PROLOGUE.

"General, I apologize but I don't understand what you're asking me to do." Morgan Grimes adjusted the corners of his vest absently as his eyes darted about the small janitorial closet with unease. A small cellphone was pressed against his left ear, reverberating with the crackling sound of distortion as he rocked back and forth on his heels anxiously. "I mean don't get me wrong. I'm stoked to finally have my first solo mission, but no offense – it just sounds a little, you know cuck-oo."

"There's nothing," Beckman's voice vanished as she seemed to hesitate at the choice of words given, "cuck-oo, as you say, about making sure that all of your assets are up to par, Agent Grimes."

"But why John Casey? I mean the guy is like a superhero when it comes to this stuff. I'm pretty sure he could take down an entire army with both hands tied behind his back and a bum knee. In fact, I'm fairly certain I saw a video on Youtube of just that. It was dark and hard to tell but there were definitely Casey-like qualities to the guy that was kicking ass and taking names."

"What Agent Casey makes up for with brute force, he lacks a – shall we say – emotional perspective. While a tactical advisory, my concern is with Agent Casey's stubbornness and obvious pride. I need to know that if there ever comes a time that he can't handle his task that he will be able and willing to ask for help."

Morgan sighed. "I don't like it," he admitted softly after a moment's pause.

"To be honest, Agent Grimes. Neither do I. But unfortunately, it is a necessity."

"But, why me? Why can't Chuck do it?"

"Neither Agent Bartowski nor Agent Walker can know this is going on. Any hints they might give off during times spent in the field would ruin the process entirely. There needs to be no emotional or physical recognition on their parts while the test is taking place." Beckman hesitated. "Agent Grimes, this is a matter of severe importance. I need to know that Agent Casey can let himself lean on his team when the time comes. It could mean life or death for all of them."

"Fine," Morgan grunted, gazing out the closet's miniature window – watching as a throng of customers zoomed by. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Just tell me what I need to do."

CHAPTER 1.

"Chuck I need you to hurry it up," Sarah Walker urged, her legs flying in the air as she slammed her foot against a large man with tattoos covering his neck. In the background, John Casey was firing off bullets left and right as attackers swarmed all around him.

Chuck Bartowski frowned, teeth sinking against his lower lip in concentration. "I'm going as fast as I can," he shouted tensely. Before him was a mess of wires, colored every hue imaginable. And beneath those wires was a young woman, sobbing in hysterical silence as large black tears streamed down her face. Her arms were bleeding, red and raw from the wires that cut across them and dug into her skin. She was tiny, the size of a child, with a tangled mane of strawberry blond hair that swept down in ratty knots along the small of her back. Her bony legs trembled as Chuck stared in concentration. "Come on," he muttered to himself. "Come on. Flash already."

"You better not screw it up Bartowski," Casey shouted over the din of grunts and cries of pain as Sarah continued to deal out every punch in the handbook. "I'm too pretty to die today."

"Duly noted," Chuck called out sarcastically, his eyes still squinting as he watched the wires – willing his brain to flash.

And at long last, it came. The flash. A series of pictures and diagrams darted through his head. Bomb diffusing techniques – one on top of the other until he finally knew what he was to do. Confidence renewing his energy, he reached for the pair of wire cutters that sat at his feet. Clutching them firmly in his hand, he did exactly as the images in his brain had told him to.

"Did you get it yet?" Casey growled as a fist flew into his jaw.

"Yeah, I can't get her out though." Chuck scrambled about, trying to pull the nest of wires away from the girl but all he seemed to be doing was making it worse. They rubbed at her face and he watched as one sliced her cheek, blood gushing from the point of contact. "She's stuck."

A computerized voice rang over the loudspeaker. "You have one minute until implosion."

"You have to be kidding me," Casey grumbled, as he delivered a final blow to the man at his side. "I thought you said you got it."

"I did! I flashed, I swear. I don't know what. . ." he trailed off as Casey rushed over beside him, immediately delving into the pile of wires, safely pulling the girl up into his grasp.

"I don't want to hear it Bartowski," he muttered.

"The Intersect must've been wrong," Chuck said frantically. The building was beginning to shake. He wasn't a fan of earthquakes to begin with, and this was like an earthquake magnified by a thousand.

The loudspeaker crackled again. "Thirty seconds until implosion."

"Yeah well we don't have time to fix it. Grab Walker and let's get the hell out of here." Resting a hand against the back the young girl's head – realizing that she had gone limp, he pressed her face closely against his shoulder. Blood seeped against his green Buy More shirt. "Hang on darlin'," he murmured. "We're gonna' get you outta' here."

"Ten seconds until implosion."

"Casey!" Sarah Walker called out. The ceiling was beginning to collapse. "Run!"

And so they did.

"General, I can explain." Chuck's face was pink with frustration.

"Agent Bartowski, I don't need an explanation. If the Intersect is malfunctioning then you need to either figure out how to be a spy without it or find the fix. I can't have you out in the field blowing all of my agents up," General Beckman scorned tartly from the large television screen that hung from the back wall of Castle, a secret CIA lair. "However, the most important thing is that you recovered the stolen property."

Chuck halted. "You do realize that property is a human being, don't you General? A girl, to be specific."

"Either way," Beckman continued. "It's your job to find out what the Ring wanted with her."

"Good luck with that," Casey snorted, shaking his head. "Poor kid's in shock. She's not saying a damn thing. Just sits there and stares all sad like at the ceiling."

"Haven't you at least gotten a name?" Beckman questioned fervently.

"To be honest General, we don't think she knows her name," Sarah interjected, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she exchanged a glance with Chuck. "Whatever the Ring did to her – it seems to have messed her up pretty badly."

Beckman sighed. "Very well." Pausing, she pursed her lips. "Well, then, in the meantime she is under your care Agent Casey. Until she regains her memories or starts talking – she's to remain at your apartment with you and under your constant supervision. Whatever the Ring wanted from her, it must be pretty important. We need to find out what it was and we need to find out soon."

"Not to speak out of turn, General, but why can't the kid stay with Walker and Bartowski? I mean, at least one of them is female – officially that is, mind you. Although the other is pretty girly too if I do say so myself."

"Hurtful," Chuck muttered. "And rather uncalled for."

Beckman glared. "Because I said she's staying with you. Therefore, she's staying with you. Now, are we clear Agent Casey?"

"Yes m'am," Casey grunted, his gaze flickering over towards the large holding cell where the tiny blond girl sat cross legged atop the cement bed – her neck craned upwards as she seemed enraptured by whatever it was that might be above. "We're clear."