A/N: Thank you for continuing to read, respond and support this story. I appreciate you all.

Thank you to the always marvelous, AgentInWaiting, for his unflagging dedication to this story. "You are the wind beneath…" Yeah, never mind.

Chapter 10 – Home Away from Home

Bits of black, grey and white ash were carried on the wind and fell on everything, including the family's van. It was nothing like the layers that covered towns and villages after volcanic eruptions, but it was disconcerting just the same. The smoke in the air continued to grow thicker as the fire continued to rage completely out of control.

Chuck slowly drove to Casey's condo, located in a building with an alpine influence. This wasn't particularly noteworthy, since three quarters of the buildings in the town looked like they could be found at the base of the Matterhorn. Thankfully, Chuck and Sarah had been to Casey's place a couple of times before, so they had no problem finding the building again.

Sarah wasn't one hundred percent sure that Martie would be able to get them into Casey's condo, but during a whispered conversation she and Chuck decided to go ahead and have their niece give it a try. Sarah continued to phone Casey and left several messages hoping that perhaps he would call back and advise her how to gain entry. If they weren't able to get in, they would have to try and find a hotel to stay in for the night. That option wasn't a surety either, given the number of people evacuated and looking for places to stay.

The whole family climbed the set of stairs to the second floor and trooped down the hallway toward Casey's condo. It would have been easier to have some of the kids stay in the van, but no one wanted to. The smoke and ash was both depressing and frightening, and truth be told, they all wanted to see if Martie could indeed get them through the front door. And if so, how.

Since she and Chuck had been there before, Sarah knew exactly which door they were looking for. Even if she hadn't known, it was obvious which one was Casey's. While all the doors they had walked past had only the condo number attached, eventually they came to one that wasn't as understated. To the left of the door, a six by twelve inch ceramic American flag was fastened to the wall with four screws. To the right, under the doorbell, there was a terse "No Soliciting" sign. Finally, the simple door numbers had been replaced by an oval brass plaque with the number 227 at the center. Across the top of the oval, a bald eagle with wings outstretched like a sentry guarding the entrance, stared at them with piercing, ever vigilant eyes.

"Very inviting," Chuck said as they all stood around the door.

"Okay, Martie. How do you get in?" Lisa asked.

Curtis snickered. "Maybe she has to say the magic word, like abracadabra."

"No, the magic word is alohomora," Bridget replied. "But we don't have a wand."

"Yeah, 'cause if we did, then it would work," Fred teased.

Bridget glared at her brother and was about to respond when Chuck jumped in, "As cool as it would be to be able to simply wave a wand and say the magic word, I'm afraid that won't work." He looked down at Martie. "What did Uncle Casey tell you to do when you got here?"

"He said to say the magic words."

All the kids—except for Megan, who looked enraptured at the idea—groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Now give her a chance," Sarah scolded them gently. "What are the magic words?"

Martie looked directly at the door and said, "Old Glory!"

Unsurprisingly, nothing happened, despite the fact that everyone looked at the door as if were about to magically swing open.

"Maybe he meant we're supposed to go to the store at the mall," Lizzie suggested.

"I don't think Uncle Casey knows about stores at the mall," Lisa replied.

"Not when he shops at Mr. Husky's Big and Tall," Chuck said distractedly. When he realized what he had just uttered, his eyes widened and he looked around as if Casey was about to charge around the corner and come at him like a raging bull. "Don't tell him I said that."

Quiet snickers rolled through the hallway.

"I think I know." Chuck murmured, staring at the wall.

Sarah turned and looked at him. "What are you thinking?" she asked. Following his line of sight to the ceramic flag, she said, "Of course. Old Glory."

"I bet there's a key hidden behind that flag." Chuck dug into his pocket, extracted the keys to the van and dangled them in front of Fred. "Go down to the van and grab the screwdriver out of the glove compartment."

"Can I go with him?" Curtis asked breathlessly.

"Yes, but no messing with anything!" he called to their retreating forms as they ran down the hall. "I don't want the windshield wipers going the next time I turn the van on," he explained to the rest of the group.

The boys were back within two minutes, huffing and puffing after sprinting up and down the stairs. Fred handed the screwdriver to Chuck who took it with one hand and held out his other, palm up. Fred grinned sheepishly and dropped the keys into his uncle's hand.

"Nice try," Chuck said. He handed Sarah the keys to hold and started removing the screws. When the last one was out, she took the screwdriver from him and watched as he carefully pulled the plaque away from the wall and turned it over.

They all crowded around and stared down at the rectangular hide-a-key box attached to the recessed backside of the flag. Chuck removed it and showed it to Sarah. "It looks like the NSA has been busy," she said as she handed off the things in her hands to Lizzie and took the key holder. It was lighter than she expected it to be. "I've seen this. It's made out of some kind of almost indestructible alloy," she said mostly to herself as she hefted it in her hand. On one side she could see where the box opened. Below that was a round, flat button. Turning it over, there was a small camera lens, similar to the one on her phone.

"It's a biometric retina scanner. I've never encountered one this small before." She held it out to Martie. "Have you seen this before?"

"Yup," the little girl nodded her head energetically. "Uncle Casey was at the house one time and he put the camera thingy right up by my eye. There was a funny red light and then he told me that if we ever needed to get into his house in an emergency, to remember the magic words. He made me say them back to him a couple of times to make sure I remembered."

"Good job remembering," Chuck said. He leaned forward and whispered into Sarah's ear, "Remind me to speak to him about scanning our children without permission."

"Mm-hmm," she replied quietly. Sarah put a finger under Martie's chin and gently tipped her head back. Putting the device right in front of one wide blue eye, Sarah said soothingly, "Okay, sweetie, hold really still, just like you did before for Uncle Casey."

Martie's other blue eye stared into hers as she pushed the button. A red light shone on the eye directly in front of the scanner for a second and then disappeared. Two seconds later, the compartment doors sprung open revealing a key. Sarah picked it up out of the box. "Well, it looks like we can go in." She looked at their wary faces. "Fine, I'll go first," she sighed.

All except Sarah moved away from standing directly in front of the door. Four lined up against the wall to the left of the door and four pressed their backs up against the wall to the right.

Now they've got me paranoid, she thought as nerves set in. She was about to slip the key into the lock when she stopped. She glanced over to Martie, the key hovering an inch in front of the lock. "Is there anything else Uncle Casey wanted you to remember before we open the door? No 'duck' or 'hold your breath' or 'wait ten seconds before you enter the room'?"

The little girl chewed on her bottom lip with the one front incisor that still remained, deep in thought. After a moment, she shook her head. "No, the only thing he told me to remember was 'Old Glory,'" she recited again.

"Okay, then. Here goes nothing." She stuck the key in the lock and turned it. Slowly turning the doorknob, she cautiously pushed at the door. It swung open revealing Casey's darkened apartment. The faint smell of cigar wafted out. She decided to go ahead and let ten seconds pass before she entered the condo, allowing for any poisonous darts, knockout sprays, electrified nets or bear traps to do their thing before they ventured in. When nothing happened, she warily stepped into the room and flipped on the light switch.

She scanned the room and found it to be as she remembered it the last time she and Chuck had been there. Spartan. Utilitarian. Masculine. Casey. She quickly checked the master bedroom and office. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she called, "It's clear. Come in."

They filed into the front room and found that nine people quickly filled it. The kids immediately fanned through the condo, peeking in rooms, opening the refrigerator, and generally checking everything out. "Let's try to respect Uncle Casey's privacy and not go through his stuff," Sarah told the kids. "And stay away from that cabinet," she continued sternly, pointing to where she knew her partner kept his guns.

Chuck rubbed his forehead. "This is going to be a tight squeeze. Maybe we should try to find a hotel."

That still wasn't her favorite option, but she knew it couldn't hurt to have a backup plan. "Yeah, we should probably look into it." He took out his phone and sat down on the couch, thumbs flying over the screen.

Sitting down next to him, she said quietly, "It will take some creativity, but I think we can make it work. Besides, it will be good practice for us to be able to figure out spur of the moment living arrangements when we go to Europe this summer."

He nodded, distracted by the search on his phone. She did some quick mental math: one bed, one couch, two chairs in the living room—one of which was a recliner—and an office chair. Nine people. This should be interesting.

"Aunt Sarah," Fred called over to her. "There's no food in the refrigerator except for a bottle of ketchup, two beers and something brown and slimy." There was a pause. "It might be alive." She heard the refrigerator door slam. "I only see cereal and Pop Tarts in the cupboard and I'm hungry."

"Did you look in the freezer? There might be something in there," she answered back. They had only eaten an hour before, but she knew Fred was always hungry.

"Score!" he shouted from the kitchen. "Hot Pockets!"

Curtis came running from the office and yelled, "I want one!"

"Looks like we need to make a run to the store," she said as she heard the microwave door slam.

Noticing that Chuck had raised the phone to his ear, she went to track down the girls. She found Bridget in the office, scanning a low bookshelf, while Megan and Martie sat on the floor making a long chain with some paper clips from a small box. In the hallway, Lisa stood with her hands clasped behind her back and gazed at a framed eight by ten photo hanging on the wall. It only took one quick glance at the smiling man astride a white horse for Sarah to know who it was in the photo.

"Ronald Reagan?" Lisa asked.

"Ronald Reagan," came the reply.

Sarah found Lizzie wandering aimlessly around Casey's bedroom, looking at the framed photos on top of the dresser. Lizzie picked something up from the dresser and held it up so Sarah could see it. Hanging from her fingers was a dangly earring. "Does Uncle Casey have something he needs to tell us about himself?" Lizzie asked impishly.

Sarah made a face. "I don't think so. That's Carina's."

"What is it doing—Oh! EW!" Lizzie made a face and tossed the earring back on the dresser as if it was covered with plague. Wiping her fingers on her shirt, she groaned, "That is just so wrong! I need brain bleach."

"You and me both," Sarah grimaced in sympathy.

A minute later, Chuck came up to Sarah and took her hand. He led her to the living room where they both sat down again on the couch. "It looks like we're going to have to stay here, at least for tonight. All the hotel suites big enough for all of us to be together are booked, either by evacuees or people who already had reservations. There are a few single rooms available here and there, but none of them are on the same floors." He rubbed his face with both hands in frustration. She noticed the worry lines were back, creasing his forehead. "Do we try to get two rooms on different floors and have the four oldest stay in one and we have the three younger ones stay with us? Do we stay here? What do you think we should do?"

She placed a hand on his arm. "I think we should stay here."

"We need to stay together."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I think so. And it'll be easier for Vegas and Barstow to do surveillance with us all in the same place."

He took a deep breath and blew it out. "I agree." Looking toward the kitchen, he said, "We need to get to the store. We need groceries and bathroom stuff. You stay here and I'll be back in a while."

"Oh no. You stay here and I'll be back in a while."

"I'm perfectly capable of—"

"Chuck, please, humor me."

"I took the kids by myself to school the other day. I was fine. I wasn't kidnapped by an evil cabal or anything."

She gave him a wordless stare.

"Okay, maybe there were agents following me, but still! I can certainly go to the store right now without an armed escort."

"That was then. This is now." She dropped her voice. "We don't know what the circumstances are surrounding this fire."

He gaped at her incredulously. "You think Fulcrum started this fire because of me?" he whisper-shouted.

She sat up straighter. "No, I'm not saying that. If they're still targeting you, though, they might use the chaotic situation we're currently in to their advantage. I need to know you're safe. You need to stay put."

He gave her a hard look. She matched it with her own determined stare.

"Fine," he grumbled sagging back against the couch. "I'll e-mail Graham while you're gone and let him know what's going on."

He still looked and sounded miffed. She took his face in her hands and she looked him straight in the eye. "I know you are perfectly capable of taking care of us. However, you're still an important national asset. I have to keep you safe." His face was still clouded with annoyance. "Having to be evacuated from our home is bad enough. Please let me concentrate on only that and not have to worry whether you're okay at the grocery store."

"Yeah, well, not being able to just go do stuff is getting old," he said, frowning.

"Are you tired of me being around you all the time already?" she pouted, dropping her hands from his face. "I didn't think it would happen quite so soon."

His frown disappeared, but he didn't smile. "Don't tease me."

"I'm sorry. Bad timing." She pushed down her own growing irritation. "Look. We're both stressed and worried and overwhelmed. Let's not make it worse by fighting." She dipped her head to catch his gaze. "Are we okay?"

He swallowed hard and nodded, his countenance clearing. "Request permission for the boys and me to bring in the bags from the van before you go to the store? It'll make room for the groceries."

She leaned in and gave him a kiss. Keeping her face inches from his, she replied softly, "Permission granted." She kissed him again and then sat back. "While you do that, I'll see what the girls need from the store and make a list."

It turned out that they needed a lot of things from the store even after Chuck vetoed buying six different kinds of shampoo. As she climbed into the van to head for the Large Mart, Fred sat next to her in the passenger seat and Curtis sat in the back seat right behind him. She had just pulled out of the condo complex parking lot when she felt Fred's gaze on her.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't get mad," he started cautiously.

She cut her eyes toward him. "Not a great way to start a conversation, Fred." His grin provoked a smirk from her. He really is impossible. "And when have you seen me get mad before?"

"Well, you don't, not really. But you get a look in your eyes when someone calls Uncle Chuck a dork or something. And you made that boy cry just by looking at him after he pushed Martie down at the skating rink. So I'm just saying…"

"What did you do?"

He pulled a small, black zippered case from his back pocket. "I kinda took this from Uncle Casey's office." He started to babble when she scowled at him. "Not to keep! I mean, I wasn't gonna steal it or anything. I was gonna put it back when we were done with it."

"What's in the case, Fred?"

"It's the communication thingy Uncle Casey used at the party Ms. Roberts threw the night you and Uncle Chuck danced and kissed."

What a wonderful, stressful, confusing night that was. Stopping at a red light, she looked over at him. "Not okay, Fred. You shouldn't have gone through his stuff."

"I didn't! It was just sitting open on top of his desk."

"Where you should have left it."

"I know. And I did, until you asked us to go to the store with you." She waited for him to continue. "I got to thinking about something, so I asked Uncle Chuck when we were unloading the bags from the van if it was okay if I took it and then told you about my idea. He said it was okay with him as long as I didn't lose it or break it." He swallowed hard. "If I do, he said I'll have to tell Uncle Casey what happened to it."

"There's a scary thought. And you were still willing to take it?" The light turned green and she drove through the intersection. "Why didn't you talk to me about it before we left?"

"You were busy talking to the girls and getting the list together. I didn't want to bother you."

"Uh-huh." This kid could sell the Brooklyn Bridge. "What's this idea of yours?"

"Do you have your ear thingy with you?"

"It's called an earwig. And yes, it's in my purse." It was one of the things she made sure to take with her when they left the house.

"Awesome! Listen!" he said, growing more animated. "What if I wore Uncle Casey's and you wore yours while we're at Large Mart? You could give Curtis and me half the shopping list. You can still talk to us and we get the all the shopping done twice as fast."

She glanced over at him. "Or, we could just talk on our cell phones."

Curtis groaned from the back seat. "Come on, Aunt Sarah. This way's a lot more fun."

Well, that's true. "You're not going to be wearing it, Curtis. How is that fun for you?"

"Are you kidding? Close enough! It'll be like going on a real Call of Duty mission. Only without the guns and bombs and stuff."

Fred laughed and picked up on his brother's theme. "Yeah! And instead of capturing the flag, we put a jar of peanut butter in our cart."

She chuckled and shook her head. Their whole lives had just been turned upside down—again—by a wildfire threatening to burn down their house and yet these two wonderful boys had the capacity to find something to get excited about. She really wanted to reward this eternal optimism of theirs. Plus, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have them learn how to use an earwig.

Turning the van into the parking lot, she pulled into a space and shut off the engine. Releasing the seatbelt, she squinted at Fred, considering his idea. "If we do this, there's to be no goofing around."

Fred's countenance was the picture of innocence as he nodded his head somberly. She raised an eyebrow and looked back at Curtis, who looked as solemn as a judge. They both seemed to be holding their breaths.

"Okay."

Fred let out a breath and grinned. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. But like Uncle Chuck said, if anything happens to it, you have to tell Uncle Casey."

"Nothing will happen. I promise," he said, his face shining with excitement.

She withdrew the case that held her earwig from her purse and opened it. Fred did the same with Casey's. Demonstrating with her own, she showed him what to do. "Now, this is a highly sensitive piece of equipment. You need to be very gentle with it. All you need to do is pick it up, flick this tiny switch right here and place it in your ear." She slipped it in her ear and watched as Fred did the same. Quietly, she said, "This is an earpiece where you don't have to speak into a watch or anything. Just speak normally and I'll be able to hear. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you," he answered, his eyes wide with excitement.

"We'll do a comm check when we get inside the store before we separate." Taking the list from her back pocket, she scanned it, tore it and handed him the top half of it. "This part of the list is all groceries. I'm going to go get the shampoo, toothpaste, and stuff like that. If you have any questions, ask." She raised an eyebrow and warned him, "And remember, I can hear everything you say."

The trek across the parking lot depressed her as smoke hung in the air and small bits of ash fell around them. The jovial mood they had shared in the van evaporated. Once in the store, Sarah grabbed a cart while the boys took one for themselves. "Comm check," Sarah said quietly.

"I can hear you. Can you hear me?" Fred asked breathlessly.

"Copy," Sarah said. At that, Fred's face broke into an impossibly wide grin. She wanted them to be vigilant since they were going to be separated, even if it was for a few minutes, so she said to Curtis, "I want you on Fred's six. Make sure no one is following you. You might see the same people up and down the aisles, but if you think something, anything, weird is going on, you contact me. Understand?"

Curtis nodded and replied, "Roger that."

She winked at them both and pushed her cart away.

"This is so cool!" she heard Fred say. Curious as to how they would proceed, she listened closely to their planning. Of course, she could only hear Fred's side of the conversation, but she was able to fill in what Curtis was probably saying. Rather than taking off down the closest aisle, they discussed the contents of the list and then scoped out the layout of the store. She heard them decide to get the boxed, canned and jarred stuff first, followed by the frozen food and finally the dairy.

Once the boys launched their assault, it was like they were storming the beaches of Normandy. She really wished she could see them as they advanced up and down the aisles, stopping occasionally to lob a can or box into the cart. She heard things through the comm like, "Curtis, mac and cheese at two o'clock" and "leave no loaf of bread behind!" Sarah realized she needed to collect the items on her list just as quickly, or they would be waiting on her.

"Fred, don't buy too much of anything one thing. We're not sure how long we'll be at Casey's," Sarah reminded him.

"Copy." She could hear the grin in his voice when he said that.

"When you get to the frozen food section, grab one of those big lasagnas. We'll have that for dinner tonight."

"Awww, Aunt Sarah, you're not making dinner from scratch?"

"Fred…" she warned.

"Roger, uh, roger that," he answered hastily.

A moment later, she heard him ask Curtis, "You see any bogies?" There was a pause and then he continued, "Well, we keep seeing the same people because they're going up and down the aisles just like us, you dummy."

"Fred, be nice to your brother," Sarah gently admonished.

"Sorry," he said. "Curtis says there's a guy that's been following us, but I think he's just shopping. I haven't actually seen him. Curtis says he wearing a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes."

She stopped and looked toward the food section. "I think I'd better come to you."

"No, it's okay. We're going to go down a different aisle, and double back on him and see what he does."

Now she was concerned and took a few steps in their direction. "Fred, stay where you are and—"

"Oh, hi Mr. Jackson," she heard Fred say. There was a pause while he listened and then he said, "Yeah, my family's been evacuated, too. Say 'hi' to Kyle for me."

"Fred, are you okay? What happened?"

He snorted. "The guy Curtis thought was following us is my biology teacher." She could practically see Fred rolling his eyes. "His son, Kyle, is in my math class."

Sarah stopped and blew out a breath in relief. "So, you're fine?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Now that she was assured her boys were okay, she set off to finish her shopping. "I'll be done in a few minutes. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point," she said. Stopping in front of a bank of brilliantly colored bottles of shampoo, she scanned them until she spotted the kind everyone in the family was willing to use. She selected the biggest bottle available.

"Where's the rendezvous point?" Fred asked.

Scanning the store, she analyzed the layout and answered, "Greeting cards. It's front and center. What's your ETA?"

"My what?" he asked.

"Your ETA. It means 'Estimated Time of Arrival.' Although if you're a Basque separatist, ETA means Euskadi Ta Askatasuna."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. When do you think you'll be done?"

After conferring with his brother for a few moments, Fred said, "In about five minutes. We need to get some milk and by the looks of it, we should hurry. The case is almost empty."

"Roger that." She glanced at her watch and said, "I'll meet you at sixteen-thirty hours."

There was a hesitation at Fred's end. Then he blurted, "Oh! Got it. I mean, 'Copy'. We'll be there."

She went back to her shopping and after a moment she heard Fred hiss, "Curtis! See that lady with the giant package of toilet paper in her cart? She's going for the milk and there's only a couple of cartons left! Run interference for me while I go in!"

I don't even want to know. However, she smiled when Fred complimented Curtis on his mad "stopping-to-tie-your-shoe-right-in-that-lady's-way" skills. She felt a surge of pride. They were extraordinary boys. No, that's wrong. They're young men.

It was exactly four-thirty when Fred and Curtis skidded their cart to a stop. Both were grinning and panting. She was pretty sure they sprinted, even with a cart full of groceries, to the meeting place. I wonder how many people crashed their carts in their wake? She scanned the cart to make sure they found everything. "Looks like your mission was a success," she said.

They grinned. "That was fun! Maybe we can get Mrs. Smith to take us shopping with her sometime," Curtis said. "We could make it go really fast."

Sarah laughed at that idea. "I'm not sure she's ready for that." His rascally smile compelled her to reach out a hand and ruffle his hair. "Let's go get in the checkout line."

Once they went through the line and paid for their items, Fred pushed one cart and Curtis pushed the other out the door and into the parking lot, laughing as they went. "The look on the checkout lady's face was hilarious. She couldn't believe how much stuff we bought," Curtis said. "And Aunt Sarah, you were really funny when you said, 'My boys eat a lot!' She thought all of the food was for just for us!"

Sarah smiled and said, "I guess your uncle's sense of humor is rubbing off on me." She wanted to be more cheerful, but was having a hard time. The smoke was ever thickening and it felt like it was pushing in on her from all directions. Once outside for more than a minute, the boys sobered quickly as well. It was almost as if their time in the store had been a respite from the real world. They quickly and quietly loaded the bags in the van. The earwigs were removed and returned to their cases. When they returned to Casey's condo complex, Sarah had Fred text Chuck asking him to help carry up the groceries.

They had barely opened up the back of the van when Chuck strode toward them. He gave Sarah a kiss in greeting. "How did it go?"

"No problems. Mission accomplished, right boys?" They both nodded as they took two bags in each hand.

Chuck took the remaining bags from the back of the van and slammed the door closed. A loud rumble of engines droned directly overhead and made them look up. Flying low over them was a four-engine turboprop airplane. The nose and tail were painted orange and the wings and most of the fuselage were white. A black stripe separated the orange from the white, reminding Sarah of the clown fish in a movie that Martie and Megan liked.

They watched as the plane passed over them. "That's a slurry bomber," Chuck said.

"It's a Lockheed P-3A Orion," Sarah added. When the three gave her surprised looks, she said, "What? I'm a spy. I know stuff."

They smiled and watched the plane fly away from them and toward the fire. "What's that plane going to do?" Curtis asked. "Dump water on the fire?"

"No, it's full of what they call 'slurry.' It works as a fire retardant." Chuck answered as they started their way across the parking lot. "It's a mixture of water and chemical fertilizers. They drop it on areas that haven't burned to hopefully stop the fire from spreading."

"That looks like a cool job!" Curtis said, looking over his shoulder to gaze toward the fire.

"I'm sure it is," Chuck answered. "It's also dangerous. The fire makes the air really unstable and they have to fly really close to the treetops."

"It's really hard to control a small plane in turbulent air," Sarah agreed.

Fred and Curtis stopped and gaped at her. "You know how to fly a plane?" Curtis asked with wonder.

"Mm-hmm. I've had a license for years. It comes in handy in my line of work." She laughed, remembering. "There was this one mission where I had to 'borrow' a plane and fly out of Stockholm when this—" She stopped when three sets of wide eyes stared at her. Schooling her features she said, "That's a story for another time."

The other three chuckled and they all started walking again. "Could you fly one of those slurry bombers?" Fred wanted to know.

She glanced back at the plane. "Sure, but I wouldn't be as effective as the pilots who do it all the time. Like Uncle Chuck said, the air is really turbulent, and yet those guys fly incredibly close to the treetops. You have to be really brave to fly in those conditions."

"Maybe I'll do that someday," Curtis said, looking over his shoulder.

Giving Curtis an encouraging smile, Sarah replied, "Maybe you will. Bravery isn't something you're lacking." He grinned at her compliment.

As they climbed the stairs, Fred said quietly, "I hope the slurry works."

"We all do, buddy," Chuck responded.

~ O ~

Preparing dinner was an easy affair. The frozen lasagna was baked in an oven Sarah was convinced hadn't been used since the Clinton Administration. Frankly, she was relieved it worked at all. The pre-made green salad came from a bag. The food was served to the family on paper plates since Casey's kitchen wasn't exactly stocked for entertaining guests. Before going to the store, Sarah had checked the cupboards for dinnerware. A quick scan of the shelves made her think that when equipping his kitchen, her partner had spent approximately four dollars at a garage sale for everything. The cupboard contained three Cool-Whip bowls, four chipped, mismatched dinner plates and some pilfered coffee mugs from an NSA break room. The only thing he seemed to have purchased new was a set of four whiskey tumblers. The silverware drawer was basically in the same state as the cupboard with its four spoons, five forks, three dinner knives and a bottle opener. It did make for easy clean up as everything went straight into either the recycling bin or a trash bag.

After dinner, the family filled the living room as they sat around the television and watched the local news' coverage of the fire. A meteorologist swirled his hands over a green screen map, explaining wind patterns and pointing out a moisture-laden storm coming toward them from the west. If they could endure "the warm before the storm," the incoming storm would do much to help knock the fire down. Right after the weather report, aerial footage showed a house being consumed by flames. The room fell silent as they watched someone's home be destroyed.

"Is that our house?" Martie asked, her voice trembling as she stared at the TV from her spot on the floor.

"No, it's not, pumpkin," Chuck said. Sarah, from her vantage point on the floor, observed the grim faces around her. Some eyes were dry as they stared, almost unseeing, at the TV. Others were glassy with unshed tears. Martie couldn't stop her tears as they silently rolled down her cheeks. When Sarah's eyes fell on her husband, he wore the same bleak expression as the others. When he looked back at her, they embarked on a silent conversation that consisted of furrowed brows, eye-pointing, small headshakes and tiny nods. "We need to find something a little more fun to watch." Chuck picked up the remote and changed the channel to a singing competition show.

Lizzie groaned at the young woman on the stage mutilating Rolling in the Deep. "When will they learn that no one should sing Adele but Adele?" she grumbled. Lisa scowled at the singer and nodded.

Chuck had no comment on that so he said, "I think it's time for Martie and Megan to go to bed."

"Where will we sleep?" Megan asked, her brow knit in confusion. "It isn't very big here and there's only one bed."

Chuck pressed the mute button. "We were thinking you and Martie would sleep in Uncle Casey's bed since you'll go to bed first. Bridget might be able to fit, too, a little later." He looked at Bridget who nodded. "The rest of us will sleep on the couch, in chairs and on the floor. Sorry, but we don't have much choice." They nodded glumly.

Sarah stood and held her hands out to the two youngest. "I'll help you get to bed." It didn't take long since really all they could do was brush their teeth with their new toothbrushes and put on the one pair of pajamas they each had. Spy Barbie and Martie's teddy bear had been retrieved and held firmly by the ones who loved them. Once the girls were tucked in the bed, Sarah sat on the edge and brushed back Martie's bangs while Chuck sat on the other side next to Megan.

"What if our house burns down?" Megan asked in a small voice.

"Then we build a new one," Chuck answered simply.

"Would we live with Uncle Casey until the new house is built?" Martie wondered.

Sarah chuckled softly. "No, it's a little too small here for that. Can you imagine how crowded it would be when Uncle Casey comes back?"

Martie's small smile came and went quickly. "Is he mad that I told how to come in?" she asked barely above a whisper.

"No, he's not," Sarah assured her. "I got a text from him a little while ago and you know what he said? He said he was really proud of you that you remembered everything exactly like he told you to."

Her eyes grew wide. "He did?" she breathed.

"Mm-hmm."

Sarah smiled at the wide grin.

"I got a text from him, too. He was happy to have us stay here," Chuck added. "We just have to make sure there aren't any teddy bears or Spy Barbies left here after we leave."

Three sets of blue eyes stared at him. "Well, actually he said," he dropped into his best Casey voice and growled, "'Don't leave a mess or I'll put my boot so far up your—'" He stopped. "You know what? We'll just make sure we don't leave a mess."

The three girls giggled.

Chuck leaned down and kissed Megan's forehead and then Martie's. Sarah then did the same. "If you need anything, we'll be right in the living room, okay?"

"Okay," they both answered.

Chuck followed Sarah out of the room and shut the door part way so that a shaft of light made its way into the bedroom. "Goodnight," he called through the partially open door.

"Goodnight," the small voices called back.

They had just stepped away from the door when Chuck stopped and enveloped Sarah in his arms. She let out a sigh, rested her head on his shoulder and held him close. There was no urgency or desperation in the embrace, like the ferocious hug she had given him in the cemetery when he was safely away from Shaw. Nor did she feel as if she was in a rushing river and he was a boulder she had to cling tightly to or else be swept away. No, this was an embrace of succor. It was a place of rest.

They held each other for a few moments, drawing strength. Eventually, she felt him lessen his hold on her. She picked her head up from his shoulder and raised her eyes to meet his. In them, she saw a myriad of emotions: uncertainty, apprehension, concern, all of which were overcome by the love and gratitude that shone through. Wordlessly, they shared a tender kiss and then walked down the hallway together to join the rest of the family.

Fred was firmly ensconced in the recliner. He clearly planned on spending the rest of the night there. Lizzie sat sideways in the other chair with her head resting on one armrest and her feet dangling over the other side. Curtis and Lisa sat on opposite sides of the couch.

"Where's Bridget?" Sarah asked.

"She's in the office reading. She said a book by a guy named Ludlum sounded interesting," Lisa answered, scooting to the middle of the couch so Chuck and Sarah could squeeze in.

Sarah looked at the TV. A World War II German soldier was escorting a handsome blond man in khakis and a leather jacket to a cooler. The prisoner carried with him a baseball and mitt. "What are you watching?"

"We didn't want to watch the news and there's nothing good on TV, so we went through Uncle Casey's DVDs," Fred said. "Everything he owns is either John Wayne or World War II movies. Sometimes both in the same one."

"What made you pick this one?" Chuck asked.

Curtis rolled his eyes. "The girls liked the guy on the cover because he has 'blue, blue eyes,'" he teased, mimicking the girls' voices.

Lizzie shot Curtis a dirty look. "Maybe he does have blue, blue eyes, but the movie is pretty good so far, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Curtis drawled as if he hated to admit it to his sister.

The couch was crowded, but Sarah didn't mind sitting close to Chuck, his arm around her shoulders. "What's going on in it?" Sarah asked.

"The British and American guys are trying to escape from the Germans. They're being held in a prisoner of war camp. They're digging tunnels to get out. That's pretty much it," Lisa said.

"It's nice to get up to speed so quickly," Chuck said as Sarah felt him absently rub his thumb on her arm. As they watched the movie in silence, she suddenly felt a bone weary fatigue overtake her. There was a part of her that thought she should be so worried and wired, that she shouldn't be able to sleep. But emotions of the day had drained her of all her energy and all she could manage was to stare numbly at the TV.

Chuck's frequent sighs told her he wasn't particularly engaged in the movie. Sneaking a glance at him, she saw that his gaze was unfocused and he was obviously preoccupied. At this point, all she hoped for him, and everyone, was to get some sleep. With the upheaval around them, Chuck and Sarah had decided to let the kids stay out of school the next day, so they would be able to sleep as long as they wanted to.

Her eyelids drooped and she found it impossible to keep her eyes from crossing as she tried to watch the movie. She leaned her head back on Chuck's shoulder and fell asleep just as "Tom" was discovered.

In the distance, where earth and sky met, the night was smudged yellow, orange and red as the fire raged.