A/N: It's the way of the Chuck universe … if there's a possible proposal in the offing, Everything - to quite Lazlo Mahnovski, is NOT going to be cool!

Okay, so this going on a little longer than I thought. I'm thinking probably 5 or 6 chapters now

Chapter 3

The Colonel, The General, The Thief, and the Lover

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Washington Square

6th and Walnut Streets

Casey hasn't been kidding when he said he was hungry, but Chuck and Sarah's sudden urge to shop for bling provided for him a unique opportunity to detour an area of Philadelphia he'd always been curious about.

Like every city in existence, Philadelphia had grown up around a central core, and had then grown outwards from there. New York City had the Battery at the tip of Manhattan. Los Angeles had El Pueblo. Philly had a grid of streets stretching between the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers, made up of neatly ordered city blocks – an innovation at the time. Five of those blocks were set aside way back when as large public squares. On the map, they had a pattern that resembled a roll of "5" on a die. One public square was right smack dab in what was then the middle of the town, with the others to the northeast, southeast, northwest and southwest, all equidistant from the center square.

That center square had long since been paved over, and now was the foundation for Philadelphia's massive City Hall.

To the northwest of that was Logan Square –where Alex and Grimes were with the Woodcombs - and Rittenhouse Square was to the southwest, where Philadelphia kept a lot of their rich people. To the northeast was Franklin Square … which had a kid's playground, and was nice if you could ignore the fact that it was perpetually blockaded by traffic coming off of and going onto the Ben Franklin Bridge.

The final or Southeast Square was Washington Square, just south of Independence Hall, and the one Casey was truly interested in. It was really a lovely place, a small green oasis in the middle of a section of the city that was so historical it was hard to tell if it was upscale or not. But the other folks using the park seemed to enjoy. A couple of fellows were playing chess. A few teenage girls were selling flowers. An elderly couple was walking their dog, moving past a much younger couple who were holding each other on the bench, not a million miles away from how Chuck and Sarah would act together … or Morgan and Alex.

Washington Square got its name from the statue that was on the inside of the wall-like monolithic tomb that was along the western wall of the square. It was the tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier, protected by a bronze likeness of that soldier's commander-in-chief, General George Washington. Casey arrived at the tomb, and paused in reverence.

Of all military leaders, Washington was Casey's very favorite- a stickler for discipline, one who tolerated no bellyaching, and yet one who knew how to inspire ordinary, unremarkable people to do extraordinary things. He was one who believed in the concepts of duty and honor … yet wasn't afraid to fight dirty, and embraced the benefits of clandestine operations. He was a man who made other men proud of themselves, and made them believe in themselves. He taught them that they could do amazing things—if they trained hard in preparation for difficult tasks. And lo, Washington turned an army of farmers and blacksmiths, shopkeepers and backwoodsmen into the first United States soldiers… men who mostly had no military experience, no discipline, and used to the comforts of civilian life who then had to be asked to stand up to British battalion troops, grenadiers , light infantrymen and dragoons, and ruthless Hessian goons-for-rent.

Never one to self-aggrandize, Casey wouldn't have dared to compare himself to the Father of the Country…. And yet he had often thought of Washington as a role model over the last seven years. Having to develop Chuck Bartowski as an asset required more than a few of Washington's skills. He and Walker had to take and raw civilian- a Nerd Herder at a Buy More- and indoctrinate him into the brutal, unforgiving world of espionage and violence. The thought brought a smile to Casey. Bartowski had needed discipline and training, even abuse and threats in order to get him to perform. Rarely –very rarely- did he need appeals for him to do his duty. Like Washington's men, Bartowski had days when he didn't inspire a whole lot confidence. But for the most part he had the stuff that was in his head and the stuff that was in his heart that allowed him to find his inner hero … just has Washington's soldiers had.

There were several inscriptions on the tomb. Casey's eye lingered on the most prominent one across the top.

FREEDOM IS A LIGHT FOR WHICH MANY MEN HAVE DIED IN DARKNESS

"Amen", Casey whispered practically to himself. Since joining the Corps in the late 80s he'd seen his fair share of "many men" … as well as women die for their nation in both literal in figurative darkness. Since joining the clandestine services , the number of casualties hadn't increased as much as the darkness had. By definition, the NSA and the CIA's casualties, both in victory and defeat, were dark … men and women would sacrifice for something larger then themselves, and never receive the recognition they deserved for it. Longshore … Langston Graham … Bryce Larkin …Stephen Bartowski…. Other guys in the NSA and CIA and his supporting tactical teams whose names he hadn't even learned. Different guys with different styles, different motivations to serve … but they ended up making a difference… making life a little safer for the people in this country, and a little more difficult for the ones who'd hurt them. George Washington wouldn't have known it at the time, but he might just as well had been talking of them- giving their all for people who would carry on in blissful ignorance of their derring-do.

His eyes fell to the inscription to the left of the general.

IN UNMARKED GRAVES WITHIN THIS SQUARE LIE THOUSANDS OF UNKOWN SOLDIERS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY WHO DIED OF WOUNDS AND SICKNESS DURING THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR

Casey suddenly felt hollow and sad. 1776 was a different time from 2014 … even different from the Civil War era. When Casey or another American leader lost a guy in the 21st century, he was consoled by the fact that that man or woman died defending American freedom. Poor Washington watched his men die for a freedom that had not yet been won – and on several occasions looked as if it may never be. How many casualty reports did Washington have to endure with the horrifying thought that his men were dying in vain?

With no nation yet, the concept of a national cemetery like Arlington, Gettysburg or even the Arizona Memorial was simply a concept that Washington and his men were not familiar with. Big shots like generals might have their remains shipped home when they died… but the anonymous, young kids who did the fighting and died doing it would be buried where they lay … or carted out to the local potter's field like this. No honor guard, no 21 gun salute, no TV footage for the local news, no flag draped coffin… in fact no coffin at all, maybe a hat placed over their face of the fallen unknown hero. If he were very lucky, perhaps a preacher or a friend to say a word or two as his body went into to the dirt, there for the no-longer-needed body to become fodder for the worms and … Casey looked around at the lovely park … food for the very pretty trees, hedges, grass and bushes that made up this park.

All about him, Americans were doing mundane, simple, pleasant things, probably giving scant thought to the heroes whose bodies had long since turned to dust beneath their feet. Playing chess, walking the dog, falling in love…. Washington Square wasn't the kind of place that demanded silence and respect like an official cemetery … but it had its own kind of dignity, legacy, and connection to Americans, that Casey decided he couldn't feel bad about.

Quietly coming to attention, Colonel John Casey, USMC /NSA snapped off a quick salute to the tomb, and to the statue of that tomb's occupant's commander.

"Rest easy guys. We'll take it from here."

Philadelphia Pennsylvania

Jolly Good Gemstones

5th and Pine Streets

Immediately after ditching Casey, Chuck and Sarah's first brief stop was the Ranger station for Independence National Park. Sarah's purse required, and now slung over her shoulder they made their way down 5th street to their destination.

"Okay we're here!" Chuck said as they entered. "Text Morgan that we're at the Botany Bay."

Having little problem remembering the code name for the jeweler, Sarah created the text. She did not however have memorized the movie that Chuck and Morgan decided to reference and so send out.,

We're in Botany Bay.

There were only two other people in the store. One was the sales clerk and she, a fairly pretty, middle aged lady had a look of forced politeness as she answered the questions of the customer. The customer was a young, twenty something man. It probably wasn't his age that annoyed the lady … after all, when Chuck himself had been in college he had seriously thought about ring shopping for Jill Roberts in the next year or two … but the way he was dressed, in pain smeared jeans and an untucked t-shirt made him an unorthodox and noteworthy shopper.

With the store otherwise to themselves, Chuck and Sarah proceeded, Chuck falling in behind the young man, and Sarah veering off to the right to examine the necklaces.

The young man clearly had not made up his mind and waved the sales lady off, where she turned her attention to the much nicer dressed Chuck Bartowski.

"May I help you sir?"" she asked.

"Yes, I hope so. My name is Chuck Bartowski and I've been speaking to a Mr. William Shaler. He said that it'd be okay for me to come in and close out my friend Morgan Grimes' account."

The sales lady brightened. "Oh yes, Mr. Bartowski. Mr. Shaler said to expect you. That'll be no trouble at all. You have your ID, yes?"

"Yes, I do."

Sarah had just examined a jewel studded necklace- she had been wrong, most of these would probably go well with a white bikini outfit- when she heard Chuck admire "wow."

The sales lady had produced Morgan's ring that he intended to give to Alex. Chuck beamed in delight for his friends. They'd be so happy, and he imagined a lifetime of beach parties, Christmas parties and other events with his best friend and best friend's wife-to-be, all these events with her wearing this ring.

"Looks great! I'll take it!" Chuck said facetiously, bringing out his wallet. With his cell in the other hand, he fired off a jubilant text to Morgan.

Ceti Eel secured! Away team preparing to beam out!

"Actually I'll take it!" announced the other customer, brandishing a Colt Mustang from his rear waistband, and pointing it at the sales lady. With his free hand he went to his pocket, pulled out a large Ziplock food storage bag, and tapped the counter that Chuck and the sales lady were standing at. "this case and" gesturing to the display to the left "that case! In the bag. Now, yo!" Pointing the gun at Chuck, he yelled "the ring, too! And your wallet!"

From a distance of seven yards away, Sarah thought fast – and restrained herself at the sight of the bandit pointing a gun at her husband's head. The only thing she did for this moment was clutch her specially made purse around her waist, and unsnap its special compartment.

At the same time, Chuck flashed. To the uninitiated sales lady and robber, it looked like the hapless tourist was having a seizure or a mild panic attack. In the timespan of about a second and a half, he accessed the Intersect's hand-to-hand combat training manual, and prepared to disarm this thug at the next opportunity. All he'd need is for the goon to wave the gun around and point it at a direction other than himself, the saleslady, or Sarah, and then he'd pounce.

Sarah recognized the flash for what it was, and knew that her husband would be vulnerable for the brief period he accessed info from the Intersect. To distract the gun slinger, she played the part of the panicking, helpless housewife. "Please…" she whimpered in a faux-terrified voice "please don't hurt my husband!"

Flush with confidence at what he saw as an easy heist, the t-shirt wearing man turned the gun on Sarah. "You! Get over here! Gimmie that purse!"

Now it was Chuck's turn to distract. Slamming his hand down on the counter her took two steps closer to the gunman, placing his body between the goon and the sales lady. This accomplished two things at once. First it allowed the frightened sales woman to duck behind the counter, where Chuck hoped and prayed a silent alarm would be. Second, it brought the thug's attention back to him, and away from Sarah.

At this point the desperado made several blunders, all within the space of a few seconds, and each one compounding the last. Working on the weak assumption that Chuck was the one most likely to resist, and the even more rickety notion that Sarah was cowed into submission, he turned his back on Sarah to regard Chuck. Then he pointed his gun back to Chuck, simultaneously making two more colossal errors. Not only was he pointing a gun at a victim at point-blank range, where the gun could be slapped away or snatched, but he was threatening Chuck Bartowski in the presence of his fanatically protective and lethally competent wife. Any one of these mistakes would have been enough to cost him the day's score. Taken in the aggregate, these gaffes nearly cost him much more.

As former federal armed employees, both Chuck and Sarah were licensed to carry firearms in all 50 US states, all territories and possessions, and the District of Columbia. Chuck, having lived most of his adult life without a gun, seldom carried one anywhere, his SigSauer P229R living in a safe under the bed, only coming out when Sarah challenged him to a shooting competition at the local range … where he'd be competitive with her … but only with the use of the Intersect.

Sarah had lived most of her adult life with her Smith & Wesson 5906 in her holster, or tucked into her waistband or purse. If Sarah was out and about, her 5906 was probably not in the safe. Nor was it today. Indeed, up until the point where the bandit turned his Colt back to Chuck, Sarah's weapon was residing inconspicuously in special compartment of her purse. Then it wasn't.

Chuck's typical post-flash grin grew as he saw the gunman blissfully unaware of his new and serious predicament.

"I said," Sarah now spoke in a calm, crisp tone "please don't hurt my husband."

The luckless stickup man turned his head 180 degrees, and found himself staring down the rifled barrel of Sarah's 5906, her icy cold blue right eye directly over the post sight atop the barrel. He was making his final mistake of the day, pointing his gun in one direction, while looking at the other. While the robber concentrated on the muzzle of Sarah's gun, Chuck struck. With a strong swing of his right, he hit the gun with the heel of his hand, battling the weapon away from him. Then his left hand came up and wrapped around the stickup man's wrist. At the same time, Chuck advanced a step, bringing himself closer to the thug, and bringing the goon's gun past his own body, and pointing helplessly now at the wall.

"Drop your gun." Sarah demanded.

Not quite grasping how overmatched he was, the gunman tried to struggle. Chuck responded by hitting him five times in the head with the heel of his right hand. Dazed now and starting to lose consciousness, the perp now changed his mind and started to sink to the ground. Chuck heard a heavy clatter as the gun hit the carpeted floor.

"Chuck, let go. Get the gun." Sarah said.

Chuck did, picking up the fallen Colt and bringing it over to the counter. He disengaged the magazine and slid back the action to eject the live round.

In the distance, Chuck and Sarah could hear multiple oncoming sirens. That's when more trouble came in through the door. A similarly unkempt looking man came through the front, waving his own gun. Not noticing the situation right away, he came in yelling "Yo Jimmie! Five-oh's here! We gotta… Damn!"

He didn't even get a chance to aim his gun at anyone, turn to run away, or even drop his weapon. Chuck flashed once more, and accessed a knife throwing skill set not unlike the one Sarah had spent years perfecting. Snatching the ejected magazine of the first gun on the counter, Chuck picked it up and threw it, launching it directly at the bandit's nose. Chuck's Intersect-enabled throw was perfect and he was quickly rewarded with a smack and an "owwww!"" as his hands flew to his wounded nose, including the gun hand which now held the weapon pointed unhelpfully at the wall.

It didn't knock him out, but it did stun and disorient him to the point that when he turned away to escape, he didn't notice the two Philadelphia Police officers arriving on scene, their own weapons drawn. He slammed into both of them, and bounced off like a racquetball ending up on the floor like his co-thug.

At the sight of the two cops, Sarah made safe her own weapon and rested it on the counter, lest the arriving cops get the wrong idea about her.

Chuck sighed. This was supposed to have been done by now. Now there'd no doubt be interviews and statements with the police. They'd be delayed.

With a sigh, as the arriving police secured the scene and cuffed the two heist men, Chuck brought out his cell phone and texted Morgan.

Away Team attacked by a Romulan. Nobody hurt. Ceti Eel still secure. Speaking with Starfleet Security. Will Be Delayed.

Philadelphia Pennsylvania

The Four Seasons Hotel

One Logan Circle

Ellie was catnapping on her lounge chair at the pool deck, never truly falling asleep as long as Clara was in the water. Devon was pulling their daughter this way and that, and Alex and Morgan were taking turns chatting with each other or playing a little bit with Clara, who was having the time of her life no matter what she was doing.

At length, Morgan got out of the pool, trotted over to his chair and located his towel. He spied the phone where he had left it, and read the text message … which was by now fifteen minutes old. "Uhggg!" he said softly, as he toweled himself off.

Morgan dialed Chuck's number, and Ellie half-heard what he said next. "Hey Chuck…. Everyone okay? Ok good…. Any idea how long? … …. Okay that's good… … Where's Casey? …. Okay. Can we meet up? … City hall? Ummmm okay…. ASAP? Okay cool. You'll be westbound, right? Okay. Fine under City Hall. … ASAP. …. Cool. See you in a little bit.

Morgan stilled his phone, and then turned to Alex in the pool and gasped in delight as Alex strode up the aluminum ladder. "Wow." Morgan sighed. "Honey you look totally Pheobe Cates at this moment right now. A red haired Pheobe Cates."

"Why thank you." Alex smiled sweetly. "What's up?"

"Well – I gotta go downtown for a second. I'll be right back."

"Okay, I'll come with."

"Uh, no. Bad idea! It's something that Chuck wants to tell me … something about Sarah's birthday."

"We're doing her birthday? Here in Philadelphia?" Alex challenged.

"No. Not really. But…. I gotta go talk to them! I'll be back in about an hour.!"

"And I can't come? Why not? My dad's down there, and I'd like to know what he thought about Independence Hall!"

"Oh, your dad's on the way. He'll be here soon. They got separated after City Hall…. I mean Independence Hall! I gotta go." Still damp, Morgan began to head for the exit of the pool deck.

He hadn't gotten five steps when Alex, her arms crossed sternly demanded "Morgan Guillermo Grimes, I got this bikini just to show off for you, and you want to run away from me? Without telling me what's going on?"

"Uhh.." Morgan backtracked to Alex, and held her gently by grasping her upper arms. "Alex, You know that I'm absolutely crazy about you, and I like telling you everything, but I need to spend a few minutes with Chuck about Sarah alone. I promise we're not doing anything weird or spy related." Then Morgan kissed Alex, and skipped out of the pool area.

Alex's curiosity wasn't satisfied, but she did feel her annoyance breaking down as she watched her boyfriend exit. Gliding back to the pool, she sweetly cooed to Devon. "Devon, we're friends right? If you knew why Morgan was acting so strangely, you'd tell me, right?"

Devon could only answer truthfully. "Uhh. Yeah. I would."

"Ellie?" Alex asked searchingly, calling over the short distance to the chair.

Perking up from her catnap, Ellie smiled sweetly "Of course Alex. You know I'm team … "Malex" … all the way. If anything was happening, I'd tell you." He smile was one of pure innocence and ignorance.

Alex couldn't help but t laugh a little at the portmanteau, and hopped back into the pool. She was humored to the point where she missed noticing that she'd just allowed herself to be reassured by a woman who was sister of a spy, sister-in-law to another spy, and daughter for two more, and took Ellie's reassurance at face value, as she allowed herself to be splashed by Clara.