Hello everybody! I'm back!

This is Part III of my Postcard series. It follows after Chuck Vs. Interdependence.

We're going to be taking a little roller coaster trip back to angst and misery, though there will be some humor there too. If you feel nauseous, take the little pink tabs or the chalky white stuff.

As always, I want to give a huge thank you to my editors, my wife and Anon.

And a big thank you as well to everybody who reads and to everybody who reviews. Please, keep reviewing. I appreciate it very much.

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody or anything in the Chuck universe.

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The next few days were strange for John Casey.

His external monitoring of the Bartowski apartment had been tense, but not because there had been any kind of real danger. He had almost hoped an attack would occur. It didn't. He kept his senses aware, praying that he wouldn't hear something horrible. He hadn't.

Five hours later, Casey was still on his vigil when he finally received a phone call. It was him. Casey flipped open the phone, and growled, "Yeah?"

A tired Chuck answered, "We're good, Casey. Thanks."

Casey grunted and hung up the phone. Then he went back into his apartment to get seriously drunk.

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The next morning arrived with its requisite hangover.

Casey stumbled out of his bedroom to find a bag of fresh bagels and lox spread out for him on his kitchen counter. Next to that was a Grande coffee. Black.

Casey considered going over and throttling them for breaking into his apartment, but it would be too much effort, and besides, he was hungry. He wondered what they'd ask of him next. Perhaps, they'd plead for him to buy massage oils for them because they were too embarrassed? He gulped down his coffee and ate his breakfast.

He did not want to see them today. They were going to be insufferable, making goo-goo eyes at each other and all that. They would probably also be all over him, wanting to share their newfound happiness. Two bullets would take care of that, except that it would wreck his career, and he'd have difficulty taking down the Ring alone. Besides, he actually liked them. Damn it.

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After showering and dressing, he steeled himself for the saccharine. A deep breath and Casey walked out into the day.

The three met at the downtown office building that was going to comprise the new headquarters. On the drive over, Casey had rehearsed the various insults in his repertoire to use the moment they started their sugary barrage.

When he arrived, Bartowski and Walker were casually chatting while beginning to set up furniture.

They turned to him, wished him a good morning, and asked if he could assist in moving a table.

Their faces were neutral. They didn't bring up anything else, but went back to their work.

Casey opened his mouth to make a comeback. Then realized he didn't have anything to comeback against. Confused, he helped move the table.

The rest of the day went like that.

Bartowski and Walker were acting... normal. Well, not exactly normal. Normal for them was taking longing glances at the other while the other's back was turned. They weren't doing that. Neither did they seem excessively tensed or relaxed. They were friendly to each other, but the space between the two of them hadn't grown or shrunk.

Casey wasn't about to address the matter of the previous day directly, but he did try out his usual putdowns toward Chuck.

Normally, Chuck would shoot back something sarcastic. Or he would sulk. Not this time. This time, he gave a small smile or chuckle, and said, "That's pretty funny." If it was a criticism, the response would be, "You're right, Casey. I'll work on that." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Casey was starting to get pissed off.

He finally turned to them both and said, "So, you're just gonna act like nothing happened, yesterday?"

Bartowski and Walker stopped, exchanged glances, and then turned to Casey. "Why, Casey?" Chuck calmly asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Walker's lips turned up into the slightest hint of a smile.

Casey's teeth gritted, a low growl emerging from him. Bartowski and Walker kept his gaze, both appearing perfectly innocent.

Casey turned on his heel and walked out of the office.

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His two partners acted pretty much exactly the same during the coming days.

It just wasn't natural.

Walker was practiced at hiding her emotions, but she had just consummated two years of pent-up feelings. Even for her, it would be hard not to show anything in her face. And Chuck? Chuck was raw emotion with skin stitched over it. Casey had expected him to be bouncing all over the place, singing folk music or something. The normal Chuck would be passing out flowers to strangers on the street, and would tell Casey what a beautiful day it was, even if the smog had come in and started choking everybody. Instead, he took Casey's abuse more gamely than he ever had before. Training had resumed, and Casey had Chuck work on cardio, strengthening, and flexibility exercises, because Casey was convinced that if he tried teaching Bartowski fighting techniques at this time, the bigger man would truly kill the smaller one.

He wondered briefly if Bartowski and Walker had changed their minds and decided on the friends route, after all.

Nope. That wasn't it.

They'd promised to be quiet the first time.

That wasn't the case for later times. Not that they were waking up the neighborhood or anything, but every now and then - even though it was only faint - Casey heard something. Something horrible. He would then turn Neil up very loudly and would get drunk. Again.

Casey thought it was a good thing that Bartowski was going to get him a bottle of scotch every week. Casey was going to need it. He began to plan his path to full-fledged alcoholism, culminating in liver failure. He would curse Bartowski and Walker as he breathed his last.

It was a good plan.

Forestalling the plan, Casey began intensifying Chuck's training, making the exercise regimes more exhausting. Chuck was breathing hard, obviously in great discomfort, but he never complained. Never. He didn't even make any jokes about it. He just did what he was told.

Once, Walker casually complimented Casey on his training, saying that Chuck was going to quickly get into very good shape due to the Colonel. Casey gave her a withering glare. She just shrugged and went about her business.

Casey then increased the hours of the regimen, having Chuck work until 1 or 2 in the morning. Neither Bartowski nor Walker questioned this. Chuck just nodded, said, "You're the boss", and kept going.

However, no matter how late they got home, Bartowski and Walker would make up for lost time.

Casey realized that this was a battle of wills.

And the enemy was winning.

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The next morning arrived in a haze of nausea.

Casey stumbled out of bed and went through his morning routine, while desperately wishing he could die.

Still, this was the day the new Castle would be fully up to snuff and ready, and there was a conference with the General awaiting, so Casey couldn't die just then. It didn't fit in to his schedule.

He drove himself. Bartowski and Walker were always driving together now.

Fine with him.

He made it Downtown without crashing into anything, either accidentally or on purpose.

Entering from a warehouse two blocks down from the office, Casey made his way from the secret entrance into the Castle proper.

There they were. Not doing anything illicit. Not even talking about anything relationship-like such as floral arrangements.

No, they were just talking about work, and what new assignment the General might have for them. Chuck waved a hello to Casey, and Walker nodded toward the Colonel and smiled.

Casey didn't acknowledge their greeting. Why should he? They were going to kill him. He knew the truth now. First they would drive him insane. Then, they were going to give him alcohol poisoning. He wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a hello.

So, instead, he took a seat behind them. He would have sat in front of them, but first, he didn't trust having them see him when he couldn't see them. Second, they were sitting in the front row.

Shortly after that, Casey thought that it might be a good idea to stop the drinking before it made him paranoid. Besides, showing up to work with a hangover was unprofessional. He was better than that.

At that moment, the monitor activated and General Beckman was there.

"Hello, Team. You all look to be in good - Er... Colonel, are you all right? You appear a bit pale."

Casey muttered, "I am in perfect health, General. I've never been better. I'm looking forward to the next assignment." Please let it be a violent one.

Beckman furrowed her brows, appearing to question Casey's claim to "perfect health".

"Well, then let's get to it. This" - she clicked a picture onto the side of the monitor - "is Langus Greene. He's a mid-level attorney at the State Department. We've gotten word that Mr. Greene may have had connection to recently-identified Fulcrum Elders. Mr. Greene apparently has an iPhone, always in his possession. There is no wireless connection. In fact, our check into his records indicates that he has never made or received any calls from this phone. If he keeps it off, that makes it difficult to hack. It is possible that he might only be using that phone as a receptacle for encoded storage data. Yes, Agent Walker?"

"General, no disrespect intended, but wouldn't it seem unlikely that this man would carry sensitive data around with him on a phone?"

Beckman opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Chuck.

"Mind if I answer this one, General?"

Casey gnashed his teeth, and the General looked annoyed, but she closed her mouth.

Chuck smiled conspiratorially and leaned back, his hands behind his head. "It is amazing how careless some people are with sensitive information. Speaking as a guy who has had to work on tons of phones and computers and seen things that I was never supposed to see-"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. She appeared very interested.

Chuck flushed. "Not that I was specifically looking for those things, mind you. Some folks just leave the strangest stuff on their desktop." He pulled at his collar a little bit to get some air. Then, apparently deciding the best course of action would be to change the subject, "General, I assume that the reason you're not getting a warrant or just bringing Greene in for questioning is because you don't want the Ring aware that we're going after it?"

"Correct. We don't know how far the Ring has spread into the legitimate infrastructure, so we have to be careful about our overt inquiries. Once we get some names, that might just lead us to bigger fish."

"Cool", Chuck nodded, then he remembered who he was speaking to. "Er, Ma'am. So, how do you want us to go about getting the phone?"

A new picture of a bar flashed on the screen. Beckman said, "The tavern is in D.C. His office is a ten-minute drive away, and this is where he frequents to pick up women who are not his wife. We will fly the three of you back to D.C. Agent Walker will secure the phone, and Colonel Casey and Mr. Bartowski will manually obtain the phone data, while Walker keeps Greene distracted through her seduction skills."

The bodies of Walker and Bartowski froze up, simultaneously. They turned and looked at each other, their eyes wide.

"Is there something wrong?" The General frowned.

For the first time in days, a smile found its way onto Colonel John Casey's face.

The natural order of things returns.

Heh.