John, the main reason we've asked you to come here today is because we have something to celebrate. Ellie, my sister, and her husband, Devon, along with my friend Morgan and Casey, will be coming up to join us. Oh, and a couple I got to know well while I was...that other person will join us as well."

Sarah gently admonishes him. "You forgot someone, Chuck."

Chuck, winces theatrically. "And Carina." In an aside, he adds, "John, for your own safety, when you see her, run. Run, as if your life depended upon it!"

Sarah chuckles, "She's not that bad, John. She's just a little forward, is all."

"Sure. Like the Titanic was just a minor boating accident. Like Chernobyl was just a bit of an off day down at the local power plant. Like the Hindenburg was just—"

Sarah slaps him on the shoulder, laughing. "Stop, Chuck!" She turns to the big man, who's watching them amusedly. "She really isn't that bad."

Chuck, leans forward, stage whispers, "Don't listen to her, John. Run!"

He laughs. "I'll take it under advisement. Right now, I'd like to use your washroom, if I may?"

While trying to glare menacingly (and failing) at Chuck, Sarah waves him in. "Go ahead, John."

As the screen door closes behind him, he stops, for a brief moment wondering, irrationally, if he's in the right cabin.

For the scene before him is as different as...as night is from day.

The interior had been a veritable shrine to the spartan, solitary life she'd led.

A life endured rather than lived.

But now...

He looks around, a little bewildered, wondering if he's somehow stepped into a Van Gogh painting.

The wooden floor has been painted a light yellow, pushing warmth and light into every previously cool, shadowed corner.

Small, colorful rugs are placed here and there.

The small, drab one person kitchen table has been replaced by a vivid blue one, flanked by two red chairs with green cushions.

The walls (still in their natural finish) previously bare, are now tastefully decorated with a number of large, bold abstracts. Incongruously, there's a movie poster of some sort off in one corner. A concession, he figures.

Passing by the sleeping area, he notices that the single bed has, understandably, been replaced, by what appears to an extra long double, serving the dual purpose of not only saving space, but also keeping Chuck close. Very close. He chuckles, wondering if this was a concession he'd made. If so, he doubted it'd taken much effort on her part to persuade him.

After finishing in the washroom, he walks to the fireplace. The mantle is filled with photos, many of people whom John doesn't know, although it's pretty easy to tell which one is Ellie, the family resemblance being that strong. Amongst them, are pictures of what appears to be a wedding, in Vegas by the looks of it. The tall redhead in the photo is likely the Carina they'd talked about. He studies her for a moment. She doesn't look all that frightening.

Front and center, is one of Chuck and Sarah, taken what appears to be a few years ago. She's softly smiling at the camera, while Chuck, behind her with his arms around her, nuzzles her cheek.

It's a surprisingly intimate picture, one where they both seemed to have let their guard down.

While he doesn't know the details of what they'd gone through during the intervening years, he knows enough to sense that it hasn't been all smooth sailing, even discounting the most recent crisis. And that they've had to fight to get where they are today.

As he goes through the doorway, he stops, seeing that the two of them have stepped away from the shadows of the porch out into the brilliant spring sunshine. They're watching Ed and Saridj tear around the yard. Chas seems to have tired, for Sarah has the pup cradled in her arms as if she was holding an infant, with Chuck standing close, his arm protectively around her shoulders. She looks up at him, then back down at the little creature in her arms, a little smile on her lips. He chuckles lightly, then leans in and gently kisses the top of her head.

And just like that, it becomes abundantly clear what they're going to be celebrating this day.

Truth be told, John suddenly finds himself a little envious of the future he sees stretching out before them, not that this minimizes the pleasure he feels over being included in the group soon to hear the couple's good news.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, comes the memory of sitting at his mother's side while she read him the parable of the Prodigal Son.

He's puzzled. Why? There's nothing in that story that ties in with either Chuck's or Sarah's circumstances, at least that he knows of.

But then it comes to him. It's not the story itself, but, rather, the father's words upon seeing his long-lost child once again that are so apropos of their story.

He was dead, but has come to life again.He was lost, but has been found.

But not just him, of course.

She was dead, but has come to life again.She was lost, but has been found.

He tries to remember what came next.

Oh, yes.

They celebrated.

The End.

—

A/N: Thank you all for following along, for your kind reviews and suggestions. I truly appreciate all you nice people out there. If you haven't had the chance to review this story, here's your opportunity to comment on the completed tale.

I'll be taking a break for a while. Not sure for how long.

In the meantime, I'm going to ask a favour. Please tell me in your reviews (Hint! Hint!) or PMs which of my stories you would like to see extended by further chapters. Or other suggestions. Looking forward to your comments.

Thank you.

Bye for now.

WvonB