A/N I lost a little bit of time over the weekend, sawing and chopping up wood from some trees we had taken down. Time for the next arc of the season to begin. But first we'll take a little step back in time.

"He's all around."

"I meant blessed."

"Time to go."

"You can join us on the lam."

The night before…

The trill of the phone seemed more strident than usual. His wife's voice, when he answered it, was low and calm, steady. "Stephen?"

That's how Orion knew he was in trouble. "Yes, dear?"

"Your brilliant ploy with Sarah's charm bracelet was about, hmm, ninety-percent successful."

The 'ninety percent' threw him off his guard. Only ninety? "What happened?"

"Well, nothing fatal," said Mary, "Or even dangerous, or we'd be having a very different talk. Just some…interesting side-effects."

Maybe he misplaced a decimal somewhere. Still, not bad for a rush job. And interesting was good, right? "Excellent. Glad to hear it."

Quick change to DC, and the other end of the call…

He never learns. Mary switched her phone to speaker mode, her voice dropping into a more demanding mode. "Do you mind telling the rest of us what it was?"

Maybe it was the speaker, but he sounded more uncertain than usual. "'The rest of us' being who, exactly?"

"Oh, that would be me, the woman who knows where you sleep at night, your daughter-in-law the assassin, her husband, possibly the only man on the planet who could penetrate whatever electronic defenses you put up if he had a real motive to do so, and his sister, the mother of your first and only grandchild, who might very well determine your visiting privileges based on what you say right now."

Ellie frowned at the phone.

They heard him swallow, three thousand miles away. "Um…"

"Think of it as a report on a laboratory experiment, Dad," said Ellie, playing along. "With Sarah as your lab rat, since that's obviously how you thought of her at the time."

"Now that's not fair," said Stephen. "I was trying to save her life, as stealthily as possible. It's not my fault that she left in the middle of the night."

"No," agreed his wife. "But it is your fault that you deployed materiel into the field without giving your personnel the information they needed to know, especially the interesting side-effects."

Back in LA., and glad of it…

"There shouldn't have been any side effects," said Stephen defensively. He took refuge in tech-speak. "Look. It was clear from the way the lab's electronics diverted the Norseman's beam to Ellie that the original target could be masked. All my fob did was screen the wearer, masking their cellular vibratory signature so the Norseman wouldn't find them."

"I think she would have noticed a fob the size of my lab, Dad."

"Obviously, Eleanor," said Stephen impatiently. "I couldn't generate the field, so I did the next best thing. I amplified and broadcast an existing one instead."

"But then you'd need–Where–?" said Ellie, working it out with her usual speed. He could only be proud of her. "Oh, no. Tell me you didn't–"

"Well what else could I have used?"

"El?" His son's voice sounded nervous. Stephen wondered what his daughter looked like right now, but then decided he was better off not knowing.

"He used your brain scans, Chuck!" said Ellie. Hundreds of hours of brain scans, taken by her, but not for this. "He surrounded Sarah with an electromagnetic field resonating to your brainwave patterns, a virtual you."

Wide-eyed in DC…

Stephen sounded offended. "Now, Eleanor, I filtered those out…" That's why he needed so many, since they were primarily brain wave scans, after all. Distilling the vibratory signature out was a job and a half.

Ellie's personal and professional ethics had been violated, and it showed in her voice. "And I'm sure you did a one-hundred percent perfect job, too."

"So," said Sarah hesitantly, not quite sure what she was afraid of, or who, "All this time I thought Chuck was around me…?"

"Chuck really was all around you," finished Ellie. She reached over and clasped Sarah's hand again. "Sorry, Sarah, I shouldn't snap at you." She glared at the phone. "It wasn't your fault."

Surrounded by the essence of Chuck. "It's not like I minded…"

"Did you mind wanting to claw out your own brain, under the suppressor in Hannah's car?" asked Frost. "Did you mind getting captured, almost tortured, because the suppressor had to be turned off?"

Contented feeling completely gone. "I had everything under control…!"

"On the other hand," said Carina quietly, either because she was holding a happy infant, or maybe some other reason, "We got the Norseman out of it. I'm not saying that what Stephen did is right or anything, but if he hadn't done it we might still be running around with rigged glasses, hoping they'd take the bait."

"Which they did," snapped Sarah. Not part of her plan, the one he'd blown out of the water. She wished he was here right now so she could cram that fob down his throat, it's not like it would explode or anything. Except she couldn't. She didn't have the fob, or the bracelet. They'd taken that too.

"That was a possibility either way, can't blame him for that." Not when they were already talking about one brilliant plan gone wrong. "Since we were being chased by MPs–"

"It wouldn't have happened if he hadn't–"

The TV made a sound, cutting everyone off.

"Hold on, Stephen," said Mary, putting the phone near the set and pressing the 'Accept' button while she was there. She may not have been too happy with her husband just then, but she'd trust him over Beckman any day.

"Ellie, thank goodness you're up," said the General immediately. She didn't seem to even notice any of the others in the room, not even Carina, standing there making faces at the baby in her arms. "We have a crisis."

"What is it, General?"

"Metro police responded to an altercation at the DC Grand Ambassador hotel. Shots had been fired, a room demolished, and several men were discovered dead, including one tentatively identified as Nicholas Quinn."

Ellie looked at all her family gathered about her. Surely the General had to know that she knew all this already. Chuck made a 'go with it' gesture, so she went with it. "I…thought he was in Japan?"

"With the failure of his plans there he seems to have found a new patron," said the General, staring at her. "The room was registered to Vivian Volkoff."

Ellie tried to sound surprised. "She's here? With the Norseman?"

"If she is here, the Norseman will definitely be with her," said the General. "Several survivors were taken into custody and questioned. Vivian apparently had Agent Bartowski captive in that room. She and a box, probably containing the stolen glasses, had been taken from a crash site in DC, but neither Sarah, Vivian, the box, or the Norseman were to be found."

"So the crisis is…?"

"The mercenaries claimed that they were defeated by a three-person team."

"Agent Charles?"

"Very likely. I can't think of any other team that could have done it. We must know what went on in that room, but they're currently off grid. If they should contact you in the next day or so, tell them to come in. This is a perfect opportunity to capture the Norseman, if they haven't already, and the DoD is anxious to study it."

"I thought the DoD wanted them arrested."

"If Chuck and his team can deliver the glasses, the Norseman, or better yet both, all charges will be dropped."

Ellie saw a number of significant glances being exchanged around her, although she kept her attention on Beckman. "If they contact me, I'll pass on the message."

"Well," said Chuck, once the connection was terminated. "At least now we know where Casey gets it from." The number of lies, omissions, implications, and distinct counterfactuals she'd managed to cram into that short interview was positively breathtaking.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he corrupted her, him and his evil footnotes?" asked Carina. She smiled at the face smiling at her, and said in a breathy, high-pitched voice, "Can you say 'evil footnotes'?"

"I'm just respecting authority," said Chuck stridently.

Ellie rolled her eyes, reaching up for her baby, before Carina taught her to say 'evil' anything. "I'm not so sure calling her the evil influence on Casey is what most people call respect, Chuck."

"Are you kidding?" asked Mary, wondering how she could get hold of some of the Colonel's reports. "She'll preen."

The sound of a police whistle came from the other side of the room.

Frost got up and retrieved her phone. "Sorry, dear. We were praising General Beckman's skills at creative mendacity."

"Is that what you're calling it?" asked Orion. "Okay, you've got a day, maybe less, before the DoD comes after you, so you need to focus. Did you get the Norseman?" He cared far less about the glasses. Without an Intersect to load, they were harmless, and he was actively keeping an eye out for new construction with Intersect-related materials.

"Yes." Got it, broke it up, and separated the pieces.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"What do you think we're going to do with it?" said Chuck.

"Good boy."

The day after they did what he thought they were going to do with it…

Manoosh's monitor made a sound, and he reached up accept the contact without looking.

Hannah's face appeared on the screen. "Where have you been?" Then she actually saw what she was looking at. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, out of breath.

"Lifting the smallest set of dumbbells I've ever seen."

"Gotta start somewhere," he gasped, setting them down, red-faced.

Hannah prepared to call a medic, or sound an alarm. "Since when have you been a fitness nut?"

"Since…last…night," he puffed, collapsing in his chair.

Hannah thought hard. "You stumped me, Manoosh."

"Frost and Alex," said Manoosh, having recovered the ability to string short words together. "Needed…backup."

"Alex?" asked Hannah. "Who's Alex?"

"FBI," said Manoosh. "Agent McHugh."

And you call her Alex? "Two Federal agents heading into a hostage-rescue scenario decide they need backup and they choose you?"

"What's so strange about that?" asked Manoosh, a bit stung by her casual disbelief. "Aren't you the one who's always telling me to never put myself down?"

"Manoosh, we're tech support."

"Maybe that's all you are, Mrs. Big Dog Run-with-the-Hounds, but not me," yelled Manoosh, holding up a set of frames from last night. "I made these glasses, that's why they brought me into this project. I made them, I programmed them, and I used them."

She knew all that. He'd built them on contract, tried to stiff his employer, and found out the hard way that all the skills in the world aren't enough."Yes, but what about last night?"

"I'm talking about last night!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" asked Hannah. "I'm your friend, we were in the middle of a mission and you disappeared. I was concerned."

"I'm sorry," said Manoosh, putting his hands over his eyes. "I just have this monster headache."

Devon came into the house quietly, knowing that Ellie'd had a late night. The excitement of the whole thing was wearing off, and right now all he wanted was to down a glass of his favorite shake and crawl in next to–"Ho! Ellie? What are you doing up?"

She yawned. "So how'd it go?"

"Piece of cake, babe," said Devon, getting a glass. "One take, one time. No one wanted to kill any more mice than they had to, so they were planning the whole thing all the way out there."

"I wish I could have seen it, seen you swing that hammer," said Ellie. "I bet you looked awesome."

He'd performed an emergency surgery, cutting out something unhealthy, for the greater good. He could get behind that. "It felt pretty good, babe." He'd smashed the thing that almost killed his wife and child. "Great, even." But he'd had to wear a mask, take part in an off-the-books operation that could get people he considered family in trouble. Not his thing at all. "Not awesome."

Ellie stood up, came around the table, and kissed her man firmly. "I think I should be the judge of that."

Devon grinned at her. "I throw myself upon the mercy of the court," he said, scooping her up in his arms.

The phone rang. Totally not awesome.

Alex was no stranger to this office. She'd sat here just a few months ago, not even a year, afraid that her acceptance into the academy was going to be reversed. What would she have told her mother? "I washed out because the fiancé you think is dead got me dragged into the middle of an unsanctioned operation"? Her mother had her life back, and Alex wasn't about to ruin it now with a little thing like the truth. It was as close as she ever wanted to come to lying, having seen what it did to her father. Which would still have been easier than the dancing she'd had to do around the truth, when she had to explain to her mother how she'd managed to earn a commendation almost as soon as her photo ID had been printed, without mentioning who'd brought her into it.

On the other hand, it made the whole bachelorette party episode easier to believe. She'd thought it was an unscheduled exercise for one of her classes at first, until real bullets started flying around real civilians and she did what they told her to do in her classes. The politics of it annoyed her, that she would get an award for simply doing what they were training her to do.

Especially when it interfered with her career development. She'd almost been stuck in a closet on her first real mission, thanks to her high profile, except that the bad guys had two bases and they needed someone to lead the attack on the other one. So to be here, now, the spear tip of an operation that could completely upset this little applecart, seemed just so right, somehow.

The phone rang, and the secretary responded. "The Director is ready for you, Agent McHugh."

Alex picked up her briefcase, containing a single disc and nothing else. "Thank you." Ten minutes to the end of the world.

"Manoosh?" called Ellie, before she'd even completely exited the elevator. It wasn't like she even needed to, Hannah'd already told her where he was, and if what she said was accurate (and what Hannah said was always accurate), Manoosh wasn't going to be moving from there any time soon. But she wasn't calm Rational Ellie at the moment, she was uncalm Substitute Mother-figure Ellie, fearing for a substitute-substitute son-by-association.

He'd collapsed in his chair and he'd stayed collapsed, breathing deeply, but not answering her call. A quick check of the most important vitals told her he wasn't on the verge of death, so the next thing was to find out what he was on the verge of, and the most complete and efficient set of telemetrics in the world was right next door. She lifted him up out of the chair with casual strength, taking him into the Intersect Room and the scanner he loved so much.

Sarah sat on the couch, her husband's head in her lap, looking up at her as she looked down at him, running her hands through the curls of his hair. "So, blueberries or strawberries?"

"Um, blueberries?" he said, after having gotten strawberries the last three times he'd offered her a choice.

She reached into one of the bowls–which were sitting on his chest, dammit, he much preferred it when she stretched her body out over his, reaching for them on the table, but as she'd pointed out, this was not the time–and placed one of the requested fruits in his mouth.

Ah, life on the lam. He could get used to this.

The screen lit without warning, not its usual crisp image but with a pattern of smudges that looked like a human face when seen from far enough away. "Agents Bartowski," said the General.

"Aahh!" Chuck jerked upright, sending the berries flying but managing to catch about half of them before they hit the ground.

Sarah recognized the image first, of course, having seen it before. "General? Why do you look like that?"

"It's hard to make the claim that your best, if currently renegade, spy team is missing and unreachable when the person you're saying it to can access your phone records," said Beckman. "Your father has proven amply over the years that he can bypass most of our countermeasures, so I put that skill to good use."

"At least you agree on something," said Chuck, picking up the spilled fruit.

"Ultimate weapons can do that. I can't wait to hear about what you did with it."

"We–"

"Through proper channels, please, Agent Bartowski," said the General quickly. "I want to do my best to appear surprised." The easiest way to do that was to actually be surprised, and she had no doubt she would be.

"Yes, General."

"Since I think it's fairly safe to say you won't be surrendering the Norseman to the DoD, and since Stephen says you lost the glasses to Vivian Volkoff, through his own well-meant but unexpected interference, you can expect some delay in being returned to any kind of active-duty status."

"Yes, General," said Sarah.

"Not you, Agent Bartowski," said Beckman. "As far as anyone's been able to tell, you're relatively blameless in this affair, so you will be restored to duty immediately."

"Without Chuck?"

The smudges either smiled or frowned, it was hard to tell. "I didn't say that, Sarah," said Beckman. "Your husband will be some time being restored to active duty, but we have another role which should suit him admirably."

"Janitor again?" asked Chuck.

Sarah knew where a brand-new pair of bolt cutters was, if so. "What role, General?" she said, perhaps more forcefully than was really proper.

Beckman hesitated. "Your team really does inspire the most bizarre and occasionally quixotic loyalties," she said at last. "Mr. Depak took it upon himself last night to upload the skill sets, along with whatever data was needed to employ them, in order to support Frost and Agent McHugh in their rescue effort."

"Oh dear."

"Ellie has him under observation," continued the General, "And she's preparing a battery of tests, both laboratory and field trials…"

"Field trials?" said Sarah in surprise.

"He seems eager enough. We'll be making a virtue of necessity, surrounding him with a team ready to support and, if necessary, contain his enthusiasm."

"Oh dear," said Chuck again. He knew what it meant when Casey sounded like that, and it was never good.

"Congratulations, Chuck," said the General, living down to his expectations. "Now it's your turn."

A/N2 No Morgan-sect her. Not sure this will work out any better.