A/N the First: I have to get something very important out of the way first: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!

Okay, now that that's done, on to the important stuff, like thanking you for still being here (a long hiatus and then three lightning quick updates, clearly I believe in whiplash!), my beta for being awesome and catching my accidental double-entendres (thanks, mxpw, who has very much done stuff since Double Agent, by the way, like betaing this chapter and, oh, I don't know, all of What Fates Impose and various other stories I've written and winning three consecutive Awesome Awards for betaing because that's just how great he is; seriously, don't nag at him in my reviews, I WILL COME AT YOU BRO because he's a fantastic person and reviews for Greater are not the place to whine about Double Agent (seriously, they have Twitter, and Tumblr, and PMs for that)), my pre-readers for their wonderful encouragement (hi, lucky and Karen and quistie!), and my mom for having birthdays and thus ensuring I can exist to bring you this chapter.

Mom, you're the best. And I'm not just saying that because thanks to your garage saleing last week, I have a box of Brownie Hawkeye cameras that I don't know what to do with sitting on my dresser. THE BEST.

Meet the Family

The beginning of a relationship is only about two people. However, as a relationship progresses, it starts becoming more about enmeshing both people's lives. That includes introducing the significant other to the members of your family when the time is right. – eHow, How to Know When to Have a Significant Other Meet the Family

"Sarah!" Chuck crossed twenty feet of concrete in a second. When the cop stepped into his path, he skidded to a halt, though instinct made him want to dodge and keep running.

The cop held up a hand. "Sir, you need to stay back, this is a crime scene—"

"That's my—that's my girlfriend," Chuck said. A couple of cops started to approach Sarah, but suddenly Casey was there between them and his partner, arms crossed over his chest. He nodded at Chuck, and reluctant now, the cop waved Chuck by.

Chuck hurried to the trunk, where Sarah was shoving her hair out of her face and looking around with glassy eyes. He could feel the heat of the cops' glares on his back. "Are you okay?"

"Where am I? What's going on?"

"Zarnow shoved you in a trunk, Casey followed, and I called the cops," Chuck said. "They've probably got, like, EMTs coming or something. Are you all right? How does your head feel?"

"I'm fine." Though there was alarm in her eyes as she took in the scene around them. "Where are we?"

"I'm not entirely sure, actually."

"Where's Violet?"

Chuck rocked back on his heels, surprised she'd asked. "Uh—she's at the house, with Morgan. I texted for him to cover for me. Zarnow's a bad guy, Sarah."

She grimaced. "Got that, thanks."

Before Chuck could explain, Casey came over, thankfully without any cops in tow. "I called the bosses: they're covering this up."

"Yeah, the cops are gonna love that," Chuck said, looking at the officers standing in front of the car. Three of the four of them were glaring at Casey—which, Chuck decided, wasn't his problem.

"Not our problem. I'm not on this planet to make nice." Casey's glower cut off automatic Gee, really that rose to the tip of Chuck's tongue. "The two of you should get out of here before some hooligan with a cell phone gets a good picture and we're all on the nine o'clock news."

He had a point, so Chuck offered a hand to help Sarah climb out of the trunk. She ignored it and hauled herself free. "Are you coming with us?"

"No." Casey's scowl deepened to terrifying levels. "And if you leave a single scratch on my car, Bartowski, I will stuff an apple in your mouth and mount your head on my wall."

"Cheerful," Chuck said. Casey offered nothing in reply but a grunt, so Chuck followed Sarah back to Casey's car and slid into the driver's seat. His hands shook a little as he placed them on the steering wheel. He put the car in gear and pulled around what was now being considered a crime scene.

Sarah grabbed the dashboard, her head bobbing forward a little. "Do you, ah, need anything?" Chuck asked.

"I'll be fine." Sarah massaged her forehead with one hand. "Guess that means we don't have to look for whoever put the bomb in Zarnow's car."

"Guess not." Chuck wanted to ask if this was normal in her world, if scientists regularly faked their deaths and tried to kidnap people. "He was selling secrets to the North Koreans, so the explosion was maybe connected? To the Intersect project, I mean. Like, he wanted to—"

"Torture the identity of the Intersect out of me? Yeah, that's becoming clear."

"Torture?" Chuck was not at all proud of the fact that his voice squeaked a little on the word.

Sarah turned her head a little to give him a side-eye. "You do realize he stuffed me in a car trunk. That doesn't tend to lead to good things, Chuck."

"Oh," Chuck said.

"I don't want to think about it." Sarah slouched back against the chair and shut her eyes. Chuck opened his mouth and shut it again when nothing came to mind that he could talk to her about other than the fact that he'd had to call the police to save her from being kidnapped by an evil scientist. The drive passed in silence until he pulled Casey's car into the driveway slowly enough to make a turtle nod in satisfaction.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but I have to ask: are you really okay?" he asked.

"Thanks to you and Casey, I am." Sarah let out a long breath, but neither of them moved to climb out of the car. Maybe if they left the car, life would impose again. "He got the drop on me. Not many people can do that, and it won't happen again."

"That's good."

"Whose idea was it to involve the police?"

"Mine. Being lanky of frame and stern of constitution doesn't mean I can actually face down gun-toting bad guys by myself, even if those guns are filled with tranquilizer darts." Chuck ran both hands over his hair and left them there to rest. "And it would be hypocritical if I kept teaching my daughter that the first thing you should do is call nine-one-one and then I don't do that myself. And speaking of Vi, I am going to be in so much trouble."

"What for?" she asked.

"Because I've been taking out the trash for twenty minutes and I vanished. Ellie's going to be pissed." Well, no, Chuck thought. Ellie wouldn't be angry with him. She'd be baffled and, even worse, disappointed. He wasn't the type to take out the trash and just up and disappear.

Definite alarm crossed Sarah's face. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Sure," Chuck said, though he was more focused on the fact that there was no way he was ever going to be able to explain this to his sister without coming across like a total ass. This was why he wanted to tell her about the Intersect. Of course, if she knew about the Intersect and that he did things like chase down bad guys in a near-stranger's car, she would spend a lot of time hyperventilating, and that wasn't good, either. Maybe it was better to keep it to himself. He lowered his hands from his head and ran them over his face. "Sure, yeah, come over. She'll be so overjoyed that the person I'm dating isn't a figment of Vi's imagination that she'll forget she was ever mad at me."

Sarah pushed the car door open. "Okay," she said, and climbed out of the car.

Belatedly, Chuck's mind decided to inform the rest of him as to what exactly he'd just said. He probably broke Casey's Don't scratch my car rule, climbing out of it as fast as he did now. "Whoa, Sarah, I was just. Or—or not, but I definitely didn't—you don't have to. Seriously. I don't want to offer you up to my sister like a sacrificial lamb just to avoid her wrath. It's okay."

Sarah studied him over the top of the Crown Vic for a long moment. She was getting some color back in her cheeks, which was a relief, but her eyes still looked a little glassy. "Chuck, you saved my life tonight."

"Excuse me, that was the work of L.A.'s finest."

"And your quick thinking." Sarah's eyes met his. God, they were so blue. "So if there's something I can do to help you keep the peace with your sister, it's worth it."

Because warmth swelled through his chest at her sincerity, Chuck looked down and scuffed the toe of one shoe against the asphalt. Say something, his brain urged, though frankly, he was coming up empty. Tongue-tied. A glance at his watch saved him from looking like a complete idiot. "Dinner's in five minutes," he said. Ellie insisted on having dinner on the table at a certain time so that Violet could have a regular schedule. "You like Italian, right?"

"Love it," Sarah said.

"Good. Because tonight's linguine night."

"Let me go inside and grab a bottle of wine or something so that I'm not showing up empty-handed."

Chuck nearly brought up the fact that Sarah existing was enough to make Ellie happy, but he decided that mentioning that again would make him sound a little creepy. "Great. That's great. Uh, she likes Cabernet."

"Perfect, wait here."

Sarah closed the front door of her house and melted against it, every joint in her body turning to gelatin. It was partially the last effects of the tranquilizer in her system—she'd worked up a tolerance since the Farm, but clearly not enough of one—but mostly, she recognized sheer relief that things hadn't entirely gone to pot. Waking surrounded by cops had brought back feelings of being Jenny Burton again, seeing her father loaded into the back of an ATF unmarked car. She gave herself thirty seconds to simply lean against the door, out of Chuck's sight.

After thirty seconds, she went into the kitchen and dug in the wine cabinet that the CIA had stocked, pulling out what she judged was the best Cabernet. Her phone buzzed with a text from Graham, who was thankfully in a meeting and wouldn't need a debrief until later. On the way between the wine cabinet and the door, she debated if she should run upstairs and change.

Better not. Chuck was still waiting outside.

She touched up her makeup with the emergency kit she'd stored in the downstairs bathroom (Casey had sneered; Sarah had bruised two of his ribs on the training mat in reply), fixing her hair. Three minutes after she'd gone inside, she hurried back out with the bottle of wine.

The glow from Chuck's phone illuminated his face as he thumbed over the screen. "According to the text I made Casey send Morgan, I was helping you fix…your oven. Huh."

"The timer acts up sometimes," Sarah said. "I needed an electronics expert."

"That works," Chuck said, and looked up. He didn't say anything, but for a second, a stunned look crossed his face. Sarah simply waited and sure enough, he straightened. "Ready for Bedlam?"

"It can't be that bad."

Chuck gave her a mock-pitying look. "You poor innocent."

"Oh, stop." She gave him a tiny shove on the shoulder. It made him smile as they turned and started walking toward his house. "I'm more worried that I'm dropping in on a family dinner unannounced. Don't these things require warning so there's enough food?"

"Ellie always makes more than enough. She only has to say the word 'linguine' aloud Morgan will hear from eight miles away and come running."

"Uh-huh, so Morgan's there," Sarah said. Best friend, mentioned by Violet as Uncle Morgan and in several of Chuck's stories. She had a background report on him still open on her desk upstairs.

"Yeah, and no need to worry about winning him over—he's still afraid of girls."

"That's…"

"Special is the word we use. And if you whip out some kind of love for extreme heli-kayaking or paragliding polo or whatever, you'll have Devon eating out of the palm of your hand." Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets, his Adam's apple working at double-time. "Vi, you also don't have to worry about, she worships the ground you walk on."

"And Ellie?" Sarah asked.

"You could mention how great you think I am, that tends to win her over pretty well." Chuck gave her the same shove she'd given him. "Just, you know, be yourself. They'll like you. Wait, are you nervous?"

"I've never done a family dinner before," Sarah said.

"Huh. You have no reaction to waking up in a car trunk—beyond 'where am I?', which is understandable—and you're nervous about meeting my sister," Chuck said. "Takes all kinds."

"Yes. Well, spy." And if the Intersect Project was going to be permanent, Sarah needed to get along with Ellie and the other assorted members of Chuck's family. There was also the fact that to most people, it could be considered a little early in the relationship to be meeting family—though moving in three houses away probably disqualified her for that.

"Last chance to escape," Chuck said as they headed up the front walk together.

Sarah looked toward her temporary house. Its safe embrace seemed miles away. "Now who's nervous?" she asked Chuck, and he laughed a little as he pushed open the door.

"Hello?" he called.

There was a gasp from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. Violet bulleted around the corner, dropping to her knees and sliding the rest of the way across the hardwood so that she crashed into Chuck's shin—which she wasted no time wrapping herself around. "You're back!"

"I wasn't gone that long," Chuck said.

"It was ages and ages and—Miss Sarah! What are you doing here?"

"Hey," Chuck said, scooping his daughter up from the floor. "What kind of manners are those, huh?"

"Are you here for dinner? Because we're about to eat dinner, and Aunt Ellie made lots. Were you with Daddy when he disappeared?"

"Who said I disappeared?" Chuck asked before Sarah could confirm or deny.

"Uncle Morgan," Violet said, evidently seeing no problem with throwing one of her favorite uncles to the wolves. "He got a text that said you were fixing Sarah's oven, and he said, 'I'll just bet he's fixing Sarah's oven' and Aunt Ellie slapped him on the back of the head, but Uncle Awesome gave him a high five."

Sarah was going to have fun murdering Casey later. "Maybe I should go—"

"Aw, why?" Violet said.

Sarah had absolutely no desire to face Chuck's family if they thought he had sneaked away for a quickie. "Uh…"

"It'll be fine." Chuck set Violet down on the ground. "Did you wash your hands?"

"Yup!" Violet held them up and giggled when Chuck grabbed her right hand and sniffed it. "It smells like lavender 'cause Aunt Ellie let me wash them at the sink instead of making me use the pink soap." Without any prompting, she turned and raced off. "Aunt Ellie! Aunt Ellie! Daddy's back and he brought Miss Sarah and she says she's going to stay for dinner."

"The good thing about living with Megabyte is that you never have to deliver news in person anymore." Chuck gave her a grin that was halfway to a chuckle. "Need anything? Blindfold? Cigarette?"

"Casey and a gun to shoot him with," Sarah said. "Fixing my oven?"

"It's nice that even tweaked out on tranquilizers, he can make my life difficult," Chuck said. He pushed back his shoulders before he marched forward. Sarah followed him, and there they were, Chuck's family, gathered in the kitchen. She'd seen them all through the lenses of binoculars, but surveillance had done nothing to tell her how devastatingly attractive all of them were, even Chuck's short friend. Ellie Bartowski was at the stove with a dripping spoon in hand, and from the way Morgan was wiping one hand clean with a napkin, said spoon had been used for more than stirring sauce. Devon leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand.

"Hey, El, I hope you don't mind—Sarah's been having some issues with her new kitchen. The spark module for the oven had some gunk on it, and it's pretty much toast, so I invited her over for dinner."

"Oh, it's fine," Ellie said, and Sarah didn't need to be a spy to recognize that she was being thoroughly analyzed. Ellie set the spoon down on a little hula dancer spoon holder and held out a hand. "I'm Ellie, Chuck's much superior sister."

"Sarah," Sarah said. "It's very nice to meet you. It isn't much, but I brought this." She held out the wine.

Ellie's eyes lit up. "We'll definitely have to crack this open tonight. You have great taste."

"Thanks."

"And I'm being rude. Since Chuck's not going to introduce you around, this is my boyfriend, Devon Woodcomb."

Sarah exchanged pleasantries with Devon, who declared it was "Awesome" to meet her.

"You've obviously met Violet, and the one trying to sneak an early taste of dinner is Morgan Grimes."

Morgan managed to look both abashed and smug as he bent over Sarah's hand like a courtier. "A sincere pleasure, my lady."

"Er, uh, thank you," Sarah said, while Ellie glared at Morgan.

Violet, who had hauled herself onto one of the kitchen stools and was leaning over to what seemed a perilous degree to Sarah (though nobody else seemed perturbed), groaned. "Are we ever gonna eat? I haven't eaten in so long. My stomach is empty."

"As you can see, we prefer to starve the prisoners at chez Bartowski," Chuck said, crossing to a cabinet and pulling out a plate that matched those already on the table. Within a couple of minutes, Sarah was seated at the table with a heaping plateful of linguine and red sauce in front of her. The wine could be considered a bad idea with the edge of grogginess in her system from the tranquilizers, but she hadn't wanted to turn Ellie down. Hopefully the pasta would soak it up.

Across the table, Violet made growling noises at her father as Chuck cut up her food into child-size bites.

"So, Sarah," Ellie said, and Sarah was once again reminded of Chuck mentioning Ellie's matriarchal hold over the Bartowskis. "How are you liking L.A. so far? You moved here for work?"

She had no idea what Chuck had told his family about her cover. Or how much Chuck knew about it, come to think of it. "Opportunity, mostly," she said. "My brother got stationed here, and the restaurants are excellent. I mean, not that D.C. had terrible restaurants or anything—far from it, actually—but, you know, you need a change of pace sometimes. Keep things fresh."

"Restaurants? Whoa, I thought the Chuckster here mentioned you were a veterinary assistant."

"That was part of the change of pace. Now I'm a restaurant critic. I have a blog and everything."

Violet's head shot up, but it was Morgan whose jaw dropped open. "Wait, you make your living talking about food?"

Sarah tensed, though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was the disbelieving look on Morgan's face, or the many covers over the years that had been blown by one detail out of place. Certainly, Chuck's family didn't look like a bunch of terrorists or drug lords, but you could never be certain. "Yes?" she said.

Morgan abruptly stood up. Sarah's hand tightened on the knife, but the bearded man only dropped to his knees and proceeded to bow. "You are a goddess. A goddess. No, not a goddess, a Samurai. Sarah-Dono. You get paid to eat. That's like the Holy Grail of jobs."

"What's a Holy Grail?" Violet asked Chuck.

"A movie we'll enjoy together when you're older."

"Technically, it should be Walker-Dono," Sarah told Morgan before she remembered that she was supposed to be a food blogger and not somebody who had studied eastern culture extensively. Only Morgan goggled, though.

"Please get off the floor," Ellie said through her smile. "We have company and we want to make a good impression. For five minutes. For at least five minutes, we are trying to make a good impression."

"What's a good impression?" Violet asked, this time looking at Sarah. "Is it like an arts and crafts project?"

"No, it's like your Uncle Morgan not bowing on the floor and slobbering all over our guest," Ellie told her niece, though she wrinkled her nose at the end of her pointed statement, and it sent Violet into a fit of giggles. "Though I must say, if I'd known I was cooking for a food blogger, I'd have made something more special than just my red sauce."

"Babe, your red sauce is, and I say this truthfully—"

"Awesome," Chuck, Violet, and Morgan all said with Devon. The latter grinned and reached across the table for a high-five from his honorary niece, though Ellie rolled her eyes at all of them.

"You don't have a thing to worry about," Sarah said. "This is hands down some of the best red sauce I've ever had. And I did a semester in Italy, so I can speak with some confidence on the subject."

Okay, granted, it hadn't been an entire semester. She had been there to discreetly assassinate an ambassador who had been leaking CIA secrets to China, but it was close enough.

Ellie grinned. "Chuck," she said, gesturing with her wineglass, "you should keep this one."

Sarah raised her eyebrows at Chuck. "Are you in the habit of collecting girlfriends and tossing them back?"

"Like fish?" Violet asked, and the adults all started laughing, Sarah among them. Violet gave them a perplexed look. "Daddy doesn't have girlfriends. He just has video games."

"I'd protest," Chuck said, twirling noodles around his fork, "but alas, it's true. Thanks for outing me yet again, though, Megs."

Violet's little forehead scrunched up. "But you're good at video games, Daddy."

"Someday we will explain why that isn't appealing to women," Ellie said, though she was looking at Morgan and Chuck as she said it.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't see why not. Gamers are scientifically and statistically proven to be good with their hands."

"Why is it a bad thing to be good at video games?" Violet looked genuinely concerned. In an instant, that gaze was pinned on Sarah, making the spy feel an incredible sense of guilt. "Do you not like video games, Miss Sarah?"

The guilt tripled. Across the table, Chuck put his hand over his mouth, though he couldn't fully hide the obvious desire to laugh. "I, ah, haven't had much time to play them," Sarah said. "But I'm sure I'd like them if I tried."

"Nice save," Chuck said under his breath.

Violet's eyes went wide. "You've never played video games? What have you been doing?"

"Being an adult," Ellie said, coming to Sarah's rescue.

"But Daddy's an adult."

"That remains to be seen."

Chuck stuck his tongue out at his sister. "I'm proud of my SkyRand score and nothing you say will convince me that being a Level 87 bloodmage isn't cool."

Ellie sighed at him, and Devon changed the subject to the awesome lifesaving surgery he had performed that day. There was still teasing, with Violet asking questions constantly. Sometimes one of the adults—Sarah noticed they took turns—would answer seriously, and other times they would deliver a joking reply that usually involved explaining when Violet was older. The child didn't seem perturbed by either option. Sarah, of course, had no idea if that was normal behavior for somebody Violet's age or not, given that Violet was the first person she'd really met under the age of ten.

The plates were mostly empty when her phone buzzed. "I'm so sorry," Sarah said. "I need to take this. Do you mind horribly if I…?"

There was a chorus of "Not at all" and "Take your time," that reminded Sarah she was eating dinner with two doctors, a mid-level manager, and a freelancer. Nobody seemed offended when she stepped out onto the back porch through the sliding door, though she imagined that the second she was out of earshot, she became the subject of conversation.

She took a deep breath and lifted the phone to her ear. "Yes, sir?"

"Is the line secure?"

Sarah checked to make sure the door was actually shut, and stepped away for good measure. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Langston Graham paused for a second, and Sarah had to assume he was checking to make sure that the line was secure on his end as well. "Report."

Years of giving briefings professionally enabled her to hide her embarrassment as she listed everything that had happened that evening. She kept her body language relaxed in case anybody peeked outside, but really, she'd rather be standing at attention. She had screwed up by not seeing Zarnow in time, and by now, she had to figure Graham knew it.

He didn't say anything, though. "And where are you now? Major Casey reported that he sent you and the Intersect away from the crime scene."

"With Chu—Mr. Bartowski's family, sir, for dinner. As damage control, considering that we pulled the Asset away without any explanation to his family."

"Good, you'll need that."

Something cold brushed against the back of Sarah's spine. "Sir?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I have bad news."

They were going to put Chuck in a bunker, Sarah thought. Her first instinct—to run inside and tell Chuck to go, to grab Violet and his family and flee—surprised her with its sheer intensity. Her first thought had never been traitorous before.

She managed to swallow and keep herself composed. "What is it?"

"The NSA and the CIA both believe it within our best interests not to expose knowledge of the Intersect to anybody else." Graham paused, the silence laden with meaning. "That includes any scientists that might be able to remove the Intersect from Mr. Bartowski's head."

"I see," Sarah said. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Chuck had looked so hopeful when she had brought up the idea of Zarnow removing the Intersect.

"However, we simply cannot let a resource as valuable as the Intersect go to waste. So congratulations are in order, Agent Walker. You got what you wanted. We'll be using Mr. Bartowski in the capacity of an asset for the foreseeable future, possibly on a permanent basis. Luckily, your quick thinking with purchasing the house provides us an established base. Good work on that one."

"Thank you, sir," Sarah said. She kept her voice neutral out of habit, but it felt like a hole had opened in her chest, hollowing everything out. A permanent basis. Chuck rebelled at even the thought of having the Intersect in his head, endangering his life and his family, and there was a chance Graham and Beckman were going to make it permanent.

"This is classified Level Six. We've raised your clearance level. You'll be working with Major Casey, as it's a joint operation."

Congratulations, Walker. You get a clearance level raise and a grumpy NSA agent of your own, and Chuck gets his life ruined.

"I understand."

"Given that you already have a cover in place as the Asset's girlfriend, your primary job will be to keep up appearances and to protect the Asset in public. You and Major Casey will share operational duties. Hopefully you will be able to cooperate far better than you did before the Millennium Hotel."

Sarah nearly raised her eyebrows. So Casey hadn't mentioned the three or four fights they'd had over various things in the house in the meantime. Interesting. She had expected him to be the sort to tattle to the bosses. "I'm sure we can work it out," she said.

"Good. Please let the Asset know as soon as possible about the change in status, and report to me with any problems. You'll receive your new orders shortly."

"Thank you, sir," Sarah said, and hung up. She knew she had been outside long enough, that it was probably rude to stay out any longer, but again, she gave herself a minute to stand and process.

They weren't sending another scientist. One futile attempt to remove the Intersect, and the agencies had given up the ghost and declared the Intersect stuck in Chuck's head. A single, half-hearted attempt, at that. It was almost as though they were gleeful to have an Intersect test subject, never mind that he hadn't signed up for the part. Sarah knew that the government wasn't above turning and burning assets when they needed to—she'd witnessed it for herself a few times, and it hurt to be the agent who had to deliver that blow.

And, Sarah realized, it wasn't just Chuck's life in the balance here. Hadn't she shoved Violet's drawing into a drawer just that morning, not wanting any attachment? No matter her conflicted feelings, there had been a sliver of her, the part that got itchy feet when in one place too long, that had been looking forward to moving on, to getting the next assignment. That had always been what she and Bryce talked about, no matter where they were: the next assignment, the next gold ring to chase.

There wasn't going to be a next assignment, not for a long time.

Just like there wasn't a Bryce anymore.

Sarah rubbed her face with one hand. With an iron will that she had developed long before the Farm, she shoved all of the complicated, messy feelings back inside of her, locking them away. She'd get through the rest of dinner, she'd tell Chuck about the status change, and they would simply have to deal with it. But it wasn't going to be fun.

She put her company smile back on and stepped in through the sliding glass. To her surprise, though, the table was empty of everything but a few dishes. Devon ran dishes under the faucet while Ellie sat on the kitchen island countertop with a glass of wine in her hand. Chuck, Violet, and Morgan were nowhere to be seen.

"Whoops," Sarah said when they turned. "I didn't realize I took that long—sorry."

"No, it wasn't long at all. We just have a pretty set bedtime in the house, and Morgan had to run. Some kind of work thing." Ellie waved a hand. "Both Devon and I have to work doubles tomorrow—"

"Not awesome, admittedly."

"—so we're actually about to head to bed ourselves. I hope you don't think we're rude."

"Not at all. I was the one who intruded on family dinner night. You could've literally thrown me off the front porch and I'd be okay with it. The linguine was just that good."

"Oh, I'm going to like you," Ellie said, grinning. Inwardly, Sarah's stomach sank, but she managed to return the grin.

"I really should go, though," she said. "I don't want to cause any trouble or keep anybody up or—"

"No trouble at all. Chuck's just getting Vi ready for bed, if you want to go on up."

Sarah nearly protested that she didn't need to do that, but orders were orders. She needed to talk to Chuck. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Vi will be happier if you drop by to say good-bye." Ellie gestured in the direction of the hall that Sarah knew, thanks to studying the layout of Chuck's house, led to the stairs. "It was very nice meeting you. I hope you can come for dinner again, and maybe bring your brother."

Oh, Casey would hate that. "I'd love it," Sarah said. "And it was nice meeting the both of you, too. Uh, good night."

Determined not to feel awkward, she headed for the stairs. She'd been on the second floor before, of course, but it usually meant climbing in through Chuck's window. Walking through the house meant she learned new details: snapshots on the wall of various family moments at the beach and in the house, among the posed studio photos. Going up the stairs meant she essentially walked along a timeline of Ellie and Chuck's lives—going from gangly kids, to gangly teenagers, to gangly college students. There were pictures of Chuck holding baby Violet, who looked ridiculously tiny in some kind of orange and green onesie (Chuck was also in an orange and green suit and holding some kind of trident, so Sarah had to assume it was a costume), and toddler Violet, and even some kind of school picture.

At the top of the stairs, she moved into the hallway, following the direction of—hooting? It was Chuck's voice, and Violet's, but she had no idea what kind of sounds they were making. She could see Chuck's bedroom door at the end of the hallway, but the hooting was coming from an open door in the middle.

Warily, she pushed her way inside to see what she figured had to be Violet's bedroom, given that the walls were a shade of lilac that just didn't seem like Chuck. Said bedroom owner was standing on a bed, hands up under her armpits as she danced around, making noises.

Even more amusingly, Chuck stood in the middle of the room, his back to the door, doing exactly the same thing that his daughter was doing.

Violet noticed Sarah first. "Miss Sarah!" she said, and without warning at all, she launched herself into the air like a cannonball.

A/N the Second: OH NOES. IS SARAH GOING TO CATCH VIOLET? Tune in Monday to find out.