A/N: Written at one sitting, longhand. Had someone who could type throw it together. Enjoy.

ALSO: GEG is done. Just not perfectly satisfied with the ending. Needs some work. By Monday. Assuming nicole types fast.

APR

'We'll Always Have Omaha' aftermath.

"Chuck, I'm sorry. This thing between us… it would never work. I have to go. Bryce needs me" was the voicemail he received that evening. She was gone.

Two Months Later

"Bartowski, Gordon wants to see you in the Castle. What have you done now?" He smirked. Bartowski's new 'squeeze' was an interesting mix of minx and a maniac. Their 'relationship' was interesting to watch from a distance. He almost felt sorry for his asset. Walker's departure with Bryce was devastating to him. He'd been in love with his handler and he was not adjusting well at all to her replacement who'd finally arrived on station 2 months ago.

Chuck closed his eyes, muttered a prayer to St. Dismus, and walked past Casey, assuming the attitude of a man being led to the gallows or divorce court. "I wouldn't keep her waiting, moron. You know what she's like when she thinks you're disrespecting her. Maybe she wants to cancel tonight's cover date…you are due for a miracle in life." He laughed and then walked quickly away having spotted a yuppie eyeballing one of his prized BeastMaster grills. He was behind on his sales quota.

Chuck walked across the parking lot to the Orange Orange and went in.

"Hey Denise, you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah. It's cover date night. What would you like to do? We can go downtown and check out the movies or hit the bars. It's up to you, Chuck." She hated 'cover date nights' with this idiot.

"Well, we've done that and I don't think my liver can handle another round of flaming Mai-tais or B-52s and anyway I think we've seen all the movies that we could stomach. If you were not required to 'handle me', what would you be doing on your night out, Denise?"

"Honestly, Bartowski, you don't want to know. Besides, my personal life is separate from the job. I don't mix business with personal, it's a career killer. Too damned easy to get personally involved with the assignment and lose perspective like your girlfriend did and you see how well that worked out for you. Nope, best to keep it strictly professional."

"In that case, I opt for staying home, watching TV or reading a book or maybe coming over here and working on some backed up intel reports or hitting the range. You, Denise, have cover-date nights off. The cover is safe. Casual dating. Any time a mission comes up, it's really just a casual date. If that works for you, it works for me. Casey has his bugs and you have your freedom."

"Deal. Thanks for showing a little consideration and understanding. I know this isn't your ideal situation and I know you're trying to make the best of it so I'll cut you slack whenever I can but understand one thing, the job comes first, last and always with me."

"Oh, yeah. That I can believe. See ya around, Denise." He practically ran out of the Orange Orange, amazed at his good fortune.

Three Months Later

It was cover date night and once again Denise would do her thing and he got to do his. Casey was sure he was with Denise and Denise, well, not that she cared but she thought he was "nerding with the bearded freak with a video game" or at the Castle or watching TV at his apartment. Now, all he had to do was call one of his occasional sweeties and arrange a date for the party at the beach.

Chuck went down his phone listing making value judgments and decisions without thought. Finally he found a prime candidate: Courtney. Long legs, dark brown eyes, short brown hair and a demure smile that hinted at possibilities.

He borrowed Ellie's Saturn and picked Courtney up at 6 at her apartment. She kissed him 'hello' and grabbed his hand and her bag and practically dragged him out to the car.

"Um, in a hurry, Courtney?" He was trying not to laugh. She kept looking over her shoulder like she expected someone to be following her.

"No. Yes. My ex-boyfriend has become a stalker and I don't want to give him the chance to follow us, that's why I wore jeans and heels. He'll never think to look for us at the beach. I've got a change in my bag so I'll just hop into the back seat and change. Watch the eyes, Bartowski. No fair peeking until your present is wrapped. Maybe if you're a good boy, you can unwrap it later back at my place."

She giggled and he sighed. Airheads. No depth, no brains, but at least they helped him fill his time. And she had other uses. Since Walker had burned him, he'd thrown himself back into the game and dated an increasingly large list of girls. He was determined to find someone about whom he could be serious and develop a relationship that could survive the demands of the intersect. Courtney was a fill-in until he found the right girl.

John Casey sat back in his recliner with a satisfied sigh and flipped on the History Channel and took a pull on his Famous Grouse and sighed again. Good whiskey, an asset on a cover date with his partner with the usual 'sleep over' and a Ronald Reagan documentary – life could be good.

Denise Gordon slipped into bed and the waiting arms of her lover, Heather, who'd followed her to L.A. from her last domestic assignment and sighed happily. Life could be good. Her asset was safely in his apartment or at the Castle and it was Casey's night to 'watch' him.

Malibu Beach public area

The bonfire had already been lit and some couples were still surfing or swimming, some danced to a boom-box while others were just making out on blankets. Beer and dope flowed and the atmosphere was definitely loose and unrestricted – exactly what Chuck needed. Denise would definitely not have approved. And Casey? He couldn't begin to imagine how the staid and conservative Major would react to the scene of Bacchanalian debauchery.

Courtney hopped over into the front seat, now wearing a t-shirt, bikini bottoms and sandals. A true California girl. "Let's go, Chuck, the evening is young and so are we. Surf's up!" Definitely a California girl. He sighed and wondered what Sarah was doing but utterly quashed the thought as he had so many times before. She chose. And he'd lost out to Bryce again.

She practically dragged him out of the car, snatching the blanket at the last minute and giggling again. Chuck just smiled in anticipation and followed his lusty lady to the beer keg and beyond.

A little after 1am Chuck dropped Courtney off at her apartment. He'd opened his present at the beach, twice. His cell phone chirped just as he pulled out onto the highway. It was Ellie.

"I'm on my way home, sis, and I'm well below the legal limit. See ya in 20 minutes."

"Chuck, there was an explosion in our apartment complex, probably a gas line. John Casey's apartment was gutted. Chuck, they just took his body out in a bag. My God, it could have been here. A gas leak! Please come home, Chuck. Devon's on shift and I'm frightened. The fire department said that PG&E would be out first thing to inspect all our apartments."

"Wait, Casey's dead? An explosion? Well, shit. Are you sure he's dead?"

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Maybe we should get a hotel room for the night. What do you think?" She was definitely frightened and she didn't scare easily.

"Um, call Devon and see what he thinks. I'll be home as soon as I can. I want to check on Denise. We had another squabble and she and Casey were friends. I want to call her before she sees it on the news."

He disconnected the call and speed-dialed his other handler. No answer and so he left her a voicemail to call him in the morning regarding another date. He didn't want to leave a message about Casey's death on voicemail. He had one more call to make. One he dreaded. He changed directions and drove to the Orange Orange to use a secure link.

The Orange Orange was in flames. First Casey and now the Castle was inaccessible. Someone was taking down Team Intersect a segment at a time. He hoped Denise was OK and not dead in another suspicious 'gas leak explosion'.

The cell rang 6 times then went to voicemail. He called again and finally a cranky voice answered "Beckman, secure. Do you know what time it is, Bartowski?"

"General, John Casey is dead, killed in an explosion tentatively blamed on a gas leak. I cannot…"

"How do you know he's dead? Are you certain?"

"Please don't interrupt until I complete my report, General Beckman, please."

"Go ahead, Bartowski, but be brief." She could tell from his voice that he was just barely holding it together.

"Major Casey is dead. My sister called me and told me the fire department carried a body out of his apartment. I cannot reach Agent Gordon and the Castle is under a burning Orange Orange. Yes, General, I think it's three accidents. Don't you?" His comment dripped with sarcasm.

"Mr. Bartowski, this is a code black situation. Assume anyone approaching you is hostile. Do you have a vehicle?"

"I'm driving my sister's Saturn, not exactly a vehicle. She called me about Casey. She's frightened and alone. I'm heading back there to pick her up and check into a hotel for the night."

"Excellent idea, but I have a better one. I'm sending you an email to your phone with an address. Go there and contact me when you arrive. Whether you like it or not, Mr. Bartowski, you're about to become a member of the intelligence community, and you're going deep cover. Have your sister's fiancé pick her up. Make something up. Leave her car at the hospital where she works and take the cab that will be waiting for you in front of the hospital to the address on the email. It will be prepaid."

"But General, my sister…"

"Chuck, if you involve your sister in this in any way, you will be signing her death warrant. Now, call the fiancé and do what you're told. Your life is in danger. Hang up and execute my instructions to the letter."

Chuck called Devon at Burbank General and explained about the explosion. He said he had to check on Denise and would leave Ellie's car at the hospital and when he found Denise they'd use her car. It was lame but Devon was more concerned with Ellie than with his story. He couldn't believe he'd bought the entire line. Crazy worked.

He parked the car in the doctor's lot and walked to the taxi stand where a yellow cab was waiting. The driver asked if he was "Chuck" and told him his Aunt Diane had sent a cab since he was too upset to drive after the accident. Chuck fleshed it out. He was coming from a hospital, he was too upset about something to drive and his Aunt Diane had sent him a cab. Nice.

The cab dropped him off in a quiet residential neighborhood about five miles from his apartment. Following the email instructions, he located the key and unlocked the front door, locking it behind him.

Safe House
Unknown location

There was a laptop computer on the kitchen table and he logged in to the NSA intranet and sent the coded email that he was on premises and awaiting further instructions.

Within 15 minutes General Beckman initiated a video conference.

"Chuck, I'm glad to see you made it unharmed. Now, Agent Gordon is dead, murdered in her bed by persons unknown. Whoever it was didn't bother to hide their identity. Here is a clip from the hallway security camera. Can you help us identify her killer?"

The clip played and the face was grainy and in shadows. Chuck asked if the image could be captured and cleaned up and within a few seconds he was staring at the smiling image of Jill Roberts! His flash told him she was in MaxSec in Atlanta but obviously she was out.

"General, that's Jill Roberts, known Fulcrum agent and supposedly a guest in MaxSec in Atlanta. How is she roaming around Burbank killing agents?"

"She escaped within days of her incarceration, Mr. Bartowski. It happens. Major Casey was informed but apparently he never shared the information with you or Agent Gordon. Now, at least, you know who's hunting you, and why."

"Yeah, and I'm the one who lobbied for a lighter sentence. You should have overruled me, General, and slipped her the damned needle. Casey and Denise would still be alive. This is all my fault."

"Hardly, Mr. Bartowski. You did not facilitate her escape, hide her for 7 months and then allow her to become the lover of your handler."

"Casey? She was with Casey?" He was incredulous. Casey would never have established anything with Roberts except a good sight picture.

"No, Mr. Bartowski, with your other handler, Ms. Gordon."

"Oh. OH, I see. Well, that explains a lot. So, what next? The bunker option finally in play?" It was logical. It was probably even necessary.

"Why do you insist on thinking we're going to put you underground or kill you, Mr. Bartowski. It is becoming very annoying."

"Um, could it be because you've threatened me with it more times than I can count and that I was told, straight up by Casey who I trust, er, trusted, that he had been tasked to eliminate me once. Maybe that's why?"

"Fine, but that was then, this is now. Bygones. Now, you'll remain here until your new team of handlers arrives from their current assignment. At that time we'll reevaluate your situation and determine whether WitSec might be in order or you can return to Burbank and reassume your life."

"But General, Jill Roberts knows I'm the intersect and she probably has told the entire cadre of Fulcrum agents. It looks like WitSec to me. You need to 'kill me' publicly to close out Chuck Bartowski. I guess Carmichael rides again, General."

When Beckman smiled, it was grim and predatory. "I agree. Mr. Bartowski, it'll be arranged so as not to draw undue attention to your demise. It must not look like it's a continuation of the program that took out Gordon and Casey. Food allergies, perhaps? I'll let you know how you died. Meantime, rest and prepare for the future, Mr. Carmichael. I'll send intel dailies to you to review so you won't be bored. Good day."

With the time difference it was day there but wee hours of the morning here. He found a bedroom and crashed.

Break Chapter 1

Safe House
Unknown Location

The next morning he logged onto the NSA intranet and checked his email – nothing. Since he had nothing but time on his hands he decided he'd better familiarize himself with his new 'home'. He especially wanted to be certain of the security system, the food supply and entrances. He needed to know he could get out if someone either unwelcome or unexpected came in.

He was surprised by how nice it was. Not at all like he'd expected. He was so worn out the previous night that he'd had no time to appreciate his new home away from home. The refrigerator was well-stocked as was the liquor cabinet. The TV was cable-equipped but the big surprise came in the basement – a complete gym and shooting range, complete with soundproofing and a weapons locker. The key was hanging on a hook on the door so he opened it. Shotguns, MP-5s, several models of handguns and a complete supply of ammunition for all of them. He selected a Beretta 93, loaded and seated a magazine and then walked over to the range.

Casey had tried to teach him how to handle a weapon and he quickly picked up on the mechanics but had difficulty hitting anything – probably because he kept closing his eyes in anticipation of the shot. He did learn how to strip and clean the 93 under Casey's critical eye until he passed Casey's 'minimum standards'.

He found a stack of targets, fixed one to the wire frame and sent it 'downrange' to the berm at the back of the basement. He put on ear protectors and glasses and took his stance and fired, keeping his eyes open for the first time. He fired 9 rounds, reset the safety and pushed the button to return the target. The one-foot square target was in pristine condition. Not a mark on it. Damn!

After firing 50 rounds he managed to hit the target 3 out of the final 10 rounds. At least he was hitting it. He promised himself a daily regimen of shooting and then working out on the Bowflex, the treadmill and the punching bags. He remembered how Sarah had her ritual and she was in top condition. He would copy her dedication but would never attain her level of competence, not without more instruction.

Denise had tried teaching him basic hand-to-hand but she pronounced him 'unteachable' and quit after the first two weeks. She'd have been surprised to learn that he had picked up quite a lot but felt uncomfortable hitting a girl.

He thought a lot about John Casey. He had wanted to impress Casey just one time in his life and now he'd never get the chance. He'd miss the ugly Major with his array of grunts. He'd respected Casey. He hadn't gotten to know Agent Gordon well enough to form any real opinion but Casey would become his standard for judging his performance going forward.

Going back upstairs he found two emails from the General. The first contained a series of attachments of a small number of photographs and reports for him to 'run through the intersect'. The second informed him that his new 'handlers' would not be arriving for several days because of operational constraints. That translated to 'they aren't done with their current assignment yet'. He didn't care. He appreciated the solitude and the opportunity to improve his marksmanship.

It took two hours to complete the review and to compile his responses to General Beckman. Her response was an immediate 'well done' which pleased him. Sarah had been right. He was an 'approval hound'. Well, so what?

The next 15 days were a repeat of the first full day. Check email, practice shooting, work out on the equipment, hit the treadmill and then do the dailies. It was strangely fulfilling and satisfying. He could hit the smallest target 7 out of 10 times and the larger target every time he fired. He heard Casey grunt 'not bad for a geek' in his mind and he snorted. Typical Neanderthal response.

He'd been in the 'safe house' almost three weeks when he got Beckman's email informing him that his new handlers would be 'on site' in 5 days and that she regretted to inform him that 'Charles Bartowski had died in a horrible auto accident involving a drunk driver' the day after their original conversation. Agent-in-Training Carmichael was now on the payroll of the NSA with full benefits and a completely flawless back story to establish his history. FedEx would be delivering his paperwork and incidentals the following day to the 'safe house'.

The next morning as Chuck was leaving the shower he caught sight of himself in the steamed mirror. He hadn't shaved since his arrival and he now sported a rather spiffy beard and mustache. Checking around, he found a 'beard trimmer' and cleaned up his scruffy face until it looked quite presentable. He didn't think anyone would recognize him unless they actually came up close.

He waited upstairs until FedEx brought his package and then went down to the range to practice and then do his workout. After a quick shower and clean clothes, he logged onto the NSA intranet and read his email. The first one was from Beckman and all it said was 'Nice beard'. That freaked him out and he started searching for bugs and cameras until he realized that the guy from FedEx was probably NSA.

The second email contained hundreds of photographs and the dailies. There were two critical items in the photographs. The first was an LAX capture of an Asian man and woman arriving from Hong Kong. They were Chinese intelligence agents and the woman specialized in assassinating high-profile dissident ex-pat Chinese while the man apparently functioned as her cover.

The second critical photo was of Jill Roberts departing LAX on a flight to Miami. They had just missed her by 6 hours. The bitch.

The next week of intel dailies only contained the usual BS until he read that Sarah Walker had reported in to Langley for indeterminate convalescent leave and ultimate reassignment. Apparently that whole 'Omaha' thing hadn't gone as well as she and her partner had planned. Well, even assassins got injured. He wondered where she'd end up and put it out of his mind. She was old news even if it did hurt to think about her, to remember the good times, and to occasionally dream about her. He knew he was kidding himself but had been trying to move on when all this crap happened. He'd just try harder but he still loved her just as much now as he had when she left.

CIA Rehabilitation Center
Falls Church, VA

"And so, Agent Walker, the prognosis is good, very good. Your fall from the rooftop broke your right arm and hip, both legs and your right ankle. I know it sounds bad, but with bed rest, proper physical therapy, and a lot of hard work you should be able to walk without a limp within 3 to 4 months. The surgery on your hip was successful. Any questions?"

"My partner, where is he? I haven't seen him since Bucharest. Is he OK?"

"Your partner has been reassigned. And he's no longer your partner, Agent Walker. Your field status is uncertain and Agents such as Larkin are too valuable to waste waiting on a partner's recovery – especially one as long as yours is expected to be."

Safe House
Unknown location

He composed his response to General Beckman and received an almost immediate 'well done' and a request for a video conference in one hour.

At the appointed time her image appeared, as austere and severe as always. He could swear that her eyes had widened a bit when the connection was first established. It must be the beard.

"Mr. Carmichael, we need your assistance in a stakeout and identification op in Los Angeles. I realize you haven't completed even the most basic of training but we need your abilities with the intersect. A young woman will be visiting you tomorrow to take measurements for a new wardrobe and to assess your overall appearance. Now, sign is 'simon', counter is 'simple'. Contact me when she says you're ready. Good day, Agent Carmichael."

Now that was an interesting conference briefing. Brief to be sure.

Chuck was on the range when the lights blinked. He had no idea what it was. A power surge? The lights blinked again and he also heard a 'ding' he hadn't heard before because of his hearing protectors. He put a new magazine into his Beretta and ran upstairs to answer the door.

He opened the door a crack and saw a young woman with her back to him tapping her foot impatiently. Holding his Beretta behind his back he opened the door wider and said hello. The woman whirled around, almost falling over her own feet and a couple of suitcases and stammered 'Simon' and he answered 'Simple' and opened the door wider to let her come in.

"Hi, I'm Cynthia. I think General Beckman explained the purpose of my visit. I'm on contract with the NSA as a 'wardrobe consultant'. I'm here to take your measurements and see what I have here that fits and buy what you need that I don't have or doesn't fit. Including shoes. Where do you want to do this?"

"I'm Charles and I suppose the living room will have to do."

"Fine, lose the clothes, Charles, down to t-shirt and boxers or briefs. Don't be embarrassed, I've seen it all." She chuckled at his embarrassment as he took off his clothes. "Thank the gods you wear underwear, Charles. Some of the agents I dress don't." They shared a laugh and she got down to business.

Twenty minutes later she had her measurements and had opened up the suitcases.

"Here, Charles, try these on for fit. I don't think your requirements can be met from the case. I'll have to leave, make purchases and then return for fitting and alterations. We should be done by early this evening. The General was quite specific about the completion time. You've added some bulk from your original measurements. Been working out?"

"Um, yeah. Not much else to do but hit the Bowflex and treadmill." He didn't mention the range.

"OK, do you use a shoulder rig for your weapon or a belt holster?"

"Um, I just usually stick it in the back of my pants or the front under a t-shirt." He hadn't ever had to do that but it sounded so much better than 'I've never carried a weapon before'.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many agents have shot their willies off doing that? I think a shoulder rig will suit your build."

"I'll be back in 4 hours with a lot of stuff so please don't keep me waiting, Charles. It's very bad manners."

"So is being a smart ass when you knew I was in the basement. Beckman knows my schedule of activities." She rolled her eyes again and then left, her suitcases and notebook in hand.

'Well, that was…interesting'. He relocked the doors and went back to his routine after emailing Beckman about the 'schedule'.

Cynthia the agent-dresser reappeared at his door and he jerked it open to help her in with her suitcases. She thanked him and went back to her van for more. Jesus, what all did she buy?

When she left after making him try every item on for size, looks and comfort, he was the proud owner of 6 suits with several shirts and ties and belts, 2 tuxedoes with amenities, and several pairs of shoes as well as underwear. Cynthia was big on underwear. She'd left the suitcases as well with the admonition to pack without wrinkling and then shook his hand and left. It had been a weird day.

As instructed, he called General Beckman.

"Beckman, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. All fitted out with everything I could imagine. She did a great job, by the way."

"Good. Now, tomorrow at 3pm you will be picked up by a limo and taken to a hotel in Beverly Hills where you will take rooms for the remainder of the week. Your reservations are on file there. You will be met by your temporary partner, Agent Hansen, on loan from the DEA. I believe you're already acquainted with Agent Hansen. She will give you further instructions."

"Take what you need or want from the safe house, Charles, because you won't be returning. I suspect that Beretta 93 will become your weapon of choice. Your shooting scores are impressive for one with minimal formal instruction. Contact me after meeting with Agent Hansen. Good evening."

There had to be cameras someplace. He just couldn't find them. Damn it was a good thing he didn't parade around naked. Wait, there were those times he'd had everything in the washer…well, shit.

Break Chapter Two

Beverly Wilshire
Beverly Hills, CA

He used the AMEX card that was included in the package from Beckman and paid for his suite of rooms in advance as instructed. Just as he turned and handed the Bellman his keycard he heard "Charles, dahling, I've been waiting hours for you!" Oh, crap! Carina!

He turned to her and she launched her attack. First the kiss that made his toes curl, and then the hugging and then another kiss, this time with her tongue flailing against his lips like a moth against a window pane.

He gently disentangled himself from Carina Hansen and held her at arms' length as if inspecting her. Damn but she looked incredible and he said so.

"Oh, Charles, I've missed you. Let's go up to our suite and get you all comfy and have a drink to celebrate your arrival. Really, I expected you back from Taiwan yesterday but I understand business."

Our suite. Oh, shit. "Sure, sweetheart, lead the way." He enjoyed her swaying hips and then squelched his thoughts. 'You're on a mission, numbnuts, and remember, she's got handcuffs.' He could hear Casey in his head. Handcuffs. He chuckled remembering the horror on Casey's face when he had to work with Carina. He never did tell Chuck about Prague.

Once on the elevator she dropped her persona and became the Carina he remembered. "So, Walker left you high and dry, huh, Chuck? I tried to warn you. Went back to Larkin, didn't she? Well, her loss. Speaking of which, sorry to hear about John. I'll miss him. Never met Agent Gordon. What was she like?" Carina knew but wondered if Chuck knew that Denise was a switch-hitter if a mission required it but preferred her own sex.

"I didn't really know her that well even after four months. We reached an agreement early on once we'd established that I couldn't drink like her every night and we both had gotten our fill of movies. No cover dates, just go our separate ways on date night. Worked out fine until that night."

"First Walker and her hot and cold running attitude and then Beckman gives you Denise Gordon. She must really dislike you, Chuck. But you're in luck now, boyo. You've improved yourself and I love the beard. It makes you look so distinguished and non-nerdy." She giggled and hugged him. "I've missed you, Chuck. You're the only guy I've wanted but never had. You're the one that got away…until now!" She laughed at his expression.

"Carina, I need briefed in on what we're doing. I've been out of the loop for more than a month. What's the mission?"

"Not here. In our suite. I have photos and some additional information for you to scan. So, are you packing heat, Chuck? They let you out to play in the big game without a weapon?" She was teasing him again. From her hug, she knew he was wearing a shoulder rig. "Nice tailoring job on the jacket. It doesn't show at all." She ran her hands over his suit jacket. He'd bulked up right nicely. And the beard…mmmmm.

The bellman was waiting in the doorway and Chuck tipped him and then put his arm around Carina and led her into the suite. Damn! A living room, dining area, full kitchen that he could see. He led her over to the couch and sat down beside her.

"OK, fill me in. Why are you here? Is there a DEA connection?"

"No, no DEA connection. Beckman wanted you to have someone familiar to you as your first partner on an op. I think it's a marvelous idea. I'm cleared for intersect data already so it was a no-brainer for Beckman. And if we work well together, Chuck, she said it might be permanent."

"Fine. What's the mission?" Carina was a welcome change from Denise and Sarah. Open, forthright with no hidden agendas. Very refreshing.

"You flashed on two Asians coming into LAX and FBI and Homeland Security agents sort of 'lost track' of them. Basically, they disappeared. They resurfaced here, in this hotel, as guests last week. Their cover is that they're wealthy Taiwanese who are looking for trading partners. Given their history, we think they're here to take out some Chinese dissident but no one has a clue who it is. We're to shadow them, establish some sort of contact and then try and figure out who the target is."

"Fine. Where are they now? And what do they do here all day, just sit by the pool? Do they go shopping, meet anyone?"

"So far they sleep late, eat well, swim, well, she does, he sits under an umbrella, then hit the same club every night for dinner and dancing."

"Any surveillance at the club?" It was the obvious place to make contact with other agents.

"Yeah, and they talk to no one else, just eat, drink and dance. Chuck, they're the Sarah and Bryce of China. The premier team. We have to know why they're here and what they're going to do. Our job is to make contact and attempt to develop a relationship and find the missing pieces of the puzzle. And we only have five days."

"What happens in five days?"

"They're scheduled to fly out to Taiwan."

"What's our cover?"

"Married and rich. You sold your company and we're just the idle rich now. I could get used to this lifestyle. A far cry from a 2nd floor walk-up in Philly."

He was surprised she'd let something of her past slip. It wasn't like Carina to be so…open about herself. Sure, she'd sleep with a snake if the mission called for it but to be open about her 'previous life' was unheard of.

"Carina, what's wrong? There's something bothering you. What is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing really. I'm just… Oh, hell, Chuck. I'm almost thirty and this is my life. I want the house, the car, the kids, not this leg-spreading for the greater good. I'm tired of this. I want out."

"Carina, is that what you think working with me is, leg-spreading? Have I ever disrespected you as an agent or woman? Why on earth would you say such a thing?"

"Oh, no, Chuck, not about you. Absolutely not. I meant the job. Working with you is like a breath of fresh air. You treat me with respect in spite of my come-ons. That's nice, Chuck. You're nice. And you have no hidden agenda and I can trust you implicitly."

"You can forget about leg-spreading around me. Not going to happen, not here and not for the mission. I think more of you than to allow you to do that. There are always alternatives and we'll find them, don't worry."

"Chuck, I'm an agent. I'll do what is necessary to accomplish the mission. It's OK, really. I'm just venting, that's all. Now, tell me how you got to be so buff? Last time I saw you, well, you weren't so…manly, no offense."

"Boredom at the safe house. I spent hours on the Bowflex and the treadmill and shooting on the range. Fairly good with a 9mm, nothing like you or Casey though. Now, any ideas for how we can make contact with our Chinese friends?"

It turned out to be easier than expected. Chuck had gone down to the fitness center for a workout while Carina caught up on her paperwork. He'd just finished a grueling 5 miles on the treadmill and was drinking water when the female half of the PRC team came in to use the machines. She was using a stairmaster when two drunk movie star wannabees came in and became verbally 'abusive', making racial slurs and being assholes.

Chuck started to get up and leave but one comment stopped him cold and he turned and grabbed the bigger of the two by the shoulder, spun him around and knocked him on his ass with a right cross.

His partner in stupidity started to approach Chuck but stopped dead when Chuck said "I'll hurt you if you come any closer." There was an edge to his voice that caused the smaller ass to pause and then he bent down and pulled his friend to his feet and left, shooting Chuck a dirty look but leaving quickly.

Chuck turned back to his machine, took a drink out of his water bottle and then grabbed a towel and started to leave. He hadn't even acknowledged the woman but felt obligated to apologize.

"I'm sorry for the insulting behavior of my two countrymen. We're not all like that. Please don't judge us all by those two. Have a good workout."

He smiled then turned and left, thinking again that assholes became bigger assholes when they were drunk. There was no excuse for that. None at all.

He was in the shower when Carina called through the door that they had an invitation to dinner with of all people, the two Chinese agents, and did he know anything about it?

He dried quickly and got dressed and walked out into the bedroom where Carina was lounging on the bed finishing her paperwork. Without looking up she handed him the note on hotel stationery.

"OK, Chuck. Let's establish some ground rules so we don't have any misunderstandings. You, Chuck Carmichael, are not a trained agent. You will not approach enemy agents and 'make nice' without your adoring wife tagging along, understand? You're too damned important to risk like that."

"Carina, it wasn't like that, honest." He told her about the incident in the fitness center and his apology. He figured she'd asked who he was at the desk, got his room number and then sent the note. It hadn't been an approach situation and he'd reacted without ulterior motive.

"Coincidence. The big break we need was based solely on a coincidence. Amazing. So, what shall we wear to dinner, Chuck? Should I go for shock value on the male agent or just let you schmooze with the woman? Ling is her given name, his is Deng. I wonder if they're really married or if it's just convenience?"

"Why don't we simply treat this as a dinner invitation from two strangers, don't try to 'spy' them and just see what happens? If we go in there with an agenda they'll notice, Carina. They are the best. I wonder why she felt the need to do this. It just doesn't seem like something spies on a mission would do – approach civilians for a social meeting like dinner. It just doesn't make sense."

In another suite in the same hotel another conversation was being held.

"Ling, I do not know how you could be so stupid as to invite this American to dinner. We are on a mission. Can't you control your hormones for five more days? Once in Taiwan you'll be free to chase down any man you wish but here – here – it is all business."

"Deng, I am not being ruled by my hormones. If you were not so emotionally-stunted you would realize that it is just good manners and it adds to the cover. He was courteous and his actions with those thugs prevented a much more dangerous outcome. If they had attacked me in their drunkenness I would have had to defend myself, possibly involving the police."

"Fine, but dinner and then no further contact with this man. We are deviating from established doctrine, Agent Ling, and it is not wise to do so. We are being watched and our performance judged. Too much rides on this mission." He grunted to indicate he was through with the topic. She could go on and on sometimes.

"Agreed. Besides, Mr. Carmichael will provide a good cover enhancement. A bored and wealthy capitalist who has money and no direction. His wife appears to be what they call 'arm candy' and will probably bore you to death, Deng. But, be nice. This could provide us with the ability to travel within the school of fish we are hiding in. The Chairman wrote that in his Book. Doctrine from the leader is not to be questioned."

Deng grunted and nodded but really thought she was being overly dramatic with invoking the writings of the Red Book. Mao had been rehabilitated but still, this was the 21st century and many of his teachings provided moral rather than political insight. She was just being a bitch as usual. Perhaps getting her involved with a rich Yankee would be just what she needed to get over her hormone 'imbalance'. He grunted again, seeing some mission benefit, after all.

The room phone rang and Deng answered it. It was the American, Carmichael, calling to accept the 'kind but unnecessary invitation'. Deng looked at his partner and grunted "It's for you – your Yankee capitalist" in Chinese.

"Hello, Mr. Carmichael, so nice of you to accept our invitation. The club we go to has a very excellent menu as well as dancing. Shall we say 6:45 in the lobby? Our reservations are for 7pm."

"Deng, do not be a turtle. Be nice to the Americans. How do they say it? 'I owe this man'."

Deng just shut his eyes and grunted. Another boring evening of bland food and Western music. Bah! Any hope of decent conversation was squelched. He was uncomfortable in English but knew he had no choice. Damn her hormones!

They met in the lobby at 6:45pm. Chuck and Deng found themselves wearing the exact same suit and tie although Chuck opted for a blue oxford cloth shirt as opposed to Deng's stark white. Both women commented but Chuck looked at Deng and just grunted, "Women." Deng had to agree and grunted in response but almost smiled.

Break Chapter Three

Hugo's

Las Angeles, CA

Dinner was acceptable but, as Deng had feared, bland. Chuck looked across the table at him and commented that the food was of good quality but lacked finesse. Deng surprised himself by answering with more than a grunt.

"Yes, I am not used to such bland fare. It does not reach the soul but does provide fuel for the body."

"Yeah. I prefer something with some bite to it. Kimchi, although I don't think Carina likes it. Asian dishes are more varied and do more than fill you up."

Deng's eyes lit up. "You actually prefer Asian cooking over this? Perhaps…" He stopped himself. They were not free to deviate from their mission protocols.

"Deng, perhaps we should consider touring L.A.'s Asian restaurants sometime in the future. I would like your opinion of some of the foods and whether they're authentic or just more American inventions like… Tsao chicken or fortune cookies."

Deng look at Ling who nodded slightly in agreement with his unasked question.

"Then, Charles, tomorrow night let us take this tour. I look forward to it. Perhaps the ladies would rather eat this bland food, but men need spicy sustenance for the wang."

Chuck almost choked on his beer. Did he just say wang? Carina pounded him on the back and Ling just looked at Deng in dismay. Of all the cross-cultural references, he would pick that one.

"Good idea. And I think Carina and Ling should accompany us, if only to keep us out of trouble. I do prefer Tsingtao to this European water. What do you say, Carina, want to try some truly unique fare? Beats McDonald's." He did his famous eyebrow dance and she blushed.

"Sure. We ladies will keep you out of trouble, unless we find it just as enticing." She would be on her best behavior. Damn him.

Carina wanted to dance and as soon as they got in a clinch she started grilling him. "Chuck, what are you doing? What if she didn't want to go with you guys tomorrow night? How were you going to get out of it? Damn it, Chuck…"

"Hey, I knew you wouldn't let me go alone, that's why I asked you. She would lose face by disagreeing and they don't like that. Now, please calm down and go with it. Have a little fun. How long has it been since you've been out with a guy who didn't expect to get in your pants? Just enjoy yourself, Carina. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. You're a great date."

She blushed and then remembered the sleeping arrangements and decided he was right. She'd be getting into his boxers if she had her way.

Chuck and Deng found a common interest: Chinese movies. They both enjoyed House of the Flying Daggers and even Ling said the final fight scene was a beautiful allegory. Carina just nodded, totally out of her element.

Ling asked Chuck to dance and Deng had no choice but to dance with Carina. He did not like her. She seemed like the typical American woman, boobs and a small brain. They danced like they were preparing to fight, stiff and at a distance.

Chuck complimented Ling on her dancing and she moved in closer to him, putting both her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level and whispered "Deng is such a bore. Please do not think he doesn't like you, Chuck. He's just…closed off. And I never thanked you for interceding on my behalf with those drunken sots. But I'll think of a way." She ground her hips against his crotch and he turned bright red. She giggled and then they went back to the table.

Carina was not pleased. She'd seen what the Chinese agent had done and Chuck's reaction. Deng was still looking in another direction. What game was she playing? She and Chuck would have a long conversation when they got back to the suite.

"C'mon, baby, dance with me again before we leave." Once on the dance floor he leaned over and whispered, "She's the Chinese equivalent of Carina Hansen. I want you to stay between us at all times. She's playing a game and I'm not, so do your job and protect your asset." He kissed her ear to make it look like they were a real couple and felt her shiver.

"Sorry, Carina, but I learned from Sarah to keep the cover going. If nothing else, I learned to keep the cover going." Carina felt a flash of jealousy and then realized he was right. Authenticate the cover whenever possible.

"Chuck, look at me, please?"

He looked down and she whispered 'cover kiss' and pulled him down into a toe-curling kiss complete with tongue and when she broke off the kiss he looked dazed.

"Now that's authenticating the cover, Chuck. Walker was a beginner, I'm the pro." She smirked and then giggled and led him, dazed, back to the table.

They got back to the hotel around 2am. Deng was feeling no pain, singing Chinese songs while Ling looked like she wanted to drown him in his own urine. Chuck laughed at her expression.

"Ling, Deng's just being a guy. Let him alone. He's happy and that's good. There's far too little of it in the world." She smiled but promised herself she'd take steps to curtail her partner's drinking. He was singing about the decline of the West and the triumph of the PLA, not a good song to sing in America. Thank the gods these simple Americans could not understand Mandarin.

Carina promised to call Ling about shopping and the couples went to their rooms.

"Carina, tell me you got that all on the wire? He was singing the PLA victory song with a lot of embellishments. Beckman's translators will have a field day with it. Let's get it on the computer and upload it to FT Meade before we got to bed."

"How did you know that?"

"I spend a lot of time in Chinese restaurants." That wasn't true but he didn't want anyone to know he'd diddled with the intersect and requested embellished downloads. He could understand spoken Mandarin but could never manage the tonal steps necessary to speak it.

"So what's with you and Deng being all buddy-buddy? He warmed up to you like a crackhead does to a full pipe." She was referring to their impromptu rendition of "War" out of Jackie Chan's Rush Hour 2.

"What can I say? We like the same movies."

She shook her head and once again marveled at Chuck's ability to fall into the proverbial bucket of fecal matter and emerge clean and with a prize.

Later, as Chuck slipped into his side of the California king-sized bed he heard first a sniffle and then a sob from Carina. Forgetting her reputation and her skills, he got out of bed, walked over to her side and said, "Move over, Carina, don't hog the covers" and put his arm around her.

"Now, what's with the waterworks? I know what you said earlier, but we just had a great 1st mission together and there's no reason for this. So, talk to me, please."

"I just wished we'd met earlier, Chuck, before you got to know me as 'Carina the Carnivore'. I know you never laughed but it still hurt to know you were hearing those things from Casey and Walker. You must think I'm trash and that hurts me, Chuck. I want to be your partner in all things and I don't think you would want a trashy girl."

"Carina, this is all too soon. I really don't even know you and you don't know me all that well, either. Let's work on getting to know each other before we make judgments. As for the Carnivore, well, that's your reputation. There's a reason for it. Just understand that I don't judge you based on what others say. I'll judge you on what you do, from now on. Deal?"

"Oh, Chuck…" And she tried to kiss him but he deflected it into a cheek buss. "Carina, I do not screw on the first date. Now, if you need a warm body to sleep next to, I'm your guy but as for anything else…it's way too soon. I've still got issues to get over and I won't dump all that baggage on you."

"Walker did a damn-damn on you, didn't she, Chuck. I'm sorry I ever hassled you about it in front of her. I didn't know it was real and just not a part of your cover. She got under your skin and into your heart. It's what she does for a living, Chuck. That's why she's so damned good at her job."

"Yes, she did and I thought at least part of it was real but then again, she is the best. She left me a voicemail and said Bryce needed her and then she was gone. Funny thing though, Casey never hassled me about her after she left. It was almost as if he, I don't know, felt sorry for the loser geek from the Buy More."

"You're not a loser, damn you. You're wonderful and you just got screwed over by the best little honey trap in the business. So, no more talk about Ms. Walker. Casey was being a straight-up guy for a change. He liked you, Chuck, and felt what Walker did was shitty. He told me so."

"It's late, Carina. Let's sleep. God knows what the Chinese will plan for us tomorrow night."

"Wait until you find out what we've got planned for tomorrow afternoon…shopping."

"Um, I think I have a root canal appointment tomorrow. Yep, it's tomorrow, all afternoon. Sorry, shorts, you're on your own."

In another suite, another conversation was going on.

"Wang! Wang! Where is your brain, Deng, in your pants? How could you be so crude? We are trying to ingratiate ourselves with these people, not make them think we're into perversions! By the gods, if it wasn't necessary for me to have a 'husband' as a cover, you'd be back in the paddies harvesting rice."

"Ling, do not shout. I am only a meter away. And my head will soon explode and solve your problems. The Yankee whiskey is off my list from now on." He turned a light green and staggered to the bathroom. She walked out into the living room to avoid having to listen to his retching.

She reviewed her mission parameters and mentally tallied up their progress – or lack thereof. They had not yet met with their contact who was to provide the identity and location of the renegade Red Lotus Movement cell in the US scouting targets.

The virus the group had in their possession could easily be traced back to the PRC after the attacks with deadly consequences. Their mission was to locate the leader and his cell and eliminate them and destroy any virus stocks in their possession. Time was running out. The attacks could come at any time and with the worldwide pandemic that would follow, China would become a pariah nation, if she survived the righteous wrath that would befall her.

She will contact her coordinator at the Consulate in San Francisco for any updated information in the morning. Reluctantly, hoping he will not be sick again, she returns to the bedroom and tries to sleep, wondering what life must be like for the woman in Charles Carmichael's dreams.

CIA Rehabilitation Center

Falls Church, VA

'The woman in Charles Carmichael's dreams' screamed at her therapist that she 'couldn't do it' as he insists she take 'one more step, Sarah'. Sweat pouring from her body and her arms shaking with the onset of muscle failure, she drags her left foot up even with her right and locks her knees, maintaining a precarious balance.

"See, Sarah, I knew you had it in you. Now, turn around and walk back. You're relearning skills as an adult you simply developed as a child. Not so easy the second time around, is it, especially when you've been lying around with two broken legs not exercising anything but your mouth?"

Her therapist believed in the 'tough love' approach to therapy. No one at the Center expected Agent Walker to actually walk again unaided. He grinned to himself. He'd have her running in 3 months and requalified as a field agent within 6.

"Move your lovely but lazy ass, Sarah Walker. There are other, more deserving patients waiting their turn. Do hurry, I don't have all morning and you still have to work on that right arm of yours. Disgusting muscle tone, dearie, and don't give me that look, you know you're getting soft." Tough love worked, it just took a little longer with agents.

Break Chapter 4

Beverly Wilshire

Beverly Hill, CA

Carina was in the shower when the email from General Beckman arrived requesting an immediate video conference. Chuck heard the hair dryer in the bathroom and figured 20 minutes and returned her email with the scheduled time.

"Carina, move it. Beckman wants a video in 20 minutes. No explanation."

Beckman's usually austere countenance was even more so that morning.

"Agents, we've been contacted by the Chinese for assistance in hunting down and eliminating a renegade sleeper cell of bio-terrorists. The cell has possession of sufficient amounts of the 'Spanish Flu' virus to create a pandemic. This is the flu that appeared after World War I and killed 18 million Americans over a 2-year period."

Chuck flashed on the 'Spanish Flu' spread worldwide by soldiers returning from the battlefields of France in World War I. Samples were thought to be in the possession of several governments, including his own. There were no vaccines available commercially since the samples were considered so hazardous that none were ever released to the biotech companies.

"The team of Chinese agents that you've 'met' are the team tasked to eliminate the Red Lotus Movement cell and it's leaders." Chuck flashed on Xiao Ping, leader of the Movement. Former PRC intelligence agent now gone rogue and working for the highest bidder. The Red Lotus Movement was a throwback to earlier times in the PRC history and believed in the violent overthrow of western governments.

"General, Xiao Ping is in the country right now, in San Francisco. He arrived last week. I emailed you regarding his arrival. He wasn't a 'hot target' item. I guess I was wrong. Do we contact the Chinese agents directly?"

"He wasn't even on the advanced watch list, Agent. He was thought to be a Chinese issue since his disruptions have all been within China. However, we have learned that he has allied himself with some serious players and has set his sights on bio attacks on American soil to provoke a war between the US and the PRC."

"Contact the Chinese team and coordinate your efforts. Eliminate the threat and destroy those samples at all costs. Extreme measures are authorized, Agents. A pandemic in the current economic and political environment could be catastrophic to our country. Contact me after you've met with the Chinese and have shared information."

"Well, Carina, looks like shopping is out and meeting with our new friends is in. Finish getting dolled up, doll, and we'll make contact. And please, put the 'he's mine!' attitude on hold, Carina. There's no room for personal agendas now."

Carina blinked at him. When did he get so…professional? He sounded like Casey or some other old timer. Well, she'd find a way to let Ling know he was off the market, not that they had time for such things. Still, she'd let her know that Chuck was 'taken'.

Chuck looked at Carina and read her mind. He sighed and shook his head. Was this how Casey and Walker had seen him? An emotional drag on the team?

"Carina, please, don't go all possessive on me. We have to be flexible, baby. Anything for the mission, isn't that the creed?"

"Yeah, Chuck, anything for the mission." She'd wait, bide her time, and when this was over, she'd have Beckman finalize the partnership. She'd earn his respect all over again.

"Deng, our coordinator has new orders for us. The undercover agent we were to contact has been murdered and his body dumped on the grounds of the Consulate. We are to make contact with an American NSA team and work with them. Our agent's last message was that the virus samples will be arriving by ship tomorrow night in Long Beach Harbor. Somehow the Americans will be able to tell us which ship and where it will moor and we are to identify the cell leaders and recover or destroy the samples. None must fall into American hands, Deng."

"Bah! Charles and I had plans for the restaurant tour. I'll put decent food on the list for when we get home. I'll call him and cancel. What excuse can I use?"

"Tell him…tell him you and I…use your imagination, Deng. Be creative. Reschedule it for another night."

CIA Rehabilitation Center

Falls Church, VA

Sarah Walker was using a wheelchair to get around and in the facility cafeteria it made her feel like she had a sign on her back "Broken". It made her feel even more uncomfortable than usual. Seeing a few old acquaintances, she headed for their table.

After renewing acquaintances and going through their various assignments, Julie Nielson, an agent from her training class, mentioned the elimination of an entire operation in California by a sole Fulcrum operative. Because of the damage, there was a one million dollar bounty on her head.

Sarah perked up at the mention of California and Fulcrum. "Where was the team based, do you know, Julie?"

"Los Angeles, no, around there, Bur…Burbank? Is there such a place?"

Sarah's face turned white and her hands trembled. "Sarah, are you all right? Do I need to page a doctor?" They were all in some stage of recovery.

"B-Burbank? Who was killed, do you know?" She hadn't allowed herself one single thought about the man she'd left behind when she left with Larkin. She might not have thought about him but her subconscious played hell with her dreams. She dreamed about him, them, and she always awoke feeling…incomplete but ignored it as her training dictated.

"John Casey from the NSA, Denise Gordon, one of ours, and their asset. Don't know his name. Not important anyway. Two of us killed by one Fulcrum agent. Makes me wonder if Casey really was a burn-out. Gordon had issues with men, so maybe that was the opening. The asset, no one remembers his name so he must have been low-level, a nobody really."

Sarah Walker burst into tears and sat with her head in her hands. Julie nodded to one of the other more-ambulatory patients who went to a wall phone and called for a medical team. Agents do not burst into tears. There was more here than met the eye.

All she could think about was Chuck, dead. Would the team still be alive if she hadn't gone off with Bryce? It had been a mistake to leave him, the man she loved so much but she was compromised and joining Bryce had seemed an excellent way of leaving Chuck behind without any damaging admissions. She needed to call Ellie and find out what happened. She needed to know.

A nurse and a doctor with a syringe appeared and a sedated Sarah was wheeled back to her room. Agents did not burst into tears in public. It just wasn't done. The doctor scheduled her for a psych session in addition to her physical therapy.

Her physical therapist paid her a room visit, a rarity. "So, Agent Walker, you're falling apart on me emotionally? What's the deal with the crying jag in the cafeteria? It's all that anyone around here can talk about. The great Sarah Walker in tears over dead former teammates. Talk to me, Agent Walker." He was step one in her psych review.

"I – I left someone behind in Burbank, the asset, a great guy. I left because I was compromised. My feelings for him were getting in the way of the mission. He was my asset, my friend, my best friend, and I loved him very much but never told him. I left because of my feelings, ignoring his, for the job. And now he's dead. If I'd stayed, he might still be alive."

"Or you might be dead, Agent Walker. It could be your throat that was cut by your Fulcrum lover. It could have been your apartment gutted by an exploding gas line or it could have been you, killed in a drunk driving accident. Leaving was the professional thing to do, Sarah. You recognized that you were compromised and you left, as you should have."

"I never told him I loved him. Never got to love him like he loved me, unconditionally. And now he's gone. Why shouldn't I cry? I'm human. I'm a woman. My world just died. Why shouldn't I cry?"

And she did.

Beverly Wilshire
Beverly Hill, CA

"So, the 'meeting' in the fitness center was a set-up?" Ling was livid. She'd been played like a newly hatched agent and had fallen for it. He had seemed so sincere…

"Oh, no, Ling. It was all coincidence with Chuck's natural 'niceness' overwhelming his good sense. It was a real situation, no players involved. I really reamed him out for 'approaching' you but he is innocent of any deception. He's just… so damned 'nice'. Really."

Both female agents sighed. They each had their male 'crosses to bear'.

"Fine. Apology accepted, Agent Hansen. Where is your partner now? Out rescuing maidens in distress by the pool?" Her sarcasm was sharp and would have really upset Chuck.

"He's…I don't know where he is, honestly. He went for a run. He does that a lot now since his team…he lost his team of handlers to Fulcrum and it's why he became an agent. He's motivated but incredibly naïve. For example, he asked me to be nice to Deng since apparently you couldn't bother to be. He's like that…nice."

"Ah, Carina, you have inappropriate feelings for your partner. You should request reassignment. You cannot be objective harboring such feelings." She knew that from painful experience with Deng.

"He's already been torn apart by one agent, he doesn't deserve it again. I'll bide my time. Soon we'll be partners… Ling." The unsaid "he's mine" echoed loudly in the room.

Chuck ran into Deng in the lobby and they rode the elevator up to Chuck's suite. "So, you are an American intelligence operative. I never would have guessed that, Charles. You played Ling like a puppy dog and she will not be so forgiving. Prepare yourself, my friend. She is a viper, that one."

"I didn't 'play her', Deng. It was pure coincidence. I knew she was an agent but the language and disrespect those two drunks showed her was unforgivable. I had to intercede. And I did apologize for them. I did not play her. I wouldn't know how."

Deng just shook his head. This one would bear watching. Poor Ling. First she destroyed Deng's heart and now she was going to go after the Yankee's, but it would be vengeance as her motivator whereas with Deng it had just been her being a bitch. This one would twist her legs and break her heart and Deng would approve. He had crossed the line from love to hate many times in the past 2 years. Currently he was on the 'hate' side of the line.

He used his keycard and entered the suite motioning Deng to precede him. Ling was sitting on the couch shooting daggers at Chuck. He sighed, then smiled. Women. Spies. Women spies. All the same no matter what country they were from. He thought he sounded like Casey and smiled at the comparison.

"Ling, get over it. You're an agent. I'm an… well, I did not play you. It was a real situation. We did not send those two drunks in. I meant what I said. Accept it and move on." He walked into the bedroom returned ten minutes later after a shower, dressed in a business suit without the jacket. His Beretta 9mm hung from the shoulder rig and Ling looked at him with lust and distrust.

Carina got his jacket and helped him on with it, taking great pains to smooth out the fabric over his shoulders and back and in straightening his tie. She enjoyed baiting Ling.

"Brief us on what you know, Agent Ling. Deng, please add what you think is appropriate. I know this is difficult for you, aiding the PRC's main enemy state, but think of the consequences to your country if a worldwide pandemic erupts…chaos, dissolution and so much death, even in your own country with it's enormous population."

"Fine, Agent. We know that the Movement's leader is in the US and that a shipment of the virus in sufficient quantity and medium to begin the attacks is coming in by ship tomorrow evening in Long Beach. You, Agent, are supposed to identify the ship and assist us in destroying the cell and the virus. Are you prepared to do that? Are you even capable, Agent?"

Hell hath no fury… The way she said Agent made the others in the room wince. It fairly dripped of sarcasm and vitriol.

"Carina, there's a copy of the Journal of Commerce that I picked up on my run in the bedroom. Please, babe, fetch it while I deal with little Miss Dragon Lady." He smiled at Carina with his special smile and she fairly ran to do his bidding. This was not lost on Ling.

'So, who's the naïve one here, Carina, and who is the Tiger in this jungle?'

Ling would have smirked except she wouldn't give Chuck the satisfaction.

Deng gave a grunt. Chuck was right. Dragon Lady was a fitting moniker.

"Ling, since you are the true professional, dig down deep into your professional bag of tricks and find the one labeled "forbearance' and use it. Once we locate and neutralize the virus and you professionals deal with the Movement and its members, you'll have the opportunity to revisit the situation. Until then, the mission comes before petty personal feuds."

Carina handed him the paper and he opened it up to the shipping section and scanned the arrivals. He turned his back so no one would see the tell-tale fluttering of his eyes. There were twenty-three ships fitting the bill of arrival but only one was coming from a Chinese port of call. All the others were originating in friendly ports or had made no stops in Chinese ports.

"The Eastern Dawn is the probable vessel. It loaded its cargo in Hong Kong and sailed straight to Long Beach. The others never called at a Chinese port. Given what you've told us of the shipment, it's a time-sensitive package. The Eastern Dawn is the ship. I'm certain of it." He'd flashed on the ownership registry that was one of a billion inconsequential things the government kept track of and had downloaded into his brain.

Carina smiled her special 'he's mine' smile at Ling who just rolled her eyes. "And just how certain are you that this Eastern Star is the vessel we seek, Agent?"

"Since I'll be accompanying you, Deng and Carina, I'd say I'm very certain, Dragon Lady. Now, put the attitude aside and you, Deng and Carina set your plans. I have to find a pharmacy for the headaches I'm about to get. Carina, take over. I'm out of here. You professionals do your thing. The amateur has to find some Extra Strength Tylenol. Later." He left them all wondering what was going on.

Carina uploaded the NSA photographs of the berthing area the ship would be using. It would dock at a pier closest to the terminal entrance. NSA would secure the terminal gates and bottle up the area. The agents would flush out the Movement members and locate the cargo.

Deng would provide sniper cover from the crane and Chuck would back up the two women inspecting the containers as they were off-loaded. The container with the 'goods' would be identified by a red lotus painted on the top and one side.

"Carina, do you trust this amateur to, what do you say, have your back?"

"Yes. I do. He'd never let anything happen to any of us. We're in his circle now. He protects his friends and associates without regard to his own well being. Another fault but we're working on it."

Ling's eyebrows shot up and Deng looked at her smugly. In Chinese Deng said "And you thought I was the only one who would throw away his life for someone he loves. Truly, Chuck is right. You are the Dragon Lady." He still loved her but was on the 'hate' side of the line currently.

Chuck couldn't find the pills he wanted in the hotel gift shop and so he'd have to go 'outside' and he wanted to advise Carina so she wouldn't worry.

He entered the suite just in time to here Deng's comment about how Ling was truly the 'Dragon Lady' and was immediately ashamed of driving a wedge between the Chinese partners. He'd better watch his mouth, in English and Chinese.

He explained that he was taking a cab to a pharmacy to get what he needed and that he'd be gone an hour. Carina filled him in on the plans and he nodded and left.

Chuck called Beckman from his cell while in the elevator.

"Beckman, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. General, the ship is the Eastern Star out of Hong Kong arriving tomorrow evening sometime after 5pm. Agent Hansen is working with the two Chinese agents on a search/surveillance plan. I'll be backing up the two females and Deng will be in a crane with a sniper rifle. Once we locate the container we'll call in NSA cleaners to secure the contents."

"And afterwards? I want the two Chinese agents terminated, Agent Carmichael. Call me when the mission is completed. That is all."

Chuck terminated the call. Deng and Ling were players and knew the job was fraught with risk. He sighed and wondered if the two Chinese had received the same orders?

They had.

Beverly Wilshire
Beverly Hill, CA

Three hours later

"Ling, I will not do this. This is not how a nation state repays a debt to another. This is wrong. I will not do it."

"Fine, Agent Deng. And when we return, you will be back in the rice paddies but as fertilizer, not as the peasant you truly are. Now, do nothing about our orders. I will execute the Americans since I will be 'on the ground' with them. You perform over-watch and ensure they don't have the same orders. We will meet as agreed and leave this country."

Beverly Wilshire
Beverly Hill, CA

"Chuck, it's orders. We don't have a choice in the matter. I'll do it. I haven't 'bonded' with the Chinese like you apparently have although with Deng in the crane position it will not be easy. After we find the cargo, I want you to move to a secure location out of Deng's sight picture and I'll take care of Ling."

"And do you think Deng's just going to let you whack his partner and do nothing? There has to be another way, Carina. I won't let you kill them for trying to stop Armageddon."

Carina stopped and looked at her…partner. He'd never change. Walker was right. He'd never be anything other than a civilian with a computer in his head. She'd have to talk to Beckman. He'd never be an agent, not with his moral compass. The new intersect was coming on-line and it would be time to make a change in the project staffing.

She'd had such high hopes of being his partner. Beckman would probably have her whack him at the same time she did the Chinese.

It was if Chuck could read her mind or she was saying her thoughts out loud. He'd have to watch his back around Carina now. She'd probably try and take him out with the Chinese and claim it was their doing and she was just protecting her partner.

"Maybe we can find another way, Chuck. We'll see."

That night when Carina rolled over to spoon with Chuck as they had the previous night he rebuffed her. "Carina, please stay on your own side. I'm not in the mood for your after-hours-spy crap. You made it pretty plain that you were tired of the 'life' and I told you I wouldn't put you in that position. It's a big bed. Use it."

She huffed and rolled over onto her side her face away from him so he wouldn't see the hurt. It was obvious to her that he'd learned his lesson with Walker and was not open to a relationship within the 'spy life' as he put it.

The next day the two sets of partners went to an NSA van parked in the back of a mall and outfitted themselves for the mission. The Chinese were a little surprised at the equipment available and commented. Deng especially appreciated the Winchester sniper rifle and scope. He'd heard about the ambient light scopes but it would be his first opportunity to use one.

Long Beach Harbor
8:45pm

Kevlar on and weapons ready, they rode in the van to the Pier and positioned themselves to monitor the off-loading of the containers from the Eastern Star. As Deng climbed up to the crane control booth, longshoremen began offloading the containers.

Deng radioed the team. "The next container has a red lotus painted on its top. That is the target container." Chuck looked at Carina and Ling as the two advanced toward the container now offloading. Chuck was maintaining an over-watch and felt Deng's crosshairs on his back. Very uncomfortable.

"Deng, watch those two trucks coming up the wharf. I have a bad feeling about this."

Deng broke squelch twice to indicate he received the message and put the scope on the two vehicles.

Carina and Ling had forced the locks on the container and were inside and out of sight. The two trucks pulled up beside the container and six men got out and began walking to the container doors. Deng shot the first man in the head and the others immediately fanned out and assumed defensive positions.

"Carina, this is Chuck. You two OK?"

No response.

"Deng, this is Chuck. Carina and Ling are not responding. Deng?"

No response.

'I'm not a trained agent. I shouldn't be here. This is madness. I have to get Carina out of there.'

He switched frequencies and summoned backup and the cleaner crew cautioning them about the possible hostile Chinese agent in the crane cab and the 5 Movement members surrounding the container. What a cluster fuck the pros had planned.

He holstered his Beretta and pulled up his MP-5 and checked that the safety was off, did a quick 360 look-around and then sprinted to the container doors. He pulled open the door and ducked in. He flipped on the flashlight integrated into the hand guard and surveyed the container.

"Carina? Ling? Where are you?"

He heard a whimper and then a moan and he flicked off the light and advanced cautiously. He'd been the only one to pull the NVGs and now that decision paid dividends. From the small amount of light leaking through the incomplete welds and vents on the container he had enough light to see.

Carina was lying on the container floor, bleeding out from a slashed throat. He fumbled on his web gear and selected a flashbang and pulled the pin and flipped it around the crates to where he assumed Ling was hiding. He closed his eyes and covered his ears.

The concussion was like being hit in the head with a heavy sandbag and he was momentarily stunned. 'Moron, why do you think they call it a 'stun grenade' in some circles?' He was channeling Casey again.

He stepped around the corner of the case, stepping over Carina's body and fired a burst from his weapon at where he thought Ling was hiding. Dumb! Ricochets and flying splinters filled the air. He backed out of the aisle between the crates and knelt down to wait her out.

He could hear shouts from outside the container and then someone opened the door, entered and closed it again. From the smell, it was one of the opposition. He flipped down his NVGs and saw the man with a shotgun crouched beside the door. He shot him with a quick burst and retrieved the shotgun.

"Ling, come out. No one else has to die. Don't make me come in there after you. Ling! Damn it, Ling, this is madness. Come out. You and Deng can go home." He heard her shuffling towards him, a muffled moaning preceding her.

"Ling, are you hurt? Do you need the medics?" He wished she'd answer. When she didn't, he turned off the NVGs and pointed the MP-5 at the sound and turned on the flashlight.

"Shit!" Chuck shouted as he saw Ling, bleeding from the eyes and nose, shuffling towards him, unseeing. He could feel a tingling all over his face and hands and immediately suspected a nerve agent had been placed in the container as a booby trap.

He threw himself out of the container, slamming the door with his foot. He was surrounded by NSA agents in full gear.

"Nerve agent. Booby trap." He passed out just after feeling the blood running from his nose and tasting the coppery blood in his mouth.

Medical Facility
Unknown location

He woke up in a bed in a hospital room. At least he thought it was a hospital room. He saw a call button and pushed it. A few minutes later a nurse walked in and smiled and took his vitals.

"Where am I? Where's my partner?" No response, just the maddening smile and the obligatory pat on the hand and then she left. He started to get out of the bed but got dizzy. Well, I guess I'll go back to sleep.

When he woke next time, the IV's had grown to include saline and glucose drips and he was in a hospital gown. He picked up the sheet and saw the catheter. Shit. That means I've been here a while.

He pushed the call button and a short nurse with chart in hand came in and took his vitals. "Where am I and what happened to my partner?"

"Agent Carmichael, I can't answer you because I don't know what happened to your partner. You're in a facility run by the CIA. When you've eaten and feel more human, I'll pull the catheter and you can try and sit up. It's been a while since you've been on your feet."

"How – how long?" Had he been hurt? Under arrest?

"Ten days. You were very fortunate the NSA team had Atropine injectors or you'd have died like the others. Now, I'll be back with some typically bland and nasty hospital jello and if that stays down, some really thin soup. You've been on IV's and now that you're awake, we'll feed you real food – well, hospital food." She laughed at the look on his face and he decided she had a pretty smile.

"Wait! Um, what's your name?"

"Susan, single, 26, and not interested, Agent Carmichael. I've heard about you in all your incarnations. Now, be a good boy and don't try and escape again, OK? You're not in detention, just a medical facility." She was definitely interested but knew better. These agents came and went and this one was definitely off limits.

Chuck was thoroughly confused and it showed but Susan just smiled and left. He listened but didn't hear the 'click' of a lock so the door must be closed for another reason. Bored, he fell back to sleep.

"Agent Carmichael, wake up and eat." There was a tray table with a tray on it. Hospital green jello. Oh, yummy. And a bowl of what looked like dirty water – the 'thin soup' Susan had mentioned earlier.

He squinted at the nurse but it wasn't Susan. "Where's Susan? I thought she was going to bring me this delicious repast and pull the catheter and get me up?"

"Agent, Susan works weekdays. It's Sunday. She'll be in tomorrow. Can you stay awake, Agent Carmichael? It's important. Some people want to talk with you. They were here yesterday but you kept falling asleep on them."

He'd been asleep at least a full day. What was wrong with him? He wanted to know. "What's wrong with me? I can't seem to stay awake longer than 5 minutes?"

"That's normal. Now, I'll raise your bed so you can sit up and eat your jello and drink this delicious beef bullion and if it all stays down, maybe you can have toast later. Now people need to talk to you. Can you stay awake?"

He nodded his head and tried to spear a jello cube with his spork. Damned plastic silverware. His hand was shaking too badly and he was getting tired again when he heard the voice.

"Agent Carmichael, it's General Beckman. Please try and stay conscious. We have some questions that only you seem to be able to answer."

"Fine, General. I'll try. Ask away."

"Why did you go enter the shipping container? It was not your assignment to get involved in securing the container. You were supposed to provide intel support only. What possessed you to enter the container?"

"No commo once the two women went into the container. Must have been a jammer. They had to be told about the Movement trucks and troops."

"Was Agent Hansen already dead when you went in?" He suddenly was overwhelmed with grief – how could he have forgotten? Beckman noted this and paused, waiting for his answer.

"Yes, I – I believe so. Yes, she was. Her throat had been cut. There was n - nothing I could do for her." His hand shook so badly the jello fell onto the tray.

"And the Chinese agent? Was she alive?"

"Yeah. I threw a flash grenade and then she stumbled out bleeding from the nose, eyes and ears. I think it was a nerve agent booby trap. I felt a tingling all over my face and hands. I think I shot her in the head to end her suffering and ran out of the container."

"Agent Carmichael, who shot you? Was it the Chinese agent, Ling?"

"Shot? I wasn't shot. I just got a dose of nerve agent."

"The doctors removed two bullets from you, one in the leg and one in the upper arm. Who shot you?" She was getting impatient.

"General, I was not shot. I think I'd know if I was shot. It would hurt and it didn't."

She tossed two mashed and disfigured bullets onto his tray. "Explain these then?"

"I can't. I wasn't shot. I shot the Movement guy who came into the container but I know I wasn't shot."

"Do you not remember killing the four remaining Movement members around the container? The bullets in the bodies match the ballistics of your side arm."

"General, I swear to you, I did not leave the container until I rushed out of the door to get away from the nerve gas and collapsed in front of the NSA backup I called in."

"Agent Carmichael, Chuck. Try and remember. The NSA team was almost too late. You were already out of the container and leaning against the closed doors and you shot at the NSA backup, yelling at them to stay away because you were 'infected'. You were bleeding from the eyes, ears, nose and mouth when they found you. You were minutes away from death."

"General Beckman, I'm sorry. I don't remember any of that. I remember what I told you and that's it. Wait! What about the Spanish Flu? The virus?"

"Secured and destroyed. You accomplished your mission. Now, rest, Agent Carmichael. I'm sorry about Agent Hansen. She was quite taken with you. Get better and we'll find you a new partner. Call me if you remember anything, anything at all. Just ask the nurse to call me."

"Wait, please! What about the other Chinese agent, Deng?"

"There was no sign of another agent and we assume he slipped away in the confusion."

She left and this time he heard her say to someone 'He doesn't remember killing the Chinese agent with his bare hands, killng 5 of the Movement agents and wounding 3 NSA agents to prevent them from opening the container. Run him through the Psych Evaluation. Something's not right."

'Why would Beckman come all the way out here to see me? A video conference would have accomplished the same thing.'

Oh, well, not his problem.

He pushed the call button and the nurse came in. "Can you remove this catheter, please? I need to start walking and getting my strength back."

"No walking until you're checked out by our Physical Therapy people. If you're ready, I'll have them put you on the schedule for tomorrow."

His arm itched but the bandage was in the way. 'Bandage? What the hell is going on here?' He pulled at the tape holding the bandage on and finally got it loose and he peeled it off. There was a nice trio of stitches closing a wound in his arm. He had been shot. He scratched around the stitched, stopping the itching.

Later on the catheter had been removed and the nurse brought dinner – some kind of broth, a salad and, of course, green hospital jello. There was no TV and he was bored so he slept.

He was awakened at some ungodly hour for a trip to the lavatory and a sponge bath and then breakfast. His nurse told him that he would be interviewed and examined by the PT tech in a little while and not to go to sleep until afterwards.

He slept.

Susan the nurse came in and woke him and introduced him to the PT guy named "Eddie" who asked him a bunch of questions he couldn't answer and then gave him a quick exam. He asked Chuck to squeeze his hands and he made sounds that reminded him of Casey. Then he helped Chuck stand up and took out a stopwatch and waited until Chuck collapsed back onto the bed. His leg suddenly ached, mid-thigh.

"Not bad. You stood up straight for a whole two minutes. Not bad at all. Does the leg hurt much?" He was English and Chuck immediately hated his accent.

"This is the first time it's hurt at all. I don't remember being shot."

"Lucky you. No dreams then. Excellent. Now, there's weakness in the left arm but we'll have that fixed up in a jiffy. The leg may take a while longer. We'll start this afternoon and have you running marathons by the end of say…a month."

"A month? I can walk now."

"Fine. Walk to the door and if you make it, I'll be very surprised."

Chuck took three steps and fell on his face. His PT guy just looked at him and laughed. "You bloody Agents never listen. Think you're bloody Superman. Now, let's get you back in bed and make sure you haven't torn out all that fancy stitching the docs did."

"I'll have to make some special arrangements for the lighting. We normally don't work in the dark but with your light sensitivity due to the nerve agent, we'll manage somehow. I'll be back in a few hours with a wheel chair and then we'll graduate you to crutches then a walker and finally…your own two feet. Piece of cake, mate."

That afternoon the 'PT guy' came in, threw Chuck a pair of dark glasses and said, "Put them on and let's get cracking, mate. Have lots of more deserving agents waiting to use the facilities. Now, put on the glasses and get yourself into the chair."

The physical therapy bay was dimly lit with only the outermost bank of fluorescent lights on but still it caused Chuck to wince so he kept his glasses on.

"Glasses off, Agent. Can't risk an eye injury when you fall, and you will fall, Agent. Now pull yourself out of the chair using the parallel bars and walk towards me. Set your own pace. You have two hours to fill."

By the end of the session Eddie was shocked with Chuck's progress and said as much.

"Apparently the docs misread your x-rays, old son, because I don't see any evidence of a bone injury. I think we'll let you keep the wheel chair until the sutures in your arm come out and then move to the crutches."

Chuck wondered if everyone involved with this nuthouse was reading someone else's file. He shook his head and Eddie immediately misread his thoughts.

"What? You hot shot agents think you're so bloody special, don't you? Go flitting around the planet doing all kinds of daring-do and then think you're too good for the rest of us? Well, old son, I didn't get my bloody team slaughtered like you di…"

The rest of his sentence died in his throat when Chuck's fingers closed around it. "Listen, old son. You know nothing about me. Nothing. It was the fucking professionals who got themselves wasted, not me. Don't say another word to me that is not directly related to my physical therapy unless you want to die."

He practically threw the man away from him and then put his glasses back on and wheeled himself towards the door. He stopped at the door, not able to open it because he couldn't push the panic bars with one hand and wheel his chair with the other. He could feel the tears of frustration welling up in his aching eyes. He locked the wheels of the chair, pushed himself up and lurched through the door and down the hall toward his room, leaning heavily on the wall for support.

Susan was at the nurses' station doing charts when she saw him lurching his way down the hall. Eddie must have pissed him off since he wasn't in sight. They'd all been warned about this agent's unpredictability and sudden temper. She rushed up to him and took his arm in support.

"Agent Carmichael, you didn't kill Eddie, did you? Please say you didn't. Good PT guys are hard to find. And he's the best." She and Eddie had had a few dates but his attitude towards the people they served caused them to become nodding acquaintances. She thought he was an asshole.

"Nah. Just told him that he couldn't say anything to me that wasn't directly related to my therapy, not one word."

"He can make your life here hell, Agent. He is in charge of your therapy and what he says, goes."

"I was in Hell before I got here, Susan. Any change could only be for the better."

"Well, I'll go retrieve your wheel chair for you and leave it in your room. You feel up to joining me in the cafeteria for dinner? You're probably ready for some food that doesn't require a spork, right?" She giggled at the expression on his face.

"I'm really not ready to date, Susan. But if it's only dinner and then back to bed, I think I can handle it." Now it was his turn to watch the expressions flit across her face. She blushed nicely.

"Um, Agent, um, I meant sit with you in the cafeteria, not…"

"I know. Call it revenge for your comments when you introduced yourself. I think I got someone else's chart and reputation."

"Well, let's get you back to your room and take a shower. We have plastic to wrap your dressings so they won't get wet. I'll bring some scrubs for you to wear and I'll pick you up about 5:45. I'll even drive."

Chuck was extremely embarrassed when Susan told him to get undressed and she'd wrap his dressings. She snorted and told him not to be childish, she was a nurse.

After his shower, she redressed his wounds, handed him the scrubs and pointed to the bed. "Sleep. I'll come get you at 5:30 for dinner. You're lucky it's not Wednesday." Leaving Chuck to ponder the mysterious comment, he got into bed. He hadn't realized how tired he was until she woke him again at 5:15pm.

"Hey, if you're too tired to go, we can reschedule this. It's OK, really, Agent Carmichael."

"Chuck."

"What? You have to vomit?" She scurried to find the sepsis bowl.

"No, not UP chuck, just Chuck. My name is Chuck, not 'Agent Carmichael'.

She laughed and helped him dress then pointed to the wheelchair. "Your limo is here, sir." She helped him into the chair and then handed him his glasses.

"It's bright in the cafeteria, Agent, um, Chuck. You might want to keep these on and maybe keep you eyes closed as much as possible. According to your chart the sensitivity should pass in a few weeks."

She wheeled him down the hall and into the brightly lit cafeteria. He winced and shut his eyes and said to her over his shoulder, "You might have to feed me, Susan, I can't even squint in this bright light. Maybe they do 'take out' and we could just eat in my sumptuous suite of rooms?"

She laughed and he it made him feel a lightness he hadn't felt in a long time. This woman had no agenda, no hidden mission tasks, no ulterior reasons for doing anything. A very welcome change from women in his recent past.

Julie Nielson and Sarah Walker were eating a light dinner after their respective physical therapy sessions. Sarah had lost muscle tone as well as weight and was trying to add muscle mass to replace what her body had scavenged keeping her alive.

"Mmmm, Sarah, look at what the nurse just brought in for dinner. How'd you like to find that in your Xmas stocking some time?" She followed Julie's gaze and saw the nurse push a man dressed in scrubs in a wheelchair close to the table and then speak with him and leave to get his meal tray. His back was to her and all she could tell from the brief profile was that he had a beard and wore dark glasses.

"If he's who I think he is, he's the talk of the gimps. He was working with some Chinese agents tracking down a shipment of plague or something. Lost his entire team in the op but still managed to accomplish the mission."

Sarah was impressed. It sounded like something she and Bryce would have been tasked with.

"And get this, Sarah, Beckman from the NSA paid this guy a visit, that's how connected he is. He got exposed to some nerve agent and rumor is it scrambled his brain and fried his eyes but he still took out the opposition."

Susan returned with a tray and two plates and silverware and then sat beside him. She leaned over and whispered, "I don't want you to be embarrassed, Chuck. Let me feed you. I know these lights are killing your eyes. Just keep them closed and I'll feed you. I'll be sneaky and no one will notice, OK? Better than putting a bib on you and handing you a fork for your soup."

She giggled and he laughed quietly. She knew this was all wrong, getting close to a 'professional patient' but he was cute and she instinctively knew he needed some TLC over and above what the staff usually provided. She'd deal with her own emotions later. Taking up a fork, she began to feed him, wiping his soft lips with a napkin after each bite.

"Oh, my God, Sarah. Isn't that sexy the way she's feeding him and how he's using his tongue on that fork? I'd die to be that fork! God, I'm so damned horny!"

Sarah twisted around in her seat just as Chuck turned in full profile to be fed. She dropped her cup onto her tray, ignoring the mess and hot tea that slopped everywhere. She pushed herself back and wheeled her chair towards the man and the nurse, ignoring Julie's protests and complaints about the mess she'd made.

She had to see him up close, to be sure it wasn't him. As she got closer her breath came in short gasps so that she was almost hyperventilating by the time she pulled her chair perpendicular to his.

"Chuck? Chuck Bartowski? Is it really you, Chuck? Is it? Please be him. Oh, please, please be you, Chuck." Julie sat back and watched a reunion that brought tears to her eyes. So this was the mysterious 'Chuck' that the Great Sarah Walker had had the melt down over.

She grabbed his right hand and placed the palm against her cheek and murmured, "It's you, it's you, you're not dead, you're alive". She knew the feel of his palm against her cheek from his many attempts to kiss her. She should have let him.

Susan whispered in her ear. "He's having vision problems, Agent. He was exposed to a nerve agent and he's very sensitive to bright lights. He really can't see you unless most of the lights are out. Talk to him. Let him know who you are." She got up and left to stand near the door, a smile on her face from ear to ear. He'd still need her to take him back to his room.

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry I left you. I was so wrong. I should have explained. I should have told you I loved you just like you loved me, without any reservations, unconditionally. I know that now, Chuck. Please, don't be over me, baby, I don't think I could handle it."

He moved his hand from her face to the back of her neck and pulled her gently into an embrace, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the scent that meant 'Sarah' to him. She felt his breath and his inhalation and knew he was 'identifying her' in his own way. Hell, he was in trouble. She'd called him 'Bartowski'.

He whispered softly in her ear of things he'd thought but never had the nerve to say, words of love and hope and how he'd wanted a future with her but knew now that it could never be. He told Sarah that she'd made her choice when she left him behind, when she'd chosen Bryce over him, that leaving him for Bryce had been the right thing to do.

"No, no, no, Chuck, no. It wasn't the right thing to do. It was the easy thing to do. I should have stayed, I should have made them see how much better we were together than apart. I should have convinced them that no one could protect you better than the one who loved you the most but I didn't. I took the easy way out and ran away from you and from what I wanted most in life."

"And where is Bryce now, Sarah? Why isn't he here with you?"

"Bryce is off on one of his damned missions. He didn't care that I was hurt, Chuck, that I almost died. He was more upset that he had to break off pursuit of a bad guy to help me than about me."

"Did you ever think of me while you were gone? While you were making love with Bryce? Did you ever once think of me?"

"Chuck, please, let me explain. We're trained to put personal distractions…"

"I'll take that as a 'No'. I'm sorry you were hurt, Sarah, and I hope your recovery period will be as brief as possible. Bryce needs you. And Sarah, since you apparently put me off in a little corner of your mind so you wouldn't be distracted, do it again. It's easy for you. God, Carina was right, you are the best honey trap in the business."

He turned his chair around and called out for Susan. "Susan? Are you still here? I need help finding my room. Susan?"

"Right here, Chuck. Let's go." She looked down at a stricken Sarah Walker and mouthed 'sorry' and then pushed him out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator. He hadn't said a thing, just sat there, unmoving. He didn't say a single thing until she'd brought him back to his room.

"You didn't get much to eat, Chuck. I'll slip down and bring a tray to your room and you can eat there. I'll hang around and feed you."

"Thanks, but I'm not all that hungry. I think I'll just go to bed. Sleep sounds nice right about now. Maybe all this is just a dream, a nightmare and when I wake up I'll still be who I was before all this…spy crap."

"That didn't go as you'd planned, did it, Chuck?" She knew who Agent Walker was. The professional diva of the CIA, partnered to Bryce Larkin, injured in Europe and sent here for recovery and reassignment.

"I hadn't planned that at all, Susan. I had no idea she was here on the West Coast. I though she was based out of Langley."

"Chuck, you're not on the West Coast, you're in the rehab facility in Falls Church, VA. No one told you?"

"Susan, I don't even know what happened to me. One day October I'm on a mission with my partner and the next thing I know I'm here and she's dead. I don't even remember being shot." There was a desperation in his voice she'd been told to listen for.

"Chuck, I overheard almost all of it. She loves you, Chuck, really loves you and you just told her to go away. What was that? Revenge, make her hurt like you did?"

"I was an asset. She was my handler. I fell in love with her and I thought she loved me but she left me for another agent rather than deal with it. That was in February. I never heard from her again until today in the cafeteria. I knew she'd been injured from some intel I reviewed but I didn't know she was still here."

He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"Well, when she's all mended she can just go back to her partner and I'll go back into the box in her mind marked 'do not open'. It's how she works, Susan. She's a professional, she doesn't really care about anyone. It's not permitted and it's not smart."

"Chuck, if you'd just talk to her…"

"Y'know, Susan, you're on your own time, I forgot about that. I'm sorry to keep you. I'm tired. I'll see you around the halls I suppose. Thank you for the limo ride." She'd been dismissed. She turned to leave but had one more thing to say.

"I was wrong about you, Charles Carmichael. I thought you were different but I was wrong."

She left the room after turning down the lights to minimum. He'd need to remove his glasses to sleep.

She was walking down the hall to the locker room to change and head on home to her cat and empty apartment when she was confronted by a tearful Sarah Walker.

"Where is his room, Nurse? Can you please tell me. I have to talk to him. I have to make him understand what happened and why."

"Leave him alone for tonight, Agent Walker. He had no idea you were here. Hell, he didn't know he was here. I mean, in Falls Church. All this time he thought he was still out in California. His brain was really scrambled by the nerve toxins. He has no idea how much time has passed since he was wounded, he didn't even know about his wounds, he can't see in normal lighting and right now he's nursing a broken heart. Give him some time."

"No. That's been the problem all the time. I need to get this resolved right now. We've lost too much time and I won't waste another minute. Please, Susan, please take me to him?"

"He's in room 415. He's asleep by now. He has trouble staying awake unless he's moving. Another residual side effect that should pass with time."

"Thank you." And she was gone down the hallway in her wheelchair.

She opened the door to room 415 and wheeled herself in and then closed the door behind her. She moved over beside the bed, locked the wheels on her chair and stood up and leaned against the bed for balance. Standing was still painful for her. She turned and sat up on the bed and swung her legs up and onto the bed and then rolled over to face the man she thought was dead until today.

"Chuck, please, Chuck, wake up. It's me, Chuck, Sarah, and I really need to talk to you."

She pulled and squirmed until finally she was under the sheets and then rolled over against him. He was so warm. So alive. And it had been so long since she'd seen him. A beard. He looked so…much older and distinguished. Even in the weak light she could see tiny scars around his eyes and lips, remnants of the blistering caused by the nerve agent.

The nurse had mentioned wounds so she started a gentle inspection of his body through his scrubs. The left arm was bandaged as was the right thigh. Nothing else. How could he not know he'd been wounded?

"Chuck, baby, please, wake up for a little while. I really need to talk to you and explain some stuff I don't even understand." She positioned herself so that her head was on his shoulder and her arm around his waist.

"Sarah, please. Don't do this to me. I – I don't have any defenses left. Please, if you ever felt anything real for me, please just go. It hurt so bad when you left with Bryce but you were right and I was wrong. I know that now. There's no place in your world for an 'us' just a 'me' and that's how you survive."

She moved her hand to his cheek to make him look at her and was stunned when she felt the wet tracks of his tears and felt her own eyes begin welling up with tears of her own. She'd hurt him so badly with her actions and she didn't know how to make this situation right.

"But Chuck, I don't want to survive, I want to live. And sweetheart, I can't live without you in my life. I made a mistake Chuck. I ran away from my feelings and I left everything I could ever want in a man behind. I was so wrong. Please, don't make the same mistake I did."

"Sarah, it's not going to happen. I'm going into Agent Training with the NSA. I'm not an asset any longer, Sarah. After losing…after losing you and – and then Casey, I changed. I'm going to find Jill Roberts and kill her. Then I'll be done with your world and maybe find a place back in mine."

"But Chuck…"

"Please, Sarah, I can't deal with all of this and you, too. I just can't. Please go."

She was stunned. Her Chuck, the kind, decent, gentle man she loved so much was gone. And she'd helped the process along.

"OK, I guess this is goodbye then, Chuck. I'll, I'll never forget you. I'll always love you, no one else, ever."

"Just put me in the box with the others, Sarah, and go. You'll never have to worry about me again if you just, if you just… Sarah, please, leave."

She got out of bed, sobbing, lowered herself into the wheelchair and left the room. She wasn't sure how she got back to her room but she did and her roommate immediately called the physician in charge and had her sedated because she was mumbling about suicide.

As soon as she was gone, Chuck felt a sense of incredible loss but knew what he had to do. He got out of bed and walked out to the nurses' station.

"Please contact General Beckman. Tell her Carmichael needs to speak with her."

When Susan reported in for duty the following morning she went in to see Chuck and ask about how things went with Sarah. The room was empty and had been prepped for a new patient.

His chart was missing from the nurses' station and her relief told her that he had been transferred to a secure facility for reasons of national security. She also whispered that the men who handled the transfer were dressed as orderlies but were escorted by men carrying automatic weapons and that he left in handcuffs.

A little later Susan was approached by Julie Nielson. "Where is Agent Carmichael? I went by his room but it's empty. He needs to know about Sarah Walker, about what he's done to her, the bastard. He needs to make this right with her."

"Agent, I normally don't carry tales but if anyone has to make it right, it's her. She left him and went off to do her spy thing. He was her asset then and she ran away from their feelings for one another. You know his story. Figure out where the guilt lies. She screwed him over and now she wants him back?"

Julie just stared at the little nurse, taking in the other side of the story, probably the true one. No agent will admit to feelings for a mark. It wasn't professional.

"She's a wreck emotionally. This has set her back weeks." Julie would defend her friend as long as she could.

"Tough shit. He's gone into a secure facility and he'll probably die there. The NSA came and took him away in handcuffs in the middle of the night. All his records have been purged. There's no trace of Charles Carmichael anywhere in the files or on the computer. She left him, alone, even admitted she'd never even given him a thought while she was off saving the world with Larkin until now. And you think he needed to make things right? You Agents make me want to puke with your greater good and your professionalism."

Susan turned on her heel and stalked back to the nurses' station, wiping tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands.

Julie was equally upset and equally determined to set Sarah straight. It was too late. He was gone into the black hole of the NSA and national security.

NSA
FT Meade, MD

The agent in charge of Chuck's extraction detail helped him get into the wheelchair that had been pre-positioned at the end of the driveway of the neat little suburban tract home that dotted military facilities.

"Mr. Carmichael, this is your new home until you complete training and are assigned a partner. It's been modified to allow for your current wheel chair needs and your sensitivity to light and it's fully stocked and ready. Your training partner will be around in the morning to brief you on your schedule of activities for the next 12 weeks. Oh, and we can lose the cuffs now. That was just to pique the curiosity of the hospital staff."

"You'll also find all the clothing and equipment you'll need plus we retrieved your suitcases from the Beverly Wilshire and they've been opened and your wardrobe hung up. Any questions?"

"No. You've covered everything. Thank you for getting me out of the hospital so quickly. Too many people there knew me from before and it was only a matter of time until they slipped up and referred to me by my real name. She did that once in the cafeteria. That's when I knew I had to get out of there. That would have been…awkward."

"No problem. General Beckman mentioned a CIA agent and we were fully briefed. She'll be 'told' you've been, your term I believe is 'bunkerized'? That should stop any inquiries into your whereabouts. The general will be in contact with you this evening. Call me if you have any special needs or questions."

He left Chuck with the keys and walked out to the Suburban truck and left. He was on his own.

The entire house was scaled for a wheelchair-bound person. All the countertops were low as were the appliances. Beckman had been very thorough and thoughtful.

The first thing he did was get up out of the wheelchair and walk a little unsteadily back throughout the back rooms getting to know his new home during training. He was especially pleased to find his Beretta 9mm and shoulder rig lying on the bed with a note indicating it had been retrieved, cleaned and would be his primary weapon for training and afterward.

Someone who knew about the eye problems had closed the draperies and it was comfortably dark in his new home. He was fine until he opened the door to the 'spare bedroom'. The blinds were open and the mid-afternoon sun poured in through large windows and he almost screamed at the stabs of pain the light caused. He backed out of the room and closed the door.

The flash of light and the accompanying pain had prompted a memory to appear in his mind, a memory he didn't remember being part of. He had opened the container door and stumbled in his haste to get away from the toxins and fell among a group of Movement thugs.

They hadn't expected anyone to come blundering out and he had the advantage of surprise. They'd seen the bleeding man fall out of the container and knew the nerve gas cylinder had discharged as designed. While they were backing away, fearing exposure, he shot them all and then slammed the container door shut and leaned against it and slid down onto his haunches. Others were approaching but he couldn't tell who they were but hoped they were the NSA backup unit.

He had shot those men. Beckman was right. Why couldn't he remember? Well, he did now. And he remembered Carina, lying in a pool of her own blood, eyes open and dull, and Ling, stumbling out from behind the crates. He hadn't shot her to stop her suffering. He'd torn her throat out with his bare hands because she'd killed Carina. He knew that now. Denise, Casey, Carina, three 'partners' all gone now. How many more?

He went to bed early. He had nothing else to do and the emotional roller coaster of the past day had worn him down.

The cell phone rang and he answered in the prescribed manner for such calls.

"Bar – Carmichael, secure."

"Eve Summers, secure. Charles, I'm your training partner and I'm on my way over in 30 minutes. Please don't keep me waiting at the door like some salesperson selling vacuum sweepers. I expect coffee and you'll want to be in sweats and running shoes. It's Day One, Agent Wannabee!"

Chuck stared at his phone and grinned. 'Agent Wannabee', indeed.

He found the stuff for coffee and rummaged through his duffel for his sweats and shoes. He could use a good run.

She was punctual and she was surprising. At 6'2" Chuck towered over all the women in his life except Walker who was 5'9". And poor Lou at 5' tall was fun to tease.

Eve Summers was at least 5'10" and built like the proverbial brick outhouse. She wore running shorts and a cut off Patriots jersey and shoes. Her legs. 'My God, her legs go all the way up to her ass!"

"Done staring, Agent Wannabee? You act like you've never seen a woman before. Well, are you going to let me in or not?"

"Um, sorry, sorry. Just wasn't expecting…"

"Expecting what? Let's get something straight from the beginning, Agent Wannabee. I am your training agent. I decide what you do and when you do it and I'll be the one who recommends 'Pass/Fail' every Friday. One 'Fail' and you're home to whatever Podunk village you came from, are we clear, Agent Wannabee?" She was deliberately baiting him to determine his temperment.

"I was going to say I wasn't expecting an agent who would dye her hair black and then run a skunk stripe down the middle. That's all."

Now she smiled and it changed everything from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes. "It washes out, Agent Wannabee. I just do it to see what kind of response I'll get." She was pleased he hadn't gotten flustered at her appearance or testy at her implied threats.

"So point me to the coffee, Agent Wannabee and lose the glasses. Once I've had my cup of coffee we're off for a run. If you don't finish, you are finished. I won't waste my time on wimps." She noticed a flicker of worry running across his face but wrote it off to nerves.

No glasses and a hole in his leg. Oh, joy. He'd either run into a light pole in his near blind state or his leg would do something like collapse from the running. He would never have his crack at killing Jill if he couldn't be an agent.

"Fine. Coffee's in the kitchen. I'll do some stretching and then when you're ready we'll see how far I can go."

She smirked at him and went in search of caffeine. She had God's own hangover and she was not up to beating him into the ground as she usually did to newbies. If she didn't kill him, Beckman had mentioned the possibility of a partnership in the field. She'd never been a field agent and wanted to be one so badly she could taste it. And this was her chance.

"Ok, Agent Wannabee, lose the glasses and let's go. We're burning daylight." Chuck immediately thought of Casey saying the same thing before a mission once.

"Um, about the glasses, Agent Summers, I…"

"Lose them or go home right now. We're not incognito here, not movie stars, so lose 'em and catch up to me if you can." She set down the coffee cup and walked out the door and sprinted off.

'Well, this is going to hurt' thought Chuck and he threw the glasses on the kitchen table and shut his eyes until he was outside and then ran after his training agent, squinting and the tears formed from the glare.

He pulled abreast of her and then just dug in to go the distance. His leg was aching and he could feel the stitches pulling as his leg took the weight of his stride and his eyes were watering, blurring his vision. He figured he'd be fine as long as they stayed side-by-side.

They ran in silence, only their breathing breaking the 'solitude of the long-distance runner'. Chuck could feel blood oozing down his leg and soaking his sweats. He'd pulled a stitch or two. Oh, joy.

Summers glanced over at her trainee. So far so good. She was pleasantly surprised and had even been down-right pleased when he simply took her abuse in stride and caught up with her and matched her stride for stride. His t-shirt was damp from sweat that was forming across his chest and she got a hint of a well-developed upper body. 'Not ripped, but what the hell, body builders generally do not apply to be agents with the NSA.'

Things were fine as long as they stayed on the path but when Summers decided to go 'off road' things went to hell in a heartbeat.

She took an abrupt right turn onto a grassy area that ran along the security fencing and picked up the pace. The ground was uneven here and had numerous culverts and swales as well as rocks that had been pushed up by the winter frost over the years. She liked to keep variety in her running and grass and hills and small obstacles provided it.

She knew the terrain and her trainee didn't. Well, he'd better watch his step from now on.

The first rock he came upon was his undoing. One minute he was catching up with his agent trainer and the next he was tumbling head over heels, landing on his back. Summers saw him take the spill, slowed then turned to go back and check on him. Idiot tripped over a rock!

He was laying there, stunned and winded, when Summers trotted over to him and loomed over him. The first thing she noted was the tear tracks and the second was the bloodstain from mid-thigh to just above his knee. He must have fallen on a rock and cut himself. Wimp was crying!

"Well, Agent Wannabee, looks like you failed. Now, stop crying and let me look at the boo-boo."

"Not crying, damn it, can't see in bright light. The 'boo-boo' just needs restitching and it'll be fine. Don't bother yourself, I'll just carry my sorry ass back to the house and pack and you can tell Beckman I was wrong and sorry to have wasted her time. The bunker is the only option left."

He rolled over and got up and started squinting around, getting his bearings. His tormenter suddenly had an uneasy feeling about this trainee. She'd been told nothing other than he was 'promising' and that time was of the essence and that he was a security concern based on his abilities and knowledge.

"Restitched? What the hell happened to you? And why can't you see?"

"Need to know, Agent Summers and you don't have the need to know. Please just point me back in the general direction of the house and I'll be out of your hair. I'll shower and pack. Tell the goon squad I'll need an hour, maybe more, before pickup."

"Hold on there, Agent Wannabee, I call the shots here." This guy was something else. Beckman's Chief of Staff had not briefed her as to any limitations or injuries.

She used her cell and called for a 'medical emergency pickup' and gave their location.

"Sit back down, Agent Wannabee. Our ride's on the way."

Twenty minutes later they were standing in an examination room waiting on a doctor to come in an examine Chuck and restitch his wound. There was no conversation other than Agent Summers telling the ER clerk that they required assistance and their identities.

The doctor came in with Chuck's file in his hands. It was rather thick. He looked up at Chuck and frowned then started the lecture.

"Agent Carmichael, where are your glasses? You were told that you were to wear them at all times if you expected a swift recovery with minimal pain. What part of your instructions didn't you understand?"

"I lost them when I tripped over a rock. Sorry." She couldn't believe he was covering for her. Another misjudgment on her part?

"Humph…Jesus, man, are you stupid? Running on an unhealed gunshot wound? I swear you agents all think you're some kind of super heroes. Now lose the sweats and hop up on the table and we'll see what kind of damage you've done."

Summers was appalled and couldn't meet Chuck's blank stare. He slowly closed his eyes in relief from the bright lights of the exam room. He sighed and the doctor took exception to it.

"Poor put-upon Agent Carmichael. If you'd followed all your instructions to the letter perhaps your team would still be ali…urp!"

Suddenly enraged by the doctor and totally unaware of what he was doing, he grabbed the doctor with one hand around the windpipe and was prepared to crush it when Summers broke his hold and pushed him back onto the table.

"Doctor, shut your mouth and do your job. Obviously this man is…I don't know…not what he appears to be. Now, do your job while I make sure he doesn't kill you. And you, Agent Wannabee, have a lot of explaining to do."

Chuck lay on his back, ashamed of what he'd done. He covered his eyes with a forearm and racked his mind for the reason behind such a violent response. He'd learned the move from Denise Gordon, sure, but it wasn't something he'd do in real life.

The doctor spoke directly and only to Summers. "He's torn all the sutures. I'll need to get a kit and a nurse to assist me. Keep this madman calm or I'll sedate him. I will not be assaulted in my own ER!"

"Then maybe, doctor, you should keep your mouth shut. We agents are a testy group when people who don't know what they're talking about pretend they do. Especially about lost teammates. Now, go fetch your kit and nurse and be smart about it. I need to call the General and report this."

She got the General's aide and he told her that she did not have the need to know and that 'Agent Carmichael' was a highly valued asset and was to be given respect and consideration. He was here to learn skills in the 'training environment' that he hadn't already mastered in the field.

That thoroughly pissed her off. She didn't like being told half the story. She was told to train him. She thought he was a 'newbie' not someone with field experience and she'd treated him so. Now she was faced with a totally different situation. And she had no idea how to proceed.

She went back into the exam room and the doctor and nurse had finished up their stitching and the doctor had written him a prescription for eye drops and new glasses telling him he'd 'set back his recovery by weeks and he was damned lucky to have survived the nerve toxin in the first place' and another for a pain killer for his leg. He nodded to Summers and left.

'Nerve toxin?'

"Why didn't you tell me you needed those shades? Why didn't you tell me you had an unhealed gunshot wound in the leg?" No response. She went over and pulled his arm from across his eyes. The sonofabitch was asleep!

"Carmichael, hey, Carmichael! Wake up, sleeping beauty. Let's get you back home. I've called for transportation. And when we get there, you and I are going to have a long conversation, understand?"

"Yeah, sure. You talk, I'll listen. Just like always, Sarah. No problem. Stay in the van, don't try to help, you and Casey are the pros. No problem. I'll fly the chopper, disarm the bomb, put the bugs in the computers when you people have given up. Just call on the Nerd to save your asses."

"Hey, Carmichael, who the hell are you talking to?"

"Shit! Sorry. Wasn't really awake yet. Still fall asleep at the drop of a hat if I'm not moving. Sorry. Let's go. Yell at me later, Agent Summers, I got to get these drops and glasses and the other script although I won't use it."

They got back to the house and Chuck gratefully put on his glasses he'd left on the kitchen table. They were a lot more comfortable than the ones he'd gotten that morning.

"All right, Agent Wannabee, spill it. I need to know what you know and what areas you need training in. Obviously you've been around the block a time or two. Now what can you tell me about your past experiences and areas of training and need?"

"I was an asset on the West Coast. My handlers were murdered and I escaped. We've run maybe 20, 30 ops successfully with the first set of handlers, not many with the new addition after Sar…the original handler left."

"I can shoot a Beretta 93 and most long arms but have almost no hand-to-hand skills or training. Later I was exposed to a nerve agent in an op and my partner died as did the foreign agent we were assisting. They say I got shot twice but I don't remember. I just remember slamming down the hatches on the container and bleeding like a stuck pig."

"So why are you here?"

"Revenge. I want the woman who killed my West Coast team and I can't get her without skills and opportunity. I have some very special but narrow skills. I need trained."

"So who's Sarah?"

"No need to know." He wasn't totally honest with her but really, it was not germane to their conversation. That was a dead issue, anyway.

"I get that a lot from you and people who know you. Would you really have hurt that doctor. I know you scared the crap out of me with that trachea grab. I thought you had no hand-to-hand skills? That was a fairly advanced move for someone who knows nothing."

"I don't know where it came from. He hit a hot button. That happened in rehab at Falls Church. The PT guy got lippy and I grabbed him almost the same way. I'm not a violent person, Agent Summers, not really. I just have a very short fuse when people who don't know the truth make definitive value judgments about me. Sorry."

"You were in the hospital in Falls Church? Why, if you were an NSA asset? Can you tell me one damned thing from your past without redacting half of it?"

"Yes. My name is not Charles Carmichael but for all intents and purposes it is now. Who I was died in an automobile accident after my last team of handlers was taken out. I went to a safe house alone for a month and did some work for Beckman while I polished up my shooting and spent time on the treadmill and bowflex. I got pulled out when my replacement handlers couldn't disengage from their mission."

"I was assigned a new partlner and we were tasked to track down and destroy samples of a pandemic virus. That mission went sour when you professionals blew it and I had to go in and try to save Carina and Ling. I was too late. Next thing I knew I was in a hospital. Hell, I thought I was still in L.A. and had no idea what was going on. I'm still not sure what the hell went down."

"So why did they pull you out of Falls Church if you still required PT and weren't healed?"

"My identity was compromised by my original handler. We…aw, hell, I fell in love with her and she had developed 'inappropriate feelings' for me but left for another partner. She was a patient there and saw me and blurted out a lot of classified stuff. So, I called Beckman and here I am."

"You left her behind, just like she did to you? Why? Revenge? Did you 'fall out of love' with her? Got another squeeze?" She was fishing but also trying to provoke him. She needed to gauge his responses.

"She was right to have left. Like I told her, there's no place for 'us' in your world, just 'me'."

"Damn, that's harsh but true. So, how'd she take it?"

"I don't know. I left that night. She'll get over it. She didn't think about me one single time after she left me until she saw me in the hospital. She admitted it. She'll just tuck me back into her 'do not open' box and move on. She's a professional honey trap, the best in the business."

She felt sorry for him. Despite his comments, he was still pining away for the agent who broke his heart but was smart enough to recognize it was an impossible situation.

"OK. Enough of the lonely hearts. You've got more field experience than I do, I'll tell you that upfront so there's no issue later on. Now, I'll train you as soon as you can handle the physical stuff but for now lets concentrate on weapons and field craft."

"Works for me. We can start today if you want. Just do me one favor…drop the Agent Wannabee. I answer to Chuck."

"One other thing, Agent…er…Chuck. When you fully trained, you'll need a field partner. I want a field assignment. I've been stuck in the training school all 7 years I've been an agent. I want field time. Ask for me as your partner. We can get over any personality issues during training and you'd probably benefit from having a younger woman as your partner."

"Fine. But just how old do you think I am?"

"Um, well, 32, 34, I guess. Why? How old are you?"

"28. It must be the beard."

"OK, so we're the same age then. No biggie. Sorry, didn't mean to insult you, Chuck. Now let's get you your drops and then we'll head over to the indoor range. Do you need crutches or anything?"

"Nah. Just keep an eye on me if I sit too long. I tend to fall asleep – a lot. It's supposed to be temporary. Something to do with the nerve toxin stuff. No one ever took the time to explain it to me…just quoted crap off the charts."

The next 2 months were full of training, training and more training. Summers drove him to the breaking point and beyond on several occasions but he kept coming back for more.

By the end of the third month he'd completed the training schedule and was awarded his shield. He wondered if Casey would have been proud of him or would have lamented the decline in NSA recruiting standards. He could hear a noncommittal grunt in his mind.

General Beckman's Office
NSA HQ
FT Meade, MD

"Agent Carmichael, you have completed your training with excellent marks. Your trainer has been ruthless but it was for your own good. Now, I know you have a personal agenda but it has to wait. You're needed in the field in the fight against Fulcrum and another shadow agency."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. I also appreciated the relaxed schedule for updating the intersect. It's made retention higher and cut the headaches. So, what next?"

"You need a partner. Here is a list. Choose carefully because your cover, unless you choose Agent Solomon, will be as a married couple."

"Um, what's wrong with Solomon, General?"

"It's Albert Solomon, Agent."

"OH! Well, since I know her already, I think Agent Summers is my choice if you concur."

Beckman was shocked and it showed. "Agent Carmichael, Chuck, the CIA has bent its rules in allowing one of its premier agents to apply for a partnership. Surely Agent Walker knows you better than Summers?"

"Yes, she does and therein lies the problem. She knows me as the bumbling heartsick intersect and would not regard me as her equal. Also, we have a history and you well know it. There is no place for what she wants in your world, General, just the mission. Besides, I promised Summers that I'd pick her if she made the list."

"So be it. I'm surprised but pleased. Walker has had her superiors politicking for this since they found out you were in training here and not dead in L.A. Probably the result of Walker's confrontation with you in Falls Church. And they want their hooks in the intersect and you're too valuable to risk on their poorly thought-out ventures."

Chuck hated politics. "Fine. I've made my selection. Do you concur, General?" He wouldn't break his word to Summers.

"I concur. You'll get your orders within two weeks. Why don't you two take leave and get any issues ironed out before your assignment begins. Relax a little. You've done nothing but work. Go have a little fun before your missions start."

He left before he could change his mind. Walker knew he was not in a bunker but completing training and she'd gotten her name on the partner list. He didn't want to know how she managed that trick. Well, he planned on taking Eve to dinner to celebrate the partnership. She didn't know that today was the selection day. Maybe she'd quit bugging him now and let him sleep past 5:30am.

"Summers, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. Hey, Eve, got plans for tonight?"

"Why, Chuck? You graduated and now you're leaving for the great game. I'm not in the mood to get drunk and celebrate with you. I have nothing to celebrate."

"I have a new partner, Eve. Our cover is as a married couple. I'll get my orders in the next two weeks. And I'd like to celebrate with someone I know. Come on, don't be such a hard head. I've never seen you in a dress so consider it a…a…graduation present. Dinner, drinks, maybe a little dancing…come on."

"No, I'd rather not, Chuck, but good luck with the whole partnership deal. I'll be getting another special trainee in the next week or two and I have to get prepared."

"Eve, I made you a promise and I don't break promises. Come with me, Eve, let's wet down the partnership, partner. And wear a dress, Eve, I'd like proof that you're really a woman."

He held the phone away from his ear as she screamed in delight. It was like being at a concert, it was that loud. "Oh, Chuck, thank you, thank you. I'll wear a dress and tonight, partner, I'll prove to you I'm all woman. Gird your loins, Agent Wannabee." She laughed at her continued nickname for her, she loved the word, partner. He'd made a promise and he kept it.

"I'll pick you up at 7pm, Eve. I'll see you then."

Two months later
Savannah, GA

"Damn it, Chuck, I had him, I could have taken him down and we could have made the capture but now he's escaped and gone into hiding."

"That's a bunch of crap and you know it. He was ahead of you, he already had his weapon out and you were still drawing out your pistol. If I hadn't knocked you down he'd have shot you dead. I couldn't let that happen and I didn't have time to draw either. It was the only way."

They'd been hunting Henri Monsoori, an Algerian national with funding ties to a domestic terror cell that planned on sabotaging the Savannah nuclear power station. NSA monitors had recorded cell phone conversations identifying the players and obtaining a probable location for the final meeting. NSA teams from two units had surrounded the body shop and scrap yard where the meeting was being held and the two partners with backup had gone in to make the arrests.

Monsoori had been in the lavatory when the agents swooped in and made the arrests and they'd missed him. He ducked out of the lavatory and into a small office unseen. The NSA strikers had taken the 6 suspected terrorists into custody leaving the partners the task of reviewing the remaining paperwork and files hoping to find a clue to where Mansoori was staying in Savannah.

They'd been hunched over a computer when Mansoori came out of a 'panic room' built into the office wall. Chuck had been caught mid-flash and wasn't aware of him but Summers shouted for Mansoori to surrender while still drawing her pistol. Chuck had no hope of drawing his weapon so he slammed Summers down to the floor with him covering her body and shouted into the comm. that they needed help. Mansoori shot the computer twice and ran out of the office and slipped away.

"Hey, we got six suspects in custody and we'll find him, Eve. What's important is that you're not hurt. Now, let's finish up here and go back to the motel. I'll call Beckman and report."

"No, Chuck, what's important here is that you don't trust me to do my job. You worry too much about me and not enough about the mission. It's my job to protect the intersect and accomplish the mission, in that order. I can't do my job if you're throwing yourself between me and danger."

"Chuck, this is the second time you've done this. I'm a big girl, a trained agent, and you have to let me do my job. I know you worry about me but we can't be partners if you can't put your personal feelings 'in the box' during missions."

"Damn it, Summers, that's not it at all. You were dead meat and you know it. Mansoori's done around here and we'll catch him eventually. I can't just let someone die because it helps the mission along."

"Then I'm applying for reassignment. I need a partner who trusts me, who puts the mission first above personal feelings because they trust me to do the right thing. I'm sorry, Chuck, I can't do this anymore. You shouldn't be an agent if…"

"Fine. Don't finish that sentence. I'll call Beckman. Pack your shit and be ready in an hour. I'll drive you to the airport. My partners are not expendable, not pawns in some great game. I told you that upfront. I'll work alone rather than allow a partner to be injured or kill because they think the mission is more important. The end does not justify the means."

"Beckman, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. General, we missed Mansoori but got the other six suspects. I'll send a full report plus some lists we found in the office and others from a laptop. The laptop was damaged so I'll ship you the hard drive for analysis. Mansoori remains at large but has no base now."

"Good work. Intel traffic suggests a new Fulcrum hive in Norfolk. I'll send you a briefing package and you and Summers can begin planning your next move. Chuck, Jill Roberts is in Norfolk. She's running the hive operation. She's to be terminated on sight unless you can make an arrest without any Fulcrum witnesses. We don't want a repeat of MaxSec."

"General, about Summers…" He spent ten minutes recounting the action and her reaction.

Beckman's sigh told Chuck a lot. He'd screwed up in the eyes of the NSA. He should have let his partner be shot, possibly killed, rather than lose Mansoori.

"Agent Carmichael, you're both right but unless you can convince Summers to continue, you'll have to come in for reevaluation. You're turning into an excellent operative, Agent, but you cannot work alone because of the intersect. So, make it work with Summers or report back here."

"General, I want Jill Roberts, dead or alive. Send another set of 'handlers' if you don't think I can operate alone but I will not be coming in when I have a probable location on the hive operation already from a flash on what was in the latest download."

"You have your orders, Agent." Beckman actually liked the idea of sending another pair of agents down to 'handle' Bartow – damn it, Carmichael, but she was curious to see how far he'd go to stay on the mission to get Roberts.

"General, I respect your judgment but I'm not coming in. I can locate the hive and provide a lot of recon intel now that we've got a probable location. Please, just send me some handlers and let me do this. This is probably the best chance we'll have to nail the bitch."

"Fine, but do nothing, and I mean nothing, until the new handlers are in place and you're comfortable with their operating style. They'll be a mixed team of three. Maybe you can find a partner among the three. Send Summers back. I'll team her up with another experienced agent. That is all. No, wait, that is not all. I am going to repeat myself so you are absolutely clear about this: you will not do a damned thing about the Norfolk hive until reinforced, is that clear?"

"Yes. Crystal. Thank you."

Beckman made a series of calls and set the wheels in motion to supplement Carmichael with an additional team. He did not require a 'handler' even though he thought he did. What he needed was a partner who operated as he did.

Chuck took Eve Summers to the airport. Her last comment was telling. "Chuck, you cannot bring them back, they're dead. And you can't kill yourself trying to keep your partners from harm. We're professionals, Chuck, we assume the risks when we take the oath. Be smart, get out of this business. You're not cut out for it and you'll just get yourself killed."

Chuck drove to Norfolk and found a room at a small motel on the outskirts of town. He cleaned up and reviewed the files he'd pulled off the NSA intranet and reviewed his emails. Three agents would be joining him the following day in Savannah and he was to do nothing until they joined him.

He sent an email providing his current location and closed out his connection. His cell rang within minutes.

"What the hell are you doing in Norfolk, Carmichael? You were told to do nothing until your new team arrived!"

"Just catching up on the intel downloads and emails. Figured I'd just chill for a day until the new team of handlers made contact."

"Bartowski, I'm warning you…"

"General, Bartowski was killed in a drunk driving accident. Carmichael is my name and I'm just going over all the intel dumps I haven't had a chance to review. You know where I am and I'm not going anywhere. I'm just trying to find as much available data on the suspect buildings and such. I'm not going out there on my own. Not when we're this close to finding her and killing her."

"You're getting on my last nerve, Carmichael. Don't do anything to risk the intersect. Stay put until your augmentation unit arrives. And don't, I say again, don't do any recon. Beckman out!"

'She sure has her thong in a knot. I'm not stupid, or impatient. Just…impatient.'

His cell chirped again.

"Carmichael secure."

"Jones, secure. Where exactly are you, Agent Carmichael? I thought you were going to be in Savannah?"

"Um, authenticate 'Alpha Sierra'." He'd never used the SOI before but he didn't know who Agent Smith was.

"What? Oh, hell, wait a minute, the SOI is in my briefcase in the car."

Chuck hung up the phone and called Beckman.

"Beckman, secure. What is it this time, Carmichael?"

"Who is 'Jones' and how does he have my number and supposed location? He couldn't authenticate when I asked him."

"There's a 'Jones' on your new team, but it's a Laura Jones. You're sure he said 'Jones' and it was a male?"

"Yes, and he said his SOI was in his briefcase in the car. And I hung up. I'm changing locations. I will get back with you in 90 minutes if not less. I don't like this at all." He hung up the phone, grabbed his never-unpacked bag and his laptop and left the motel.

"General, I'm in Leesburg. Anything new on the new team?"

"The CIA can't contact them. Assume they're all compromised. Go to the Naval Base at Norfolk. I'll have a helicopter waiting for you to bring you into Meade."

"But what about the Norfolk hive, General, and Roberts?"

"We'll reschedule, in the meantime, get your ass to the NAS and catch the chopper."

Chuck stared at the phone, slowly growing more angry by the minute. Delays, cancellations, betrayals, it was all part of the bureaucratic side of the NSA and CIA. He pulled up the map he'd found online and reviewed what he knew of the hive's location, surrounding area and highways and streets entering and leaving the area.

Then he pulled up a county map showing the tax records and deeds of the properties. One name leaped out from the listings: 'Robertson Properties LLC'. The company owned 7 properties in the county. Four were residential and 3 were commercial buildings, including the suspected Fulcrum Hive building. He printed the address listings for the residential properties and the commercial properties.

He forwarded a 'Request for Information and Analysis' to the techs at NSA on the LLC and the properties and waited for a response. He figured on killing two birds with one stone – the office building and adjoining warehouse fronted the highway he would have to use to get to Norfolk NAS.

It was fast approaching his deadline for leaving to grab Beckman's chopper when the email from NSA gave him all the information he needed to locate and isolate the hive and also the probable residence of one Jill Robertson. He couldn't believe her arrogance, still using a derivative of her own name.

He checked out of the motel and drove to the NAS – Norfolk, stopping once to photograph the building the hive was in and again to photograph the residence of one Jill Robertson.

He caught the chopper and arrived at his new destination 90 minutes later after talking with Beckman twice – once because she wanted to make sure he was on the 'damned Sea King' and the second time to advise him that his flight was being diverted to Langley and his new partner would be waiting at the helipad.

"Carmichael, I've been unusually patient with you but I'm done with being nice. You are one helluva barracks lawyer, splitting hairs and bending rules. Now, meet your new partner. You have no choice in the matter, nor do I. The CIA has pulled a fast one and now they've got an agent in place on my intersect project."

"General, I'll be sending you some intel I put together while waiting in Leesburgh. I've found Roberts, now Robertson, her home and the hive location. Please, General, don't cut me out of this. I want her for what she did to Casey and Gordon. She was smiling in that damned surveillance photo, General, after cutting my handler's throat. Smiling!"

Beckman understood revenge but also understood what it would do to her agent. Still, it would be a learning experience for him.

"Make nice with your partner and we'll see what develops in the next two weeks. It's up to you. Get along with your new partner or it's 'bunkerville' for you, understand." She was enjoying this. She wasn't above yanking his chain. A bunker was the last place she'd want someone with his potential.

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. I just hope he's not another Casey. I've lost the ability to speak 'grunt'.

Beckman actually was laughing when she disconnected the call. A new CIA partner. Now he understood how Casey felt about getting Walker. He'd been in the NSA long enough to have developed a disdain for his cousins in the CIA.

He slept through the remainder of the flight and was awakened by the A/C telling him to 'get your lazy ass off my bird'. He grabbed his bag and laptop and headed for the operations building where he'd meet his next partner. Oh, happy days.

She was angry. Traffic was back up for a mile and she was already late. She had to meet her new partner from the NSA at the heliport near the headquarters building and she was late. Not fashionably late, a lot late and she hated to appear unprofessional by failing to make a rendezvous on time.

Finally losing all patience she pulled her car over to the shoulder and drove up past the accident and then back onto the road. She'd only be 20 minutes late barring any further delays.

Chuck paced back and forth in front of the operations desk. He checked his email to see if somehow he'd misread the location for pickup and then sat down and started reviewing the Norfolk hive data and formatting it for an email to Beckman.

He heard her before he saw her. "I'm here to pick up an NSA Agent and I'm late. Is there a message for me here?"

He walked up behind her and said quietly, almost gently, "Hello, Agent Walker, I think you're here for me."

She turned sharply and her mouth dropped open then closed with a 'click' and then dropped open again. Her face paled and her pulse sped up.

"Y – y – you're the NSA agent? But you're in a bunker. I was told you were taken in the middle of the night, in handcuffs. You- you're my partner?"

"Agent Carmichael. And you are…?"

"Walker, Sarah Walker, CIA." So he wanted to play? Or was this his 'introduction to professionalism 101' as taught by 'agent' Carmichael?

"OK, let me get my bag and laptop and we're off. I hope you have orders, Agent Walker, because I don't have orders, just a series of really escalating threats about going back to a bunker."

"Check your email. I'm sure your orders have been emailed just as mine were." She couldn't tell from his eyes if he was pleased, displeased or indifferent to being paired with her and she didn't appreciate not knowing.

He logged into the NSA intranet and checked his email account. He had three emails from Beckman and one from Summers. He read Summers' first. She apologized and wished him well with his new partner and assignment. Big deal.

The first of beckman's emails dealt with the op in Norfolk. It was on hold until he'd developed a plan – he was AIC (Agent in Charge) - for recapturing or killing Jill Roberts and taking down the hive.

The second email dealt with Summers and a request for his evaluation of her abilities, performance and overall rating. He'd do that later.

The final email told him to take two weeks and get acclimated to his new partner and to check in daily for any changes in the Norfolk mission. There was a P.S. on the email – 'you owe me one, Bartowski'. She just had to throw the dig at him. Well, he wasn't sure if he owed her but it certainly would be an interesting two weeks.

He turned to her and smiled a thin smile, not his usual 'I love you, Sarah' smile. That one had been retired, put under a rock and then hidden someplace in the dark and rarely-visited recesses of his mind.

"Let's talk in your car, Agent. I have two weeks off to 'acclimate' my self to this new arrangement. It would be awkward if your orders were different but completely understandable. We work for different masters with different goals."

"I've been transferred to the NSA for the duration of our partnership or until I'm no longer…needed, whichever comes first." She was baiting him, making him react in spite of his resolve not to.

"I see. Well, I've never had an 'acclimation period' before. What do we do? Summers and I just went about our daily activities and found a co-op apartment off post. I suppose I can find a billet at the VOQ on post and you can use whatever apartment you currently have and we can meet for training and stuff."

She was still driving the Porsche and he put his stuff in the tiny trunk and got in the car.

"Chuck, don't be a horse's ass about this. Please, I've pulled too many strings and used up too many favors to get this partnership. I screwed up in Burbank and I screwed up again in Langley but I promise I won't screw this up. Just give me a chance, please? That's all I'm asking for – a second chance."

Chuck sighed, communicating everything and nothing. She misread it as she'd misread him so many times in the past. In the past it had been deliberate to keep him off balance and at arm's length. This time she sensed resignation, as if it was the last thing he'd wanted.

He saw her face and knew she'd done it again, only this time her 'misreading' hadn't been deliberate.

"OK. Deal. I have my orders and the consequences for not following them are – um – painful to say the least. So what's the plan for accommodation and activities?"

"We'll use my apartment and we'll do normal things to strengthen our cover and get used to each other again. I'm sure there are a lot of questions you want to ask about operations and such and I'll only to happy to answer them."

"Operations? Agent, I mean, Sarah, I'm the AIC of this operation to bring down the hive in Norfolk and capture or kill Jill Roberts. I thought you knew that? There are supposed to be three agents joining me in planning and executing the operation. I thought you were one of the three. Am I wrong?"

"Chuck, I'm your new partner – your permanent partner. The three other agents are just for this op, didn't Beckman explain that to you?"

"No, just told me after Summers and I cratered that I'd be getting 'augmented' by three agents, one of whom would be my new partner – my choice."

"Well, I'm your partner, like it or not. Now, tell me, please, what happened between you and Summers? I had no warning of this assignment until I was told this morning to contact Beckman. She told me to pick you up here. So what happened between you and Summers?"

"Simple. She was going to be shot by a target and I knocked her out of the way and he got away. She said I should have let him shoot her rather than miss a capture. She didn't even have her pistol out of her holster and still told me I shouldn't have interfered. She got pissed when I told her my partner was not expendable."

"Chuck, she was right. I'll bet you're leaving out that either you put yourself between the target and her or that you left yourself open to being shot, right?"

"Wrong. We were both out of the line of fire. We'd gotten caught flat-footed, me in a flash and her with her weapon in her holster. Doesn't matter. My partner is not expendable. If you can't accept that, then this ends here and now. I will not 'spend' my partner to accomplish a mission. It will be accomplished without friendly casualties or it will be accomplished at a later time."

"Chuck, it doesn't work that way. You know that. It's one of the reasons I walked away from Burbank."

"No, Sarah, you walked away from me in Burbank because of your inability to balance personal and professional issues. Anyhow, that's not germane to this issue. This issue is that we protect one another, not die for the damned mission. Beckman agrees with me, by the way. That's why Summers is not going to be in the field again."

He had her cold and dead to rights. She had walked away from him for exactly the reasons he gave. She didn't try and work something out. She left.

"Chuck, I'll try to do things your way but it's not how I was trained."

"Agent Walker, I am not an asset any longer. I am an agent and I have the damned scars and nightmares to go with it. Now, I'm also AIC on this junket so I'll say again, this ends now if you can't accept it."

"All right, all right. Don't get so damned pissy, Chuck Bar – I mean, oh hell, Chuck, I'll do it your way, I'll try. I want us to be partners like I said in Langley at the heliport."

"Let's take it a day at a time. So, I need to have my things transferred to your place? Is that the arrangement?"

"Yep. I even cleared out a closet for you."

"Wait, I thought you didn't know about this until this morning."

"I didn't. I cleaned it out after I got out of Falls Church. I knew if I kept nagging and badgering I'd get a shot at you. And no, I'm not sorry at all. It was worth the wait."

"About Falls Church…Sarah, why were you there? I had no idea I was in Langley until Susan told me. Hell, I thought I was in L.A. and Beckman made a special trip out to see me. How dumb was that?"

"I fell off a roof in Bucharest and got busted up pretty badly. Took me months in rehab but I made it back. But what about you? How did you end up at Falls Church? They said you were NSA and had lost your whole team but survived and accomplished the mission despite all the casualties?"

"Carina's dead, Sarah, killed by a PRC agent in a operation where everyone but me died."

"You stayed in the van? Thank God, Chuck. You finally listened to someone. I'm so pleased."

"No, I went in to the container to pull them out but it was a trap. Got exposed to a nerve toxin or gas and took out the Red Lotus Movement goons and the PRC agent who killed Carina. Their plan had fallen flat on its face. I called in backup and a cleaner team and they took out the virus samples. I ended up out in Langley. The rest you know."

"How did you end up with Summers? We all were told you'd gone to a bunker after I blurted out your name in the cafeteria. Chuck, I'm so sorry about that. I thought you were dead in Burbank."

"Summers was my training agent and she begged and pleaded for a field assignment so I asked Beckman for her. She'd worked her butt off to get me through training and I owed her."

Sarah was upset by this. She was supposed to have been his partner after training. That was the deal the CIA had made with NSA but Beckman backed out at the last minute. Now she knew why. Chuck.

"So how was it? Being deep cover as a couple?"

"Bad. Really bad. She seemed to think that the cover extended into the apartment and the bedroom. It was a 'point of contention' for quite some time until finally I just…"

"Just what, Chuck? Made love? Screwed your partner? Did what Bryce did?"

"Um, no, until I finally moved into the spare room."

"Oh, I'm sorry I just assumed…"

"Yeah, you professional agents do that a lot – make assumptions without the facts and then act on them."

"Chuck, please, don't be such a prick about this. I said 'I'm sorry' a zillion times and it doesn't seem to get through to you. I am sorry but I felt like I had no choice. I was so compromised that I just freaked out and left at the first opportunity. I've never felt for anyone what I felt, no, what I feel, for you. And I was scared, Chuck, so very scared. And I still am."

"You never said anything about your feelings. Just kept me off balance and in check. And then you left with just a voice mail, remember? How do you think I felt after that? Your only acknowledge of how you felt was contained in your parting comment – 'this thing between us…it would never work'. So why should it work now?"

"Because, my love, I can tell you that I love you with all my heart and soul now, without fear of anything but your rejection. There have never been any restrictions or fraternization rules about relationships between partners. Partners can even marry."

That surprised Chuck and it must have shown because Sarah launched into another long monologue.

"They can't send me away for loving you now. I should have said the things to you in Burbank that I felt but I was afraid and stupid. I love you just like you loved me, without any reservations, unconditionally. And it will work, if you still feel the same now as you did then."

He was quiet, looking out the window, absorbing, processing, wishing.

He responded quietly, without looking at her, not wanting to see the longing on her face that he heard in her voice. "Sarah, I've never, not for one moment in all the time that's passed, stopped loving you. That said, let's just take this thing one day at a time. What's meant to be will happen, if it's meant to be. Please, Sarah, just work with me on this. I have baggage I have to deal with before…" He stopped, not trusting himself to go on. At least one of them had to keep grounded.

She looked over at him but he was looking out the window but she could see the effort he was making to keep his emotions in check in his image reflected in the window glass. It wasn't so much what he said, although that was wonderful, but the way he said it and the look on his face.

Still driving like a wild woman, she took a hand off the steering wheel and gripped his, firmly communicating her understanding and agreement. She was thrilled to feel him gripping her just as firmly. That said more than mere words could ever do.

She took her exit off the beltway and drove to her condo. She had two weeks to restore his faith, feelings and trust and she wasn't going to waste a single moment but she wasn't going to rush it, either.

Sarah's Condo
Arlington, VA

They rode the elevator in companionable silence. He'd shyly reached over and took her hand, still not looking at her. She raised it to her lips and kissed it just before they reached her floor and held it until they reached her door.

"Chuck, you have to let go of my hand, sweetheart, so I can get my keys and open the door." He dropped her hand like it was radioactive and blushed furiously and she giggled and then turned, looked at him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly on the mouth.

"Welcome home, Chuck. I've waited for this moment my whole life it seems."

His cell chirped its interruption and he took the call normally since the caller ID was unknown.

"Hello."

"Hello, Chuck. It's been a long time. Sorry I missed you in Burbank. See you soon, lover. I have such plans for you, for us."

"Chuck, what's wrong?" He'd turned pale and then angry after saying his hello.

"Wait one, Sarah. Secure this place. Check everything out. Do you have a bug sweeper? I have a problem I need to solve."

"Beckman, secure."

"Carmichael, secure. General, Jill Roberts just called me as we were entering Agent Walker's apartment. She said she was sorry she missed me in Burbank but would 'see me soon'. Has my identity been compromised somewhere along the way? Remember the call from Jones? What are your orders?"

"How certain are you of Agent Walker's loyalty, Agent Carmichael?"

"Absolutely no doubts, General. But someone got my number and Roberts knows I'm not dead. We're coming in, General. I want a sweeper team here at Walker's condo and I'll need a new phone. See you in 2 hours."

"Sarah, grab your purse and let's go. A sweeper team will be here shortly and we're going in to Meade. I'll need a new phone and I think you should have one also."

"But Chuck, why? Who was that on the phone that's got you so upset?"

"Jill Roberts. And she has 'plans' for me."

"Oh, shit."

"Indeed, Sarah. Now, let's roll, baby. I'll feel better after I know this place is safe for you."

She felt a giddy wave of pleasure flow across her at his 'baby' and 'safe for you' comment.

"Yeah. I agree. Let's go."

Main Gate
FT Meade MD

Chuck and Sarah showed their ID's to the MP on duty and were told to proceed directly to the HQ complex where they would be escorted to General Beckman's office.

The short little General was reaming out her communications chief for what was apparently a huge security breach in his unit when Chuck was escorted into her office. Sarah was sent to secure two new phones for the agents as well as some additional countermeasures for use in her condo.

"Ah, Agent Ba – damn it, Carmichael. I need you to review the files on the colonel's personnel. We've determined there's been a serious breach in security in his area and your phone as well as Agent Walker's may be compromised. I've sent her off to get new phones and some countermeasure equipment for use in her vehicle and apartment. Use my computer. The files are queued up for your review."

Thirty minutes later an aide brought Chuck coffee and left. The General and the colonel were still seated at her conference table going over items when Chuck flashed on three NSA staff as Fulcrum turncoats.

He wrote down the three names and walked over to the General and handed her the paper. She read the note written below the names and blanched and then looked at him and nodded her head.

"Colonel, I have a 9mm pointed at the back of your head. Please keep your hands on the table or I will kill you." The General glared at the colonel and placed a call for security.

The colonel pushed back his chair hoping to knock the weapon out of Chuck's hands but he failed. Chuck just took two steps back and aimed at the back of his head, glancing at the General. She shook her head and so he just pushed the muzzle against his neck and murmured 'it's your lucky day, asshole'. 'Casey, get out of my head!'

Beckman was impressed but kept her comments to herself. She dialed a number from memory, read the two remaining names on the list and then breathed a sigh of relief.

"Excellent work, Chuck. He'd been through the most rigorous screening we could devise. How did you know?"

"I didn't, really. He'd been antsy and his record was perfect until the past month or so. Also, he's separated from his wife and his family currently lives in one of the four houses owned by Robertson Properties LLC in Norfolk. They might be holding his family hostage."

"General, we have to move on the Norfolk hive immediately. We can rescue the colonel's family and take out Jill and the hive simultaneously. I emailed you a tentative action plan. All we need to do is expand it to include the colonel's family. He was under duress, General. He's probably as loyal as you or I."

"I'll give it some thought, Agent. I'll cut orders placing him on TDY and hold him incommunicado after a gentle interrogation. Meanwhile, take your time getting used to your partner. You probably won't have the full two weeks. The team leader of the sweeper team will be waiting at Walker's condo to brief you. That is all, Agent."

Chuck found Sarah waiting for him in the lobby. She'd had her car swept and it was clean. He told her about the events in the General's office and she nodded, grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her car.

"Whoa, slow down. Where's the fire?"

"We might have less than two weeks. We're wasting time, Agent Carmichael. Get in the damned car!" She was grinning like an idiot and he started to laugh like he hadn't since…before she left. It felt good to feel good for a change.

Sarah's Condo
Arlington, VA

Chuck met with the sweeper team who said the apartment was clean as a whistle and would stay that way after he handed Chuck a jammer. Chuck nodded his thanks and shut the door and turned around and looked for his partner.

"Sarah, where are you?" No answer.

"Sarah, hey, partner, where are you?" No response. Feeling uncomfortable in someone else's home, he walked around looking at the books on the shelves and some pictures. Most were of Sarah and Bryce but one was of Chuck and Sarah that someone had snapped in cameo. It showed the two of them talking seriously, just the hint of a smile on their faces.

"That's my favorite picture of us. I have others that I lugged around but that one is always here, where I call home. Ignore the Bryce pictures, Chuck. They'll be in the trash tomorrow."

"No, Sarah. He was your partner and you had feelings for him and share history. Keep them. Really. I don't mind."

"Well, I do, OK? I forgot all about them. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable here since it's going to be your home too, when we're not on missions." He hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Where would he stay between missions? Now he knew. Home.

A messenger service delivered Chuck's bags and the two of them spent the remainder of the evening putting his things where she wanted them to go. Chuck was totally bemused by her sudden joy at having his things around her and how she took pleasure in hanging everything up, putting folded items in drawers and so on.

"Chuck, where are your t-shirts? All you have are regular undershirts."

"When I left Burbank I had about 30 seconds notice and I was off to a safe house for a month wearing all that I had on at the time. Everything else, and I mean everything was left back at Ellie's. I died, Sarah, and dead people don't need t-shirts."

"Well, I absconded with one or two. See?" She opened a drawer and there were at least 5 of his t-shirts. He looked at her and she blushed.

"If I couldn't be held in your arms I surrounded myself with your t-shirts. A poor substitute but hey, you didn't miss them."

"No, I didn't. Just figured they went where all the mismatched socks went."

She walked over to him and put her arms around him and put her head against his chest listening to his heartbeat. "I've missed this, Chuck. I've missed you. I tried to kill myself back in Langley but they got to me in time. I was so heartbroken when I found out you'd been taken that I didn't want to live in a world without you, Chuck. Please, don't be ashamed of my weakness. It was stupid, I know."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry you did that. And I'm so glad you're lousy at something. Seriously, I could never be ashamed of you, Sarah, never. I love you and I always will."

"Hey, Sarah, quit crying. It's OK. Don't be sad."

"These are tears of happiness. I'm so damned happy we're together."

"Let's get dressed, go out and eat and maybe find a club and do a little dancing and celebrating. We haven't really ever been on a real date, Sarah."

"How about we do that tomorrow night. We're both tired and I think an early bedtime is in order. Chuck, I have something to tell you. Please don't interrupt until I'm done."

He nodded and she held him tighter.

"Chuck, the whole time we've been apart, I've been celibate. I felt like if I had sex with anyone else but you I'd be cheating and so I didn't. I just wanted you to know that. Bryce and I never had sex after I left Burbank. He finally got the idea when I told him that I loved you and he was always going to be second best. It's probably why he never came to visit me in Langley."

"Well, I tried to get back into a relationship with someone, anyone, to ease the ache, Sarah. I won't lie to you. I had sex with a few girls, well, women, but I never made love to them. There's a difference. And they always seemed, I don't know, they always seemed a waste of time."

"What about your handler, Gordon. I know people say she's a lez but that's just to be mean."

"Nope. Gordon…Gordon got Casey killed, her lover was Jill Roberts and she kept her a secret. She and I…we never clicked. Now, Carina or Ling, they were possibilities. I'd given up on you ever coming back, Sarah, and Carina told me some things that broke my heart and she probably would have been my partner but she got killed. I killed Ling during the whole Long Beach mess. I'm rambling. I never felt I was cheating and now I'm sorry I did. Forgive me?"

"Of course I do, and I understand, Chuck, I really do. But one question. Who was Ling? And you killed her?"

Chuck spent a while explaining who Ling was, recounting the dinner and Deng's comments. He had to stop and let her go to the bathroom because she was laughing so hard she was afraid she'd wet the bed.

Finally, he recounted what he remembered of the operation to capture and destroy the virus samples and looked at her with inquiring eyes. He wanted her opinion and was afraid she'd find some fault he'd overlooked in his own critical analysis.

"I love you, Charles Irving Bartowski and if you ever do anything like that again without me by your side I'll kill you. But I can't see how you had any choice but to do it that way. I'm just so glad you survived. And if you got your brain all mixed up, so what? You survived and accomplished your mission."

He breathed a sigh of relief. He really valued her opinion. He valued her.

She snuggled up against him and asked the same question Beckman had asked: What happened to Deng?

"He disappeared. I hope he made it back home safely. He loved Ling. He was a lot like Casey and she was a lot like Carina but he loved her with a fierce, quiet, passion. He and I would have been friends in any other situation."

She ran her hands across his chest and down his arms. He'd been working out. It showed now and she couldn't wait to check out Chuck v2.0 later. He'd asked her to take it slow so she would. She'd let him set the pace.

"Chuck, it's getting late and I want to take a shower and go to bed. Join me?" She hoped she wasn't being too forward but she'd been months without him and now she had him 24/7.

"Chuck? Chuck? Are you ASLEEP?!? CHUCK!"

He sat up looking around and saw her and then blushed. "I guess I should have told you some things. Not only was my brain scrambled for a bit but I still have a tendency to drift off to sleep if I'm not moving around. It really freaked Summers out when I slept through them stitching up my leg after I fell on her run. No sense of humor, that one. Well, she did have black hair with a white streak down the center when I first met her but…" She kissed him to shut him up.

"You still ramble when you're nervous, sweetie. There's nothing to be nervous about. We're together and we're safe here. And we have almost 2 weeks to get settled in and get used to each other. Now, c'mon, shower. We'll shower together and please the eco-nuts by conserving on fossil fuels and water."

Sarah was amused by his shyness but from what she'd seen, he had nothing to be shy about. He'd added a layer of muscle to his lanky frame and he'd cut his hair shorter than before and with the beard, he cut quite the dashing figure and he was all hers.

They started out washing each other's hair and soon each other's bodies and finally she just couldn't control herself and she kissed him and ran her hands all over him. He overcame his shyness and she discovered that his large hands were as gentle as she'd known they'd be but his lips and tongue were deadly.

She'd had sex in a shower before but never made love in one. The difference left her out of breath and speechless, and wanting more. She dragged him out of the shower, toweled them off and pulled him on to her in her bed. She'd put on satin sheets and the combination of Chuck and satin did her in – several times.

Curled up in the circle of his arms she could only smile and sigh and then smile again. She turned around to face him and buried her face in his neck laughing like she hadn't in years if ever.

"Sarah, what's with the laughing? I wasn't that bad and I know you weren't disappointed, at least not from the sound effects I heard coming from your mouth."

"I'm just so damned happy, Chuck. I've never been this happy in my life and it's all because of you. Thank you for giving me a second chance, Chuck. You won't be sorry."

"Sarah, I was so happy to see you at the heliport. I'd never have considered saying 'no'."

She turned over and pulled his arms around her, grinding her butt into his crotch and giggling. He was such a guy. "Chuck, sleep. It's been a long day and we have nothing to do except this for the next two weeks. Just hold me and never let me go."

She woke up to find her bed empty and his side cold. For a fleeting second she thought it was all a sweet dream but then saw his boxers on the floor and she smiled because she had every right and reason to.

Pulling on a t-shirt she walked out into her living room to spy her partner, naked staring out over the city with his cell phone in his ear, arguing violently with someone and even though she could only hear his side of the conversation, she could fill in the blanks.

"No, Eve, that's not the solution, that's a cop out. You can't be in the field with that attitude. No one will want to work with you if they know you'll let them die for the sake of the mission. It's not how Americans work and it's not how normal people act. We don't believe in last stands, forlorn hopes, we believe in overcoming the odds with the least loss of personnel. And until you get that, no one will partner with you. Fine. Screw you, too, Agent Summers. My recommendation stands. You are a liability in a partnership not an asset. Well, I guess I'll just have to watch my back then, won't I? No, Eve, screwing your partner doesn't offset the fact that you would let them die rather than fail. I'm sorry you feel that way but again, my recommendation stands."

He didn't know she was standing there and she was treated to a rare insight into her partner and live-in lover. He really and truly believed what he just said and that's why people would always follow his lead. Of course, she was prejudiced, and he was naked and she was horny and they did have most of two weeks left…

"Chuck, bed, now." And she ran giggling to the bedroom with him in hot pursuit. "Do you always talk to your ex-partners in the nude?"

"No, but she was insistent and I didn't want to wake you. She's filing a formal objection to my performance evaluation of her. Says it's 'discriminatory and that the NSA will find in her favor'. Maybe so, but she'll never find a partner with that attitude."

"Well, her loss is my gain. Now, ravish me, lover, because it's been what, 6 hours since you last had me?"

"Sarah, tonight, I want a real date. With you. No cover, no roles, just Chuck and Sarah going out to dinner, maybe a movie or some dancing. Hell, just a little bit of normal, OK?"

"Sound great. Now, make love to me until my toes curl and I pass out. I've missed you so much these past months. I need to know this is real, Chuck, and not some dream. When I woke up and your side was empty and cold I had a moment's doubt that it wasn't all a wonderful dream and then I saw your boxers and I was so happy…"

That evening they went on their first real date. He stepped outside her apartment and knocked on the door. When she opened it she looked at him and said, "I forgot to get you keys, how dumb. First thing tomorrow morning, sweetheart."

"Moving rather quickly for a first date, aren't we, Ms. Walker? Am I early?"

She caught on and giggled. "Right on time. I'm almost ready to go. Come in, get naked and let's make out!"

"I do not do such things on the first date, Ms. Walker. Contain yourself, please. Now, we have reservations for dinner and then I thought we'd go dancing, slow dancing, and then see what happens next, OK with you?"

"I'd rather order a pizza and eat it in bed but if I have to go through this 'dating' thing, can we consider dinner as a first date and dancing as a second date and the ride home a third?"

"Get your purse and let's go, Sarah. Reservations are for 7:30 sharp." She frowned and got her purse. "Chuck, really, we don't need to do this, baby, I'm already yours."

"But I do, Sarah. At least once. Tomorrow night is 'pizza in bed' night. Tonight is 'get beautiful Sarah on the dance floor' night."

Dinner was excellent and since the weather was not cooperating, they took her car to the club rather than walk the block.

She discovered that Chuck was a great dancer in the clinches but a disaster when the tempo picked up. She much preferred the slower dances, the slower the better. She almost dragged him off into the ladies room once or twice but thought better of it.

During the drive home they passed a horrible accident and they both watched as a young couple was taken in separate ambulances to the hospital. They both were thinking the same thing: life is short and can be snatched away in a heartbeat.

Sarah had become very quiet and Chuck knew she was thinking about how often they'd cheated the Grim Reaper and how fortunate they were to have each other, if only for a little while.

"Chuck, I – I just want to be held tonight. I want you around me, keeping me safe. I don't know what's come over me but I have this feeling of foreboding that I haven't been able to shake since we saw that accident. Do you mind, sweetheart?"

"Of course not. I feel the same way. Let's just hang on to what we have, Sarah, the rest will work itself out, trust me. We're together in spite of all the things fate has thrown at us. Let's live, Sarah, not merely survive."

Chuck woke earlier than planned the next morning with his thoughts on the young couple they saw at the accident. He needed to do something that said 'I'm here and I'm not going anywhere without you' to Sarah. He woke her with a kiss and a wet tongue in her ear and she shivered and giggled.

"Sarah, I love you. Get dressed. We have something to take care of this morning."

"Did Beckman call? Have they moved up the mission?"

"Nope. But the future called me this morning. Now, get up, dress casually and let me take you shopping."

"For what, honey? I have everything I need."

'Shopping for an engagement ring, Sarah."

"Chuck, the agency will provide props for us for our cover. I guess I better get used to being 'Mrs. Charles Carmichael'. I wish it could be for real, but we have lots of time to worry about that, sweetie. We do need to get the rings, though, Chuck. For our cover."

"Sarah, I don't want you wearing a cover ring. I want you to wear my ring."

"My God, Chuck, you're serious, aren't you? You're not kidding around, are you? This is not something to joke with me about. I've imagined this moment a thousand times but never ever thought it would happen. Especially not with you, baby, I couldn't be that lucky."

"Will you marry me, Sarah? Partners forever? Please say 'yes', Sarah. Life's too short and we've missed out on too much already."

"Chuck, you don't know what I've done, the things I've done. Horrible things. I love you more than anything and this is very sweet but do you know what I've done for the CIA? I've done some…"

"Hush. I'm the intersect. Of course I know. I know everything that ever got in the files. I've known since Burbank. Now, please, yes or no, Sarah."

"I'll wear your engagement ring, Chuck, with love and pride, but let's hold off getting married until the intersect is out of our lives and we can start over, fresh, doing something else…"

"Sarah, you said partners could marry. What's the problem?"

"Why now? Why not in a year? I want the ring. It's a promise for the future but marriage now…"

"Yeah, it makes no sense. We have everything there is in a marriage now, just no paper saying we've made a commitment. You're right, I wasn't thinking this through. It's just that seeing those two last night got me thinking, that's all."

"Chuck, let's get the ring. We'll discuss marriage, but I don't think we'd be wise to get married until we've sorted out some things, sweetheart."

"Sarah, the ring is my promise that I'm not leaving you. Marriage can wait. It's not important right now but my commitment to you is the ring. Is that enough?"

"It's more than I had the right to hope for, Chuck. And yes, when the time is right, I'll marry you. And we'll know when that time comes, but until then, engaged is more than I need but less than I want. Can you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yeah, and it'll do for now. So, up, shower, get dressed and lets' find the ring. Nothing gaudy, just something…right."

Sarah picked out a ring that was smaller than Chuck wanted but just right for her. Sighing in frustration, he paid for it out of his accrued pay and she wore it home. Home – she loved the word and all its meanings now. The ring was a promise to remain constant, to be together no matter what life threw at them. She was the happiest she'd ever been in her life.

The two weeks flew by and, except for a trip to FT Meade for an intersect download, they spent it together. The inevitable phone call came early one Sunday morning when the couple were reading the Washington Post in bed, drinking coffee and making funny comments on world events.

"Carmichael, secure."

"Beckman, secure. Execute your plan, Agent. Join elements already in position at the Norfolk Naval Air Station. NSA has a substation there. A chopper will be waiting for you in 2 hours at Andrews AFB. As AIC, you'll have full authority. Include the colonel's family in your extraction plans. Terminate Roberts if unobserved capture is not possible. Any and all means authorized. Good luck, Agent Carmichael. Execute your plan within 48 hours of meeting your teams."

Chuck sighed and then got up and went into Sarah's 'office' and pulled up his plans on his laptop. She followed him in bringing coffee and sat and watched as he outlined the assaults and expanded the plan requirements to include the colonel's family.

"Chuck, why are we hitting them at 3am? We'll need a lot more equipment if we run it in the dark. Why not hit them at dusk or dawn?"

"According to the latest intel, there are at least 20 Fulcrum agents in the hive and 4 guarding the colonel's family. At 3am, the human body is at it lowest levels of alertness. Even if they're all asleep, it's when their responses will be slowest. The colonel has 2 kids under the age of 12 and they'll be easier to handle if they already asleep when they're tranked and extracted."

"Humph. Somebody's been reading the field ops manuals." She was kidding but still, it was classic "Bartowski".

"Don't need to read them. Had them downloaded along with all the personnel files of the renegade agents working with Fulcrum."

"Smart ass."

"Yeah, and it makes me all that much more attractive. Smart is sexy, baby."

NSA Station
Norfolk, VA

They left Sarah's Porsche at Andrews and flew down to Norfolk. They checked into the NSA station and Chuck was extremely pissed off that Summers was part of the team. She'd taken a demotion to strike team from agent. She threw him the finger and glared at Sarah. Chuck just went over and hugged her. He whispered something in her ear and then walked back to Sarah.

"Well, she's not an agent. That's one thing to be thankful for."

"Chuck, what did you say to her?"

"Need to know, Agent Carmichael, need to know." What he'd told Summers was that if she screwed up, he'd let his partner loose on her. Everyone knew who Sarah Walker was and no one wanted to cross the AIC and risk her wrath.

Before explaining his plan and answering questions, he dropped his bombshell.

"You're all going to go into isolation for at least 24 hours. Turn in all your cell phones right now. There's a box on the table and they'll be there when we get back. No calls of any kind, no visitors, no trips to the base exchange. No possibility of leaks. If anyone wants out, get up now and leave."

No one wanted to opt out. He continued.

"The target is this woman – Jill Roberts aka Julia Robertson. She's a former CIA agent and if she's killed or captured you will all share equally in the bounty on her head of $1,000,000. She cut the throat of a CIA agent and blew up an NSA agent. She missed – me." A murmur went through the group.

"She lives in this residence. If you can capture her without witnesses, fine. Otherwise, she is to be terminated on sight.

"We have two secondary targets. The hive itself and any personnel we locate there, and the kidnapped family of an NSA colonel being held in this residence."

There are 21 of you. We'll divide up into teams of 7. Team One will be tasked with the rescue of the family. Team Two will be tasked with capturing or killing Roberts. Team Three will hold station here until Teams One and Two have completed their tasks and the family is safely on its way back to here. Then all teams will rendezvous at this point one mile from the hive complex.

He went on to describe the number of Fulcrum agents suspected to be defending the complex, entrances, exits, floor plans and possible hazards. Maps of the complex as well as copies of blue prints were distributed among the teams. Members of Teams One and Two got floor plans of the two residences.

The hive mission was simple. Go in, kill or capture anyone found on the premises, secure all computers, documents, etc. for transport to FT Meade.

He answered all their questions and then the teams were escorted to SUVs to be driven to the isolation area.

Sarah, Chuck and the team leaders met and discussed possible alternatives, fallbacks, rally points and demolition of the facility if needed. When everyone was satisfied, Chuck and Sarah sent the team leaders into isolation and went to find their war bags.

"Chuck, why so drastic a move like isolation? These guys are pros. I don't think it's necessary to isolate them."

"I do. I don't trust anyone here but you, Sarah. Too many things can go wrong. A phone call to the wrong people and we're dead and I don't plan on anyone coming home in a bag. No one."

Secondary Targets
Norfolk, VA

At 1am Teams One and Two rolled out of isolation and pulled off their raids. The colonel's family was extracted and all opposition detained or killed. No one was in residence at Jill's. Someone lived there, but was not in the house. A cleaner team was assigned to both residences and all materials were sent to Norfolk NAS for shipment to FT Meade. The two teams met up with Team Thee at the rally point 1 mile from the complex at 2:30am.

Chuck and Sarah were briefed on the raid results by the two team leaders and at 2:45 the three teams launched the raid on the hive.

Hive Raid
Norfolk, VA

"Chuck, please be careful. I have a bad feeling about this. Let one of the team leaders handle the assault. You're a leader and should be in the rear to assess and re-evaluate. You can't do that if you're pinned down by enemy gunfire."

"Stay to my left at all times, Sarah. Please. Now, let's get this done. I think you're worrying about nothing, babe. No one goes home in a bag. Not tonight."

Chuck keyed his comm. and said "Execute". A series of small explosions blew in the doors of the complex and a larger one took out the steel folding door on the loading dock. As the 3 teams made their way into the building Chuck dialed a number on his cell and said simply "Execute."

Two 2 ½ ton trucks came roaring out of the darkness and offloaded two teams of Navy Seals who assumed the role of blocking force. Chuck's three teams were the hammers. The Seals were the anvil. Fulcrum agents who fled the building through the blown out doors were either picked off or detained by the Seals. The NSA teams were systematically herding the defenders towards the 'exits' created by small explosions to the waiting Seals.

He found Jill Roberts hiding in a closet in the back of a break room facility. When he opened the door she smiled at him. "Hello, Chuck. This wasn't how this was supposed to end but what the hell…" She pulled the pin on a grenade she'd been holding in the folds of her coat, let the spoon fly and held it out to him, figuring he'd bolt and she'd throw the grenade after him and escape again. But he didn't.

He hugged her to him and spun around.

"Sarah, run!" and then he threw Jill to the ground, face down and fell on her hoping his Kevlar and her body would protect Sarah from the explosion and not mangle him too badly. It was the longest 2 seconds of his life trying to keep Jill from somehow getting the grenade from underneath them and throw it. He could hear Sarah screaming 'No! No, Chuck!' and then he heard nothing.

Jill's body absorbed almost all the grenade fragments and the force of the explosion, but not all.

Sarah would never forget the dull 'whump' of the explosion and how his body seemed to leap into the air and then crumple onto the floor. She could see a huge hole in Jill's torso and she knew the bitch was finally out of their lives.

She shouted 'Agent down – break room' into her comm. unit and rushed over to her fiancé and prayed the Kevlar had protected him. His nose was bleeding and it looked like he'd taken some fragments in the vest and he was gasping for breath. His eyes were fluttering like in a flash and then he opened them, saw her and smiled his special 'Hi, Sarah' smile she'd loved in Burbank.

He tried to talk but his lips moved without sound. He'd had the wind knocked out of him.

The medics came in and she explained what had happened. She stood up and stepped back to give them room to operate. Several of the NSA troops had filled the break room and she saw Eve Summers looking at Chuck with a smile of satisfaction on her face. The smile disappeared when Sarah forced her way through the strikers and confronted her.

"You think you were right, don't you? Well, you're not. He saved himself and me and the mission's gone down successfully. Now do you understand why you aren't his partner any longer? Or anyone else's for that matter? It's because self-sacrifice for the greater good is what this is all about. He could have run but he wouldn't let someone else get hurt."

"He's a fool, Agent Walker, and so are you." There was hate in her eyes for the brief seconds before Sarah's fist closed them.

"Oops, seems we've got another agent down. My bad." There were grins and muffled laughter and Sarah turned back to her partner to check on his progress.

"Agent, he's probably got a few cracked ribs but other than that he's fine. Just disoriented but hell, who wouldn't be. As for your Fulcrum agent, she's in almost two parts so I'd say she was…dead." Again grins and muffled laughter.

"When you butt heads are done laughing could someone give me a hand up, please? We need to wrap this up and get the hell out of Dodge. Cleaners should be on their way. Any one hurt?" He was talking in spurts as his breathing evened out.

"No, sir. Just you. Well, Summers fell down. She'll be OK when she wakes up. No friendly casualties and the Seals have the Fulcrum trash cleaned up and on the way to the lockup in Norfolk."

"Great job, all around. We'll debrief in an hour back at Norfolk NAS."

Beckman was ecstatic. An entire hive down with no friendlies dead or injured, tons of intel coming in from dumped hard drives, Roberts dead and her colonel's family rescued.

"Agent Carmichael, why the isolation? Most unusual."

"Casey told me that special ops would go into isolation before a mission for security reasons. Seemed like a good idea to me so we did, too. Policed up all the cell phones and no leaks. I figure we got about 5% of our NSA teams playing for both teams and I didn't want to risk losing Roberts. And General, the teams share in the bounty for Roberts. No agents. Just the grunts, OK?"

"Done. Now, you're on stand down until further notice. And don't do that again, Carmichael. Jumping on a grenade is not smart, even with a Fulcrum agent between you and it. Agent Walker, see to it he doesn't do anything stupid like that again. Dismissed."

Chuck and Sarah flew back to Andrews and drove home in her Porsche.

Sarah's CondoArlington, VA

Later, soaking in her Jacuzzi, Sarah asked him what he meant by the mole on his team. He just smiled and kissed the back of her neck and whispered, "Summers. She's been playing both sides of the fence for a couple of years now. Beckman will have her picked up once she reports back to her contacts in Fulcrum."

"How did you know? The intersect?"

"Not exactly. It's just that every one of her trainees is either missing and presumed to have defected to Fulcrum or been killed in operations against Fulcrum. I'm the only one still alive."

"I'm so glad we pulled it off without anyone getting hurt. You did a good job, Chuck. Casey would be proud of you."

"Nah. Not enough gunplay." He grunted and she laughed.

"The Seals were a surprise though. Not in the briefing."

"I told you I didn't trust anyone but you Sarah. And if you'd been listening and not staring daggers at Summers during the briefing you'd have known it."

"Well, her attitude and disrespect for you pissed me off. I was just using my patented 'Glare of Death' to put her in her place. Sorry I missed it."

"And I'm sorry I didn't get to see you knock her on her ass…er…I meant, see her fall down."

"Yeah, well, if anyone else thinks they're better than you, they'll deal with me, sweetheart. A clean sweep on a Fulcrum hive, tons of intel and not a single friendly casualty or injury. That's one for the books."

He ran a finger up her thigh, tracing the surgery scar that repaired her hip. He'd almost lost her and wouldn't have even known it. He shuddered at the thought and pulled her closer.

"Hey, what's wrong? Is it the scar? I was told I can have it worked on to the point it'll hardly be visible. I can do that if it bothers you." She'd do anything for him.

"What bothers me is that you almost died and I wouldn't have known. It's what it represents. It's not ugly and I don't think you should worry about it. You're my beautiful spy-girl and the scar is part of who you are. No, Sarah, it's not necessary."

She knew exactly what he meant. It was like when Julie'd told the story of the Burbank wipeout. She'd thought he was dead then, too. She shuddered at the memory and then wiped it from her mind. She had him and she was hanging on to what was hers.

"Chuck, about what happened with Jill. Beckman was right. It was a stupid thing to do and I want you to promise me you'll be more careful. I know, I know, it was a spur of the moment decision but please, sweetheart, be more careful. I thought you'd been killed and I died a little. You body was slammed up into the air and then down on the floor and I saw the blood and I almost freaked out."

"But you didn't. You did your job and everything worked out like it should have. You're right but the only thing I could think of was that running was wrong and standing there waiting for it to go off was stupid. I figured if I used her as tamping then between the body and the vest I should be OK. And it worked. I couldn't let anything happen to you, Sarah. I'm not going to have you hurt if I can stop it. I already lost Casey and Gordon and Carina and I couldn't lose you, too."

She wanted to change the subject because he was becoming upset and this whole conversation was going where it shouldn't. Agents die. Fact of life. He'd fight against that until he himself was dead. It was his way and one reason out of the zillion other reasons she'd fallen in love with him in the first place.

"Chuck, I'm pruning. Let's get out and maybe order pizza and eat it in bed. Then for desert, if you're good, we'll get naked and fool around."

"Sounds like a plan. Although I kinda like the idea of eating pizza naked and fooling around between slices…" He chuckled to himself. He'd become totally warped.

Later that night…

"There's the pizza, Sarah. My wallet's on the dresser. Do you mind getting that while I finish this report to Beckman?"

"Nope. Be right back and then we can see how many slices you can handle. Or rather 'how many between the slices' you can handle…" She laughed and threw on a kimono robe and grabbed his wallet and went to the door. She looked through the peephole and gasped, then opened the door partway.

"What the hell are you doing h…?" Bryce pushed the door the rest of the way open and pulled her into an embrace kissing her soundly. He interpreted her attempts to get away as an attempt to take off her kimono as she'd done in the past when he'd 'dropped by' unexpectedly.

Chuck signed the email and sent it on its way. He got up and walked into the living room, just a towel around his waist, to see what was taking Sarah so long.

As he walked into the living room he stopped, appalled and angry. There was his fiancé embracing and kissing another man.

"What the hell…" he started to yell but stopped when he saw an equally surprised Bryce Larkin stop kissing his fiancé and stare at him, his face contorted by several emotions, the last of which was extreme pain as Sarah kneed him viciously in the groin.

He dropped down on hands and knees and finally fell onto his side clutching his damaged crotch and making whimpering noises.

"Bastard! And don't you dare throw up on my clean carpet." She was angry, and Chuck was so aroused by an Angry Sarah since she wasn't pissed off at him for a change that he just crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the explosion and explanation.

"Chuck, it's not what you think, baby. I answered the door and he just grabbed me and started kissing me. I was so surprised I just froze for a few seconds and then when you startled him I saw my chance and kneed him. It's not what you think. Honestly, I had no idea…"

"Hey, it's OK. I just don't want to deal with all this right now. I'll help him up and when he's feeling like he can walk without vomiting, I'll escort him to the elevator. I'm going to get dressed. Be right back." He looked at Bryce and shook his head. That must really hurt.

While he dressed he thought about what he'd seen. All his insecurities rose up and bit him in the ass. She was his fiancé. She was kissing him back, her hand had been on the back of his head…shit.

He sighed and shook his head. He didn't need this shit right now. No, not at all.

He walked back out and saw Sarah helping Bryce up, telling him she was engaged and definitely not available for any missions with him or anyone else but her partner and he'd better forget about any 'special requests' because the answer would always be 'no, hell no'.

Right before she pushed him, half bent over at the waist, out the door into the hall, she said, clearly not meant for Chuck's ears, that she had her 'dream come true life' and there was no place in it for a bastard like him.

She slammed the door and huffed the hair out of her face and then turned and saw him standing there with the oddest look on his face.

"Baby, please, don't leave me. He didn't know about us and he hasn't talked to me since Bucharest and there's no way I'd let him get between us."

He stepped around her and went out the door and walked down to where Bryce was leaning against the wall, waiting for the elevator and for his nuts to drop down from under his armpits.

"Bryce, we're together and it's serious. Don't come back, Bryce, if you value your health. She's mine, forever, understand? We've both made mistakes but that's all history."

"Uh, yeah, uh, sure, uh, Chuck. Uh, sorry man, uh.

"Be careful out there, Bryce. Find a new partner you can trust and build a lasting relationship with. It's the only way you'll ever be happy."

He turned and walked back to her apartment door and rang the bell. She jerked the door open and pulled him in by the front of his t-shirt and slammed the door.

She grabbed him and started chanting "Please, Chuck, please…" over and over not giving him a chance to do anything other than just hold her and rock her back and forth until she stopped, finally, all out of breath but still clutching him.

"Sarah, stop this right now and look at me." She shivered at the tone of his voice and looked up at him, her eyes puffy from crying.

"I want keys to this apartment, Sarah. I don't want people to think you're running some kind of high-priced call girl operation out of here. And Bryce won't be back but he did apologize for any misunderstanding. Now, go wash your face and I'll take care of the pizza guy. Go on." He pulled her upright and kissed her gently and then pushed her towards the bathroom.

The pizza arrived and Chuck promptly sent it back. There were olives and anchovies on it. He looked the guy in the face and told him to 'haul ass and get back here with the right order' and slammed the door in his face. Nothing was going right and he'd about run out of patience for the first time in a long time. Easy-going Chuck had left the building after shoving Bryce into the elevator.

"Chuck, was that the pizza guy?" She looked very contrite and demure, almost like a little girl.

"They got the damned order wrong. It had olives and anchovies so I told him he had to get it right. Sorry. We're both hungry and the pizza's going to be late."

She walked up to him, put her arms around him and just held on, not saying anything. She knew the thing with Bryce had rattled him and she had to fix the problem before he over-analyzed it and came to the wrong conclusion.

"Chuck, about…" He interrupted her.

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No! Absolutely none at all."

"Then the subject is closed and it's not to be brought up again, okay? Unless you feel the need to discuss it further? I don't."

"No, Chuck. No need at all. And tomorrow those pictures are history, understand? I'll have nothing in our home that reminds either of us of Bryce Larkin. Nothing."

"They're your memories, not mine, Sarah, and I told you before they don't bother me." They did. A lot. But he was not going to force her to get rid of things just because…he couldn't deal with them.

"They bother me, Chuck, because they bother you on some level. They're in the trash tomorrow. Now, I'm starving. How long do you think it'll take him to pick off the anchovies and olives and deliver the same pizza again?" She laughed and he just shook his head.

"If he does that, he'll have a pizza suppository to explain to the ER."

End

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