Hi guys, did you miss me? Hope not… (I don't like being under pressure ;)

First great news: I finally found a beta-reader, kroblues… In my -humblest- opinion he's doing a really great job, thoroughly polishing my messed up chapters, so you won't be plagued further by my tons of grammar errors. Still, some may occur, as I often don't think before doing something… Sorry for that, it's my fault!

Since kroblues offered me his help, we've been working also on the first two chapters, which turned out to be really screwed up.

I've just re-uploaded a new version of both… So I suggest you to quickly reread them again, because I've changed a few things (for example, there's a bit more angst because, after all, Bryce's dead...) and they're at least 15% longer now…

I'll never be able to thank enough those who showed their appreciation despite my horrible writing style. On the other side I'll never be able to apologize enough to those who had the patience to read my story so far. (I know, I know, the first ones are included also in the second group… But I decided that they deserved a special treatment! :)

As usual I do not own Chuck (well, who knows, maybe this summer I'll get a part-time job and buy it… Yeah, and then I could produce a 3rd season of 87 episodes… Ah, the power of daydreaming!)



Buy More, Burbank

"He!" A loud cry gushed out from Emmett's throat. "He's going to be here soon!" he shouted, bursting into the home-theater room.

"Who the hell is going to be here?" asked Big Mike carelessly, sunk in the stuffing of his chair, without even looking at him. He was busy cleaning a stain of mustard on his green shirt with a napkin.

"Moses!"

"Did he bring the tablets I requested?"

"W-what…?" asked the other, totally confused.

Big Mike burst out laughing. "You know, the ones with the Ten Commandments… I'm such a refined comedian…" he stated, drying the tears from the corner of his eyes. And then, showing his serious expression once more, he stated "I don't give a damn if some Jehovah's witness is going to pester your customers for charity."

"You don't understand the seriousness of the situation!" Milbarge yelled at him. "Moses Finkelstein, Founder and CEO of Buy More is going to come in through that door in a couple of minutes!"

Time seemed to stop.

Well, it stopped at least from Emmett's point of view, because Big Mike instead said, frowning, "Finkel-who? I'm sorry Milbarge, but I'm busy having my full-morning break."

Emmett rolled his eyes, with a dead scared look on his face, and hurried out of the room, shouting orders right and left.

Orders that no one followed, obviously. Not even when he climbed on the Nerd Herd desk and shouted "Obey me! Do it at least for the glorious nation of Buymoria, oafs!"

Big Mike, who had not moved from his armchair, shook his head. "Poor Milbarge… And yet I could swear I've already heard that name… Frinklenstain…" he muttered to himself, shrugging.


"We've got to get rid of that corpse, Jeff." stated Lester with a trembling voice. They were in the car-audio-installer garage, staring at the nerd herder parked in front of them.

The other nodded. "I hic!-hate to say that, but you're hic!-right." He'd been having the hiccups since he'd tried to break the record of their own version of the Fast and Furious 'fried-shrimps eating race' a couple of hours before. Fifteen standard portions in five minutes. He had not succeeded.

Patel looked up at him as to protest, but he was interrupted by a sound of steps coming from the corridor behind their back. "Oh, my God! We're dead!"

They turned just in time to see the door handle turning down.

With a roar, Moses Finkelstein, founder and CEO of Buy More, and his graded-bootlickers staff flooded into the room. They had assumed a triangle-formation, with the boss of the bosses being ahead of it.

He kept holding Emmett by his collar and dragging him around like he was a wheeled coat-hanger, while his burning eyes analyzed first Lester and then Jeff. "Who the heck are those two layabouts?!" he barked with a tone that made them freeze.

Emmett was asphyxiating, so he wasn't able to answer and the room was invaded by a heavy silence, interrupted only by the sound of paper sheets diligently leafed by someone on the other side of that compact barricade of assistants.

Lester paled, while his jaw was quivering slightly and his eyes were becoming damp. He was very close to fainting.

On the other hand, Jeff kept his drunken look and did nothing else apart from hiccupping a couple of times, with a dumb smile pictured on his face.

The silence lasted until an invisible assistant said, from the middle of the crowd, "The one that looks like an Indian lesbian is Patel, Lester. A nonentity, Sir. The other happens to be Barnes, Jeffery, our eldest employee. The dean of all the Nerd Herds, Sir. And yet the one with the lowest number of commendations."

Moses Finkelstein nodded and raised his free hand, as to impose an utter silence, and prepared to say something with a cold and severe look in his eyes.

But any word came out from his mouth, as he suddenly realized that the Nerd Herd business-car behind the two nonentities had something definitely wrong. The nose of the car was crushed, the front bumper was missing, as well as the hood, and they were replaced by a sort of fur with a pair of round, large horns rising from what seemed to be the head.

"What the heck is that…?" Moses Finkelstein asked, unable to believe his eyes.

"It's a deer." answered quietly Jeff. "Oh, well, actually it was a deer. Now he's dead. We killed him, but it was an accident." he specified with a guilty look in his sad eyes.


A sudden, violent turmoil forced Big Mike to hurry out of the home-theatre room.

Nothing on Earth could have prepared him for the scene that occurred before his eyes. An injured deer was jumping over the DVD's shelving, smashing the display racks and devastating the shop.

All the customers and the green shirts in the room had already panicked and were running away in every direction.

Jeff was the only one running after the beast and shouting "He's alive, he's alive!" or "Oh my God, he's alive!" with all the possible variations on the theme.

Big Mike took a deep breath.

Someone had to do something extremely brave to save the situation.

He let the air out from his nose, widening his nostrils.

He ran back into his room and knocked over his armchair with a single blow. He took the harpoon-rifle he'd hidden under it, and ran out, shouting "For Buymoria!"


Fortunately Big Mike didn't kill any bystander.

His harpoon pierced just one foot. A foot in an expensive shoe. A shoe bought with a Golden American Express.

Moses Finkelstein's credit card.

However, Jeff also had a part in that, preventing Big Mike from hurting further the poor animal. Actually, Jeffery Barnes felt very proud of his action.

Almost like when he'd won the Missile Command contest.

Instead, Lester had remained in the car-audio-installer garage. He had lost consciousness when the deer had regained it.


Unnamed Cemetery

Two days had passed since that night.

All that time she'd been burying her feelings under six feet of work-stuff.

Rain was pouring down from a steel-gray ceiling of clouds. It had started falling at the same time as the coffin had started its descent to the oblivion of a bare grave, dug a few steps in front of her.

She was soaked to the bone.

An empty tombstone was waiting to finally become the silent guardian of Bryce's real mortal remains. There wasn't any name written on it, only the plain epitaph 'Thus he served his country: with honor and courage'.

She was freezing, but the cold wasn't coming from outside. It was coming from her heart.

The cemetery looked bitterly empty at her eyes. She had been brought there by an anonymous black Suburban of the Agency, driven by an unnamed man that had left her there, alone.

No one else had been told about the funeral. To the rest of the world, Bryce had died two years before.

She was crying submissively. But the rain was hiding those tears, melting with them and dragging them on her cheeks, down her soaked hair to her shoulders. That branch of clear water carried those salty drops along her arms lying at her sides, and let them fall freely from the tips of her fingers.

No one could have told that some of all those drops were actually tears.

But he knew that.

Chuck was walking amongst the hundreds of tombstones, heading towards her under his large, opportunely black umbrella. He was very elegantly dressed, with a plain black suite on a dark gray shirt and a darker tie. When he finally reached behind her, she straightened her shoulders and asked "How did you know?" stiffening up.

"That you were here? Oh, c'mon Sarah, I'm a spy. A spy's job is to know…" he answered, coming closer and shifting his umbrella over her.

The corners of her mouth bent a little upwards. "Chuck, how many times do I have to tell you to quit saying you're a spy?"

"I guess I'll just have to get used to it, sooner or later." Chuck said, softly and sadly smiling, while both of them kept staring at the grave, as if it was a sort of magnetic darkness at the end of the enlightened tunnel.

Then he glanced at her and decided to be as close to her as he could.

He put away the umbrella, letting the water soak his curly brown hair and slip under his coat. He looked up, facing the low and gray sky, and stood like that for a while. She did the same, and both their minds went blank while they tried to figure out how many were the raindrops falling towards them.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on every single drop that hit her, but when the lump in her throat grew too big, she drew one step back, flinching as she got shoulder to shoulder with Chuck. Keeping her eyes shut tight and her mind far away from duty and other excuses, she turned over and put her arms around his neck, hiding her face into the warm hollow between his neck and his shoulder.

He wrapped her with his coat, embracing her sorrow and holding her tight, as the rain continued pouring down thicker and thicker.

Two years before she'd managed to overcome her feelings, turning the pain into rage, as she'd found out that Bryce had been betraying his country, the Agency and, above all, her.

That had helped a lot.

This time it was just harder. She had no reason not to cry for him. A friend. Her one-time lover. A man who still loved her.

But Chuck's surprisingly solid body gave her the strength to react and choke back, at last, her tears.

"Do you want to share your thoughts with me?" asked Chuck gingerly, gently whispering in her ear. "At least someone…Maybe… Maybe this time it could be finally my turn to help you."

She sighed. "It's just… Some things are just hard to forget, I guess."

"Yes, I know, but some others aren't meant to be forgotten. Some are just there to remind us what's right to believe in and fight for. Or, if you prefer, what's right to be heroes for." he shrugged, "Or at least to give it a try."

"When did you turn into such a wise man?" she asked slightly smiling, just a bit cheered up.

"When he…" Chuck said nodding to the grave, "…gave me the chance to make a choice. The first crucial one of my life."

She sighed and stood still, silently listening to the rain, grasping at him like a castaway to a buoy.

They didn't move for a while, until Chuck glanced at Casey's Crown Vic parked outside the entrance.

Sarah nodded and they headed towards it, less and less hesitantly at every step forward.

Every further step demanded less and less effort from her, as she was regaining her self control.

Suddenly Chuck broke the silence. "You know that Casey will probably lock us out?"

"What?" she asked confused.

"He won't let us wet the low-price tapestry of his beloved one's seats. We could be forced to spend the night in a cheap hotel, in a one-bath/one-bed room…" he pretended to be disgusted and shudder.

She laughed briefly. Half a laugh, still strangled by the last leftovers of her cry.

But it was nevertheless a laugh.


Casa Bartowski

As the red figures on the display shifted to 7:00 a.m., the notes of a song spread from the alarm clock on Chuck's bedside table. It was the unmistakable rhythm of Teddybears' Cobra Style.

Chuck yawned, stretching his arms above his head and slowly opening his drowsy eyes. As the bright morning sunlight made him close them again, a sudden thought hit him.

It was the awareness of Sarah's head lying on his chest, of her breath lightly caressing his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, of her leg clasped on his.

He felt as if his fingers were awkward intruders among the soft wisps of her blond hair.

My style is tha bom digi bom di deng di-deng digi-digi…

The awareness of the shape of her breast rubbing softly on his side, slightly moving up and down at every breath she did.

carubuano peer with di bom di deng di-deng digi-digi…

His heart was running so fast and skipping so many beats that it seemed to him it could match the crazy rhythm of that song.

She seemed to realize that too, as she stirred to reach a more comfortable position.

He couldn't help but smile.

"I always wondered, what the hell do those lyrics mean?" he said.

"Don't ask me, it's too early for me to even try thinking." she moaned.

"Maybe it has some hidden onomatopoeic meaning…" he assumed.

"Or maybe the composer was just high. Are you always that articulate in the morning?" she muttered, while a smile rose on her pretty face.

"Has anyone told you before that you have a terribly sexy way of muttering?" he replied instead, unintentionally blushing.

"You see? It wasn't so difficult… That's the right kind of questions to make the waking-up part more appealing!"

They both burst out laughing.

She gracefully rolled on her back, brushing her hair with her fingers. "Mhmm… We've gotta move, today we're starting the job interviews."

He sighed. "It'll be a long morning…"

At the sight of the arched silhouette of her body while she stretched among the sheets, he added "It will definitely be a never-ending morning… I have to take a shower." he stated getting up. "A really cold one." murmured to himself in a whisper.

Only a couple of minutes later a scream came from the corridor. "HEEW! WAY TOO CO-OOLD!" he shouted with a high pitched voice and his breath taken away.


SuperComputer Management Inc.

Sarah parked the Porsche under the black-glass windowed building just a few instants after Casey had arrived. They both had left the cars at the far end of the underground car park, as distant as possible from the frantic activity of the workers that were unloading all the necessary furniture and equipment from a couple of trucks.

Chuck smiled when he realized that, while Sarah did that to avoid hampering the workers, Casey did the same to prevent the workers from denting his beloved Vic. Of course.

They greeted as usual; Chuck was a bit too expansive and friendly towards the Colonel, who on the other hand let out nothing more than a grunt, just to point out that it was still morning.

The three took the elevator to the first floor, and after a short run, its doors opened in a large corridor. Every single thing collected in that space had written on it the words 'work in progress', in enormous letters. All the furniture and furnishing piled up here and there were wrapped with two or three layers of cellophane.

Team Bartowski ploughed through boxes of any dimensions and cables dangling from the ceiling.

But when they walked into the main entrance hall, a creepy sight stood out in front of them. "What the hell…?" Chuck exclaimed. Forty to fifty men were crowding the hall, occupying every square inch in front of the door to the room that they'd set up for the job interviews.

"Maybe we can try…" suggested Chuck.

"No! Forget the idea of making a breach to the front door." Sarah stated, with a worried look on her face.

"Oh my God. This must be a nightmare." said Casey, noisily gulping. "An horde of desperate, angry, well-armed and bad-intentioned, ready-for-anything work-seekers!" a cold shiver ran down his spine. "Walker, please tell me that you are heavily armed…"

"Nope, I've got just four throwing knives. I left the 9 mm in the car." she muttered.

Suddenly a single voice rose from an indeterminate point in the middle of the crowd. "Hey, Charles!"

Almost a hundred eyes turned to the three newcomers.

A veil of cold sweat covered Casey's forehead as he heard that lonely voice grew into a loud battle cry. "They spotted us!" he shouted trying in vain to keep his composure. "Retreat!"

The pack of beasts headed compactly towards them, with tens of hands frantically waving their already-filled-in forms.

The three agents quickly shrunk from the advancing mass of shapeless beings, flying out of the room, through the double door they'd come in. Sarah lost a few precious seconds to shut the heavy steel-reinforced panels and activate the security block. "Casey, take Chuck out of here!" she ordered.

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Sarah!" he yelled back.

But Casey barked "You're wrong, moron, I'm going to do as she says. And you too, wanting to or not!"

But before he could finish, Sarah caught up with them. "This should stop them…" she began optimistically, but when the sound of the assailants' blows to the door reached them, she added "…at least for a little while. Let's go!"

They resumed running breathlessly along the corridor towards the elevators.


"What the hell is going on there?" shouted the supervisor.

In the underground parking garage the workers had accidentally dropped a desk.

It was stuck right between the doors of the only useable elevator.

"Crap, it dented the sliding doors!" stated a man kneeled next to the site of the accident. "We'll have to saw it…"

"…and refund it to the owners. And the elevator as well." finished the supervisor. "Damn it! I only hope that the boss up there doesn't need this elevator for a while!"


"Why the hell isn't it coming up?!" shouted a hysterical Chuck.

Casey came back from his reconnaissance and reported "The stair doors are blocked by piles of furniture!"

After a couple of seconds the fugitives heard a crack and the loud thumping of their pursuers' steps flooding into the hallway, and Casey shouted "The enemy must have broken down the door! Chuck, call the reinforcements or we won't get out of here on our legs!"

"I've already raised the alarm because of immediate danger!" he replied breathlessly. "The support squad will be here at any moment!"

"Any moment could be too late." the Colonel stated with a dead-serious expression that revealed his true feelings. Bad feelings, actually.

Chuck had never seen Casey that frightened before. Actually he had never seen him scared of anything less powerful than a nuclear warhead.

That sight was enough for him to panic. The nerd in him came out as he paled and started trembling and hyperventilating, while muttering something about the fact that there wasn't anything awesome in being a dead secret agent.

"Bartowski, you are the one who has the intersect in your head so, for goodness sake, use it!" barked Casey, shaking him from his fears.

Chuck blinked and nodded "Okay, okay, there must be something we can do!"

He turned over himself focusing on all the stuff that surrounded them.

He flashed on a fire-extinguisher. A devastating explosion. Steel fragments flying in the air. Blood splattered everywhere. Limbs torn from bodies. A devastating explosion.

"Woha! Oh my God!" he shouted, backing up one step. "You'll never guess how dangerous an extinguisher could be!" he said, wide-eyed.

He suddenly flashed again on a blowtorch. A gas cylinder. A fuse. Another explosion. The oxygen combustion reaction. Many bodies burned to a cinder. A gas cylinder.

He winced. "Geez! McGyver definitely won't be proud of the new Intersect!"

"Don't waste time, we're running out of it!" Casey reminded him.

"I know! Damn, if only I had brought my wrist computer!" he complained. But at those words his mind was hit by another flash. The plans of the building they were in. The load-bearing walls highlighted in red. The schematics of the out-of-order elevator. Both the extinguisher and the blowtorch. Another gas cylinder too. The weak points of the elevator wires. The same elevator falling down to the end of its rails. Another explosion in the cellar. The entire building collapsing on itself.

"Hell, no!" he shouted, blinking and shaking his head.

"Are you okay, Chuck?" Sarah asked with a worried look on the face.

"Yes, yes, it was nothing… But I have an idea!" he stated with a brainwave-like expression.

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Great, we're listening, go on."

"Casey and I will stay here…"

"What the hell does this mean?!" Casey burst out, about to lose his temper.

"…and will hold the assailants with that fire hose." Chuck said pointing to a hosepipe hanging on the wall behind Casey. "In the meantime, Sarah, you will climb up to the elevator roof and from there you'll have to crawl into the air conditioning duct. You'll head North-West, reach the entrance hall, go out, run to Lou's Shop, borrow that ticket machine they use to grade the customers and the related display, that with the red numbers…"

She nodded. "…then I'll come back and draw the crowd into the hall again. Got it!"

"Make sure you put the ticket machine in plain view. And… Be careful Sarah…" begged Chuck.

"No, be fast Walker!" highlighted a worried Colonel.

As Casey was helping Sarah to climb beyond the trapdoor in the elevator, Chuck unrolled the hosepipe and then he ran about the corridor, looking for other useful weapons.

"Did you find anything?" asked Casey when he came out of the elevator.

"Sort of…" answered Chuck doubtfully.

He was holding in his hands a box of glazed donuts.

Casey was about to heap abuse on him but, as he opened his mouth, the enraged crowd turned the corner and headed for them like a sandstorm.

"What the heck!… Fire at will!" yelled the Colonel and Chuck obeyed, starting to throw the donuts to their assailants.

The first two shots were both too short.

But then it happened. The miracle they needed.

Casey couldn't believe his eyes: some of the men in the first line made a run for the glazed rings, kneeling down and causing those who were behind them to stumble with a devastating chain reaction.

"It's working!" he said, incredulous. "Keep slowing them down!" he spurred on, while was trying to put the fire hose into action.

"I'm running short of ammo!" cried Chuck.

"Done!" Casey finally announced with relief, "Get here and help me hold the tube!"

The water jet hit the target with a disarming power, but it still wasn't enough to make them withdraw. The two opposite forces stood there, facing one another for a couple of minutes, until a voice came from the entrance hall.

It was Sarah, talking into a megaphone. "Those who are here for the job interview are kindly requested to take a number at the appropriate ticket machine." She'd used the perfect imitation of a typical supermarket-announcer voice.

The two agents under siege shouted for joy, and in a transport of the enthusiasm of being alive, Chuck hugged Casey.

Bad error.

Chuck suddenly found himself hanging on the wall, with Casey's hands wrapped around his neck. "I do remember telling you something about men hugging and their men-parts, once… Don't you too?"

He nodded, gasping as he was slowly becoming red-faced.

But they were interrupted all of a sudden by a powerful explosion that blew down a piece of wall a dozen meters away from them.

The last rubbles were still falling down all around when an assault team of the Agency broke in, running through the dust cloud like a bunch of ghosts.

"Oh, no! My poor building…" groaned Chuck in between the coughs.


Finally the three agents had managed to reach the small interview room from the back-door. The room was supplied with a mahogany desk and four chairs, three on one side and the last on the opposite.

Chuck plopped down in the middle, while Sarah took place at his right and Casey on the remaining position.

"It'll be a long day…" Chuck stated, with a dead tired look.

Casey took the megaphone and shouted, half-heartedly, "Number one… Who has the number one?"

"It's me!" said a familiar voice.

A big, round, imposing black man was proudly standing out at the threshold. His clothes were soaked and dirtied with dust. Around his mouth lied the last remnants of the donuts he had managed to save from the crowd… Well, saved just before fulfilling their death sentence.

He ceremoniously leaned a big, plastic reproduction of a marlin against the wall, whispering "Sorry Norman, You'll have to wait here."

"Big Mike?!" asked the three agents in unison, not really believing to their eyes.

He raised his head, straightened his shoulders, pulled back a considerable amount of tripe and stated "Personally."


Casa Bartowski

"Sometimes you're just… surprising, you know?" said Chuck, admiringly staring at Sarah, as they'd just ended eating the flank steak with roast potatoes she had cooked that evening. "Really."

It felt nice to both of them to finally relax after that half-terrifying-half-boring day of interviews.

"Oh, c'mon, Chuck, you don't know what you're talking about. Your knowledge about cooking is, how can I say it… Well, minimalist." she stated smiling, trying to hide the red shade rising on her cheeks.

He nodded. "That might be true, but I know who I'm talking about. And I definitely know what I like." he grinned. "And believe me this steak alone is… Was worth the whole Intersect thing…"

She threw him her napkin. "Exaggerated!" said laughing.

"Why? I'm just being honest." he stated while they both stood up and headed to the couch.

They dropped themselves on it, suddenly forgetting all the tiring events of that day, which was finally coming to an end.

She naturally huddled up to him, keeping her cheek on his shoulder and looking up at him.

Letting his eyes dive in the blue ocean of hers, he got lost in his thoughts for an instant, fantasizing on a life without spies and all their stuff.

But as deeper as he thought about it, Chuck realized that he couldn't help longing for her to be there anyway. No matter who or what was awaiting them along that road.

"Chuck?" Sarah called, shaking him from his thoughts.

Returning to the real world caused his last, imaginary parallel-reality to disappear into the crowd of infinite possibilities that had been recently filling his mind. Her soft voice made him blink twice, as he realized that he'd been rapt in his thoughts for about two or three minutes.

"Is there something wrong?"

A genuine beam, one of his most endearing ones, spread across his face. "No, no… I was just, you know, daydreaming."

As the corners of her mouth wrinkled upwards, Chuck asked "What's so funny about it? Aren't you spies allowed to indulge in fantasies too?" he joked.

"Not while we are on duty." she answered, but after a short pause, she continued "What were you daydreaming about?" she asked, with an air of amusement.

"You know, I'd tell you more, but then I'd have to kill you…" he said laughing. Quite predictable, he complained to himself.

"You could try, but I can tell you now that you won't succeed in your attempt. I can still kick your ass!" she stated, pretending unsuccessfully to be serious, but causing his laugh to freeze the same.

"Do you realize how creepy that sounded? Especially considering who that came from!" he joked.

She shortened the distance between their faces, bringing their lips a little bit nearer. The tips of their noses were almost brushing against as she said sensually "Oh, c'mon Chuck, a penny for your thoughts!"

"Weren't you supposed to be on duty?" he said, badly trying to divert the talk.

She shrugged. "The Agency rules don't prevent us from asking some specific questions to our asset."

He laughed. "Oh, I bet General Beckman could list at least a couple of commas against that eventuality." he said, but wasn't able to resist further to her silent blue-eyed request, "Ok, you win… You're really good at interrogations, you know? Perhaps it could depend on the vast armory of convincing arguments God gave you…" he admitted causing her to burst out laughing. "However… I was trying to figure out how things could be if I had chosen some different paths."

"And? Did that lead you somewhere?"

He nodded. "Right here." he stated with firm belief. "I wouldn't change any of my decisions." he explained. But after a few seconds he frowned and added "Well, to be honest, there is actually something I'd change… Something involving Morgan, a condom and me buying a padlock for my wallet." he explained.

They both laughed heartily, and both their faces blushed making them avert their eyes from each other.

They'd never talked about that night nor, particularly, about that morning.

Many other things had been keeping them busy.

Maybe that was the right moment, thought Chuck.

Chuck's iPhone started vibrating, as the ringtone called to him.

Maybe not.He sighed. Crap.

Sarah drifted away from him, enough to let him pull out his mobile phone from the pocket. "It's Ellie." he told looking at the screen.

Sarah stood up. "You should answer, then, or she'll go mad and drive Devon mad too." she joked, smiling. "In the meantime, I'll begin clearing away and washing up the dishes."

"I'll relieve you later, when Ellie asks for you." he promised, and then he brought the mobile to his ear. "Hi, sis! How are my favorite newly-weds doing in the Bahamas?"

"A bit better than usual, little bro!" she said enthusiastically. "You two would definitely like the sunny weather and the little-umbrella drinks!"

He sighed at the memory of the proposal he'd made to Sarah, just before Roark showed up that last time. He'd almost used the same words.

His sister noticed that instant of weakness and asked gingerly "What's up, Chuck? Is it all right?"

Chuck somehow managed to gloss over his reaction. "It's just… It's been a long day. Really." it was nothing worse than a half-lie.

"Tell me about it." she asked him.

"Well, I don't want to bore you with the details of life here in dear old Burbank…" he said reluctantly. "Besides you and Devon will surely have something more interesting to do… Like scuba-diving, snorkeling, getting pulled by a speedboat while hanging from a parachute… You know, the same awesome things as usual." he smiled.

"Oh, actually… Devon has a stiff neck. He got it while he was trying to windsurf…" she revealed, but in the background Chuck could hear Capt. Awesome shouting "I was being successful at it, hon… Don't believe her, bro!"

"I'm sorry for his accident, that's…" begun Chuck.

But Ellie was faster in ending the sentence. "…awesome, Chuck! At last now we can relax! You'd never tell how lovely Devon is when he's less awesome…"They both burst out laughing.

"Oh, I do, sis… I do!"

"C'mon, Chuck! Tell your big sis what tired you out that way."

"Oh, well…" he sighed. Sooner or later she'd have known that, anyway. "Today we held the job interviews."

"That's great! There were many candidates? Someone you knew from Stanford? Have you already chosen someone suitable to work for you? Did you take only the best ones?" she started firing questions at him. He could imagine her, hopping for joy on the bed and clapping her hands. He couldn't help but cracking a smile.

"Actually we've already hired some employees…" he said.

"Oh my God! That's awesome!" she exclaimed, and then she repeated the news to her husband, who couldn't help but say "You said it, hon, it's awesome! But, please, now stop making me bounce on the bed…"

"Oh, sorry, honey, sorry!" she apologized, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Go ahead Chuck; do I know any of 'em?"

"Ah, maybe… Some…" he said, clearly hesitating.

"Chuck? Just let me know: do I have to pull their names out of your mouth with a pair of pliers? Or will you cooperate?" she threatened half-seriously.

"Er… Well, there's…" he cleared his throat loudly, "…Michael Tucker…"

"I don't… Wait, Big Mike?! That Big Mike?!" she asked, disconcerted.

"Not exactly the same Big Mike, you know… He said he'd lost a bit of weight, so it's a lighter version of him…" he said, trying to take the heat out of the situation. But as he dared laughing her growl immediately froze him.

"I suppose there was a good reason, a very good one, forcing you to do that." she buckled under, hardly managing to hold her composure. Through his ear, Chuck could feel his mobile phone reaching an arctic temperature.

"Well, you see, there was this misunderstanding with this guy, who happened to be Moses Finkelstein, the founder and CEO of Buy More… However, to make a long story short, he fired some of the employees…"

"I don't know why, but this doesn't leave me stunned." she commented, in an ironically icy-cold voice.

"Well, what could I do? He came there and made me that weird speech about an offer I couldn't refuse and…" he frowned thinking about it, "…and about some other things that I actually didn't get completely. Something involving the family, the head of a horse and my bed…" he shrugged, "Oh, and also Morgan's mother, but I think that that time he was referring to his bed…"

She sighed. "Who else?"

"What?" asked back Chuck, as if he was astounded.

"You said that he wasn't the only one fired. Who else?" she asked again.

"Really?! Did I say that? Oh… Well, ehm, Emmett Milbarge, for example. His job interview cost us at least two boxes of tissues…" but as he realized that no sound was coming from the phone, he asked "Ellie? Are you still there?"

He was hoping not but, unfortunately, she answered. "I know you Charles Irving Bartowski. You're hiding something. Now talk." she imposed.

He slightly shivered as he dropped the bomb. "Jeff and Lester."

A creepy silence greeted him at the other end of the cable. God bless that cable.

Now he could imagine her standing on the bed, her eyes wide opened, the mouth half opened, a couple of arteries pulsing on her temples, clenching and unclenching one fist, while the other hand was grinding the receiver.

"That's really funny. Nice try." her tone said what she thought of it. "If it's a joke, I must warn you that I'm not having fun."

Ice stalactites were growing longer from the iPhone.

Chuck didn't know what to say to get out of that situation. He glanced at Sarah, but she continued washing up, with an I-told-you-that expression pictured on her face.

"Why?!" Ellie asked all of a sudden. Her voice was quivering as if he did that on purpose to hurt her.

"Why? Ah, well… That's a good question…" he stated, thinking back to that morning events.


Interview room

"If you hire us, I promise…" begun Lester, with a conspiratorial tone, leaning forward over the table."I promise we'll share with you half of the commercial incomes of the Jeffster, and half of the earnings from our royalties."

"What?!" complained Jeff, who was standing right behind him.

"Shht! Shut up, oaf!" Lester hissed, grabbing Jeff from the collar and putting his forefinger before his mouth. "If you don't agree, the trade agreement will be worthless." he whispered a bit too loudly into Jeff's ear. "Got it? We're gonna be rich!"

"Oooh!" exclaimed Jeff, winking and giving him a little nod.

Lester turned again to Chuck, deliberately ignoring Sarah and Casey. "Besides, you'll have in homage the permission of fully exploiting the Jeffster brand…" he revealed triumphantly, "Just imagine for a second: you could freely talk to your friends about us, the Jeffster, without having to worry about paying us five dollars every time you say the magical word…" he made a catchy pause, and then, spreading his arms with emphasis, he burst out "Jeffster!"

"Whhoah!" completed Jeff, imitating a background crowd into ecstasies.

"Wait, wait, wait a sec, guys!" interrupted Chuck, "Why would I ever need to talk about the Jeffster?!"

Jeff answered him "To charm beautiful girls, for example, we are pretty well known in the circles that matter… And, above all, Beer would give you 'her' best froth, believe me, mate…" he said with lascivious eyes, winking.

"However, Charles, it's five bucks." stated Lester leaning against the table, stretching out a hand with the palm turned upwards to receive the payment. "We accept bank cheques too."



"I can't believe they convinced you just threatening to force you to pay for a thing you didn't have to pay!" Ellie reproached Chuck on the phone. "And for what? Five piteous dollars?"

"Well, actually at the end they had increased to ninety-five…" specified Chuck.


"Five bucks, please." repeated Lester.

"What?! No! In your dreams!" Chuck protested. But as he saw the lustful grin that grew upon Jeff's face, he paled and quickly corrected himself "I-I mean, not on your life!"

Jeff's smile cooled down.

"Besides," continued Chuck with a sigh of relief, "you don't have any royalties of any kind! You don't even play any original songs! Not to mention the fact that there isn't any 'Jeffster brand'…"

"Oh, it will be, mate, it will be soon…" said Jeff, winking with a weird glint in his eyes.

"Listen up, guys, the answer is no, because…"begun Chuck.

A scared look flashed through Lester's face. He suddenly interrupted Chuck and ordered "Plan B Jeff, plan B…"

At his words Jeff's expression changed into that of a very sad, hardly-beaten dog.

Left wordless by that scene, Chuck needed a couple of seconds to recover his voice. "You know, it doesn't… Your 'plan B' doesn't work at all. Has anyone ever told you that, before?"

Jeffery gave his head a little shake. "Nope. The only interview I've ever done was the one for the Nerd Herd job. Almost twenty years ago. I guess they took me on because of my recent fame of Missile Command champion."

Lester sighed. "Okay, it was not my purpose to come to this, but you don't leave me any other choice…" he fell on his knees with an imploring look, immediately followed by Jeff. "We beg you! Please, please save us! Otherwise that sadistic and workaholic oppressor of Moses Finkelstein, founder and CEO of Buy More, is going to send us to the branch shop of Barrow, Alaska… Northern Alaska!"

"We're gonna die of cold and deprivations!" Jeff marked up.

Lester nodded. "A land-of-no-one, with a population density of less than a third of inhabitant per square mile! And how many women do you think there are?! I'll tell you: NONE!"

"Not a pretty one, at least…" specified Jeff, slightly nodding.

Lester got closer to Chuck, almost lying down on the desk. "I'm going to be the closest thing to a woman that those rude woodcutters have ever seen…" he took a deep breath, "I'll have to cut my hair to survive!" he screamed.

"Besides," added Jeff, "A friend of mine told me that the cousin of a pen-friend of his girlfriend's mother told her that he has seen on TV a documentary where they said that in that godforsaken place…" he gave a strong shiver, with a terrified look on his face, "…they don't even know Beer!"

Not knowing what else to say, Chuck stated, with wide-open eyes "I-I'm so sorry…"

"Me too. They have only whiskey. It gives me aerophagia." the other revealed, with an annoyed grimace on his face.

Both Chuck and Sarah looked at him with a disgusted expression, while Casey stood up from his chair and went out of the room without saying a word. He was just grinding his teeth and whistling like a teapot.

Patel poked at his sidekick, "That's not the way to impress our future-employers, bubala!" he said between his teeth. Then he forced a smile on his face and leaned again toward Chuck "Do you know how he…" Lester creepily whispered, pointing at Jeff, "…behaves when he is sober?"

Chuck paled and gave a short fake laugh, "No, I…"

"Me too!" Patel yelled, "And I want things to remain as they are!" and, glancing at Jeffrey over his shoulder, he added in a lower voice "I must admit that sometimes he scares me, like… Like…" he was searching for the right words.

Chuck narrowed his eyes, taking a hard look at Jeff. His bizarre hair was as tousled as usual, floating to three main directions, as he was exploring the room with his eyes. His tie was lying on his shoulder, thrown behind like a scarf.

"…you mean, like a Pandora's vase?" Chuck whispered back with a complicity tone.

"Exactly!" shouted immediately Lester.



"Stop it!" burst out Ellie, exasperated, sighing. "You'll never change, won't you?"

He could hear her smiling, as he answered "I'm sorry, sis, no… Anyway it would be impossible for me to get better than what I am… I'm already a top-notch Bartowski!"

He could hear Sarah laughing briefly behind him, from the kitchen. The warming-up effect that her laugh had on his heart took him by surprise.

"Listen, sis…" he continued, after an instant, "I know that hiring those two seems a bad idea, at first sight." he frowned, "Well, yeah, also at second, third and… And maybe, fourth sight… But we can trust them." he stated. "Sort of."

"Oh, you're right. Perhaps they won't kill you. But I can't even imagine how deep they can bury your new-company profits!" she sighed. "I need some comfort from another female voice… By the way, how are things between you and Sarah?"

He thought at all the sweet waking ups he'd had in the past few days, cracking a dreamy smile at those memories. "Just… Great." was everything he was able to say.

"Are you sure that working everyday side by side with her is the right thing to do? I mean, if things get… complicated, it could be hard to forcefully have to be so close at her."

"Ellie, I…" he glanced at Sarah, holding back his tongue, "I can trust her," he stated. "Besides, I found out that she has many hidden…" he frowned as he saw Sarah raising her right leg on a chair and putting one of her throwing knives back in its place, "…qualities!" he ended with a hesitating voice. A smirk widened on his face as he slightly shook his head. He was slowly getting used to all that spy stuff. "Everything will be all right, sis, don't worry."

"You must be right," she yielded, releasing a deep breath, "Maybe I'm just being a bit overprotective. I guess it depends on the fact that I know you, and I know how quickly you can mess up with anything…"

"Oh, thanks, sis, that's really comforting!" said Chuck, pretending to be offended.

She laughed. "Now let me borrow your girlfriend for a while, bro!"

Chuck smiled and turned to Sarah, calling "Hey, pretty blue-eyed girl, my talkative sister is asking for you… But I must warn you: she hasn't been chitchatting with any other woman for five looong days."

"Oh, c'mon Chuck!" moaned his sister's voice from the receiver.

He smiled, "Okay, see ya', sis. And give my regards to Awesome. Hope his stiff neck gets better soon…"

"Perish the thought! I need this vacation to be as relaxing as possible!" she said and both laughed. "Bye, little bro! Take care of yourself"

"You bet!" he said tossing Sarah the mobile.


Half an hour later, Chuck was walking around his room with a linen basket, picking up the clothes that needed a run in the washing-machine.

Whereas, Sarah had locked herself in the bathroom, finally having a shower after that long day.

Chuck sighed.

He was seriously taking into consideration the idea of deafening the bath. The sound of the water jet was driving him mad. Well, actually that depended on the fact that he could vividly imagine it hitting her body. He had already seen that sight, once.

He sighed again when the water flow stopped.

Suddenly a familiar voice came from the window. "Heart-problems, brother? Love gives you a hard time?" asked Morgan sneaking in. "Your personal psychotherapist is right here. Just lend me a pen…"

"Hey Morgan," greeted him Chuck, "No, thanks, I'm just tired. What's up, mate?"

Grimes frowned, sitting on his bed. "It's incredible, if you think about it…"

"What?" asked Chuck.

"You know, all this thing of leaving, flying to the Hawaii, growing up… I can't believe I'm really abandoning you here."

"Oh, c'mon Morgan! We're like brothers. We'll always be. Things won't change just because, from the next week, there will be two thousand and five hundred miles of Pacific Ocean between us…"

"You know what, Chuck? This way, things look even worse than they really are!" Morgan moaned, frowning. But then he narrowed his eyes and gazed at Chuck's bed. "Wait, what's that?" he asked, pointing to Sarah's purple silk nightdress. "Wohoo!" he exclaimed with a nod of approval. "You're planning a really hot night, aren't you?" he winked. "Now I understand. That sigh of yours was a sigh of impatience, waiting for your beloved one to come and warm up your bed!"

"Actually, she is already h…" Chuck begun saying.

But Morgan wasn't listening. "Let me try it." he said grabbing the dress.

"Don't you dare!" threatened Chuck, between his teeth, trying to keep a low voice. "Give it back to me, now!" ordered him, flying at his friend.

Morgan managed to dodge Chuck's assault. "Oh, c'mon Chuck, I won't ruin it." he assured, wearing the nightdress on his shirt. "It's a bit tight on my chest…" he said pushing up with his hands an imaginary breast.

Chuck clenched his fists in mid-air. "Ok, Morgan, you tried it, now take it off. What were we saying about 'growing-up time' and other stuff like that?"

"You see, that's the problem, I'm not sure I want to 'grow up'…" he gave his head a little shake, sliding a purple strap of the dress beside his shoulder. "I'm really the sexiest thing you've ever seen, aren't I?" he burst out laughing, "Just joking, mate! Of course Sarah is sexier!"

Chuck sighed "I don't find it hard to believe you when you say that you don't want to grow up… Especially if you say that wearing a woman's dress." said Chuck. But before any of them could add another word, a door opened in the corridor, and a voice came from it.

"Chuck, do you know where's your sister's hairdryer?" asked Sarah.

"Oh, it's Sarah…" Morgan said, startled, hastily trying to take off the dress that had fallen around his ankles. "Why didn't you tell me she was already here?!"

"I tried, Morgan! Get out of here immediately!" Chuck ordered in a low voice. Then he cleared his throat, awkwardly trying to get an act-as-if-nothing-had-happened voice, and turned towards the door. "No, I'm sorry, Sarah. I, ah, I think she packed it with her suitcases." he said.

"Oh, what a pity. Tomorrow I'll have to pass by my hotel room and pick up mine." Her voice, as well her steps, were dangerously getting closer to the bedroom.

Inside Morgan was jumping around the bed on one foot, while the nightdress was wrapped around the other. "Oh, God, I got stuck!" he muttered, almost panicking.

All of a sudden two things happened.

First one: Sarah walked in, wrapped in a barely-large-enough towel and rubbing her soaked hair with another smaller one.

That sight would have been breathtaking, if only Morgan had not fallen to the ground, right in front of her. Second thing. Less breathtaking.

"Hey, Sarah, how are you? Nice to see you…" he tried to sound as usual. "From down here…" he gulped loudly.

"Morgan!" she shouted, holding her towel tighter. And then she hurried back into the corridor, towards the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry Sarah, I didn't reach this position on…" Morgan tried to apologize, but before he could complete his sentence he was interrupted by the blow of the door slamming behind Sarah's back. "…purpose." he ended.

Chuck took a deep breath and said ironically "Well, great. Thanks for your help here, mate. But…"

"I know, I know, I'm going home… Time for me to go!" he stated, finally dropping Sarah's nightdress on the bed and getting out through the 'Morgan's door'.

Chuck couldn't help but smiling. "See 'ya tomorrow, Morgan." he said goodbye to him.

"You can count on it!" he shouted from the courtyard.

But after a couple of seconds Chuck could hear him muttering to himself "Damn it, if only I had fallen one step closer…" he clenched his fist, "A taste of heaven! Just one step away from me! Damn!"

"Morgan!" yelled Chuck from the window, "I can still hear you!"

"Okay, okay mate, got it… Goodnight, lucky man!" he said, waving his hand in the air, while jumping on his bike.