Chuck vs the Sound of Music II

by quistie64

The code nerd, the spy and their seven children are back, navigating life through a revolving door of spies, friends and family while searching for Frost and Orion. Don't let the word count discourage you from giving it a try. It's shorter than "War and Peace" and has a lot less Russians. COMPLETE.

25. International Relations

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for reading. Thank you for your reviews, comments, tweets and PMs. I love hearing from you. Keep 'em coming!

Thank you, AgentInWaiting. Masterful work, as always.

Chapter 25 – International Relations

The Amsterdam Buy More was buzzing with anticipation as the time neared for the tournament to begin. When the tournament announcer introduced the Luxembourger and Belgian teams, there was polite applause for each. As was to be expected, the applause and cheers were significantly louder for the four Dutch teams. However, when the American team was introduced the response was absolutely thunderous. While there were fewer supporters for the American team than for the Dutch, they made up for it by their rowdiness. Sarah felt an odd mixture of pride and embarrassment by this. Casey, of course, was thrilled by the support. Pumping a fist in the air, he chanted "USA! USA! USA!" The Americans quickly joined him.

Not to be outdone, the other teams and their supporters began to chant their countries' names. Soon, the whole Buy More was exploding with shouts and cheers of "Nederland," "België," "Lëtzebuerg," and "USA."

Now that he had managed to whip the entire crowd into a frenzy, Casey—his eyes glinting with triumph—stuck an unlit cigar in his mouth and grinned.

Grote Maikel stared back at him with a surprised and vaguely concerned look on his face.

"What?" Casey asked, feigning innocence.

When the manager's eyes shot up in question, Chuck raised his voice over the din. "He's from Texas!"

Grote Maikal nodded slowly, his mouth forming an O. There was still a look on mild panic on his face—as if he was about thirty seconds away from facing a full-blown riot—when Morgan hurried over to him and shouted, "We should get this thing started."

Shaking off his daze, Grote Maikel leapt into action. He hustled over to the announcer and instructed him to tell the teams playing in the first matches to get ready. The noise level subsided significantly once the teams busied themselves with their preparations. He wiped his brow with relief when the potentially ignoble grand opening of the Amsterdam Buy More—and the accompanying infamy and notoriety that would have followed from the inevitable postings on YouTube—was avoided.

Crisis averted, the games commenced. Since the Bartowski Family Gamers was one of the main draws for many people who came to watch the tournament, they were one of the first four teams to play in the opening round and were pitted against one of the teams from Belgium. During the first best-of-three games, it became clear very quickly that the Bartowskis were having to deal with a language disadvantage. While Sarah knew some Dutch—she could order food, navigate directions and had a fairly decent vocabulary—she was by no means conversationally fluent. The Belgians, on the other hand, spoke both Dutch and English. They understood everything the Bartowskis said while at the same time keeping them in the dark. As a result, the Belgians were able to react immediately to shouted commands from Team Bartowski and were able to thwart every offensive move they tried to make. Conversely, the Bartowskis were always one step behind and constantly reacting to what the Belgians were doing. To the joy of the Belgians and the dismay of the American contingency, the family lost the first game.

During the short break between games, Chuck tried to rally the disheartened members of the team. "Look, it was only the first game. We're a great team with great players. So what if we don't understand what they're saying? We used to play online all the time and never interacted with our opponents other than what we saw on the screen. We never heard them. So we play that way now. If we play our game," he continued, his eyes flashing with determination, "we can win this next game."

"But how can we win when they always know what we're gonna do?" Lisa asked, crossing her arms across her chest in frustration.

"We adjust," Sarah said with conviction, her brain whirring. "We adapt. We make it so they can't understand us."

"How do we do that?" Lizzie asked. "It's not like we can learn a new language in the next five minutes."

"No, we can't." Sarah peered over one shoulder and then the other. Obeying her gesture to come closer, the rest of the team huddled around her. Dropping her voice, she said, "Remember when I first taught you about working as a team? We haven't used it much lately, but think about a watch face."

Faces brightened as they understood what she was telling them. "We only use numbers for direction," she explained. With a burst of inspiration, she added, "And don't say 'o'clock.' That might tip them off." Heads nodded. Gazing from one expectant face to the next, she said, "Another thing. I think they've figured out our names, so now we use our team colors. If you're older than your teammate, you're one. If you're younger, two." Seeing confused looks, she clarified her idea for them. "For example, Fred and Bridget are Blue Team, right?"

"Right," Bridget and Fred affirmed together.

"That means that Fred, you're Blue One. Bridget, you're Blue Two. So now, if we need to warn Fred, we don't shout, 'Fred, behind you!' we say, 'Blue One, six!'"

Enthusiastic murmurs rumbled through the group.

"That might work," Casey said, his eyes intense as he mulled over the strategy.

Curtis snickered. "Uncle Casey is Pink One and Uncle Chuck is Pink Two."

"No way," Casey growled over the laughter. "I'm not Pink One. I'd rather take Martie's spot and be Lizzie's partner on Red Team." Staring at Chuck, he said, "And you could take Megan's place on Gold Team and be with your wife. I'm sure being on her team would make you go tingly all over."

Chuck grinned. "You have no idea how tingly that would make me."

While Sarah's response was a brilliant smile, the rest of the group responded with groaning and an "Ewwww" thrown in for good measure.

Still smiling, Chuck said, "Aw, come on, Casey. They'll never figure it out if you and I are Pink Team." Like waving a red cape in front of a bull, Chuck taunted, "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to be on Pink Team. Are you?"

Hushed "Ooooo"s rippled through the group while all eyes drifted in Casey's direction. His nostrils flared and he snorted like a bull about to charge. While glaring at Chuck, he growled to the whole team, "Let's beat these guys. Pink One has point."

~ O ~

Sarah's new communication strategy worked perfectly. During the second game, the Belgians were completely flummoxed and in disarray and the Bartowskis beat them easily. The third and final game of the first round was much closer, but in the end, the Bartowski Family Gamers emerged victorious.

While the first group of teams left the stations and the second group began to set up, a noticeably distraught Grote Maikel hurried over to Morgan who was talking with Sarah.

"We have a problem," he said, wringing his hands.

"Relax, Grote Maikel," Morgan said, patting the big man on the back. "Maybe I can help. What's up?"

"We haven't been able get everyone inside the store to watch the games. There just isn't enough room. And more and more people are stopping outside wanting to know what's going on. I want to accommodate them, but I'm not sure how."

"What about the Nerd Herd?" Morgan asked, glancing over his shoulder at two men sitting behind the counter. "Do they have any ideas?"

"No," he replied. "The just started. And I'm not sure they're... prepared to help."

Sarah looked at the Nerds staffing the desk. The smaller man with the stick straight dark hair looked bored as he played with a stapler. The other man with crazy blond hair stared at his tie and mumbled to himself. She strongly suspected Grote Maikel was right. "Maybe you can set up a couple of TVs out on the sidewalk for people to watch," she suggested.

Both men mulled that idea over for a moment. "I think we could," Grote Maikel said. "All we need are stands and TVs. We'd have to run some cable. How fast do you think we could do it?"

Morgan shrugged. "It shouldn't take too long."

"Chuck could help," Sarah said. "I hear his exploits as the head of the A/V squad in high school are legendary."

Morgan nodded solemnly. "It's true. The man's a genius with a coax cable."

Sarah scanned the store but didn't see her husband. "Where is Chuck, anyway?" She didn't like not knowing where he was. Ever since Shaw had kidnapped Chuck after the tournament in Colorado, she liked to keep close tabs on him.

"He, ah, had an errand to run between rounds," Morgan said, eyes averted.

She immediately tensed. "He went by himself?"

"Oh, no. He took Bridget with him." At her scowl, he leaned closer to her and said in a low voice, "Vegas went, too."

She put her hands on her hips and stared down her nose at him. "Morgan, where did they go?"

"I can't say," he said, shaking his head furiously. "I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Morgan. I want your intel."

He ran pinched fingers across his lips as if zipping them closed.

"Fine, I'll just use the tracker on his phone," she said, her eyes flashing. She started to reach for her bag on the floor.

"Please, Sarah. Don't do that," he said, pleading with her. "Don't ruin this for him."

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't know what Chuck was up to, but she trusted Morgan. "Okay," she said softly.

Pulling out his phone, he said while he typed, "I'll send him a quick text and ask him how much longer he'll be." After touching the send button, he looked to Grote Maikel and said, "In the meantime, we can get the stands, TVs and cables together."

A happy and relieved smile appeared on the manager's face as the two rushed off. They enlisted the Nerd Herders at the desk to carry things—the little guy actually wasn't much help and only carried cables—and by the time Chuck, Bridget and Vegas returned, they were ready for Chuck to work his magic.

Once Chuck had run the cables, he was on his hands and knees laying gaffer's tape over them and pressing it to the floor to keep people from tripping over them. Sarah knelt down next to him. "You are quite the sexy A/V squad guy. I love what you're doing with that tape."

Sitting back on his heels, he gave her his best smolder and loudly ripped a long strip of tape from the roll. "You betcha, baby. You love me with tape? You should see what I can do with cable ties."

Laughing, she said, "Promise?"

He bounced his eyebrows at her and went back to work.

"So, we looked for you earlier but Morgan said you went out. Is everything okay?"

Without looking up, he continued dressing the cables. "Yup. Everything's fine. What, ah, exactly did he tell you?"

"He withstood my interrogation pretty well. Only that Bridget was with you on some kind of errand."

"Didn't bring out Sting, huh?" Sarah rolled her eyes. Her husband—much to her exasperation and amusement—had recently named her knives Sting, Excalibur, Gryffindor and The Nasty Knife. "We had something we had to do."

"That's what I keep hearing. Was it successful? The errand I mean. Did you do whatever it was you had to do?"

"Yup."

"Good." She paused and then huffed at her bangs when she saw her husband fighting back a grin. "Well, if you need my help, just ask."

"Mm-hmm." He reached the end of the cables and laid down the last bit of tape. Standing up, he put out his hand for her to take. When she placed her hand in his, he pulled her up from the floor and into his arms. He left her completely weak kneed after he kissed her and whispered in her ear, "I'll remember that. Now, let's play some Call of Duty."

In no time, he had everything else hooked up and fired up. The outside crowd cheered and immediately started watching the games that were currently being contested.

In the second round, the Bartowskis faced one of the Dutch teams. That team had been spectators during the first round and during that time, deciphered the "code" of team colors and numbers the Bartowskis had used. With this advantage, the Dutch team won the first game. Facing elimination, Team Bartowski went into the second game determined to win, but also well aware that they could be out of the contest at the end of the game.

While the remaining Belgian team and the Luxembourgers battled each other, the Americans and Dutch began their second game. A thrum of anticipation ran through the crowd as the game commenced. From the very start, all eyes—not only those of the spectators inside, but those of the ever-increasing crowd outside—concentrated on the screens as the two teams worked to gain an advantage over each other.

As the two evenly matched teams battled, it was clear it was going to be a long and difficult fight. That was until a middle-aged woman, her eyes ablaze and her face thunderous, charged into the store and headed straight to two of the younger members of the Dutch team. Both games were paused and an eerie silence fell as the stunned team members and audience watched the woman—clearly the young men's mother—chew them out in a torrent of rapidly spoken Dutch. The boys' faces flamed red with embarrassment as they withstood the brunt of the storm that was their mother's ire. It was a surprise to no one when the brothers looked at each other in defeat and then wordlessly put down their controllers, picked up their rucksacks and with bowed heads and gazes fixed on the floor in front of them, followed their mother from the store.

It was a full thirty seconds before the shocked silence was broken by hushed whispers. The noise level of the store began to return to normal as people started to talk amongst themselves about the rather astonishing incident they had just witnessed.

Unsure how to proceed now that two members of the Dutch team were gone, the tournament officials called for a conference between themselves and each team's captain. Chuck immediately offered to have two of his team sit out so they would be evenly matched, but the Dutch team initially refused. Eventually however, the teams agreed to play with reduced numbers. Much to Bridget's and Curtis' dismay, they had to sit out the rest of the game. The embarrassment and upheaval had apparently rattled the Dutch team because it quickly went down to defeat. The final game was left uncontested when a further analysis of the rules indicated that each team had to have at least seven players. Even though the Bartowski Family Gamers were willing to play the final game with six members on each team, the final decision was made by the officials that the Dutch team had to be disqualified. The Bartowskis were in the championship round.

The Luxembourgers beat the Belgians in two straight games and would meet the Americans in the final. The Bartowskis hadn't had a chance to watch the Luxembourger team play, so they had no idea what their strengths, weaknesses or strategies were. Hoping to find an edge, Sarah covertly listened in as they spoke with each other.

She knew her geography of the region well and that Germany, France and Belgium bordered the tiny duchy. However, she quickly realized the language the Luxembourgers spoke amongst themselves wasn't French, German or Dutch. Listening closely, she could hear traces of all three mixed into a whole new language. A quick Google search informed her that her ear was right. What she was hearing them speak was Luxembourgish, a language that was basically a German dialect with French and Dutch words thrown in. Smiling to herself, she thought back to the linguistic classes she took at Harvard and the intensive language acquisition programs she'd completed at the CIA. Luxembourgish was not high on the list of languages her bosses had insisted she learn.

During the meeting before the first game, Sarah said, "I think we need to do what we did in the first round. We use names and directions in the first game and then switch to team colors and numbers during the second. Try to keep them off balance."

"You didn't get any intel from listening in on them?" Casey asked.

"No, and I think that's one of the reasons why they're doing so well. No one understands what any of them are saying."

Amy, who had joined the briefing, said, "It's too bad you're not from Glasgow. People from there always complain how no one can understand them and they're speaking English. I can hardly understand them and I'm Scottish."

Laughing, Chuck said, "That would certainly level the playing field language-wise, wouldn't it?"

"We always tell everyone Uncle Casey's from Texas, maybe we could all drawl," Lisa said, drawing out the final words of the sentence.

"As fun and entertaining as that would be," Chuck replied with a chuckle, "I think we need to do what Aunt Sarah suggested. They've played the same time we have every round, so they haven't heard our signals or strategies."

"Which means we haven't seen them play, either," Lizzie pointed out.

Chuck shrugged. "We play our game and see what happens." And that's what they did. The Bartowskis played the first game and squeaked out a win. The second game was just as close, only it was won by the Luxembourgers.

"This could go either way," Casey said during their final briefing. "It seems like they have an answer for everything we throw at them." There were murmurs of agreement rustling through the group.

"I've been watching them closely and noticed some things," Amy spoke up. "I'm sure you would have noticed these things, too, if you weren't so busy trying not to get shot yourself. Do you mind if I tell you about them?"

"Are you kidding?" Sarah answered. "Please do. We can use all the help we can get."

Amy smiled slyly and dropped her voice. "Right-o. Well, their overall strategies are really good, but there are times when several of their players lose their concentration and get sloppy on the little things." The redhead dipped her head. "Don't all turn at once, but you see the tall blond lad in the grey t-shirt?" Taking turns, they glanced over at the young man in question. "When he moves into a new area, he tends to stand still when he's checking it out. If someone stays on him, you can take him out. Boom."

"What else?" Fred asked, hanging on her every word. He was sitting so far forward in his seat Sarah thought he was going to slip off and flop on his butt.

"The bloke in the ugly blue striped stocking cap?" She shook her head with disgust. "Seriously! Why is he wearing that? It's almost summer!"

"I know, right?" Lizzie said.

"He shouldn't wear it in the winter, either," Bridget added, scrunching her nose.

"Anyway," Curtis said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, when he's in a dead run, he never checks before going around a corner."

Several sets of eyebrows shot up at that tidbit of information.

"And the guy in plaid shorts is always the one they send to guard the flag. And he always guards it from a window."

"So, Amy. Can you quit your job and come travel Europe with us and be our scout?" Lisa asked with a smile.

She chuckled. "That would be fun, wouldn't it?"

Fred grinned and his knee bounced with excitement. "Let's go play and beat these guys!"

And that's exactly what they did. Using the intel Amy had given them, they exploited the other team members' lapses in fundamentals and swiftly crippled their opponents. The last game turned out to be the easiest victory they'd achieved all day.

The American fans, many of which had stayed and cheered them on throughout the whole tournament, were loud and enthusiastic in their celebrations. After the awards ceremony, one of the Americans—a large balding man whom Sarah would later find out was named Crazy Bob—shouted over the din, "Hey everyone! Let's go over to that square—"

"Leidseplein," his wife patiently informed him.

"Yeah, what she said and find a place to celebrate!"

Another wholehearted cheer rose from the Americans. Sarah's questioning glance sent Chuck's way was returned with a shrug.

"It could get a little crazy," she nearly shouted in his ear over the din.

"Yeah, it might," he replied. "I think it'll be okay, but if it starts getting out of hand, we can just leave. Martie and Megan are going to get tired pretty soon and if Megan gets over-stimulated…"

Sarah's eyes widened as they both glanced to where Megan was currently jumping up and down with excitement. The memory of last Halloween suddenly invaded Sarah's brain. The mania that had overtaken their youngest that night still haunted her. Between the parade through the school her kindergarten class had participated in, the sheer excitement of getting to dress up as a spy and actually go out in public, and trick or treating, Megan was so hyper by the end of the evening, Sarah wasn't sure the little girl would ever recover. She knew they were in trouble when she'd strapped the fake knives on the little spy's ankle before going out trick-or-treating. Megan had literally vibrated with excitement. She'd waited all day to wear them since they weren't allowed at school, and once they were on, it was like she had been launched into orbit. By they time they'd returned home, she was beyond hope. All Sarah and Chuck were able to do was to work to contain the damage Megan could have done to herself and others until she crashed and burned. After a warm bath and Sarah reading her seven chapters of The Tale of Despereaux, she finally fell asleep.

"I think it might be smart for both of us to keep a close eye. If we see her starting to get too amped up—"

"—we'll take her back to the apartment," Chuck finished for her.

"If she gets too hyper, I'll just read to her again." Her eyes danced with amusement when she leaned closer to him and said in his ear, "I'll borrow one of your dense fantasy books. The one with all the epic poetry. That's sure to knock her out."

"You wound me and my choice of reading material deeply, Mrs. Bartowski," he retorted. His attempted scowl at her dig was an abject failure, especially when he reached out and tickled her waist. In a flash, they stood toe-to-toe, his arm twisted up behind his back, her hand gently yet firmly clamped over his wrist and her lips on his in a playful kiss.

"God, you're hot," he breathed when she released him from the kiss, but not from their unorthodox yet intoxicating embrace. "I love being married to a ninja."

Sarah waggled her eyebrows at him in response and went in for another kiss.

They grinned against each other's lips when they overheard Amy say to Fred, "Oi! Your uncle and aunt are really…um…quite openly affectionate, aren't they?"

A booming "Ha!" escaped from Fred while Lizzie answered with a grin, "You have no idea."

The kiss ended and Sarah moved her lips to Chuck's ear. "That reminds me. We need to talk to Martie and Megan about being careful about what they say in front of Amy."

"Good thinking," he said. Reluctantly, she released his wrist and turned to stand next to him. Happily, his arm found its way back to her waist and they stood with their arms around each other as they returned their attention to what was going on around them.

Lizzie and Lisa approached the team captain of the rather glum looking Luxembourg team. Lizzie said to him, "You should come. To Leidseplein. You should come."

Surprised, he looked up from the bag he was packing up and said, "Yes?"

"Yeah, all of you should," Lisa said, gesturing to the whole team. The remaining Dutch and Belgian teams who were also preparing to leave looked over at the girls hopefully.

Lizzie smiled and said, "You should come, too. All of you. It'll be fun."

The gamers grinned and worked quickly to finish packing up their belonging.

"Oh boy," Chuck grumbled. "Did you see the looks on those guys' faces when Lizzie and Lisa invited them to come along?"

"I did," Sarah said. "I'm hoping they took it in the spirit I'm sure it was intended, as a friendly invitation. Although I'm working under the assumption they didn't." Blowing out a breath, she said, "We need a plan."

"A plan? For what?"

"Keeping track of all the kids. Even if we tell them to stay right with us, there still are so many people around, it would be easy to lose track of one or more of them."

"Even if we all sit together at dinner?"

"We may not be able to sit together. My guess is that a lot of these places to eat are pretty small. We both know how hard it is to get a big table for a family our size. In most places, it won't even be possible."

He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're probably right."

She spotted Casey and Vegas conferring a short distance away. She shouted their names and waved them over to join her and Chuck. Frowning around the unlit cigar in his mouth, Casey instructed Vegas to follow him with a jerk of his head. "What's got your undies in a bunch, Walk—" He glanced around. "Walker?" he asked as they approached.

Ignoring his comment, she called Morgan over to join them as well. When they were all assembled, she said, "I need to give you a quick sitrep. Lizzie and Lisa just invited thirty Dutch, Belgian and Luxembourg guys to come along when we go to Leidseplein. Martie and Megan have already had a busy day and could go from tired to hypersonic at any minute. Fred's 'girlfriend' has suddenly shown up. Curtis always needs eyes on him and Bridget could get lost in the shuffle. We need to make sure every kid is covered for the rest of the evening." It was too bad Barstow was on his way to Berlin. She could have used him.

"Ah hell, Walker," Casey grumbled, his face contorting into grimace. "I don't wanna hang around with these people all night. I was gonna go back to the apartment and relax. I found a copy of The Seven Samurai I was gonna watch."

"I'm sorry, Casey, but we need you to—"

Sarah was interrupted when Crazy Bob stood on a chair and shouted, "Okay everyone. Let's head out! There are a lot of places to eat and drink over there. FYI, I'll be at 'Pancake Corner.'"

Casey twisted around to look at Crazy Bob. "Did he just say 'Pancake Corner'?" he asked, turning back to the group.

"I believe he did," Chuck answered.

"I like pancakes," his demeanor changing from annoyance to interest. "I sometimes eat them as a late night snack."

Vegas spoke up for the first time. "I hear they have some pretty good ribs, too. All you can eat."

"Ribs and pancakes," Casey mused, chewing on his stogie. "Okay, I'll help. For the kids, of course," he said, puffing up his chest with magnanimity.

Sarah held back a smirk, lowered her eyes to the floor and dipped her head. "Of course."

Looking at the protection team, she said, "There are eight kids, counting Amy, and five of us, so we can't cover them one-on-one. Fred and Amy will be together, so one of us can cover both of them." She held up one finger. "With all the guys around, I think Lizzie and Lisa each need their own person on them." She put up two more fingers. "Megan and Martie are always together," she said putting up another finger. She heaved an irritated sigh. "We have still have Bridget and Curtis and only one adult."

Chuck's eyes were pinned on her, and she could see his mind coming up with a solution. "We tell Lizzie and Lisa that have to stay together, no matter what. Casey, they're your responsibility. After the way you handled Brock Thornton at Lizzie's prom, you're the man for the job."

Casey stood tall, threw his shoulders back and growled with determination, "Roger that."

"Lars, you take Fred and Amy. I'm not even sure Amy knows you're part of our group, and Fred's head is so far up in the clouds, he wouldn't notice you if you dressed like Batman and walked right up to him."

"Excellent usage of nerd imagery," Morgan said.

"Thank you," Chuck replied with a smile.

"Affirmative," Vegas said, "I have the Doctor and Amy."

After the agent made his statement, heads tilted and funny looks were exchanged. Shaking it off, Chuck said, "Morgan, do you want to keep an eye on Bridget or Curtis?"

"You know how much I love my girl, but I'm totally up for keeping it real with my boy Bronco tonight," Morgan crowed while slapping a high-five with Chuck.

Sarah gave Morgan a look. "What's the deal with the nicknames? Doctor, Bronco…" She thought for a moment and then narrowed her eyes, "Enforcer." She only grew more determined as she watched Morgan, Casey and Vegas clammed up and stared at her blankly. "I will get to the bottom of this," she warned them. Morgan gulped while the two trained agents didn't flinch. Morgan's the weak link. I'll get to him later. A flash of Sting should do the trick.

Getting the conversation back on track, Chuck said, "I'll cover Bridget while Sarah takes Martie and Megan. There, everyone's covered."

"And it also means you have the three youngest, who will all stay together anyway, so you and your wife can be together and make googly-eyes at each other."

"Yes, Casey," Chuck said dryly. "I will be both tingly and googly-eyed and not pay any attention to our children."

"That's what I figured," Casey shot back with a smirk. "I'm just going for the pancakes and ribs."

Chuck smiled and started to raise his hand like he was going to give Casey a friendly clap on the back. Apparently reconsidering the idea, he shoved it in his pocket instead.

The kids finished picking up their belonging and wandered over to where the adults were. By then, most of the spectators had left for Leidseplein but unsurprisingly, all the gaming teams were still there, obviously waiting to walk with Lizzie and Lisa. Sarah was never more grateful for her partner's protectiveness of the girls and his overall prickly disposition than she was just then.

Grote Maikel joined the group. "Thank you for a wonderful day," he said, nearly choking with emotion. "It was a privilege to be here with you."

Shaking the big man's hand, Chuck said, "It was an honor for us as well." He looked around the store and said, "We should really stay and help clean up."

"No," Grote Maikel answered. "I have employees who get paid for that.

"At least let us help bring in the equipment from outside," Sarah said.

"No, you have done so much for our store—and me—today. Go eat, drink and celebrate."

They all shook Grote Maikel's hand. "If you are ever in Amsterdam again…

With that, he walked toward the Nerd Herd desk, where the little guy with the straight hair was cleaning his fingernails with the corner of his identification badge and the guy with the crazy blond hair was… staring at his tie.

"I'm hungry. Let's go eat," Curtis said.

Morgan slung his arm over the boy's shoulder and said with a straight face, "I'm shocked, dude."

"Now, before we go, listen up," Chuck started. There were the immediate groans from the older kids. Ignoring their less than enthusiastic response, he continued, "There will be a lot of people down at Leidseplein and we don't want anyone wandering off. Stay with the group. But here's the deal. When we eat, we may not be able to sit at the same table. However, you will have at least one adult with you no matter where sit. Got it?"

They were serenaded with a chorus of halfhearted mumbles. Chuck looked down at his watch. "And don't let the fact that it's still light outside make you think it's earlier than it is. It's already seven-thirty. We're going to dinner, but we won't be out late."

"Ah, come on, Uncle Chuck," Fred said, his voice a hair's breadth from whining. "We won the tournament today. We should get stay out and celebrate."

As a group, the family moved toward the front doors of the store. The rest of the gamers followed them en masse. Sarah noticed that it was now virtually impossible to know which people were from which country. They were all chatting with each other in either Dutch or English with some smatterings of French.

"We are going out to celebrate," Sarah reminded her nephew in a firm voice.

"Besides, kid," Casey said with more than a hint of glee in his voice, "you and your brother have laundry to do tonight."

"Oh man!"Fred exclaimed with a grimace. "You're going to make me do that tonight?"

"That was the agreement," Chuck replied.

The large group started down the street. Sarah took Martie's hand with one hand and Megan's in the other. Chuck rested his hand on Bridget's shoulder, and Casey and Vegas walked a step or two behind their charges.

"But Amy's here," Fred said. The whine had fully invaded his voice this time.

"Maybe you can talk her into helping you," Lizzie said with a laugh.

Amy shook her head emphatically. "No way. I didn't fall in a canal. Although I might be talked into watching and commenting on your fluffing and folding skills."

The grin that came over Fred's face nearly split it in two. Sarah knew he was trying to control his excitement and keep it together, but there was a kind of pent-up energy that overtook his demeanor. She had the feeling that if he could, he would throw his fists victoriously into the air, run up and down the street and shout to the heavens, "She said she would watch me fold clothes!"

His petulance had completely disappeared when he said, "You're right, Uncle Chuck. That was the agreement. Folding clothes it is." The grin never left his face.

This time, it was Curtis' turn to release a tortured groan.

~ O ~

Sarah ran the wide-tooth comb through Megan's wet hair until it jerked to a stop when it encountered a tangle. Megan patiently walked Spy Barbie across the counter as her head pulled back and then popped forward over and over as Sarah gently worked at the snarl.

"Martie, you're going to turn into a prune if you stay in the bathtub much longer," Sarah said as the comb finally slipped from the top of Megan's head to the bottom of her long hair without encountering another knot.

"I like being a prune," Martie said with a giggle as she looked at her wrinkled fingertips. She held her pruney fingers out and wiggled them.

"Well, you can't sleep in the tub," Sarah said with a smile, "and it's getting late." Tossing the comb on the counter, she grabbed a towel off the rack and held it open. Martie stepped out over the side of the tub as her aunt enveloped her.

Megan picked up the comb from the counter and pretended to run it through Spy Barbie's long, blonde, synthetic hair. "Will Uncle Chuck be back to say goodnight to us?" she asked.

"Of course," Sarah replied. "He and Uncle Casey just went to the grocery store. They should be back in a few minutes."

"Why did they go? Did we run out of food already?" Martie asked from under the towel as Sarah rubbed her hair dry.

"Mm-hmm. Your brothers discovered hagelslag and ontbijtkoek. It all disappeared after they came back from McDonald's this morning."

"Boys sure eat a lot," Megan said, putting the comb back on the counter now that Spy Barbie's hair was perfect. "Did you see all the ribs Fred ate?"

"Yeah," Martie answered as she pulled her pajama top on over her head. "But I think Uncle Casey ate the most of everybody."

"He did eat an impressive amount of pancakes." Sarah gently maneuvered Martie to the same position in front of the counter Megan had been in a few minutes before. She started combing out the girl's brown "Bartowski" hair and said, "Pancakes and ribs. I'm not sure I've ever seen Uncle Casey so happy before."

"I'm not sure the boys who were trying to talk to Lizzie and Lisa thought he looked very happy," Martie said as she started to play with Sarah's eyelash curler.

"There were a couple of brave ones that sat at the table even though Uncle Casey was right there," Sarah said. Most of the young men hadn't even dared to approach the girls with their fearsome uncle right with them. They certainly looked nervous, but as Chuck and Sarah discussed from a few tables away, if those two young men were willing endure Casey's presence and scrutiny, they deserved the chance to talk to the girls.

"When we were walking back here, I heard Lizzie tell Amy that the boys that talked to them were really nice. They were from Luxerberg," Martie said.

The corners of Sarah's mouth lifted a tiny bit. "Close, sweetie. It's called Luxembourg."

"Luxembourg," her niece repeated, precisely forming each syllable. Looking up at Sarah in the mirror, she added, "Lisa said their names were Felix and Sebastian."

Megan, now perched cross-legged on top of the closed toilet lid asked, "How come they didn't come back here with us like Amy did?"

"We know Amy now. Besides, I'm not sure that apartment can hold many more people this evening," Sarah said, "especially with Lisa and Lizzie hanging out down there, too."

Martie's eyebrows drew together, clearly pondering something. Staring at the eyelash curler as she used both hands to open and close it she asked, "Do you think Fred will be able to talk Amy into helping him with the clothes?"

Laughing, Sarah said, "Nope. Not a chance. I don't think he'll ask, though." She ran the corner of the comb down the center of Martie's hair to make a part. "He and Curtis are doing their own clothes tonight. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want her looking at his underwear."

Megan scrunched her nose and grimaced. "She shouldn't touch them either. Ew." Martie involuntarily shuddered.

Smiling at their reactions, Sarah put the comb back on the counter and said, "All set." Cooler air rushed into the steamy bathroom when she opened the door. Taking a hand of each freshly scrubbed and pajama'd girl, they walked down the hall to the living room where Bridget was sitting at a corner of the couch, poring over a fashion magazine they'd picked up after dinner. "Are Fred and Amy gonna get married?" the littlest one finally asked.

Sarah managed to stifle a snort. "They're both a little too young to worry about that," she said, keeping her voice light. "They're friends."

Bridget let out a loud guffaw. "I'm not sure she'll want to be his friend after seeing him eat. It was like watching bunch of lions devouring a zebra. Between Fred, Curtis, Uncle Morgan and Agent Vegas all at the same table, I'm not sure how she was able to keep her food down." She shook her head. "Uncle Chuck and I heard them say later that they were having an eating contest. It was disgusting from a distance. I don't know how Amy could stand it sitting right there."

"Maybe she has brothers, too," Martie said, sitting down on the couch next to Bridget, "and know how they eat."

"Maybe she does," Sarah said, taking her place on the couch next to Martie. Megan curled up on her other side. She put her phone on the coffee table, picked up the book that sat there and leaned back. Propping her feet on the edge of the table, she dropped the book in her lap and opened it to the bookmarked page. "Let's see. Where were we?"

"Chester put the steak on top of Bunnicula who's asleep on the kitchen floor," Martie said.

"Right," Sarah said as she scanned the page to where they had left off.

Bridget closed her magazine and set it on the table. She drew her knees up and tucked her feet up under her, ready to listen.

Sarah began to read. "'He dragged the steak across the floor and laid it across the inert bunny. Then with his paws, he began to hit the steak.'

"'"Are you sure this is what they mean, Chester?"'

"'"Am I anywhere near his heart?" he asked.'

"'"It's hard to tell," I said. "All I can really see are his nose—"'"

She stopped reading when a key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Chuck stepped through with an armload of groceries and kicked it closed with his foot. "Hello, ladies. It's story time I see." He went straight for the kitchen to set his load on the counter.

"Here, let me help you," Sarah said, replacing the bookmark and sitting forward, ready to stand up.

"Nope, you stay right there and read. I've got this," he said. She heard sound of items being placed on the counter and the refrigerator door opening and closing.

Happy to comply, she leaned back again and re-opened the book. "'"It's hard to tell," I said. "All I can really see are his nose and his ears. You know, he's really sort of cute."'

"'Chester was—'" She was interrupted this time by the menacing strains of "The Imperial March" coming from her phone.

She heaved a sigh and said, "I'm sorry, girls. I need to answer this."

"It's okay, Aunt Sarah," Megan said. "We understand." Her sisters nodded.

Nodding her thanks, she picked up the phone, stood and put it to her ear. "Good evening, Director Graham."

"Good evening, Agent Walker," came the response. "I need a few minutes of your time. I received your report and I need to discuss a few things with you."

Her stomach tightened. She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

"Of course, sir," she said, catching Chuck's eye as he came from the kitchen and mouthing, "Graham." He pointed at himself and raised his eyebrows in question. "Do you need to speak with both Chuck and me?" she asked.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary."

When she shook her head at her husband and then pointed toward their bedroom, he responded with a thumbs up. He took her place on the couch and picked up the book. As she climbed the stairs and closed the door behind her, she heard Chuck read, "'Chester was getting that glint in his eyes again. He was pounding away at the steak—'"

Sarah walked over to her side of the bed and propped her back against the pillows. "I hope everything is in order," she said. Her mind whirled as she thought about the report she'd submitted the night before. She'd written it after her and Chuck's hot session in the bedroom, and while her brain had been slightly muddled, she was sure she hadn't written, "Sarah 'hearts' Chuck" or "Chuck Bartowski's a stud." While both statements were true, she knew she had kept enough awareness to keep the report professional.

"Yes, it is," Graham said. "First, I want to congratulate you, Major Casey and Mr. Bartowski on securing the bioweapon. Scientists are already working on it to learn who developed it and to find ways to neutralize this new version of it."

"I'm glad to hear that, sir. And Goya?"

"News of his capture is filtering its way through the international community. We are watching Costa Gravas closely and expect Victor Lazaro to reveal himself soon. The balance of power should shift soon after."

"Understood. What about Ugarte? Do we know what happened to him? Or the money?"

"We haven't recovered the money nor do we expect to. As for Ugarte, he was found the next morning about two miles downstream from the bridge he jumped from. He had a bullet in his brain."

She sucked in a breath. "Director, I didn't do that. I never fired a shot at him. I was hoping the authorities would find him alive and question him. I'm sure he had more information on Benoit than he was willing to give me on the bridge."

"Which is why he's dead. We're sure one of Benoit's people 'plugged that leak' as it were."

Sarah blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry, Director. We don't seem to be getting any closer to finding Benoit." Or Chuck's parents for that matter, she thought.

"On the contrary, Agent Walker, the information Mr. Gautier gave you regarding Benoit's shell corporation is the most promising lead we've had in some time. Our analysts are working with it as we speak."

"I'm glad to hear that," she said.

"We also received the software patch Mr. Bartowski wrote for Project Sun Ray. Please tell your husband that it is being deployed immediately."

"I'll tell him. He'll be pleased and relieved." That reminded her of something. "Has Trevor Kingston been located? Did Fletcher give him up?"

"No, unfortunately, Kingston hasn't been apprehended. Fletcher has not been very cooperative with MI-6."

That bit of news didn't surprise her. "I was hoping they would be able to arrest him so he wouldn't keep targeting Sun Ray."

"MI-6 is confident they'll eventually be able to persuade Fletcher to cooperate. However, since you and Agent Chalmers worked together in capturing Fletcher and Androkos, and in the spirit of cooperation and international relations, MI-6 has agreed to allow us to 'interview' Mr. Fletcher in a week or so if he hasn't." He paused for effect and then said, "The specter of Guantanamo Bay tends to put people into a more compliant mood."

"I'm sure," she said. She still wondered if there was a connection between Benoit and Kingston since Benoit's thumb drives had been encrypted so that Project Sun Ray wouldn't work on them. It was frustrating. Benoit's name and influence seemed to be everywhere, but the man himself was practically invisible.

"Do you have any contacts to make in Amsterdam?" Graham asked.

"Unfortunately, no. Agent Chalmers promised to keep his ears open regarding Benoit, so I'll be contacting him in a day or two to see if he has anything for me."

"Very good. And of course, we'll contact you if we get any new information."

"Yes, sir."

"Finally—"

Uh-oh. Here it comes.

"I must admit that I wasn't very happy when General Beckman came to me before the Paris mission with Major Casey's specs and learned that Mr. Bartowski—an informally trained 'agent' and the Agency's best cryptographer—was to be included by running ops from the van. At the time, she assured me that Major Casey would not have allowed him to be part of the team unless he deemed it critical to the success of the mission. Reflecting on my own knowledge of how protective you are of your husband, I knew you wouldn't put him in a position where he could be injured. Reluctantly, I gave my permission. Now, after reading your report—and the one submitted by Major Casey to General Beckman—I can now freely admit I'm glad I did. His computer expertise was clearly a huge benefit and I commend his quick thinking and bravery when confronted with a hostile situation. Please pass on along to him my compliments and regards."

Sarah blinked a couple of times and fought the urge to pull the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. "Thank you, sir. I'll be sure and tell him." She swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. "I'm really proud of him, too," she said, her voice softening.

"As you should be. Now, do you have anything for me before I head off for my meeting?" the director asked.

"No, sir. I think we've covered everything."

"Alright, then, Agent Walker. Let me know what you hear from Agent Chalmers in couple of days." And with that, the call ended.

She dropped the phone on the bed. As excited as she was to tell Chuck how pleased Graham was with him and his work during the mission, she was more eager to show how proud she was of him.

~ O ~

Sarah sat with her back against her pillow, her legs bent under the covers of the bed and a book propped open on her lap. She had read the same paragraph four times, but she still didn't know what it said. The image of the excitement and pride on their girls' faces when she told them and Chuck what Director Graham had said about him kept invading her mind. At the news, the girls had squealed with delight, thrown their arms around his neck and kissed his cheeks. Megan was particularly impressed and had solemnly intoned that "Uncle Chuck was a real spy now, too." When Lizzie and Lisa heard the news after returning to the apartment, they grinned and hugged him as well. It had taken a while after that to get everyone calmed down and in bed, but the girls had finally settled in for the night.

Concentrating on the page, she started the paragraph again. She only made it through the first sentence before she started to wonder what was taking Chuck so long in the bathroom. Sighing, she closed the book and put it on the nightstand. She was about to throw back the covers and go look for him when she heard his bare feet pad up the steps and toward their room.

Her eyes widened when he walked into the room with a grin on his face and a tray in his hands. He put the tray on the bed, turned back to the door and closed and locked it. "Just like home," he said, sitting down on the bed next to her. "They can knock."

"Chuck, where did you get…" Her words drifted away. She was completely mesmerized as she watched him pick up a champagne bottle and fill two tall flutes on the tray. In the quiet, she could hear it effervesce. He handed one flute to her, which she accepted with a smile. A sweet tone hung in the air when he touched his glass to hers. Their eyes locked as they sipped the bubbly. The dry, slightly sweet drink was delicious and she already felt almost giddy as the bubbles danced across her tongue.

"What's the occasion?" she asked before taking another sip.

He shrugged. "Who knows what the next city's sleeping arrangements will be? I'm going to take advantage of having a room to ourselves and celebrate of every moment I have alone with you."

His voice was so sincere, his face so open, his words so heartfelt, she could barely breathe. Her eyes filled as she leaned into him and gave him a gentle kiss. "You're so sweet and I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too." He smiled and said, "Are you ready for a treat?"

She nodded eagerly and took a deep breath as he pulled the tray closer. The sweet aroma of ripe strawberries filled the air. "Strawberries and Nutella. I wanted to get chocolate covered strawberries, but the store didn't have any," he bounced his eyebrows for emphasis, "so I improvised."

"I like how you think outside the box," she said, eyeing the fruit and chocolate spread. "I hope Lizzie doesn't mind if we eat some of her Nutella."

"We can always get more. Ready to experiment?"

An eyebrow arched.

He jerked and sat up straight. "Oh! Erm, that didn't sound right, did it?" he said, his face flushing crimson.

"You're almost the same color as the strawberries," she said with a chuckle. Taking pity on him, she laid a hand on the side of his face and said, "I'm ready."

He smiled and slumped with relief. Scooting back so that he was sitting next to her against the pillows, she could see him brimming with excitement. "Taste experiments is what I meant." He picked up a strawberry and held it for her to bite. Her gaze held his as she wrapped her lips around the fruit and bit down. The sweetness of the strawberry exploded in her mouth and she couldn't help but let out a happy moan.

His eyes danced with delight at her reaction. Wordlessly, he ate the rest of the strawberry and dropped the green, leafy stem on the tray. "Strawberry au naturel is our control."

She couldn't stop the smile that came at his nerdy enthusiasm. How he continued to be more and more adorable, she didn't know. But he never ceased to be. "Okay. What's next?" she asked.

He took another strawberry from the bowl and held it up for her to bite. "This time, take a sip of champagne and see if it changes the flavor of either or both."

She did as instructed. "The strawberry changed," she said. Smiling, she snatched it from Chuck's fingers before he could eat it, and finished it off with more champagne following. "I had to be sure."

He schooled his features and nodded with mock solemnity. "It's good to be thorough." He took his turn experimenting with the same combination. "You're right. It changes the fruit."

"Now," he said, unscrewing the lid from the Nutella jar and picking up the spoon from the tray, "we change a variable."

Their champagne glasses were empty, so Sarah picked up the bottle and refilled each while Chuck dipped the spoon into the gooey hazelnutty chocolate and scooped out a glob. He slathered it on a strawberry and offered it to her. She eagerly bit it. It was incredible. Her eyes widened at the sheer wonderfulness of the melding of textures and flavors. "It's better than regular chocolate," she said, taking the spoon from his fingers to add another dollop of Nutella before she finished the rest of the berry.

Now that she had the spoon, she picked up another piece of fruit from the bowl and covered it. When she held it to his lips, he smiled and ate it all in one bite. As he chewed, his eyes rolled back and he groaned with pleasure. "I think we have a winner."

She nodded slowly and gazed at the little blob of Nutella on his lip. "You have a little…" She gently swept her thumb across the bit of chocolate. When she licked it off her thumb with her tongue, Chuck stilled and stared, blinking rapidly.

With a wicked glint in her eye, she scooped more spread from the jar and swiped the glob onto her finger from the spoon. She closed her lips around her finger and held it there.

The rapid blinking stopped, but the staring continued. She slowly slid the finger from her mouth, her eyes on her husband the entire time.

Trancelike, he slowly raised his finger to the corner of his mouth and mumbled, "You have a little…"

"Could you get it for me?"

There was an almost imperceptible nod as he moved his finger toward her lip.

"Mmm-mmmm," she hummed, shaking her head a tiny bit.

His Adam's apple slid up and down his throat when he gulped. "Wha—?"

In a sultry voice, she said, "Think outside the box."

He seemed to come to his senses when a little smile appeared. Slowly, he moved his face closer to hers. Her breath hitched when the tip of his tongue played at the corner of her mouth. This time, it was her turn to go completely still.

Never moving away from her, Chuck blindly shifted his hand around until it touched the Nutella jar and then stuck his finger inside. He traced the chocolate covered finger down her neck from just below her ear to her collarbone. "You have a little…" he mumbled against her lips. She let her head fall to the side to give him better access as his tongue trailed up and down her neck.

Heart hammering away in her chest, she reached out toward the tray and nearly knocked over one of the champagne flutes. Her hand landed in the bowl of strawberries and taking one, she dipped it directly into the jar of gooey chocolate heaven. As she used it like a paintbrush over Chuck's skin, she said, "We're going to need to buy Lizzie a new jar of Nutella."

~ O ~

An annoying, far away noise crept its way into Sarah's sleep. It dragged her into unwilling consciousness, especially when the wakefulness was accompanied by that special kind of headache that came with a little too much champagne. She just wished the irritating ringing would stop. Through the fog in her brain, she realized it was a phone. Eyes still firmly squeezed shut, she rolled away from Chuck and threw a hand on the nightstand. She accidently knocked her book onto the floor before her hand settled on top of her phone. Tipping the screen toward her, she pried one eye open and was surprised to see that it didn't show anything.

Dropping the phone back on the nightstand, she rolled back toward Chuck and flopped an arm across his chest. "Chuck, answer your phone," she said, her voice raspy with sleep.

She felt him roll away from her slightly and then heard things falling over on his nightstand as he searched unseeing for his phone. He rolled back toward her and dropped his hand on her arm. "It's not my phone."

The haze started to fade quickly, particularly when she lifted her head up to look at him and her brain bounced around against her skull. Her eyes completely open now, she said, "If it's not either one of our phones, then where is that ringing coming from?" She sat up and moved her head around, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. She realized it was coming from the corner of the bedroom. Squinting in that direction, she saw in the early morning light the chair where her purse and clothes were strewn. Throwing the sheets back, she slid out of bed, padded across the room and stood in front of the chair. As the ringing continued, she picked up pieces of clothing and dropped them to the floor. Grabbing her purse, she lifted it to her ear and listened. The ringing got louder.

She walked back to the bed and sat down, the purse set in front of her. She started lifting things out of the bag and tossing them on the bed. The main compartment was empty and the ringing continued. Scowling, she opened the side pocket that she rarely used since it only contained a couple of notepads and some pens. When she looked inside, in the corner was a small, cheap flip phone.

She could feel her shoulders tighten as she lifted the ringing phone from her purse. What the hell? Chuck, now also fully awake, sat up. "Sarah, what is it?"

They both stared at the strange phone—still incessantly ringing—lying in the palm of her hand.