A/N: HEAR YE, HEAR YE. Another chapter!

Indeed, things are getting deeper. The world is expanding. Not ours so much, but definitely this steampunky one. And more people are coming into the fray.

Thank you to everyone who has had kind words so far! You're all lovely. And I cannot express enough thanks. I really can't. And thanks again for your patience. It will hopefully be worth it.

Summary: In 1776, George Washington declared himself King of the United States of America and began turning a new nation into the United States Empire: expanding to the west, amassing colonies and gaining power. Over one hundred years later, the government's secrets are at risk and a new way to keep them safe must be created. When those secrets are accidentally brought to inventor and toy maker Chuck Bartowski's doorstep, his future becomes uncertain as his life fills with adventures, hardships, and even a bit of romance.

Disclaimer: "Chuck" is not mine. Its characters are not mine. Though they might as well be, considering how often I think about them.

Heeere weee goooooooo!

Chuck had a splitting headache for two days straight after the debacle with Bryce Larkin and his frighteningly human automaton. But once it had gone away and he had gotten back to work, he felt somehow heavier. As though some invisible weight existed in even the smallest movements. As though someone was pushing down on his body with constant pressure. It was light but still there. And wholly unsettling, to say the least.

A week after the incident with Prototype 534, Chuck entered the Buy More and greeted the pint-sized youth that was admiring a toy boat with a crank-operated system. The boy looked up at him from beneath the brim of his newsboy and looked away shyly. Chuck continued into his workshop after nodding at Morgan who stood steadfast behind the counter, alert eyes sweeping over the customers critically.

Chuck's workshop was tucked behind the store where he sold his inventions, toys, tools, and other knick-knacks. He had given the shop a conveniently vague name when he first opened its doors six years before, when he was still working for his engineering degree in university.

The Buy More opened in the morning after breakfast and closed just before supper. That gave Chuck plenty of time to close up shop and get Morgan fitted for a check-up and a charge.

Chuck Bartowski was not unaware of the strangeness of his situation when it came to Morgan. It was just that he had never been incredibly worried about what his neighbors thought, or his sister's acquaintances. Or his brother-in-law's family, come to think of it.

His best friend was an android that he had to charge and repair every few days or so. Their relationship was strong, despite one half of the pair being built from brass and springs and cogs, and all who knew Chuck well had to admit he could have no better guardian than the protective Morgan.

Chuck's sister, Eleanor, was three years his elder, and was Morgan's only rival for the inventor's affection. The Bartowskis had grown up together, side by side, in the orphanage that lay in the outskirts of Los Angeles proper. As the headmistress told the story, she had found two children playing without supervision in a nearby park. The parents were nowhere to be found, so she gathered them up and kept them in the orphanage until she could contact a guardian. She searched for an entire year for anyone with the name Bartowski while Chuck and Eleanor lived under the roof of the orphanage, even reaching out to nearby towns and cities. Chuck and Ellie were raised in the orphanage thereafter, until Ellie went to a women's boarding college that specialized in nurse training when she was seventeen. And Chuck went to engineering school two years later, at sixteen years old.

The inventor grinned to himself as he pondered the strange relationship between Morgan and Ellie. They were rivals in some ways, but Morgan seemed to be as in love as an android could be when the dark-haired nurse was present. It was one of those inexplicable and mystifying things, that real Morgan's adoration for Ellie seemed to be transferred into his namesake. The android's metallic features somehow softened and he removed his hat. Or he would stand in the corner and just stare until she left, almost as though he were shy.

Of course, it was impossible. Morgan was just a machine. It was too easy to forget at times. And as brilliant as Morgan was, he was not able to help Chuck with his present predicament. As it was a physical one—or at least, mental—he knew Ellie and her husband, Devon, would be the best people to talk to. They were both doctors, or at least, Ellie was well on her way to joining her husband as a doctor. That was if the Los Angeles branch of the Coalition for Women Doctors were successful in their ongoing fight. It had worked in Boston and New York, so far, and Chuck was hopeful Los Angeles and San Francisco would soon follow.

But with or without her official license as a doctor, she knew more about the human brain than anyone Chuck had ever met. And he had been having nightmares, vivid nightmares, both at night and during the day when he was wide awake. Even as a child, when his mind was rampant with imaginative ideas, he had never experienced nightmares that affected him physically, like those he had been having recently.

Giant war machines rolling over cottages as though they were ant hills, smoke pouring from cities, flames enveloping buildings with people trapped inside, wars that had happened centuries before, men being followed into dark alleys before they're quickly disposed of with a swipe of a knife.

Those were the images that would wake him up at night—covered in sweat and with an aching head. It was miserable.

During the day, though, it was different. Just this morning, for instance, the policeman who paroled the nearby main street had wandered in to look at toys for his son's birthday. When Chuck turned to greet him, a wave of dizziness overcame him, almost like a dam had broken and his head filled with water. Images flashed across his vision, as though he was sitting in front of a slideshow and the photographs were changing faster than he could focus on them. And just like that, he knew Officer Geralds had been in the force for fifteen years, had an incident with a thief in which the thief had ended up dead, and that he had a wife who was secretly a member of the underground anti-monarch group, Women for Equality.

The rest of the visit was strained and uncomfortable, despite Chuck being sure he was imagining it all.

Perhaps it was a matter of not sleeping enough, or maybe he was getting sick.

Either way, he knew Ellie and Devon might be able to help.

So that night, he rode his puttering motorbike home, leaving a trail of steam in his wake. After he'd left engineering school halfway through to open his own shop, his brother-in-law secured him a few rooms on the second floor of the large house where he lived with Chuck's sister, residing on the corner across from a small park and next to Jennings Clocks & Watches on the other side.

Instead of taking the stairs to his own floor, as he usually did, Chuck knocked on the door of the Woodcomb residence.

Doctor Devon Woodcomb answered the door with a wide grin that made him look rather ridiculous. "Brother!" His strong arms enveloped Chuck in a tight hug and for a moment, he was afraid the muscled doctor would ruffle his already mussed hair with his fist.

"Devon…how are you?" Chuck wheezed, sighing in relief when he was released. "Am I interrupting anything? I just wanted to speak with you and Ellie, if you have the time."

"What do I always say, Chuck?" the man asked, giving the younger man a critical eye.

"There's always time for family," Chuck intoned along with Devon's more exuberant exclamation. "Exactly!" Devon tacked on afterward. "Come in, Chuck. I think El just put a kettle on."

He opened the door wide and walked away from it, allowing Chuck to make himself at home, shut the door, and kick off his boots. He doffed his coat, hung it on the hook in the entryway, and strolled down the long hall towards the living room.

Ellie was standing near the door jamb, hunched over as she inspected the knot in her nurse's apron. She looked up and smiled affectionately, dropping the knot and going to her brother. "Charles Irving, I feel like I haven't seen you in days!"

"That might be because you haven't seen me in days," he teased, feeling that surge of affection he always experienced when his sister and guardian for most of his life grinned at him like that.

They hugged and she pulled away again. "Devon, will you pour Chuck some tea? He looks tired." She paused and squinted at him. "You smell like that damnable machine you built, that bicycle with the engine."

"My steamcycle, El. It doesn't smell like gas! I use steam! Hence the steam part of the name."

"Well, it smells. And now you smell." She frowned. "And it's not healthy to be going around on things like that. You look like death. Probably because it rattles your brain around inside of your head, it's such a piece of junk."

"Ellie, don't make fun of my steamcycle! Devon, tell her to leave my steamcycle alone."

"Sweetheart," came Devon's calm, yet booming voice. It was strange how he did that. "Don't take your frustrations about today out on your brother's toys."

Chuck threw his hands up. "It isn't a toy."

"It's a bit of a toy, Chuck," his brother said over his shoulder, pouring the tea with a wince as the hot steam crawled up his hand that held the kettle.

"It isn't either!" he argued. "It is just a different mode of transportation. And it's perfectly safe. I have a helmet. And I wear my goggles."

"Yes, I've seen both," Ellie said with a wan smile.

"Just a moment!" Chuck rushed out, holding up a finger. "Devon said 'your frustrations about today'. What happened today?"

He saw a bit of the fire go out of his sister's green eyes as she crossed her arms. "Let's go sit down. I just got home from a meeting and I feel…burnt out. To say the least." They walked together into the living room proper, out of the entryway from the kitchen where they had just been bantering, and sat down on the couches. Devon followed on their heels with a tray that held the tea, along with some finger sandwiches that looked delectable to Chuck at the moment.

"What was the meeting?"

Ellie and Devon shared a look at his question, then Devon slumped down next to Ellie on the settee across from Chuck and gently pushed a stray tendril of his wife's dark brown hair that escaped the chignon at the back of her head. She responded with a half-hearted smile. "The Coalition experienced a minor setback today."

Chuck sat up a bit straighter and sipped his tea, reveling in the warmth that flooded through him as it slid down his throat and into is belly. "A setback?"

"Yes. There aren't just nurses involved in the fight to grant women the right to obtain a license to practice medicine. There are some women we work with who are merely there for full equality for women in the Empire. Voting and the like."

"That's good, though, is it not?" Chuck asked, his eyes darting to Devon a little unsurely. He wasn't sure how having a diverse group of individuals be a part of the coalition would be anything less than helpful, as that was rather the point of a coalition, was it not?

"In almost every way, it is…fantastic. But there was an argument during the county meeting today between one of our nurses and one of the women who is not privy to the ways of the medical world. Henrietta Fishburne."

"Lady Fishburne is in your coalition?" Chuck sputtered. "As in the wife of Lord Gregory Fishburne?"

"Yes, we have some important people in the coalition, and not just women, mind you."

"I'm in the coalition," Devon piped up with a proud nod. He leaned forward and lowered his voice seriously. "And I'm a man."

"Yes," Chuck drawled. "I'm well aware of this fact. Thank you, brother."

"You are always welcome, brother."

Ellie shook her head a little, her face still set in seriousness. "She just has so much of her husband's money to throw around, and she gets her hands into every little cause, mostly I think so she can parade about town telling everyone what an activist she is and oh, Julia, have you seen how atrocious the sidewalks are on Melrose? Something simply must be done about that."

He chuckled at his sister's interpretation of Lady Henrietta Fishburne, earning a bit of a smile from her.

"That actually sounded just like her," Devon said in approval. "Well done, darling."

Hearing 'darling' come from his brother-in-law's mouth gave Chuck the shivers, but he fought the outward response down and focused instead on his sister who was staring into her teacup somberly.

"I know she means well. I think she means well. But her superiority complex really did a number on the point of our meeting with the medical chair at the hospital. Granted, Miss Leonard really shouldn't have argued with her. But the more things like this happen, the more we look like a gaggle of silly geese squawking around with our bloomers in a bunch, screaming 'More rights! More rights!' without knowing what we are really asking for."

He was aware of how important the coalition was to her, the hours she spent at her writing desk, writing petitions and pleas and letters and scrounging up any extra amount of money up she could to pump it into the cause. But some days, it was as if she was running herself straight into a brick wall, backing up, and slamming into it again, and again, and again. He hated watching it. It physically hurt him to watch it.

And he knew it hurt Devon as well. The usually positive, upright, can-do attitude of the attractive surgeon seemed a little dimmer when Ellie met with failure. But that was just one of the countless reasons why Devon Woodcomb would continue to be Chuck's hero. The man protected his sister from anything and everything, but when push came to shove, he recognized the things Ellie needed to do for herself. And this, the Coalition for Women Doctors, was one of those things she wanted, needed, to do on her own.

That didn't mean her two men didn't fight for her whenever she needed it. And today she looked like she needed it.

Chuck sat a little straighter and exchanged a short look with Devon. "It will happen, Ellie. In a few years, I'm going to be looking at your license framed on the wall next to Devon's. Eleanor Woodcomb, M.D." He grinned widely, doing his best to keep his tiredness out of his face.

He knew Ellie saw right through it, but she grinned back nevertheless. "You're absolutely right! In no time at all." She paused and leaned forward, her hand resting on his wrist warmly. He could see the fire in her eyes again, the drive he loved so much about her, and she winked. "Aces, Charles. You're aces."

The exchange was more meaningful than Chuck was prepared for at that moment, bringing back memories he'd nearly lost as the years had gone by, and he swallowed and leaned back in his seat again, looking down at his teacup.

"Can you believe I married this woman, Chuck?" Devon asked, hugging Ellie to his side.

"I can. I was there."

Devon mock-glared and Ellie finally laughed, grabbing her tea cup for the first time since it was placed in front of her and taking a drink and wisely changing the subject. "The Woodcombs came over yesterday while you were at the shop. They were sorry to miss you."

"Indeed! Mother kept asking after you."

"Sorry to miss them," Chuck said, though he really wasn't all that sorry. As much as Chuck had grown to really love Devon like a brother, the rest of the Woodcombs made him want to crawl into a hole and rot there. Or perhaps push them inside of it to rot instead and continue on his merry way.

Devon's parents meant well, he supposed, in some way, but they were both born into wealthy families and were arranged to be married when they were still children. The merging of their two families created a sprawling almost-empire of wealth which they had hoped to bring all three of their boys into when they became men. Devon was a disappointment and they made no secret about it. His entry into medical school had pained them. Both of his younger brothers became lawyers, as their father had demanded, and both still lived in the family home with their wives. Devon left the family home as a teenager, refusing his mother's coddling.

When Woodward "Woody" Woodcomb and his wife Honey heard that the woman Devon was going to marry had a brother who left university to open a toy shop, they discouraged their son from the match vehemently. In spite of them, and with as bright a smile as Chuck had ever seen on another person's face, Devon Christian Woodcomb married Eleanor Faye Bartowski in a small court ceremony with Chuck standing at his side and a very quiet Morgan donning a top hat beside him.

Allowing an android to be at his wedding, but not his own parents, had meant the Woodcombs ignored Devon for a few months after that. But Honey Woodcomb was nothing if not desperate for her sons' love and attention. And the ostracization ruling was…well…overruled.

But that hadn't meant Ellie and Chuck were forgiven. And those were honestly some of the most awkward meals Chuck thought he had ever experienced—would ever experience—in his entire life.

"Would you believe it? Honey brought me so much tea, I will be having it coming out of my ears. She said that it's her favorite tea, so I suppose it's nice that she is giving me so much of it." When she leaned forward to set her teacup down, Devon met Chuck's gaze and shook his head with wide eyes mouthing 'It's not her favorite' and making a face.

Chuck choked a bit on his tea and set it down with a loud clink.

"Is it too hot, Chuck?" Ellie asked, sitting back against Devon's arm, missing the way her husband's blue eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Erm, yes. Yes it is," Chuck answered quickly. "Too hot." He paused. "You know, Ellie. You could always throw it off the Santa Monica wharf. The tea, that is."

"You are not helping."

"So, anyways, Chuck," Devon boomed. "You said you wanted to speak with us about something."

"I did?"

Devon raised a perfect eyebrow.

"Oh! I did. I did. Thank you. Yes." He ran a hand through his hair and saw Ellie purse her lips in annoyance. She had an infuriating habit of turning into a mother about his appearance. Mussed hair was her least favorite thing, but she had learned to deal with her brother's less than neat appearance. The man worked with steam and smoke and oil on a daily basis, after all.

At least, that was Chuck's excuse. And he would stick to it.

"Ellie, you know a lot about brains."

"Apt observation, Chuck. I do." Amusement lit her features at her own sarcasm, but she sobered a bit when she saw the way Chuck's brows knit together in concern and a bit of pain. "Chuck, what is it? Are you sick?"

"No. No, I don't think I'm—Well, maybe I am. I can't be sure either way. Because I don't feel ill, I just feel strange. And then there are the nightmares. Nightmares about catastrophic events that I can't stop no matter what I do. I'm powerless, forced to watch as…" His voice drifted off as he saw his sister and her husband exchange quick looks over the rims of their tea cups. "I know. I know! I sound mad. But it's the truth. And I need to know why it happens every damn time I shut my eyes."

He was aware of the desperation leaking into his voice and he could do nothing to stop it.

"People have nightmares they can't explain all the time, Chuck," Ellie finally answered, setting her cup down on the saucer and fidgeting a little in her seat. "It doesn't mean you're mad or that there's anything wrong with your brain. Are you having trouble sleeping aside from that?"

"That is the trouble, Ellie. Every time I go to sleep, the nightmares happen. Well, not every time. I have had nights where I've slept but those are few and far in between."

"Maybe you just have too much on your mind, brother," Devon added. "One of the fellows at the club had a few nights of sleeplessness because he found out his daughter's been seeing a lowly pool shark downtown." He stopped when he saw the looks Ellie and Chuck were both giving him. "His words! Not mine." Another pause. "Anyway, the point being—if you have your work on your mind, or Morgan's upkeep, or the Buy More's finances, maybe a little woman trouble, heh?" Devon bounced an eyebrow and grinned.

"Devon!" Ellie snapped. "If only Chuck would be so lucky." She blushed a little and winced apologetically in her brother's direction. "That was awful of me, I'm sorry. I just worry about you—"

"Honeeyy," Devon interceded on Chuck's behalf. He couldn't have been more grateful than he was at that moment. "What I meant was…try not to be to preoccupied with all of that. Don't let the man get you down, as they say."

"Well, that's all fine. That explains the nightmares. What about the daymares I've been having?"

"Daymares?" Devon asked, his handsome face twisted in confusion. "Oh! I see what you did there. Daymares. Nightmares…in the day. I like that. Might I use that?"

"Of course."

"Thank you!"

"Devon…" Ellie sighed.

"I apologize. You were saying."

"What do you mean, Chuck?" she continued as though none of the prior tomfoolery had happened. It was almost like she had gotten used to it over the years. "You have been having nightmares while you are awake? Or do you mean you nap in the workshop during the day and have the nightmares then?"

"I mean while I'm awake. I'll see someone, or a—a photograph—and images sort of…flit across my vision. Like slides in a projector. Then I seem to know all of this information about whatever it is I'm looking at. I knew about Officer Geralds' career in the police force, for instance, just by looking at him when he came into the Buy More to browse."

His sister and brother-in-law didn't respond for a few moments. And Chuck frowned even further, realizing it was a bad sign when both of the Woodcombs had nothing to say. "I don't know how accurate the information was about him, or if I made it up somehow on the spot, or what, but I don't exactly know where any of it even comes from. It is just all of a sudden there. In my head."

The Woodcombs exchanged worried looks.

"What? What is it? You know what it is, don't you? Don't spare me the details. I just want to know what's wrong with me," Chuck hurried out, his golden hued eyes wide and terrified.

"Chuck, just calm down. I have no idea what that is. I've never heard of anything like that before." Ellie nibbled on her lip.

Chuck sighed and flopped over again, ignoring the steaming cup of tea in front of him.

"Here. Why don't you drink more tea? It's herbal. It'll be good for you." Devon leaned forward and pushed the tray a bit closer, pouring Chuck some more tea.

"Thank you," Chuck muttered, grabbing the cup and pouring more of the steaming liquid into his mouth. He savored the feeling of it warming his throat as it slid down into his stomach. "What do I do?"

Ellie smiled reassuringly. "Just try to sleep on a schedule. It's impossible for Devon and I to sleep the same hours every night because of the nature of our work, but you can. Maybe open the Buy More later, or close it earlier. You're probably exhausted from working too hard. Make Morgan do more around the shop. You built him for a reason." They all knew the actual reason and it hung in the air between them.

"Perhaps you need an assistant," Devon tried helpfully. "You know, hire an errand boy, or someone who needs extra money and likes to build things. King George didn't win the American Revolution by himself." Chuck let out an amused huff and sipped his tea again.

Devon sat up a bit straighter then and looked quickly to his wife before setting his gaze back on Chuck. "I'll even pitch in if you need help." The inventor opened his mouth to refuse and Devon held up his hand in defense, cutting him off. "I don't want you to work yourself dead. I'm just looking out for family."

Ellie put a grateful hand on Devon's knee for a moment, then took it away, as if realizing she was in the presence of her brother. Chuck almost snorted, considering the things he had walked into in the years since Ellie and Devon began courting. So many almosts.

Too many almosts.

He shivered a little bit and masked it by finishing off his tea and setting it down.

"Thank you, Devon. You know, maybe you are right. Both of you. I must be working too hard. Starting tomorrow, I am looking for an assistant. Morgan is a marvelous running the shop, but he is absolutely no help at all when it comes to fixing things. Unsteady hands." He stood up, putting his cup down on the tray. "Thank you, both! And it's odd, you know? I feel better already. How 'bout that?"

"Glad to help, Brother! Anything for family!" Devon exclaimed, standing up and hugging him again, thumping him on the back.

Chuck thanked them for the tea and advice, then excused himself, claiming fatigue. He left the Woodcomb residence amidst Ellie's mother-henning, then took the outdoor stairs three at a time to get to his own rooms.

He would eat his supper, wash up, and go to bed at a reasonable hour. The workshop could wait in the morning. Morgan might end up being a bit miffed that he left him alone at the store for so long, but at the moment, Chuck was finally thinking of his own well-being. And it felt wonderful.

}o{

The next afternoon found Chuck working happily on a small pocket watch an elderly gentleman had brought in a few minutes before. It was a simple fix—rewinding the gears and setting the correct time again—and it only took the engineer three minutes to have the man's watch good as new.

As the gentleman paid and tipped his hat in thanks, the door opened with a jolly jingle. Ironically the face of the individual entering the Buy More was the exact opposite of jolly. One look at the scowl on his face, and Chuck was sure all of the joy was sucked out of the Buy More sales floor.

The man swept his newsboy cap off of his head and twisted it in his hands in front of him. It wasn't a nervous gesture like it might have been for anyone else, but instead Chuck found himself imagining the cap as someone's neck and felt a chill wrack through him.

When he looked up from the hat, he saw that the man was looking straight at him. Squinting, the muscular individual walked right up to where Chuck stood, stopping on the other side of the display case and leaning his palms on it. "You work here, son?" he growled, narrowing his eyes with a look that was more intimidating than it was curious.

"I, uh, I do. Work here. I work here. Yes. I own here. I mean I own this establishment. The Buy More. I own it. This." Chuck crossed his arms and lifted his fist in front of his mouth, clearing his throat and trying to smile politely.

"You gotta job for me?"

Chuck blinked. That was not what he was expecting. Perhaps a hard punch to the nose. Certainly not this.

"You would like to work here?" the young toy maker asked, pronouncing his words slowly, not for the man's sake, but for his own.

With a grunt, the man stood straight and turned to glance around the shop. "S'good a place as any, I guess."

"Uh. Thank you."

Silence.

Finally the man shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

"Oh! I—It's just that your timing is uncanny. You see, I was just going to place an advertisement in the evening Juggernaut for an apprentice. And in you walk asking for a job."

"I call that kismet."

"Fortuitous. See, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately. And between the two of us, I think it's because I work too hard. And an overworked body on top of an overworked mind, it just…does things. You don't care, do you?" The man's eyes began to glaze over a little as he spoke. "No. You just want a job. I get it. Do you have any experience in fixing machines? Mechanical skills?"

"What kind?" he grunted with a curl of his upper lip.

"For instance, most of the repair work consists of broken toys, watches, clocks, and other mechanical objects. It would make my life much easier if the less complicated, simple fixes were handled by someone else, so that I could focus on the larger projects. It also gets to be too much for me to handle them all on my own. Could you fix a watch, do you th—"

"Absolutely."

"Wh—Oh. Indeed?"

"Indeed," the man growled with a strangely prim nod.

Whoever this gentleman was, he didn't seem to be very friendly or personable. But he seemed to know the basest of social graces, at the very least, which was enough for Chuck. If he could also do the smaller repairs and cut Chuck's workload in half so that he could focus on his own inventions instead, there wasn't much more to be said on the matter.

Chuck stuck his hand out towards the man and grinned. "Charles Bartowski, owner and manager of the Buy More. You might call me Chuck."

"You might call me John Casey." The side of the man's mouth twitched a bit and Chuck had a feeling that was the closest he would get to a smile.

"Well, you've got yourself a job, Mr. Casey."

A/N: Oh ho ho ho! What have we here? Another couple of canon characters have come out to play.

Hope you enjoy my AU versions of them. There's a lot more where this came from.

So I hope you all stick around. Something special is in store for you next time. (wink!)

Til then, leave me some reviewness. ¡Hasta!