T/N: Another thing from his hard drive. I don't know why he doesn't publish. He's been in HBR and Econ. Guess fiction is his alter-ego. I'm still pulling parts together. He had a weird way of putting things out there like chpt 2a.1 and 2a.2 so bear with me. I'm a math grad student not a editor! Nicole the Trypist. Also, I changed the name. he's gonna kill me.

The first straw.

"So this thing of ours, this under-the-cover thing, is there a chance…"

"No, Chuck. I'm sorry. No."

The second straw.

He knocked on the door, feeling foolish dressed in slacks, his high-tops, t-shirt and white dinner jacket but Roane had given him specific instructions for the "Montgomery" and he had high hopes. When Sarah opened the door and spotted the single long-stemmed red rose and the bottle of wine she started to speak when Bryce Larkin came up behind her and said, "Hi, Chuck." He took in the dinner jacket, the rose and the wine and just grinned. Chuck apologized for bothering them and gave Sarah the wine and walked back to the elevator, slamming the rose down into a trash receptacle. He tried not to hear the laughter…

The third straw.

It was purely accidental. He'd gone to check on something and had just opened the door when he saw Sarah and Cole frantically kissing. It looked like most of the effort was on Sarah's part and Cole was coolly doing his British super-secret-agent thing. He quietly closed the door, set the clothing he'd brought for Cole on the floor near the door and walked away.

The final straw.

He'd asked her to spend one last night in the house in the suburbs, just to hang out, eat pizza and watch a movie, nothing related to the mission. Just one night of normal. Well, OK, if he was honest with himself, one last night of being Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael. Was that so much to ask? And she said no. Obviously she wanted to put as much space and time between the week in the 'burbs' with him as possible.


Castle

The video conference with the team and the general was winding down and any second General Beckman would terminate the conference with her usual abruptness so he felt it was now or never.

"And so, another mission success, if there's nothing else…" And he could see her unseen hand ready to hit the disconnect switch.

"Er, actually, there is, General. If I could have just one moment of your time, in private, please?" He was nervous and he was certain that his sweating palms were dripping onto the Castle floor.

"Fine, Mr. Bartowski. Agents, please leave the room."

When he was certain he was alone, he turned to the general and began his carefully practiced speech. He began deviating after the first sentence. He hadn't taken into account his reaction to her facial expressions.

"Well, Mr. Bartowski?"

"General, I've done everything asked of me by my country and…oh, hell, General, I'm 28 years old. I've cut myself off from my family and friends by lying and deceiving them. I haven't had a real relationship in 7 years or a date in the past year and that was with Lou and you know how that turned out."

Beckman was suddenly struck by how much of his life he had lost. She remembered herself at that age and looked down at the simple gold ring she still wore years after it ceased to signify anything.

"Go on, Chuck. Please." She had another meeting in a few minutes but would give him as much time as she could. He deserved at least that.

"General, I'm lonely. The spy world is a cold bedmate. And please, don't even suggest that if I'm lonely you could have Agent Walker 'spend time with me.' That's a disgusting thought – especially since she doesn't want to."

"General, I just want a little bit of what everyone else seems to have, companionship, affection, an attempt at having a normal relationship as long as it doesn't conflict with the intersect."

Beckman had considered exactly what Bartowski thought she would and she was a little surprised at how uncomfortable the thought made her feel when he'd verbalized it. It was disgusting.

Pulling herself back into 'character', she asked him bluntly, "What is it you want from me, Chuck? Please get to the point."

"I'd like your permission to just…find someone I could date, have a possible relationship with, nothing earth shattering. I just want to have…someone…to share my life with, excluding the damned intersect and anything related to it."

"I don't know about Casey but Walker has her…dalliances within the spy community and I know it's frowned on but it's not widely known, I'm sure. I just don't want to be alone in my life, General, for however long it's going to be until I no longer have one either because I'm dead or buried in a hole in Utah."

"That's all. I'm sorry to take up your time. I know how lame and childish that must appear to you considering you're responsibilities and all. That's it. I'm through. You can disconnect now."

She looked at him and nodded. "I'll take it under consideration, Chuck. Now, I really must go." She looked at him as if for the first time and saw a young man in the prime of his life, alone and adrift. She looked at her ring again. "I'll get back with you, Chuck. I promise." And then she disconnected.

Chuck sat down at the conference room table and put his head in his hands. He'd made his case and she said she'd consider it. She called him 'Chuck' twice during the meeting and she'd even made him a promise. All he could do was wait and see.

Sarah opened the door a crack to check on Chuck. He was sitting at the conference table with his head in his hands and she was suddenly afraid that he'd done something foolish and upset General Beckman. Neither agent knew what Chuck had wanted to speak about in private. They had their suspicions though.

"What do you think boy wonder wants to talk with the General about? You've spent a week with him and he sure seemed to be happy in the 'burbs'. Where's his head at, Walker? He seems… unfocused, even for him."

"I don't know, Casey. He seems…unsettled and he doesn't seem to be happy anymore. We don't talk a lot and he's been avoiding me lately. It's almost like I've done something to hurt him but I can't think of anything. He did so well taking down Fulcrum in the 'burbs'. Maybe…"

"Maybe what, partner? Maybe a little taste of what life would be like without the intersect has made him stop to think where his life is now?"

"Yeah, Casey. Maybe." It had certainly made her stop and think.


Wilder Party
Topanga Canyon
Los Angeles, CA

Four days later they went out on a simple 'party mission' with Chuck escorting Sarah to a gathering at the home of a suspected supplier of prohibited technology to the People's Republic of China. Casey had dropped them off at the entrance and pulled the limo into the long line of others and had established communications and monitoring.

Chuck snagged a cocktail for Sarah and asked the waiter for a glass of orange juice and then walked down a brief receiving line. They were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael to their hostess, Brenn Wilder and her husband Adam. Chuck 'let it slip' that they were in the software business – mostly government contracts for computer-assisted weaponry - and that the current administration was cutting into their profits by requiring renegotiation of contracts and fees.

While Brenn Wilder took Sarah aside to 'let the men talk business', Chuck and Adam Wilder adjourned to his study to discuss a possible business venture that Wilder hinted would double his profits with minimal risk of investment capital.

Adam got right down to business. "Charles, cut the crap. You and I both know that this administration is trying to strangle any trade in 'sensitive' software and technology with less developed nations – nations that are willing to pay top dollar for your products and mine – but are denied access to our markets because of politics. I've developed a network of 'resellers' who will take your product and resell it to countries we're not allowed to deal with. Are you interested?

"Tell me more. How does this reseller network function? Who certifies my shipments abroad?"

"That's all handled through a third party and we're covered by selling the product to them. What happens after the sale…not our problem since we're done at point of sale."

"I'm sure there's a fee for all this reselling, right? Someone's getting a bit off the top of my sale?"

"No. You sell and are paid the agreed upon price. The ultimate buyers pay the markup. And since the resellers are located in countries allowed to purchase our products, we're in the clear."

"Adam, we've only just met and you're offering me a way to get around trade and technology restrictions. What's in it for you? And how do I know you're not working for the State Department and I'll get a subpoena in the morning?"

"I also get a piece of the markup, Charles. After all, it's my network. And as for the State Department's technology sales monitoring…I've got someone on the inside that sheep-dips the paperwork. It's all clean and proper. No subpoenas, no grand juries. Just money."

"What we develop for the government probably doesn't have much application outside of its product technology. Most of our products are developed specifically for unique weapons systems and would require substantial modification to be useful to a 3rd party. How does that affect product sales? Specifically my product sales?"

"Someone has probably already sold the weapons systems through my network, Charles. Besides, they can always reverse engineer it and develop their own."

"Sounds exactly like what I need. Can you suggest any other firms' systems I might have worked with? I need to know what will sell, after all."

"Drop by my office in the morning and I'll go over a listing and provide a list of purchasing agents for you. Now, let's get back to the ladies. You know how they get when they're ignored too long."

As they walked back to the party and their wives, Chuck flashed on a Fulcrum agent, Kenneth Darby, that they been tasked with apprehending but had failed to capture after a brief firefight. Casey had been wounded and the Fulcrum agent slipped away when Chuck went to pull Casey out of the line of fire and Sarah had to pull him out of the line of fire. He'd seen Chuck's face and Chuck knew he had to leave immediately.

"Casey, Albacore, I repeat, Albacore. I'm leaving now. Alert Walker."

Chuck walked swiftly to the exit, nodded to the doorman and walked out and into the chilly night. He spotted Casey walking towards him and so he turned and waited for Sarah. And waited.

"Casey, did you alert Walker?" He'd started using her last name when talking about her since the fiasco in the suburbs. Distance.

"Yeah, but she didn't acknowledge. I'm going in and bring her out. Go to the limo and pick up monitoring. I'll have her back in a flash. Stay in the limo, Chuck."

Casey went to the door, explained that his boss had taken ill and was already in the limo and he was here to fetch his wife. The doorman tried to block his way but Casey just stomped on his foot and then walked in, spotting Sarah at the far end of the room. She was standing with Adam Wilder and the Fulcrum agent, Kenneth Darby. He didn't know if Darby would recognize him so he took out his cell and called her.

"Hello?" She looked around for Chuck but saw Casey instead.

"Albacore. Chuck's in the limo. He flashed on a Fulcrum agent who knows us by sight, Kenneth Darby."

"I see. Well, if he's sick, he's sick. I'll be right out." She turned to make her excuses to their host when Darby poked a pistol in the small of her back.

"Not so fast, Agent Walker. Come along quietly and don't make a scene. Someone will be around shortly to take care of your 'husband'."

Sarah felt a frisson of irritation and fear at the mention of her 'husband'. At least Chuck was 'safe' in the limo. Now if only Casey could pull something out of his hat…

Chuck had picked up the entire conversation thanks to Sarah's open mike. He punched up the NSA backup team and sent the 'Agent needs backup' code and their location and then pulled a pistol out of Casey's war bag, stuffed it into the waist band of his pants and got out of the limo and went back up to the residence.

Casey was walking through the throng of guests making his way to the doorway they'd taken Sarah through. He spoke briefly into his cuff mike.

"Chuck, they've taken Sarah down a corridor to the north of the house off the main room. I'm following. Stay in the limo and let the pros handle this. I'll get her out, Chuck."

Chuck was going to answer then thought better of it. No sense distracting Casey. He knew that the doorway and corridor led to Wilder's office so he cut through the crowd of guests after grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.

Two of Wilder's flunkies stood at the doorway to the corridor and had barred Casey from following his partner. Casey began to hem and haw about how his boss' wife was drunk again and fooling around with the host and his boss would have his ass if that happened. It didn't help.

Chuck heard Casey's comment and flashed a plan. He staggered slightly and then put on a drunken smirk on his face and walked up behind the trio.

"Well, John, did you find the slut yet?" He slurred his words and leaned against Casey like he was drunk.

"Wha…? Um, no, sir. I think she went down there with some guy but these idiots won't let me past."

"Really?" He looked at Casey who was sending him 'get back to the limo, moron' glares with his eyes and Chuck threw the two champagne flutes and contents into the faces of the unprepared thugs. Casey floored the one with a straight punch to the face while Chuck kicked the other in the balls and then pushed past and ran down the corridor to the office leaving Casey still standing at the doorway.

He threw open the office door and was shocked and then enraged at what he saw. Sarah was zip-tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth and the front of her dress had been torn open and cigarette burns marred the skin of her breasts. He took in her tear-stained, battered and bleeding face and saw a moment of something he didn't recognize flash across her face.


T/N: Ok there are a zillion bits and pieces to this and I'm reading and sorting them. Damn, my guy has a steel trap mind but can't number in sequences known to the rest of us. Nicole Fontenot/Trypist.