A/N: I still don't own Chuck, or any of these characters. I'm still not making money from this. I still like reviews.

May 8, 2022 6:15 p.m., Castle

General Beckman ended the transmission, and Castle's monitor shut off.

The team sat around the conference table. Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but Casey beat him to the punch.

"No harm is coming on any of the three hairs left on that moron's head." Casey declared, firmly.

Chuck and Morgan nodded in agreement. Abby looked a little perplexed, particularly at Casey's role in taking charge of Jeff's defense. She jumped in, "Um. . . why? I've read your profiles. I get Chuck's thing for protecting civilians, and Morgan's penchant for being the hero. But you? This Barnes guy is more than a little creepy. Protect him, sure, if we can. . . . But at the cost of the mission?"

"Well, he's a creep. And a pervert. But that creepy pervert is also a hero. Ten years ago, he saved my daughter's life. Morgan's too." Casey answered.

"Then, a few weeks later, at great risk to his own life, he helped Chuck defuse a bomb and save a concert hall full of people. . . including General Beckman." Morgan added.

"That guy helped defuse a bomb?" Abby asked, somewhat incredulously.

"In a manner of speaking. He risked his life to buy me the time I needed." Chuck clarified.

"None of this was in any of the mission reports I reviewed."

Chuck tried to explain, "It was chaos back then. We were civilians. Sarah and I were going through a personal crisis. Then, shortly thereafter, Casey left the team for a few months. Reports didn't get written, things didn't get documented."

"So this is personal?" Abby asked.

Casey continued, "Call it what you want. I owe him one. The General owes him one, although she might not acknowledge it. The country owes him one. I'm not going to defend his attitude towards women or his ethnic comments, but on the cosmic balance scales, he's one of the good guys. Besides," Casey grunted and looked at Chuck, "the non-bearded moron sitting next to you once reminded me of something . . . we're the good guys too. Computer nerds don't deserve bullets in the brain, whether from the bad guys or otherwise, just for being brilliant."

"With that settled, how do we accomplish our three competing objectives? Ideas?" Casey asked.

"Three?" Abby asked back. Chuck and Morgan concurred with Abby's confusion, and both shot Casey a slightly perplexed look.

"We need to secure Jeff's program for intelligence purposes. But we also need to have Jeff sell or license his program to Heritage, in order to trace El Jefe's money-laundering operations. So how do we keep the program for ourselves, while letting El Jefe have it too?" Casey asked.

"And the third objective?" Abby inquired.

"It's the most important one: keeping that moron safe, both from El Jefe . . . and from the people above us."

Chuck looked deep in thought. Then he spoke: "Jeff's perverted ramblings may have given us the answer to the first two goals. Who needs a device that can transmit real-time data on human emotions? We do, you know, spies, for spy-stuff. Maybe the police for interrogation, some psych grad students for research. That's about it. Where's the real market for those glasses?"

"It's helping lonely guys pick up women." Morgan answered.

"Exactly. So let's split the program. Give us the meat, and let El Jefe take the bone. That solves the first two issues." Chuck said, with Morgan giggling at the mention of the word "bone."

"heh heh . . . Chuck said bone." Morgan added. Casey grunted, then interjected "You're over 40, grow up."

Turning towards Chuck, Casey added: "And the third objective? How do we get Jeff to help us, while keeping him safe?"

Chuck shot Casey a half-smile, then spoke: "It's been 10 years but, deep down, it's still the same Jeff. Older, maybe beaten down a bit with his dream life falling apart, but still the same guy. He put in himself in danger to save people back then. Maybe we just need to appeal to his basic decency. Give him the chance to be a hero once again. Not every asset needs to be threatened, extorted, or seduced. Some just want to help."

Morgan jumped in, looking at Chuck, "Remind you of anyone?" Chuck shot him back a look, but didn't answer.

"Ok, fine. So that's how we get him to help. How do we keep him safe?" Casey asked.

"It's time to ask for a favor, from an old friend," Chuck responded.

May 9, 2022 9:30 a.m. Drug Enforcement Agency, San Diego Division. Office of Division Director Carina Miller.

Carina Miller rushed to her desk. It had been a hectic night and a worse morning. Shelly, her two-year old daughter, had thrown up three times during the night from some random stomach bug, an illness that was also keeping her out of daycare today. Then her baby sitter cancelled on her, which left her scrambling to find a last-minute replacement. But made it to work she did, to the desk job she never thought she'd want.

Four months after her Sarah's death, Carina found herself pregnant. From whom, she had no idea. It could have been one of half-a-dozen marks and one-night stands. 'Could be Chuck's little trollish friend Martin,' Carina sometimes thought to herself with a shudder. Nor did it happen on purpose: three separate methods of birth control failed her simultaneously. But pregnant she was, at age 42. And Carina figured, this was her probably her last chance. Sometimes, she blamed or credited Sarah, depending on her mood. Maybe it was her grief over Sarah's death that pressed her to want something more, and which stopped her from simply taking care of the problem the way she had four times before. Or maybe it was just time. At her age, seduction and deep uncover missions were becoming fewer and far between. It would only get worse as she approached her mid-40s and beyond. If she wanted to stay in the game, she needed to stop doing and start directing. A short while after the proverbial rabbit died, the DEA posted an opening for the position of Division Director in San Diego. Carina applied for the posting and, to her surprise, got the job. So instead of nightclubs, gun fights, and seductions, her life now revolved around her daughter and her desk. . .

"Any messages, Megan?" Carina asked her secretary.

"One, first thing this morning, from a Charles Carmichael. The number is on your desk."

Carina grinned. Chuck's code name. But why? Was Chuck back in the game? Heck, had Chuck finally crawled himself out of Sarah's grave? She dialed the number.

"Chuckles, it's Carina. I'm surprised to get your call. Business or pleasure?"

"Business."

"Awe, sorry to hear that. What's up?"

"I'm consulting again for some mutual friends, and we got involved in something related to El Jefe. We want to read you in."

"Why wasn't I called at the start?" Carina asked somewhat angrily. Chuck sighed. Carina had a point. If he had been on his game, he might have asked General Beckman that same question yesterday morning. Why was the NSA going after a Mexican drug cartel? Isn't this DEA or FBI territory?

"It's a good question. It's also above my pay grade. Agency politics. We just followed orders."

"Since when do you follow orders? Well, there's a first time for everything . . . So how can I help now?"

"How deep are your connections in El Jefe? We're looking into suspicious purchases of . . . computer programs."

"Why didn't you just say so? Agency politics my ass." Carina responded.

Chuck hadn't thought of it. But made sense. The higher-ups bypassed the usual pecking order and gave Team Bartowski this mission because of him, his background. Made about as much sense as anything.

"Carina, come on. I'll owe you one."

"Yes, we have connections. What do you need my people do?" she asked.

May 13, 2012, 4:00 p.m. Offices of Fielding Financial Planning (the former Orange Orange)

"Jeff, thanks for meeting me here," Chuck said, greeting his old acquaintance.

Jeff nodded, and answered back, "Chuck, I'm sorry again for what I said about Sarah, and her friend . . . I didn't know."

"It's ok. I've heard worse"

Jeff looked around the place. It was a dingy office. No receptionist at the front desk, which was stationed roughly where the toppings used to be. Two small empty offices were visible to the left, in the back. One of the ceiling lights was out, the other was flickering. Paint chips peeled from the walls.

"Chuck, since when do you do financial planning? Do you work here? And didn't this use to be a yogurt place?"

"I'm working at the Buy More, sort of. This is just space we're using right now to, you know, meet people." Chuck answered.

Jeff had raised a good point. Team Bartowski had only been up-and-running a few weeks, but it needed a better above-ground cover to meet civilians than empty offices. It was something to talk to Casey about.

"So why am I here, Chuck?"

"Jeff, how much did Heritage Investments offer you for your program?"

"$6 million, up-front. For a 90% stake. They'll let me keep a 10% residual on sales."

"What would it take to strip down the program? To remove most of the emotion sensing, and just keep the parts that help with picking up women?"

"It could be done. I don't know. A few weeks of coding. Maybe a few months. Why?"

"I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse," Chuck said, putting on his best Pacino impression.

Jeff looked a little taken aback. 'Maybe I should have brought my glasses' he thought. Chuck sensed the confusion and clarified, "Just kidding, I'm going to make you an offer you shouldn't refuse. You want to walk out that door, you can."

"I'm still here."

"Sell us the complete program. We'll pay the same $6 million that Heritage offered you, and we'll let you sell or license a stripped-down version to Heritage, but only to Heritage."

"There's got to be a catch, right?"

"There is. . . I told you that some bad people were behind Heritage. That's true. It's why we're interested in you doing business with them. We're going to need access, without a warrant, to sales records, bank transfer records, that kind of thing. At some point, you might also need to testify."

"Won't all that put me at risk?" Jeff asked.

"It might. We're taking steps to reduce that risk. But this is your choice Jeff, I won't lie to you. When this is all done, you might wind up in witness protection, or protective custody. Help or don't help us, you've created an exceptional program that will make you rich. But we can offer you something else."

Jeff: "A gorgeous CIA ninja as a cover girlfriend to protect me?"

Chuck looked blankly at him.

Jeff quelled the confusion: "A joke, Chuck. You got me at the word you didn't say, 'hero.' Where do I sign up?"

Chuck took some papers out of his desk, and placed them before Jeff.

Jeff looked them over, then posed a question: "Chuck, there's a problem. Heritage has already seen the whole program. What do I tell them about why I can't give it to them?"

Chuck looked him straight in the eye: "Tell them the truth. You sold it to the CIA, but we let you keep and re-sell the portion that helps with 'picking up chicks." If they want nothing to do with you, you're safe and $6 million richer. If they still want to do business with you, they won't suspect you because you've been straight with them."

Jeff asked a follow-up: "One more thing, that gorgeous CIA ninja cover girlfriend . . . Can I get one of those too?"

Chuck grinned: "Do you want one?"

A/N: I'm trying to update weekly, but the next chapter probably won't be up for another two weeks. I pretty much get to write on weekends after the kids are asleep, but before me & the wife are . . . but we're away next weekend.

The next chapter should be . . . interesting. A bit of movement on Abby's handling, and the Chuck/Morgan relationship.