A big chapter requires lots of work. Sharpasamarble provided a huge, comprehensive set of feedback that led me to rewrite nearly the entire chapter. Mrs. Arathorn and Wepdiggy also deserve thanks for reviewing that revision and helping catch a couple mistakes. Ultimately, though, all mistakes and omissions are my responsibility. Thanks for all the help, though!

BarLar, Inc.
November 13
11:42 p.m.

Charles was again at his desk, with the palm of his right hand supporting his head. His unfocused eyes were still pointed at a printout containing the results of some tests he had run earlier in the day. Despite his best intentions, though, he was no longer actively working to understand the results. The day had been long and he simply could not focus on the problem any longer. Now, that delicious period of mental randomness that presages sleep was upon him.

His cell phone started playing Styx's Mr. Roboto very loudly. Charles jerked alert and reached for his cell phone. He looked at it for a moment, gauging the time and gathering his thoughts, before he answered. "Hey, Awesome. Little late to be calling, isn't it?"

His sister's boyfriend's voice was barely recognizable through the strong emotions that colored it. In the background, the clear sound of tires was evident. "I'm sorry, Chuck. But it's Ellie. Something's wrong with her. We're on our way to County General Hospital." Beyond the sadness, the naked fear in Devon's voice really captured Charles's attention. That, more than anything else, helped him shake off the cobwebs of sleep.

"Devon, what happened?" Even as he talked, Charles patted his front pants pocket to verify that his keys were still there and started heading for the door.

Confusion and terror continued to be audible in Devon's answer. "I don't know. It was the weirdest thing, like she was drunk, but she hadn't had any alcohol. She got freaky honest and abrupt, talking about my biking shorts and other stuff. Then things got really scary. She got quiet and passed out right on the couch. She's been in and out of consciousness since then."

"I'll meet you there."

County General Hospital
November 14
5:21 a.m.

Charles sat by his sister's bed, holding her left hand in both of his. Tracks from long-since dried-up tears stained his face. His vigil was now silent, almost serene, like it had been much of the night, even when the tears were flowing. An IV pumped fluid into her right arm, but aside from the sound of their breathing and the instruments, it was quiet.

He appreciated the chance to stay with her. Officially, no visitors were allowed in the rooms at that time of day, but Devon had pulled some strings. So far, the doctors hadn't been able to determine the cause of Ellie's problems. They had acted hopeful in front of him, but the expression on their faces and the lines etched across Devon's face had told him the true story. The doctors couldn't help; it was up to Ellie herself. And her time was growing short.

"C'mon, Ellie, you can do it." He breathed the words fearfully.

As if she heard him, she stirred on the bed and opened her eyes, looking straight through him. "Chuck, is that you?" It was the first time she'd been conscious in his presence, though the doctors had indicated she was in and out earlier.

"Yes, Ellie. It's me. I'm so glad you're awake. How do you feel?"

"I don't know. I feel so … so weird. Something is wrong, Chuck."

"What's wrong? What's going on?"

"I don't know. But I think it has something to do with the creepy cop who visited me this afternoon."

"What creepy cop?"

Her words seemed to come out without her willing them to. She spoke automatically. "This cop came by to ask about what happened last night. I told him the whole story, how the sick guy appeared on the street and how I tried to save him. I even explained that we weren't able to save his life. He asked a lot of questions, and he seemed to know a lot of what happened already – even things I hadn't told other people.

"Anyway, he finally seemed somewhat satisfied. Then he asked to take a picture and he brushed my hair back. That's when I really thought he was getting ultra-creepy, but I let him take the picture. I signed a statement about what had happened and he left. It wasn't long after he left that I started feeling funny."

Charles was reeling. A rogue cop? What was going on? It seemed like something straight out of prime-time TV. "Are you sure he was a cop?"

"No. He had the uniform and he knew my full name, but I never saw a badge or anything. I just assumed he was." Again, something about Ellie's voice was wrong. Mechanical. Forced. Not her. But Charles couldn't dwell on that now; he wanted to keep her talking while she was conscious.

"Did he want anything?" Charles was desperate for answers and Ellie seemed to be able to provide some of them at least.

"Just to know what happened last night. He … he seemed like he wanted something more, like he wasn't satisfied with what I told him, but he never said why."

Charles really felt like he should be able to put together the clues, but he couldn't understand what happened. Ellie's condition seemed somehow connected to the events of a couple nights ago. He thought back to that evening and the events after they'd left the restaurant. A man passing out was unexpected, to be sure, but he had seen weirder things. He must have missed something. But what?

He turned to ask Ellie again, since she'd been so helpful to that point. But it was too late. She had lost consciousness again, looking even paler than she had before. Even her breathing was shallow. As tears filled his eyes anew, Charles almost wondered if the conversation had been real or just something he'd hoped for. He was so anxious to help her, had the whole thing been a figment of his imagination?

Charles wracked his brain to no avail. He felt fuzzy from fear, adrenaline, and lack of sleep. The only thing crystal clear was that Ellie was in danger and that he needed to find some way to help her. Her comments about the potentially-fake cop had his curiosity going. It seemed that might be the clue he needed to save her life.

With that determination made, he began to trace down what the fake cop might have been seeking. The first thing he did was to call Sarah, despite the hour. He didn't quite realize how perilous this decision was. Not that peril would dissuade him from helping someone in need.

He muttered into the phone as he waited for her to answer. "C'mon, Sarah, pick up. C'mon."

"Walker here." Even muffled by sleep and barely-concealed anger, her voice tinkled. Given the circumstances, it utterly failed to send a shiver down his spine, for probably the first time.

"Sarah, I'm sorry about calling so early –"

"You better be. Somebody had better be dead." Anger and resentment were laced through the unintentionally cruel words.

That sentiment tightened his throat to the point where he couldn't speak for a moment. Finally, he choked out, "Not yet."

It took a moment for Sarah to digest that response and make sense of it. When she did, horror struck. "Oh no, Chuck, I didn't mean that – that's terrible. What happened?"

The lump still stuck in Charles's throat kept him from speaking again for a long moment. Sarah didn't fill the silence, probably understanding his situation. Eventually, he found his voice. "It's Ellie. She's in the hospital, dying. She said she felt fine until after a cop showed up and asked her some questions about the man who collapsed a couple night's ago. Did you notice anything that might … might explain what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't see anything. Where are you?"

"County General. You're sure you didn't see anything?"

"No."

"If you think of anything, ANYTHING, call me at 323 – 555 – 0839. OK?"

"OK. I will."

Sighing, he hung up and dialed another number.

"WHAT?" Bryce's reaction was even less understanding than Sarah's.

"Bryce, it's me, Charles. Ellie is in the hospital and I need to know something."

"Oh, man, that sucks. What can I do?" The voice on the other end of the line was significantly mollified by the news.

"Did you see anything weird a couple nights ago at the incident after we left the restaurant? Did Ellie get something from that guy she tried to save?"

The silence stretched into a few seconds. "I didn't think it was my business. I still don't, I guess, but if you think it's important, I'll tell you. The guy slipped something into her sweater pocket. I don't know what it was. It was very quick. I'm not sure she wanted anyone to know about it. Or, heck, she might not have noticed. But if she's sick, I guess it might be something important."

Charles was already running from the room. "Thanks, Bryce. You're a life-saver."

He hung up before his friend's "I hope so" reached him.

Sarah Walker's Apartment
5:32 a.m.

In her bed, Sarah Walker's mind rolled uneasily. Something about the phone call felt wrong. Why would Chuck be asking about two nights ago? It didn't add up.

Nevertheless, sleep beckoned. The bed was just the right temperature and so soft. Cobwebs in her brain grew larger and thicker. Surely a few minutes of sleep wouldn't be a problem. She could simply relax and let the warm sensations overtake her.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. Austin! She'd lost a partner in Texas. It was strange that she could remember the house in Austin, but her partner's cover name was lost in the mist of time. That house had been comfortable – too comfortable, as it turned out. She had been sleeping there when she shouldn't have been. Fortunately for both her own life, as well as her partner's, they had installed multiple alarms in the house, one of which had awoken her.

But the slept had kept from her being where she was supposed to be when she was supposed to be there. That mistake had nearly cost her partner his life. She could remember all the details clearly, except for the partner himself. He had been angry and refused to work with her again. Even when a follow-up investigation showed toxic and nearly fatally levels of carbon dioxide (which had triggered the alarm), he had never forgiven her.

That memory and the surprising emotional wallop it contained brought got her to feet and started her dressing. One partner's potential camaraderie may have been lost to sleep, but she was damned if she was going to lose another so carelessly. Especially not this one.

In the few minutes it took Sarah to pull on clothes, she debated calling Casey. It wasn't obvious that foul play was involved in the current situation. Casey was not a bear to arouse idly. If her gut feeling of disquiet was wrong, she'd lose the bare beginnings of trust she'd established with the NSA man.

Then again, if she was right, then she could use the opportunity to move up in people's esteem. She had spent a lot of time and effort building relationships with Charles, his family, and his friends. So far, that effort hadn't paid back in agency-approved currency. If her hunch that something more sinister than was obvious was going on with Ellie's hospitalization and Chuck's call, she might finally start getting paid in results. If so, it would make her feel a little less guilty about how much she'd enjoyed being a part of a normal group of people for the first time in her life.

County General Hospital
5:53 a.m.

Charles convinced Awesome to let him into Ellie's personal locker in the hospital changing room. He wasn't sure her sweater would be there, but the odds were slim that she had worn it home after caring for the man who had apparently sentenced her to the same fate he had faced.

Sure enough, in the locker was her sweater. Awesome fingered it thoughtfully. "Her lucky sweater. She was wearing that sweater when I first asked her out. I … I told her that LL Bean must have stolen the color from her eyes." Devon tried to force a smile, but it was thin and wan. "I've called it my lucky sweater ever since."

Charles put his hand on Devon's shoulder. "… Can I see the sweater?" It was awkward, but he needed to see what was in the sweater. Devon handed it over without a word, staring into space, obviously lost in another time and place. Taking advantage of the distraction, Charles felt through the pockets.

His search was quick and fruitful. A front pocket contained a locket that Charles had never seen before. It was always possible that Devon had given her a new piece of jewelry, but his instincts told him this particular necklace was what the rogue cop was searching for. He fingered the chain carefully.

Devon finally broke from his reverie. He looked at Charles but apparently saw nothing but Ellie' sweater. Taking the sweater back gently, Devon spoke softly. "I think … I think Ellie would like to have this." He started to walk out, but he stopped short.

Charles looked at Devon curiously. The doctor turned slowly and handed the sweater back. "She's your sister. You should be … you should be the one to give this to her."

"Devon, I … that's sweet, but …"

Devon pushed Charles out of the room. "Take it to her. Give her … give her my love."

"You're not coming?" Charles couldn't believe it. Even in grief, Devon was being undeniably awesome.

Shaking his head, Devon replied, "Not right now. This is family time. I'm not family … yet. I'll be along in a few minutes."

As he walked back, alone, to Ellie's room, Charles examined the locket. He tried to pry it open, but it was sealed shut. Opening it was beyond what his fingers could do unaided. A careful examination turned up no external markings about why it might be important.

When he reached the room, he pushed the locket from his mind, for a moment. Wrapping it gently around Ellie, he spoke directly to her. "Here's your lucky sweater. I figured you could use it."

She didn't respond, and, after a moment, Charles turned back to the locket. He addressed it directly, too. "And what am I supposed to do with an old locket like you? Can you save her?" The locket was as mute as his sister.

Reardon Paine's Apartment
5:59 a.m.

This was it. Reardon knew he was close. As was the case in all the best jobs, unforeseen wrinkles had appeared. That was what made what he did exciting – what made life worth living. Without obstacles to overcome, everything was mundane. This particular complication was almost resolved.

He allowed himself to revel in that feeling of accomplishment briefly before he placed a phone call to a number he'd written down less than an hour ago.

A now-familiar voice on the other end answered after four rings. "Hello?" It was the voice of Charles Bartowski, the man currently in possession of the nuclear codes Reardon needed. The sound came through both the telephone and through the headphones Reardon had been using earlier. The conversations he'd overheard had been so enlightening.

"You have something I want. I have something you want." Reardon was not one to mince words.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You have a locket that is very important to me. I want it and I'm willing to trade." If the man could figure out what Reardon was talking about, he'd decided to let them live. If he didn't pass the test, then a little poison would take care of him, too. Two lives in balance. The thrill of it pumped adrenaline into his system.

"Wait. You … you did this to my sister? How dare you …." The voice on the other end of the phone trailed off. He'd made the first connection. Would he make the second? Reardon sat on pins and needles.

Charles continued, more slowly now. "You did this, so you can undo this. You want the locket and I want my sister's life." Again, he paused. And, again, Reardon simply let the events unfold. He was in control of all possibilities, so he didn't need to act.

A dead voice came out of the phone, saying the words Reardon had hoped to hear. "I have to save her. I have to save Ellie. I don't know what's in this locket, and I don't care. You can have it. I just want my sister to live. I'll make that trade."

"Excellent. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Room 317, correct?"

"That's right. I'll be here."

As he hung up the phone, Reardon smiled. He didn't know it, but Charles Bartowski had just saved two lives. That he had chosen to endanger millions more probably wouldn't matter to him. It certainly didn't matter to Reardon. A short cab ride and his problems would be over.

County General Hospital Parking Lot
6:16 a.m.

Sarah exited her Porsche and walked towards the visitor's entrance. She still wasn't quite sure why she had come so early in the morning. Part of it certainly had to be attributed to her internal desire to satisfy Graham's orders about keeping Chuck happy for reasons of national security. Another portion, larger, was Chuck himself. Even those two together didn't fully explain things, though. Something just felt wrong.

She quickly crossed the distance to the front door of the hospital. Her hand strayed to her phone on her hip pocket. Should she call Casey? Rather than diminishing, her unease had grown on the drive over. Without something to pinpoint, though, she again resisted. The feel of her Smith & Wesson against the small of her back also reassured her.

Fortunately, the help desk was manned, even at this ungodly hour. She walked to the woman behind the counter. "I'm looking for Eleanor Bartowski. Can you tell me what room she's in?"

"Ellie? She's a doctor here, so I don't know what room she's in, but it'll probably change quickly."

Apparently, some rumor mills weren't very efficient. "No, she's very sick. I need to see her, please."

"Oh." The woman typed on her computer for a moment and when she continued, all levity had left her voice. "She's in room 317, but visiting hours aren't for another two hours. There's a nice restaurant just down the …." She trailed off as small man stalked past the two of them.

"Sir!" the helpdesk lady called out. "Sir, you can't go back there without some form of ID." He didn't listen, however, and proceeded deeper into the hospital. Scowling and muttering profanities that would have made Casey proud, the helpdesk person gave chase. "You can't just go barging in like that!"

Sarah seized her opportunity and followed the two of them into the currently-closed-to-visitors section of the hospital. Once she felt confident that she wouldn't be stopped again, she turned aside from the chase and got her bearings.

A calm stride blended better than a person in a hurry, even in a hospital, so it took her a minute or two longer than strictly necessary to get to Ellie's room. Apparently, that was also the destination of the man who had abetted her own entrance, because he was already there, holding a vial of purple liquid in one hand.

Her danger sensors spiked. Something was wrong. She stopped just outside the room and listened through the slightly ajar door.

The short man was speaking "…good choice. I have what you want right here. Do you have what I want?" He jiggled the vial.

Chuck's hand quaked as he displayed a locket that Sarah didn't recognize. "I-I have it. I have it right here." His voice was half-an-octave higher than normal.

"Give it to me."

Sarah froze. This transaction explained the alarm bells which had been ringing in her head all morning. That realization, while useful, didn't provide any clarity about how to resolve the situation. The man seemed sinister, but first impressions aren't always accurate. Clearly, some transaction was taking place, but that didn't automatically make it clear who was evil and wrong. The reminder of information being transferred out of BarLar niggled at her mind, too. As much as she wanted to trust Chuck, she couldn't – not now, not with this.

Her training on situations like this was clear – observe and don't disturb events. It went against her natural predilection for action, but she had disciplined herself to watch events unfold before reacting. The most severe test of her resolve had been another incident with another ex-partner. He had been captured by a 'sting operation' from other CIA operatives. They'd used him as a punching bag for a few hours while Sarah watched from her hiding place. A later investigation had shown her partner had been legitimate and the others to be members in a splinter cell, but she had no way of making that determination at the time.

Watching that incident had been uncomfortable, but it hadn't hurt like watching Chuck in this situation. Her stomach churned and her fingernails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists in frustration. Mostly, what disturbed her was the seemingly-irrational fear that Chuck was somehow a bad guy in this situation. The other guy had all the classic indications of evil, but it was so difficult to tell. And, lately, she'd been telling herself that Chuck was too good to be true. The proof was right in front of her eyes. As much as she wanted to jump in and knock them both out, she stayed behind the door and watched.

Poor, naïve Chuck simply handed across the locket, without even arranging a simultaneous exchange. Sarah evaluated the likelihood that the necklace was simply payment for some untested drug. The Bartowskis didn't seem to have exorbitant wealth, but it was possibly a valuable family heirloom. Too many unknowns – that was always the problem. Sarah couldn't act without knowing more.

The short man smiled. "Here's your antidote." He handed over the purple vial and then scanned the surroundings without reacting in any way. "And, since you trusted me, a bonus. The same truth serum I used on your sister." That was a vial of clear liquid. "And a second antidote. Use them well."

Chuck looked confused but he took the extra two vials before rushing over and pouring the first purple liquid, the purported antidote, down Ellie's throat. The other man watched for a fraction of a second and shook his head wryly, before walking toward the door.

Sarah tried to inconspicuously open the door and step inside, looking as if she had just arrived. "Chuck, I got your call, is everything OK?" It was a risk, but she needed to check on Chuck before following the other suspect.

Her actions weren't careful enough. She had apparently been seen eavesdropping earlier. As he passed by to exit, the short man moved with world-class quickness. Before Sarah had even processed that his hand was coming out of his jacket, a hypodermic needle was pressed firmly against her abdomen. An ugly greenish-brown liquid filled the needle, and it didn't take any training to guess that it wouldn't be healthy for her. "You're coming with me," he hissed and she had no choice but to agree. They slowly backed out of the room, while Chuck could only watch helplessly.

As always, feedback is hugely appreciated and valued. Was the action good? Too much too fast? Feelings about the show tie-in? Lay it on me!