A/N: Already working on the next chapter. It will be a bit. Working 50 hours a week, and being a family man does not lead to prolific writing. Thanks to PJ Murphy for the beta, and for the ending, oh yeah on just general awesomness.

Its been over 9 months since the last update and I'm sorry, but it will get done. Others have helped me with this chapter, and I thank each and every one of you. I will pay you back by working to get the next one out faster.

I don't own Chuck. Although I wish I could say I don't own Chuck and Sarah, but wishing won't make it so.

Morgan silently closed the door to the hotel room. He nodded to the team keeping watch on his closest friends while they were out of commission. As he padded down the long hallway that led to the front of the hotel, Captain Morgan Grimes, NSA, couldn't help but reflect on the past forty-eight hours. It had been a long couple if days, and there was no reason to think it was going to get better.

He headed to the vending machine located about halfway down the hall. Once there, he spotted the elixir that got him through school, through the night classes Chuck forced him to take, and even through the long nights when the kids never seemed to sleep more than an hour at a time. In spite of all of the changes in the last four years, his grape soda had always been there. He purchased two cans; one to guzzle, the other for enjoyment. Grabbing his first soda he popped the top and, with a slight tremble in his hand, he lifted the can to his lips as the liquid cascaded down his throat.

Now that he had finished the first one, he had a call to make. Morgan reached into the thigh pocket of his BDU pants and grabbed his phone. After a deep breath and a slow exhale, he dialed the number and placed the Android phone next to his ear.

"Grimes, secure."

General Diane Beckman began her reply even before the last syllable was off his tongue. "Beckman, secure. Grimes, what is your team's status?"

Can't she ever just say hello? he groused silently. "General, it could be a lot worse. They both are suffering from exhaustion. That is probably to be expected. I have not had a chance to speak to Chuck. Sarah…well, General, she is being a bit protective of her husband. It's almost like when…"

"Grimes!"

"Ahh, yes ma'am. It appears Agent Bartowski's hormones due to her pregnancy may have enhanced her protective side…a lot."

Morgan was surprised when he heard a chuckle come from the other side of conversation. "Morgan, go to your wife. I am pretty sure she hasn't slept, either. I will have a driver take you to the hospital. Also, Colonel Casey's condition has improved greatly. He will be moved into a regular room in a few hours. Finally, the Woodcombs are on their way to a hotel under a Secret Service detail. Thank you for everything, Captain."

Morgan pulled the phone from his ear and saw she had hung up. He placed it in his pocket and went back to the room to grab his gear. Hopefully, momma bear was asleep, and he could get out alive.

3:00 AM

Sarah Bartowski's eyes shot open from the loud sound in the room. She stood up and headed towards its origin. When she peeked into the bathroom she saw her husband on his knees with his head over the toilet. She followed her first instinct and went to help. That's when she saw his eyes. Her husband's warm, chocolate orbs had been replaced with dark, cold ones. Chuck grabbed the door and slowly closed it. Almost immediately, she heard the click of the locking mechanism on the door engaging.

After a sigh escaped her lips, she grabbed her phone on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Bartowski, secure."

"Beckman, secure."

"I am truly sorry to bother you this late, but I need to get the process started as soon as possible."

After several seconds that felt more like minutes, Sarah heard a reply. "Are you sure this ex-agent can help him?"

"Diane, I wouldn't be an agent anymore if it wasn't for him. I am sure Graham showed you the file before you consented to me being on the team." Sarah took a quick breath. The Padre was an enigma, but she was pretty sure she could convince Diane to go along with her. Sarah just hoped Diane could convince the Padre.

"OK, Agent Bartowski. I'll do what I can on my end. Do what you think is right."

Sarah hung up the phone and dialed another number from memory. "New York Times Classifieds" was the response on the other end. Sarah ordered a classified ad in code. The message was simple:

I need your help. He needs your special services. Official contact will be made through the diocese.

She took in a deep breath, craned her neck, and lay back on the hotel bed. You have to trust him. This is for Chuck. Her eyes slammed shut, and she took another breath. She then opened her eyes slowly and confirmed the order.

After placing her phone on the nightstand, she turned to hear Chuck brushing his teeth. He then stopped and scampered back to the toilet, undoubtedly dry heaving. It was tearing her apart inside. Her husband, her best friend, her lover, her soulmate was in the worst emotional pain of his life, and she could do nothing to help. She placed a pillow over her head and screamed silently, willing herself to not cry. After a few moments, she rolled over onto her side, using her hands as a pillow, and stared at the door to the bathroom.

Please don't let me be wrong. I can't lose him, especially when we were going to walk away. Sarah shook her head and looked at her stomach. My baby needs a father. My baby needs Chuck. I need Chuck. I need my Chuck.

3:00 AM

Chuck opened his eyes. The light escaping the blinds woke him up. It was definitely not a good morning. His stomach was on fire, and his throat felt like he had swallowed razor blades. Evidently, his projectile vomiting last night had taken its toll. At least with the wonders of the toothbrush and toothpaste, his mouth didn't taste like he had just eaten roasted lizard. After remembering even a part of that disgusting mission, he reached over and felt the warm softness of his wife's skin.

I better get some water, Chuck thought as he sat up to do just that. His pupils constricted and his muscles tensed as he took in the scene displayed to him. Sitting at a table in the corner of the room were three men were playing cards. The man closest to him had a slightly blue tinge and an X-Box controller wrapped tightly around his neck. Next to him, a man had his back against the wall and a bloody shirt with a scalpel stuck in his chest. The third man made Chuck's stomach turn into knots. The man was fine from the neck down, but it looked as if a sledgehammer hit the top of his head. It was cracked wide open, and right above his nose his head was effectively split into two.

"CHUCK! CHUCK! WAKE UP!"

Chuck opened his eyes to find the room was dark. He also felt warm. This was due to the fact his beautiful blonde goddess was lying on top of him and holding him tightly. Her lips were next to his ear whispering to him.

"Chuck, it's a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. Wake up, baby."

Chuck was shaking. "Sarah, I don't know how I'll get through this. Every time I close my eyes, they're there…staring at me. I have to sleep sometime."

He then realized he could feel Sarah's tears on his face. Oh, God. Now I'm making her cry. He didn't know what gave him the greater pain: the nightmares or the way he was affecting his love.

7:00 AM

Chuck opened his eyes slowly. He glanced at the clock. Four hours had passed; his wife was holding him tightly. She was acting like a blanket, shielding him from the horrors that seemed to be invading his soul. Then he realized it: he felt better, a lot better. His angel had given him a few minutes' respite from his demons, and now it felt good to feel…normal.

His lungs expanded into a large cleansing breath, and he slowly let it out. He looked down and saw his wife looking into his eyes. Chuck just looked at her; there was nothing he ever saw more beautiful in the world. "Thank you."

They shared several moments of silence. "So where do we go? I mean, I'm Charles Talley now, the Johnston house is kindling, and the only people who know you're still alive are either dead or had to sign paperwork to keep their mouths shut. Unless, of course, you don't want to fake your death."

Sarah's eyes narrowed and her mouth curled into a frown. "If you think for one second I'm raising our child on my own, you are out of your mind. I don't care if your name is Charles Irving Bartowski or Chuck Talley." She placed her hand over his heart and looked straight into his eyes. "I married you Chuck, and it was forever. You hear me?"

Chuck nodded his head. He wasn't sure if he could speak at that moment anyway with his throat muscles constricting from his wife's words. When he did not immediately respond, Sarah playfully pinched the side of his boxers. "Anyway, it's time for you to get up."

Chuck grunted as he rolled out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. As he passed through the archway he stopped and turned around. His eyebrows furrowed, and the skin over his nose constricted. "When are you going to see the OB/GYN?"

Sarah's face erupted into a smile. Her eyes lit up brighter than they had in quite a long time. "Tomorrow afternoon."

Both eyes went to the far wall when the door slammed in the next room. Once there was no obvious threat, th0e couple stared at each other, but Chuck's eyes were once again cold and distant. Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but he walked into the bathroom to take a shower. Once the bathroom door was closed Sarah stretched on the bed and grabbed her cell phone. When she looked at the screen, she saw she had missed a text.

Will be in LA in AM. Meet me the place of your first post card. I need to talk to you at 10:30 before I meet him. -P-

She looked at the clock; it displayed 8:17. She took in a deep breath, as it was already shaping up to be a long day.

She then dialed a number. Seconds later, she heard a familiar voice. "Beckman, secure."

"Talley, secure."

"Well, it's official. You are now Sarah Talley. Sarah Bartowski was found in the destruction at the Johnston house." Beckman's voice was crisp and businesslike.

"Thank you, General. And thank you for setting up the meeting. I got his message this morning."

Sarah heard an exhale of air on the other end, and then Beckman's voice sounded much softer. "Are you sure this is the best course of action, Sarah? I can have Dr. Dreyfus there in a few hours."

"I realize I'm biased here, but I know he will help Chuck through this. I wish I could do it myself, but he has a way of letting your soul heal as well as your mind. It's his specialty, and I trust him."

Beckman had worked with the agent on the other end of the phone for a long time. She knew she had to wait till Sarah spoke again.

Less than thirty seconds later, Sarah continued. "I just don't know who will come out on the other side. Will that damn Intersect win?"

"He loves you, Sarah."

"I know, but his heart is not the issue. It's his mind I worry about."

When Sarah heard the water stop running she changed the subject. "Where will we be staying at?"

"The plan is to move you to a safe house closer to Chuck's other accommodations. In less than thirty minutes, you'll have a Secret Service detail at the hotel. And before you try to argue, this is from the President himself. I will be there in a few days to explain. It appears I need to be out of Washington. See you then."

Sarah shook her head softly with her chin just a bit down. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see you…" Sarah did not finish because she realized the General had already hung up.

When Chuck stepped out of the bathroom he was already dressed. Sarah gave him a pout, and his response was to shrug and nod to the door.

"Your turn."

Sarah got up and got some clothes together. As she headed for the bathroom, a playful thought went through her mind. She slowly disrobed, dropping each article of her sleepwear piece by piece, making sure Chuck got a good look. By the time she got to the door, she was completed naked. As she entered the bathroom, swaying her hips as she went in, she saw the reflection of her husband in the mirror. The dropped lower jaw, the glazed look on his eyes, and the inability to move were the most welcome sights she had seen in days.

She couldn't help but grin. My Chuck is still in there.

Hermosa Beach - 10:30 AM

After dropping Chuck off at the safe house with the new security detail, Sarah left for the beach. Yet another thing about Chuck she loved was he did not need to know where she was going every waking moment. He knew that when the time was right, she would tell him. Unfortunately, she had no idea how she was going to tell him about this.

Sarah sat down at the hamburger stand and waited. For some reason her contact always wanted to meet at some type of place where clogged arteries were the specialty of the house. She had almost broken Chuck of the need for fried food once a day, and here she was with two orders of burgers and fries. Oh well, she was already betraying her husband. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Damn it Sarah, she thought to herself. This is for him. Yeah, he'll be mad, but this is for the best.

Sarah almost jumped from the table when she heard a deep, gravelly voice behind her. "It appears I have caught you in an unusual moment. I know I'm quiet, but I'm not that quiet."

Sarah turned and looked at the man known as the Padre, taking small comfort in the fact he looked as invisible as a beach bum with his faded swim trunks and stretched out t-shirt. The frayed jungle camouflage hat sat on his head like the vet he was. Sarah couldn't wait until she could wear something old that reminded her of something of her past. Soon, she thought.

"I seem to be distracted by the smell of cholesterol on a bun," Sarah replied while sweeping her blonde locks over her ear.

The man took a bite of his burger. He smiled contentedly. "I never get to eat this when I'm fulfilling my duties as a priest. So, Mrs. Bartowski, what is so important that I get a call from a Cardinal asking me to get a flight to L.A. in an hour?"

Sarah absentmindedly ran a French fry back and forth through a puddle of ketchup on her plate. She was having difficulty holding the Padre's gaze. "As of two days ago, it's Mrs. Talley. What do you know about my husband?"

"Not much. When I found out you were married, I wanted to know who the lucky guy was. I started asking around, but I learned a long time ago when the doors close fast to stop looking for answers. This time, they were slammed shut before I could finish asking the question. That made me think this guy was someone special, which piqued my curiosity even more. Eventually, I figured if He wanted me to know, He would tell me. Although, I have to admit, that surprised me a bit, too."

Sarah lifted her head from the condiment-covered potato and raised an eyebrow. The man across from her just smiled, although it didn't make it to his eyes. "Those kinds of doors tend to close quickly when you're in deep, deep cover. Usually assassination missions," Sarah said quietly.

He slowly shook his head. "I can't be involved with that, Sarah. I'm not returning to the field as an assassin. You may have been called one once, but we both know the truth."

Sarah sighed. She knew a small amount about his past. It made hers look almost idyllic by comparison. "I know you wouldn't, and I would never think to ask that of you. This is a completely different situation." She looked at his plate. It was almost done. "If you're ready, let's take a walk. I need an hour and we really need to make sure no one overhears what I'm going to tell you."

When he smiled this time, it reached his eyes, and he spoke like a ranch hand straight out of the musical Oklahoma! "Well shucks, Mrs. Talley, I'm just a simple priest. I'll listen to whatever you gots ta say."

The smile left as they stood up to throw away the wrappers. They began to walk along the beach. He put his hand on her shoulder and spoke as if he was whispering to someone on a stage. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

It took an hour, but Sarah explained to her companion the entire story that was Chuck Bartowski. In some ways, it still amazed her she had stayed in deep cover…officially…for all those years. In the time before Chuck, she had sent the Padre postcards every few weeks, but the Intersect project pushed that to every few months. The cards had mentioned the ups and downs, although she could never mention her husband. But now, thanks to Beckman, she was able to tell him just about everything.

Sarah stopped in her tracks. The Shaw issue never got easier. It always seemed to affect her. After the third time Sarah attempted to continue, she felt a hand on her shoulder. When she turned her head, she was grateful to see a face without judgment.

"Within the near future, Mrs. Bartowski," the Padre said with a smile before he continued. "You are going to learn how to ask for forgiveness."

A smile appeared on Sarah's face, and they started to walk again. "I thought you had given up on getting me to go to church."

"Never," Sarah's companion replied in a perfect British accent. The two shared a laugh. "The person you need to ask forgiveness of is yourself. Sarah, you need to learn that no one is harder on you than you are. I know the way you deal with others. You were patient with Chuck at the start, you leaned to work with John Casey, but you won't cut yourself the same slack you gave them. If you can learn to forgive yourself about that part of your past, you will be so much happier. Trust me."

They walked a few steps before Sarah's head shot up. "Hey, when did this become about me?"

The Padre snickered. "Sarah, if you think I would pass up the chance to help one of my favorite people in the world, you really are crazy."

After taking a deep breath, Sarah was able to continue. A smile graced Sarah's lips when she recalled the train trip to Europe she took with Chuck…heavily edited in deference to the Padre. The smile stayed put until the events of the last few days came up.

Sarah felt that same comforting arm around her. "Give yourself some time."

She smiled and brushed some hair back from her face. "You know, you are part of a very small group of men who are allowed to hug me."

He tilted his head to the side and looked out to the ocean before ending the one-armed hug. "I know this is a bit of an odd question, but Mrs. Talley, could you tell me who they are?"

Sarah looked out at the ocean as she read off the list. "My husband, my brother-in-law, my father, you, and John Casey."

Sarah was shocked to see the Padre do a double-take. Rare was the occasion when someone got something past him. "John Francis Casey giving someone a hug? I can't even picture that. My, how things have changed. When I first heard of what happened to you, John Casey was exactly the kind of killer I thought of. But I guess now he's not the burnout he once was?" Sarah nodded in confirmation, which made the Padre break out in a huge grin. "Oh, now I HAVE to meet the man who melted Sarah Walker and brought John Casey back in from the cold."

Sarah gave a shy smile. Chuck did all of that and more. So much more. She didn't want to lose that man, and the Padre was her only shot to retrieve him.

They walked further down the beach before he spoke again. "OK, Sarah. I gather the next part of the story is where I become needed, so it's time to fill me in."

Sarah took a deep breath. "About a year ago Chuck and I were listening to some music and sipping some wine…."

Burbank, CA – One Year Ago

The rain hit the windows at Casa Bartowski at a constant rate. Inside, a far too rare occurrence was underway. Chuck was seated on the floor using the sofa as a backrest while his wife was lying down and using his lap for a pillow. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, both of them were still in their sleepwear. Chuck had his pajama bottoms and a 'Byte Me' t-shirt on, while Sarah wore a faded Buy More t-shirt Chuck used to wear himself. The TV was not on, but Bon Iver could be heard in the background, filling the room like a candle at midnight. Chuck was reading Children of Dune and his wife was reading the latest Dresden files.

Chuck held his Kindle book reader in his left hand so that he could continue to rub circles on his wife's back. When he felt her muscles become taut he put the kindle to the side and brushed a few strands of her golden hair to the side of her head, trapping it behind her ear.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice.

Sarah's gaze never left her Kindle. "Nothing, Chuck. Nothing is wrong."

Instead of going back to his book, he just began to tap gently on her back. After a few seconds, Sarah slowly sat up and looked into her husband's eyes. "Chuck, I think we need to get a plan together."

Chucks face contorted and he looked to his left. "Do we have a mission?"

Sarah smiled and her hand rubbed his leg. "No, a couple of days ago Casey and I were talking. He was on a bit of a paranoid kick."

"I thought we decided conversations with a paranoid Casey were to be avoided at all costs."

Sarah heard a giggle escape her lips. "You are always making me laugh when I want to talk about things."

"Is it my fault I'm so charming and funny?"

Sarah smiled at him and pushed herself up to give him a kiss. She caressed his cheek as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Chuck, we need to talk about what happens if I am kidnapped."

His brow scrunched in confusion. "Is that all, Sarah? That's an easy one: I go in and get you."

She took a deep breath and held his face. "Chuck, I gave up a long time ago trying to get you not to risk your life for me, but you can't just swoop in and save the day like you're Superman. There's more to it than that now. You are going to have to send a message."

She was silent for a moment as she collected her thoughts. "Chuck, we both know that kids are somewhere in our future. If someone takes me, you have to make a statement. You have to make them think twice about ever taking a Bartowski. It has to be fast and it has to be brutal. You can't show compassion if someone comes after our family. Do you understand?"

Hermosa Beach – Present Day

"It took a while, but he agreed to it," Sarah said with sadness resounding in her voice. "Padre, it was horrible. He did exactly what I asked of him. Chuck thought I was the only person he knew who was still alive. It was pure luck everyone else was OK. When he began the final assault, it was like one of those shoot-'em-up movies. In less than 10 minutes he had killed…damn near everyone. He was quick, and he was brutal, just like I told him it had to be.

Sarah felt heaviness come over her heart. "I know…I know it was necessary, Padre. I told him it was, but now that it's over…" Sarah turned to her friend as she wiped a tear from her eye. "There is no way I can lose him. I can't."

"Sarah," the Padre said gently. He didn't get a response. "Sarah!" He waited until she turned to him, her crystal blue eyes still welling with tears. "I can't work miracles, but I can't see the Lord bringing me here to do nothing."

Sarah opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find her voice. After a couple of tries, it was soft and distant. "Did I ever tell you the moment I fell for my husband? I know it's weird, but I know…exactly when it happened."

The Padre grinned. "Now that is a story I would like to hear. And that is not weird, Sarah. Not by a longshot."

"I was sent to find out some information from a mark. I traced it to a computer and electronics store. There wasn't anything remarkable about the place. Honestly, he sounded like a bit of a geek at first, doing some song about…Vicky Vale, I believe it was. But suddenly he saw me, and I realized he wasn't a geek. His eyes were so kind, Padre. After looking cold-blooded killers and some of the most vicious bastards ever to walk the Earth in the eyes as I took them down, those beautiful brown eyes just…they captivated me."

Both stood in silence for a moment. It had been a while since the two of them had an extended conversation. She had forgotten how the Padre used silence so effectively. It didn't matter if it was five seconds or five minutes. He would just stand there and wait.

"I played it off, of course; there was no way I was going to allow some mark to get to me. I remember thinking to myself, 'You don't need anyone'." Sarah raised her eyebrow when a snort emanated from the man standing next to her. "OK, I was wrong. Anyway, then a customer walked up to the counter because he had a problem with his camera. Evidently, he thought he captured his daughter's ballet recital, only he forgot to put a tape in it."

"Oops."

"Exactly. So before I knew it, Chuck was setting up a recital right in the middle of a department store. He set up a place for her to dance, the music, a background, everything. The little girl was so nervous, but there he was comforting her, telling her she was a real ballerina because she was so tall. The crowd absolutely loved it. By the time the little girl did her last pirouette, I was…hooked." Sarah shook her head in frustration. "Still I…"

"Ran out of there as fast as you could." Sarah stared at him in surprise. "I know, Sarah. You told me that story twice before. But this was the first time I saw you tell it as a girl in love rather than someone reading it off of a report. I have to admit, when we talked in Kosovo all those years ago, I never expected you would be so successful."

"Until yesterday."

"Come on, Sarah," the Padre said with considerable agitation. "Pity doesn't look good on you, and you know it."

Sarah's face turned almost into a scowl. "Being a mother without a husband will look even worse." Sarah gripped the Padre's arms. "Padre, I don't need the Intersect. I need my husband."

After a silent nod he looked down at his shoes before speaking. "Sarah, I'm going to need three things." He raised his head to see a red-eyed Sarah before he continued. There is a church I need to go to (name Church Found), it's north of here, and its isolated enough to get privacy. Then, I am going to have to talk to your team. I know you have the best husband ever, but I think you may be biased. I need a more honest assessment."

Sarah stood there as she heard the waves pound into the surf. As the water receded, she could hear the water move away from the beach. Moments later the waves crashed again and they just stood there. When the third set crashed again Sarah couldn't hold back anymore. "You said three?"

The Padre took in a deep breath. "Chuck has to be alone."

"No."

"Sarah, it will take longer to get to what's wrong."

"I said no."

"Ugh..." he said as he rubbed his chin. "Sarah, I can't bring your husband back if you won't let me."

Colonel John Casey lay in his bed. The same bed. No, the same damn bed he had been in for the last few days. Today was no different. Why nurses needed to wake him up to give him sleep medication was beyond comprehension. Besides, he hadn't touched a weapon, trimmed his Bonsai or even had a little nip of Johnny Walker in way too long. Casey shook his head. That wasn't the reason for his frustration. No, he made a commitment to be a much better grandfather than he had as a father. He hadn't seen Alex for almost a week and it agitated him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening slowly. Casey looked at his visitor, a six-foot tall gentleman with pepper grey hair and donning blue jeans and a Chicago Cubs jersey.

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong room," Casey said cautiously

The man smiled. "Colonel, I think you will find I am full of surprises. For example, did Mrs. Bartowski say I might be visiting?"

"She said someone might come by. Although I have to tell you, I think you wasted a trip. So you can turn around and let me enjoy the wonderful peace and quiet provided here."

The man's eyes lit up at Casey's sarcasm. Not that he could blame the Colonel for wanting out of this place. "Well, if you feel you need to call Beckman, please do…Alex. But I think you will find my clearances cover this well. Until then, I think you may need some of this."

Casey ignored the bottle the man offered, grabbed his phone and dialed a number. He noticed the crucifix hanging from the man's neck. Either he was a priest or a really committed Cubs fan.

"I don't think I need Holy Water," Casey snorted.

The man chuckled. "Well it's a good thing that isn't Holy Water."

The conversation was interrupted when the other side answered. "General, there is a gentleman here that says he has clearance to hear about my special project." Casey listened for a moment before his expression bore a scowl. "Yes ma'am, I will. Yes ma'am, much better. Thank you, ma'am. Talk to you soon."

Casey put the phone down and looked at the man in front of him. "Well, it looks like I can answer your questions. First though, what's in here?"

"Well, Colonel, I guess you'll have to find out."

John Casey slowly opened up the container and when he took a sniff of its contents a grin slowly opened on his face. He took a sip, and the smile broke even wider. Whoever this was, they didn't mess around with Black Label. "Who ARE you?"

"It's been a long time, but I used to go by Randolph Myerson."

Casey just stared at the other man. After almost a minute he shook off the surprise. "Bullshit."

Myerson just shrugged his shoulders. "That's what my DI said…about almost anything we did. He was a nasty son-of-a-bitch, but damn if he didn't keep us alive and kicking."

Myerson regarded Casey lying in a hospital bed and could sympathize with him, as it was no place he deserved to be. "You might feel useless right now, but remember what Ronald Reagan said about the Marines." Myerson stood to full attention. "Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference…"

…the Marines don't have that problem." Casey finished with a smile that transitioned into a laugh. "You, sir, can ask me anything you want. "

Casey took a manlier swig of the Blue Label Myerson brought for him. After closing his eyes and just enjoying the moment. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell someone how much of a pain in the ass Bartowski is."

After almost an hour of being debriefed by Myerson, most of which was Casey telling his tale, and the Padre asking questions to keep Casey talking, they finally got to the present day.

Myerson looked at the room across from him and ran his hand through his hair. "Colonel, did you get the update on the rescue mission from the old hospital?" Casey nodded. "Did you get the colorful version?"

Casey locked eyes with the former agent. "Yeah I think the word 'colorful' says it pretty well. The boy did me proud."

"How so?"

Casey fell silent for a moment as he thought about what Chuck did. "From the first day I met him I knew he was never going to be a killer. Of course, going after Sarah was a stupid…"

Casey trailed off when Myerson's phone beeped. He took the phone out and looked at the text message on it. Myerson didn't say a word, but Casey could tell the news he received was not good.

"I...have something I must take care of right away, Colonel. Forgive my quick exit, but we will talk again."

Myerson left the room quickly, leaving Casey to wonder if his departure had anything to do with the nerd and/or Walker.

A/N2 Please, feel free to tell me what you think.