Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak. No copyright infringement intended. Any similarity to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Author's Notes: I've always loved spies and the ones on Chuck are certainly no exception. Hopefully I can do "mission-fic" justice. Special thanks to Iguana, for dissecting the episodes with me!
Spoilers: General spoilers through season 3. This story has the potential to be canon up to and through Chuck versus First Class at least.
Chuck versus the Paranoia: Casey takes on his most daunting cover yet when he has to protect Ellie from a potential threat because of her relation to the Intersect. Canon pairings.
It wasn't the usual merchandise he moved, but the elderly woman had found him, way over in appliances, and asked him for help. He would've loved to have passed her off on to someone else, someone who normally worked in the entertainment section of the store. As it was, he didn't know much about the PlayStation 3. He was certain, however, that the grandmother didn't think it was a good investment for her grandson, but she couldn't be sure.
John Casey was many things but he was not particularly patient when it came to indecisive people, either in his chosen career or his cover job.
He was a highly-trained agent with the National Security Agency, recently promoted to Colonel. The very last thing he wanted to do was try to convince Granny Miser that she needed to shell out several hundred dollars so another kid could have arthritis in his thumbs someday.
"I just don't understand why it's so expensive. I mean, all it does is play games, right?"
Since Casey's cover was as a salesman at the Burbank Buy More, that meant he needed to make a sale. "Ma'am, this isn't a deck of cards where you can play pinochle and bridge. This is a highly sophisticated piece of machinery that took computer programmers and developers years to create and perfect."
"But..." She huffed a sigh, shaking her head.
"I think the most important question you need to ask is: will it make your grandson happy?" Casey said as his watch began to beep. He quickly punched a button on the side, stopping the sound. "I'll let you think about that," he said. "Excuse me." He quickly ducked into the Home Theater Room. After closing the curtains on the big picture windows, he cracked open the hidden hatch beneath the couch and made his way down to the Castle.
Castle was the CIA-funded headquarters of his current assignment, protecting the ultimate walking, talking intelligence computer, Chuck Bartowski. He took the metal stairs two and three at a time, spotting his partner, CIA Agent Sarah Walker already standing in front of the large flat-screen where General Diane Beckman appeared by secured teleconference.
"Colonel, nice of you to join us." The General looked at Casey over the tops of her glasses.
"Came as soon as I got the red alert," Casey said. "What's going on?"
Sarah handed him a file folder.
"We just intercepted and decoded an encrypted message," began Beckman as Casey flipped through the file. "Seems someone has determined that Special Agent Charles 'Carmichael' has a sister, a doctor, Eleanor Faye Woodcomb, and that she is scheduled to attend the Central Coast Medical Conference this week in San Francisco."
"Who is it? And how'd they put Chuck's alias with Ellie?" Casey asked, glancing up at the screen.
"Those are two very good questions. Agent Walker will be determining those answers from L.A. In the meantime, Colonel, I need you on a plane in twenty minutes."
Casey frowned. "General?"
"You're going to San Francisco."
"The medical conference?"
Beckman nodded. "To protect the Intersect's sister. You'll be going in as a military doctor."
"I'm sorry, General, but, with all due respect, how exactly is that supposed to work? I've lived across the courtyard from Bartowski's sister for almost three years now. She's going to recognize me."
"Miraculously, Colonel, you seem to have a twin brother." The General hit a few keystrokes on her computer, and a profile and dossier on Major Lucas Casey, MD, came up on another flat-screen within Castle. "Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds younger than John Casey, Luke Casey is divorced, with a son, and has served as a Marine medic on the front lines."
Casey, who'd never shied away from even the strangest covers before, was having a hard time swallowing that he was about to become his own brother. "I haven't been to med school. I open my mouth, they're going to know I'm not one of them."
"Good thing you're a spy, then, isn't it, Colonel?" asked Beckman.
Sarah glanced at Casey, an odd mix of concern and worry crossing her face. She couldn't imagine trying to be her own twin sister in front of Chuck. The whole idea made her head hurt.
"Your luggage and cover documents are with the plane," Beckman told him.
Casey exhaled. "Yes, ma'am."
"One thing, Colonel Casey, Agent Walker... given the nature of our new Intersect, as well as our… previous association... with Dr. Devon Woodcomb, the information disseminated in this briefing goes no further than this room. I do not, under any circumstances, want either of them knowing that there is a potential threat against Eleanor. Is that understood?"
Casey and Sarah answered at the same time: "Yes, ma'am."
"Get going," Beckman said before turning off her secured feed.
Casey grunted. It was low, guttural, and somewhat depressed.
"Good luck," Sarah said gently.
"You, too. I think your job may be harder this round," he said, handing her back the file.
"How's that?" Sarah asked, watching as Casey made his ascent back to the Buy More.
"You have to look at Chuck with a straight face and tell him everything's fine for the next four days."
Sarah hadn't thought about that yet. She let out a slow breath.
As Casey eased his way back to the Buy More, he glanced around. The grandmother he'd been trying to sell to earlier seemed to be nowhere in sight. He cast a wary glance at the Nerd Herd desk, where Chuck chatted up a customer while working on a laptop. With any luck at all, Casey would be able to get past the pocket-protector-wearing Intersect without his noticing.
He knew the manager, Big Mike, had already left for the day, which meant he'd have to talk to the assistant manager, Morgan Grimes. He found the bearded, short salesman in his tie and vest talking with a customer by the stereos.
He cleared his throat until Morgan glanced over at him. The assistant manager held up a hand, to indicate he'd need just a moment. Casey faked a hacking, nasty sounding cough.
Morgan looked at Casey curiously, but quickly finished up with his customer, who was headed towards the front to check out. "You okay, there, big guy?" Morgan asked.
"I'm going to need some time off," he said. "Sick."
Morgan nodded. "You certainly sound it."
"Think it's that H1N1," he said, coughing again.
Morgan's eyes grew large. "By all means," he said, "get outta here. And don't come back for at least a week. We want to make sure that bug is dead and gone, right?"
Casey inclined his head slightly and left without so much as another word, or another sideways glance at Chuck. The Intersect was Sarah's responsibility now. He had another Bartowski to watch over.
Morgan, however, made a beeline for the Nerd Herd desk, not stopping until he found the hand sanitizer, pumping a handful of the clear liquid into his palms and rubbing them vigorously. Chuck glanced over at him, then followed Morgan's eyes towards the front door, where he saw Casey's familiar form leaving.
"What's up, buddy?" Chuck asked casually.
"We've been invaded," Morgan said, pumping another handful once the first one was rubbed in.
"Invaded?" Chuck asked, alarmed.
"Swine flu," Morgan explained.
As soon as the words had left Morgan's mouth, Jeff and Lester, who were busy standing and doing nothing on the other side of the desk, both dove for the hand sanitizer. It was Lester who came up with it first, rubbing the germ-killing liquid not only into his hands but up his arms as well.
Jeff moved to uncap the bottle and take a swig.
"Pretty sure that's not actually edible," Chuck said, removing it from Jeff's hands quickly.
"They just want you to think that," Jeff said. "It's subliminal messaging. Like encryption. They say don't drink it, means drink it."
"That seems really kinda sketchy to me, pal," Chuck said, screwing the lid back on the bottle.
"It's a government conspiracy, Charles," Lester said, jumping into the conversation. "Swine flu? Who'd ever heard of swine flu before now?"
"It's been around, actually, the news said--" Chuck tried to explain before he was cut off.
"It's germ warfare," Jeff said, shaking his head.
Chuck wondered what Jeff and Lester had to be smoking on the off hours to come up with such insane theories. "Uh, yeah, okay, let's say I believe you... why on earth would our government want to kill, y'know, small children and old people?"
"Population control," Lester answered easily.
"It's like fluoride in the water," Jeff added. "Like the grassy knoll shooter, like the video cameras outside the women's bathroom at Large Mart. It's Big Brother, out to get you, man."
Morgan and Chuck exchanged glances.
"Well, I'm going to take my break real fast, if that's okay," Chuck said, glancing at Morgan, who shrugged. "You guys... don't drink the sanitizer, okay?" he said before sliding over the top of the desk and heading out into the sunshine.
As soon as Chuck left the store, Lester and Jeff took up posts on either side of Morgan.
"You need to be careful," Lester said, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"I de-germed, I think I'm good."
"That's not what I'm talking about," Lester said. "I'm talking about your... friend," he said, using air quotes, "Charles I. Bartowski."
Morgan frowned. "Chuck's the greatest friend."
"Not if he's going over the wall," Jeff said, shaking his head. "Not if his loyalties lie with the infected John... I don't know his middle initial... Casey."
Lester shook his head. "I hate assholes whose loyalties are for sale."
She rubbed at the back of her neck as traffic came to a grinding halt. She knew she should've left earlier, but Devon had insisted a quick brunch wouldn't have put her so far behind schedule. Perhaps everyone had stopped for a speedy meal with their spouse before hitting the road. Ellie hated being stuck. She hated road trips by herself. She hated that she was about to be in a hotel by herself for four days, in a city she didn't know, surrounded by people she didn't know.
She inhaled slowly, counted to three, then exhaled. It was just four days. It wasn't a completely foreign place, it was only a couple hours up the coast. It wouldn't be as bad as she feared.
She hoped.
She glanced at the clock on her dashboard, watching as the minutes ticked by and she was stuck in the parking lot that was Interstate 5. At this rate, she was definitely going to miss early registration but she might make it on time for the dinner.
She didn't mind the actual participating in the conference, learning new techniques, listening to the latest advancements. She just minded the distance. She'd rather sleep in her own bed at night, not in a hotel room.
She tried to look at the bright side. It would be rather nice to be away from the actual treating of patients for a few days. Something different, if only for a little while. But, it had the potential to be lonely. No Devon. No Chuck or Sarah. No random Buy More employees dropping by for dinner, announced or unannounced. No left-over Orange Orange yogurt at the end of the day, at least till next week.
She turned up the volume on the radio as the traffic report came in.
"There's quite an accident just south of San Fran, on the I-5, both north- and south-bound lanes are affected. Emergency crews are on site, but it'll be a while before either side start moving. Best try to hop off at your nearest exit and find alternate routes in."
"Peachy," she murmured. She punched the detour button on the GPS mounted on her dash.
Chuck slowed his gait as he saw the familiar black Ford Crown Victoria pull away from the Buy More. He sighed. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
He crossed the parking lot at the mall, moving quickly towards the Orange Orange yogurt shop. The dining room was empty, as usual. The blonde clerk scrubbing the counter looked up and smiled as he entered.
"Hey, Chuck."
"Where's Casey going?"
Sarah stopped her cleaning. "He's not feeling very well."
"He's not on a mission?"
She shook her head. "Home sick." Off Chuck's perplexed look, she reminded him: "Casey is human, you know."
It was a fact that was easy to forget. "Well, yeah," Chuck began. "I know. You're sure everything's fine?"
She nodded. "We had the morning briefing and the General gave him some time off. And, good news for you, while he's gone, there's not much going on that needs to worry the Intersect."
"Guess that means Shaw's still at some undisclosed location, too, huh?"
"He's still at Langley. No word yet on his return," Sarah acknowledged, her thoughts drifting to the mysterious CIA Special Agent Daniel Shaw.
For a brief moment, Chuck's eyes lit up. "Are you saying we have a free long weekend?"
Sarah smiled politely. "I'm saying you have a free long weekend."
"But you just said..."
"Just because there's not much going on doesn't mean there aren't things I need to do, Chuck."
"Right, right," he lamented. "A spy's job, never done."
He swirled the ice in the bottom of his glass, sitting on the mezzanine level of the San Francisco Grand Hotel. Quinn Tate watched casually as the doctors bustled about in the lobby, checking into the hotel and the conference. His hazel eyes, shaded by dark blonde hair, darted over each and every person milling about. He knew exactly who he was looking for, as he'd committed to memory her picture: the dark-haired beauty kin to the infamous Agent Charles Carmichael. Carmichael had some kind of information on the Intersect, the US Government's highly-classified intelligence computer. And the key to getting that knowledge was applying the precise amount of pressure at the most opportune time.
And the fact that Carmichael's sister would be wandering in of her own volition was perfect. He just had to wait for that moment.
As it was, however, he'd seen well over two hundred doctors wander in, but he had yet to see the one he was looking for. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until a military doctor entered. He wore the uniform smartly, with his cover tucked under his arm. He was broad-shouldered and well-muscled. He ran his fingers though his short dark hair and casually scanned the area.
It was the roving eyes that caught his attention. It made Tate sit up a little straighter, following the doctor's gaze. This doctor spotted all of the pros and cons in the security system that he himself had seen when he'd entered the hotel.
All of the cameras, the emergency exits, the "employee's only" doors. The open-air stairs and escalators, the bar overlooking the lobby.
Tate made a mental note to check out the military representative's background later. First, the Marine would have to stop looking up at him.
Casey felt increasingly uneasy. While he was proud to wear the Marine uniform, it wasn't his rank any more. And he was definitely no doctor. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable false identity he'd ever had. And he'd had several he never, ever wanted to revisit.
While flying to San Francisco, he'd had the opportunity to review the hotel's blueprints. He knew the schematics forwards and backwards. He knew the security risks and the benefits. The open lobby concerned him, especially the bar hovering above it.
Height was always an operational advantage.
While he picked up his welcome packet and ID badge, he scanned the discarded list of attendees, spotting Ellie's name. When he signed in, his name was highlighted. Hers was still in plain black and white. She wasn't in yet.
Perfect.
He nodded politely at the conference worker, checked into his room, and immediately headed up to the tenth floor. His room was adjacent to Ellie's.
First things first. He scanned his own room for listening devices or security failures. Satisfied that his room was a typical hotel room, he immediately set up his laptop. He'd need eyes and ears in Ellie's room, standard surveillance.
The room was simple and tastefully decorated, with modern lines and neutral colors. The queen-sized bed was piled high with pillows and had an inviting thick, plush duvet. A mahogany entertainment center hid the flat-screen television. A similarly styled dresser was near the door; nightstand by the bed. There was a comfortable wing-back chair in a nubby corduroy and matching ottoman. A simple desk and office chair occupied a corner.
The bathroom had pedestal sink, small commode, large mirror, and walk-in shower with a frosted glass door.
He'd need two audio feeds, one in the bathroom, one in the bedroom. He'd need one camera watching the front door. Being on the tenth floor, without a balcony, he assumed the large picture window overlooking the city would be relatively safe.
Their rooms were connected by an inner door, one that was currently locked from her side. With a few practiced maneuvers, he was able to pick the lock from the convenience of his own room. He set to work quickly; he wasn't sure when Ellie would be arriving.
He checked to make sure he was the first one to bug her room. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or concerned when his scan came up empty. Either way, he began by setting the audio transmitters. In the bathroom, he hid it behind the thick wooden lip of the mirror.
"Testing," he said normally, before repeating it quieter and quieter, until he was whispering. His laptop was recording. He'd run back the feeds to make sure it was adequate for what he needed.
He hid the second listening device behind the nightstand next to her bed, and performed the same audio test.
He finished up with the camera, hiding it in the air vent in the ceiling. While there had been cameras in every room in Chuck's apartment, including what had been Ellie and Devon's bedroom, he opted to give her a little privacy here. The most important thing he needed to be able to see was the door, to see if someone came in who wasn't supposed to. He'd have to double-check the laptop to make sure the angle was right.
Making sure it seemed as though he hadn't been there at all, he slipped back into his room. He checked the video feed first. It would require a slight adjustment, a little more to the left. Next, he ran the bathroom's audio back, and heard each "testing" clearly, even his last whispered one. Same with the main room's feed.
Rushing back into her room, he angled the camera a fraction so that he was able to see the door fully. "Ready for mark," he muttered, heading back into his room and locking the interior door with another flick of his lock picks.
Tate rode the escalator down to the lobby after the uniform had disappeared into the elevator. He strolled casually towards the conference check-in table. The closer he got, the more pronounced a fake swagger became. He pointed to a man dressed in green scrubs. "Doc, you da man, man!" he slurred.
The doctor merely looked at him.
"So, you guys having like, a convention, or somethin'?" he asked, with a hiccup. He suddenly careened into the sign-in table, knocking the guest list to the floor. "Oh, man, I'm... So sorry. I'm so sorry," he said, bending over to help the conference staff pick up the materials he'd so conveniently scattered. He grabbed the attendee list and scanned over the first two pages, finding the only highlighted name with a rank next to it.
Major Lucas Casey.
Tate sloppily placed several items back on the folding table and tried to straighten the tablecloth. "My bad, my bad. Phew. Those drinks upstairs... man, they are strong," he said, letting out an alcohol-stained breath.
"Sir, I think you ought to leave," the conference employee stated firmly.
"Goin'. I'm goin'. Geez." Tate kept up the stumbling stagger until he reached the elevator. Once he stepped inside, he stood straighter, adjusting his tie.
Ellie tugged her suitcase in behind her as she rushed into the lobby of the hotel. As she feared, the early registration table was gone. Letting her shoulders droop, she wheeled her suitcase to check into the hotel itself. With a room key in her hand, she headed for the elevator and up to the tenth floor.
She was just putting her key into her lock when the door next to hers opened, and someone stepped out. She glanced over, to see who her neighbor was, and her jaw dropped.
Casey nodded to her slightly, as casually as possible, and walked towards the elevator she'd just vacated.
She reached out to stop him. "Wait, wait... John?"
He looked at her, puzzled. "I'm sorry?"
"I..." Ellie was momentarily convinced it had to be road fatigue. There was no way that her neighbor in the hotel was her neighbor from home. "I thought you were someone else. You look remarkably like someone I know."
"Named John," Casey said, offering her a smile. A real smile. A very un-John-like smile.
She nodded.
"Well, I'm Luke. Lucas Casey, actually," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Are you here for the conference?"
She nodded, placing her hand in his. "Ellie Woodc--" She stopped immediately. "Wait... Casey?" she repeated, standing there, looking at him dumbly.
"You know, I have a brother named John."
"In L.A.," she said. "Who works at the Buy More with my brother...? Who lives across the courtyard from me...?"
"I haven't actually talked with John in a long time, but what you just said would explain why you called me by his name," Casey said.
"You look so much like him," Ellie said, still reeling.
"I should hope so. I mean, he's my big brother, but he's only older by four and a half minutes."
"I didn't know John had a twin!"
"Like I said, we haven't talked in a while," Casey said.
"That's..."
"Small world, huh?"
"Very!" Ellie said with a nod.
"Well, Dr. Wood, was it? If you'd like, we could head down to dinner together."
"Woodcomb," she corrected. "I, uh... Yeah, Dr. Casey, that sounds great. If you don't mind, I need to put this..." She gestured at her luggage.
"I'll be right here," he assured her.
She smiled. "Thanks," she said, disappearing into her room for a few minutes.
As soon as her back was turned to him, Casey delved back into his trademark scowl. Four days of doing this. He could do it. He could definitely manage. He was going to keep telling himself that until it was true.
When she returned, he plastered a genuine smile back on his lips.
"It's so startling," she told him. "I mean, your brother has been at my house for dinner, multiple times... It's..."
"You know," Casey said, as he led her to the elevator, "it's not a medical impossibility, to have an identical twin," he told her with a wink.
She laughed, watching as he pressed the button to go down. "I'm aware, I just... I guess I never assumed he had a brother. He's always been so..."
"Serious?"
"Alone," she said, looking up at Casey. "He's never really talked about his family..."
"Well, we have a mother. Our father died when we were kids..." He was going to develop a multiple personality disorder after this mission.
"I'm so sorry."
"He was a soldier, too, Dad was..." He shrugged slightly. "It comes with the territory."
"Still, it must've been difficult."
"You adapt."
She was well aware of that first hand. She'd had to adapt, and fast, at losing both her parents. "Yeah," she said softly, distantly.
"Are you all right, Dr. Woodcomb?"
"Ellie," she corrected.
"Very well... Are you all right, Ellie?" he asked. There was a small smile on his lips, a playfulness in his eyes.
She looked up at him. "I'm fine. Just, lost still on the '5, I think," she said, shaking her head. "Traffic was murder."
Stay Tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"I just... Y'know, I can't imagine not talking with my brother for an extended amount of time."
He silently begged the elevator to move faster. "It's not necessarily my own doing." It was all Beckman's fault.
"Maybe after the conference, you could stop in, we could all have dinner?"
There was a disaster waiting to happen. He gestured for her to enter the elevator when the doors finally opened.
She slipped inside. "Nothing too fancy, just a Saturday night dinner, Devon, John, Chuck and Sarah, you..."
Casey joined her. "As much as I appreciate the offer, Ellie, I'm not sure dropping by for dinner unannounced is the best way to reconnect with John. He's not much for surprises." Just before the doors closed, he spotted someone watching them from across the lobby.
The same someone from the mezzanine bar earlier.