A/N Wasn't sure I'd get this done in time. This is a very difficult episode to redo, and I had a lot of personal running about over the weekend, which is normally when I'd be writing this.

"Talk to me, Bartowski."

"Call me Sandra."

"He calls it a Governor."

"Manoosh?"

When the phone rang, Vivian answered it with a smile on her face, but that didn't last long. In fact, the longer the call went on, the less of a smile it became. "Thank you," she said at last. "It was a fine effort, although it appears Fate has intervened. I will await your next report." She hung up, her eyes cold and hard, but not for her team. "Mr. Decker?" she called, leaving her suite.

"Yes, what is it?" said Decker from his rooms, where he was going over the latest operational reports, making slight adjustments to their timetable.

She marched in and positioned herself before his desk, adopting a neutral stance. He turned away from his machines, clasped his hands on the desktop and gave her his full attention.

"You are aware that there was a gas leak in Agent McHugh's rooms today?" said Vivian.

"That's terrible," said Decker in a most unconvincing tone. "I do hope she's all right."

Vivian was convinced, but not necessarily of that. "Do you, Mr. Decker? And why might that be?"

He sat back in his chair. "Well, it would spoil our bet if she died of natural causes, wouldn't it?"

Technically, no, but she knew that he knew that. "A gas leak into her bedroom would hardly be natural causes." Nor would it be the work of a professional's professional. 'Death by misadventure' was not something such a person would want to see on a coroner's report, unless their name happened to be 'Misadventure'.

Decker nodded off-handedly, yielding the point. "Not the leak, but the gas certainly."

"It's the leak I'm concerned about. That early in the day, with the target out and about, it served no one's purposes."

Decker nodded. "As accidents go, it was singularly ill-timed," he said, adopting her formal manner of speech. "As ploys go, it was very much in the classic vein." He dropped the mockery. "Or it would have been, if it had been deployed correctly. By whoever."

Whomever, you cretin. Vivian ignored the unspoken insinuation. Of course her men had deployed it correctly, or attempted to, at any rate, but the early strike, if it was an early strike, against Agent McHugh was bound to fail. "This makes things harder for both of us. At worst, she'll be on her guard now."

"That's true," said Decker.

"At the very least she won't be sleeping in that room for a few days. This complicates things immeasurably."

"I completely agree," said Decker.

"I shall be very much put out if this 'innocent accident' turns to have been anything but."

Decker raised a hand, two fingers extended. "Scout's honor."

Meanwhile, at the Casa de Woodcombe…

"…and we breathe in as we lower the baby to our chest," said Devon, taking a deep cleansing breath, "And we blow it back out again as we lift her back up again."

Ellie sat and watched as her husband did his baby-yoga exercises. "Wow, Devon, you really got into all that mommy-and-me stuff, didn't you?"

"You bet," he said casually. "I could do this forever." Then he realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to. "Uh, I mean, Clara's a rad yogi, way more grounded than those other babies, it really wasn't fair to them to have her in the class."

"Uh-huh," said Ellie with a smile. The phone rang, so she left him to his playtime and went to see who needed her now. Probably Manoosh, the poor kid was lost without his video. Sure enough, the caller ID said it was the lab. "Hey, Manoosh…Sarah? What are you doing in the lab?...Protect Chuck from what? Why would he even be there? Of course, silly me not to think of that, but–? An assassin? Why?"

Devon looked over to her and decided to take a break from his baby-lifting. Ellie noticed him stand up and gestured imperatively at the TV. "Yeah, we're turning it on now, but that was like, last night! Yeah? Yeah, that does make sense. What was Mom doing there?" Ellie pinched her nose, and closed her eyes, just listening, until…"You did an upload without my authorization? Whose idea was that?...Yeah, sounds like something I'd get from a committee…So did you at least get something good out of it? Not Chuck, well, that sounds like good news to–Alex? And you sent Manoosh after her? No! He can't leave the lab! What it is with you people always leaving the lab when I tell you not to? Well of course Chuck can't leave, that's another reason why Manoosh had to stay. Now I have to come in, or I don't know, maybe I should just leave all of you trapped there for a few days." She moved to get her coat, blowing a kiss to her baby and making an 'ugh' face to her husband. "No, of course I was kidding…"

Back in her office, Vivian Volkoff answered her phone, and listened to her underling's report, her expression becoming more like a smile with every word. "Excellent."

Anyway, back at the restaurant…

"Manoosh?" said Morgan, shaking his head. "I don't have anyone on my wait staff named Manoosh."

"What are you doing here?" asked Alex, taking a look out the door into the main room.

"I just told you, Chuck sent me, I mean Agent Charles did."

"You call Agent Charles 'Chuck'?" asked Alex.

"It's a…complicated relationship," said Manoosh, setting down his tray. "I really work for his sister, but we're like family, really."

Family. "Wait, you're Manoosh?" asked Morgan.

Now that she was out of his office, Clyde Decker checked his latest messages. "Excellent."

Manoosh spared the bearded troll a glance. "Yeah."

Morgan stood up and lunged across the table. "Let me shake your hand, sir," he said loudly. Manoosh stuck out his hand automatically, and Morgan grabbed hold. "Thank you so much for being there when Alex needed you." He pumped Manoosh's hand up and down, while Manoosh tried hard to pull it away. "Anytime you want, you come in here and it's all on me." He let go of Manoosh's hand and pointed. "Oo, better yet! Free crab cakes for life! You name it, anything you want."

Manoosh looked at Alex. "Is he always like this?"

She blushed, looking adorably shy. "He loves me…"

Manoosh saw the way she looked at the tro–Morgan, knowing she'd never look at him that way. "Yeah." He saved her life, and she was properly grateful for that. He might have been her hero, but he wasn't her boyfriend, and never would be.

"My advice," said Alex, softly, "Take the crab cakes. They're really good."

He knew that, he'd had one once. "Um…okay."

"Done and done!" said Morgan. He looked back and forth between them. "Now, what's all this about Chuck?"

Right. Mission. Manoosh pointed at Alex. "There's an assassin, and Chuck says he's coming for her." He turned his head to look at Alex. "I mean, for you–"

Behind him someone tapped on the panel. "Your wine, sir?"

The progress bar on the monitor reached 100% as the watch face blinked green twice. "It's done, Chuck," said Sarah, as Mary set about disconnecting all the wires that fed new instructions into the Governor.

"Very good," said Graboid. "Get that to Manoosh ASAP."

The doors were already swinging behind Mary as she left. "Your mother's on her way," said Sarah. She sat at a console and made a call. "Casey? I need surveillance on the lab. Chuck's loaded up and I have to stay until either Ellie gets here or Manoosh gets back, to do the download and open the door." Until then her husband was a sitting duck. "Briefing to follow."

"Roger that," said her partner. "I'll mobilize Archer, too."

"What is this with the wine?" asked Morgan to the room at large. "I didn't order any wine."

Manoosh flashed. Bracing himself against the table he lashed out backward with his foot, catching the other waiter unprepared. Metal rang and glass crashed and shattered as the tray and its contents flew to their respective dooms.

People shouted in alarm as Manoosh finally turned to see what he'd done. The waiter was clambering to his feet, reaching into his jacket. "You shouldn't have done that, pipsqueak."

Alex recognized the voice. "Agent Johnson?" She went to the door to see for herself.

Johnson saw her there and shifted his aim as he pulled out his pistol. Manoosh kicked the gun from his hand, but Johnson kicked out himself and knocked the smaller man to the floor. Manoosh flipped back to his feet, but by then Johnson had grabbed the neck of the wine bottle that had broken, brandishing the jagged glass like a multi-pronged dagger.

"Yo, dude!"

Of course that meant him, so Manoosh flicked a glance to the special booth, and saw Morgan there, with the bottle of wine he'd brought himself. Intersect senses heard the bottle pass through the air as Morgan tossed it to him, and Intersect reflexes caught it by the neck. He whacked it against the nearest table. It bounced off, so he whacked it again, harder.

A chunk of the table broke off. Everybody looked at it, but Manoosh processed the data faster. He flipped the bottle into the air, felt the solid weight as it thunked into his hand, and smiled at Johnson. Oh, yeah.

Agent Johnson should have had no chance. Between the bottle and the Intersect he should have fallen with just a few lightning-swift blows. But Manoosh was losing control, and the harder he fought the more control he lost. Blows that should have knocked his enemy out landed on an arm or a shoulder. Johnson was down but by no means out, and he scrambled for his fallen gun. Manoosh lunged, swinging the bottle down, but Johnson got his gun first and fired.

The bullet hit the bottle and ricocheted, but the force of it sent the bottle flying into the air. As most eyes followed the bottle, Johnson took aim at Manoosh, even as Manoosh fell bonelessly to the floor. Johnson followed with the gun, not realizing until too late that his target was unconscious. The bottle, meanwhile, hit the top of its arc and came back down again, in pretty much the same path.

Johnson saw Alex standing alone, and lifted his gun.

Morgan grabbed the bottle out of the air and swung hard, breaking a hand, a rib, a nose, and then Johnson was down and out. Morgan stood there, panting, as first the waiters and then the patrons safely behind them exploded in applause. He turned to look at all the noise behind him. Sam smiled and he smiled back. He raised the bottle in victory, and looked at Alex.

"Manoosh!" she said, ignoring it all to check on her fallen friend.

"Manoosh!" said Morgan, dropping the bottle as he knelt beside her.

Sam dived forward and caught it before it could damage anything else. He handed it off to one of the low-ranks to put back in the vault. "I'll call an ambulance for him, sir."

Morgan said, "No, Sam, wait!" He got out his phone, and looked up a number. "Chuck! Chuck, your boy Manoosh, he's down!...I don't know why, a fake waiter came after Alex, and he tried to fight him, but he was all twitchy, you know…yeah, yeah. Okay, we'll do that. Thanks, Chuck." He ended the call and turned to Sam. "Put him in my office. They've got someone on the way already."

Chuck considered his friend's words. "That was quick."

Sam detailed a few men to lift Manoosh and carry him gently into the back. Morgan and Alex followed as the other waiters brought out some new tables, chairs, and related paraphernalia, while others set up screens to block the mess. FBI would be around eventually, and they liked their crime scenes pristine.

Morgan, Alex, and Sam watched as Manoosh was set on a cot and covered with a blanket. Morgan snapped his fingers. "Oh, Sam, before I forget, make sure someone gets that bottle of wine. They may want it as evidence, or something."

"I hope not, sir," said Sam. "But if they want it, it's already back in the vault."

Morgan's eyes went wide. "We have a vault?"

"A small one, sir," said Sam, gesturing with his hands. "Melbourne Old and Yellow is dangerous stuff, specially distilled for close-quarters combat. It needs careful handling." Sam changed the subject, pointing to Manoosh as he twitched in unconsciousness. "Will you need a guard, sir?"

Morgan looked at Alex, Alex looked at Sam. "What's your clearance?" she asked. When he told her, she shook her head. "Not high enough. I'll have to guard him myself."

She looked out the door and saw Agent Johnson being dragged past, no respect for that waiter's uniform. Morgan followed her gaze. "You know him?"

Alex got out her phone. "Agent Johnson," she said, scrolling through her contacts. "I took over his operation in Miami, and he got all pissy about it. Now I know why. Feel free to guard him all you like." She turned away. "This is Special Agent Alex McHugh. Put me through to the Director."

Mary Bartowski spun her car into the parking lot by the restaurant. With no time to waste and no reason to waste it, she walked out of the lot and across the street.

Behind her, in the lot, a man sitting in the dark of a parked car lifted a radio to his lips. "She's here."

The radio crackled back, "Excellent."

Mary walked into the restaurant and right up to the man at the podium. "I'm looking for Morgan Grimes." The man there turned and pointed to a hallway that led to the manager's office by way of the kitchen. As she walked away he spoke into his mike that she was on her way.

Mary opened the door to Morgan's office but made no attempt to go in, merely standing there until whoever had the gun, and there had to be somebody with a gun, satisfied themselves that she was who she said she was.

Fortunately Alex had worked with her before. "Hey, Grandma Bear."

"Grandma Bear?" said Morgan, sitting out of the line of fire. "Whoever gave you that name must have had balls of steel."

"My previous call sign was 'Little Tractor,'" said Mary, stepping into the room and closing the door. "I made Chuck give me a new one."

"'Little Tractor'?" said Morgan excitedly. "Cool. Thematically appropriate, even." He made air quotes. "'My Mom, the Diversion.' So who was the mark?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Another time, Morgan." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Governor. "Put this on his wrist, if you want him to live."

Morgan did want him to live. The guy hadn't had even one crab cake yet, and here he owed him for a second rescue on top of it. Manoosh jerked suddenly as the watch face flashed green, but the twitching stopped and his breathing became regular.

"Good," said Mary. "Make sure he doesn't take that off, no one does. At this point even an accidental flash could kill him."

"You got it, Mrs. B."

The door slammed open, a woman with a gun framed squarely in it, lots of men with guns along the edges. The woman stepped forward and stuck her gun in Mary's face. "Mrs. B. Is that what they call you now?"

"Jane?" said Alex.

"I'm sorry," said Frost. "Do I know you?"

"No. No one does," said Jane. "I make sure of that. But I know you, 'Mrs. B'. The world's greatest and most hard-to-find assassin."

"Ah, now I know you," said Mary, acting enlightened. "You're the second greatest."

Jane smiled, not nicely. "Not for much longer. I thought this little job might draw you out, and here I am, right again, as usual." She cocked her gun dramatically. "The funny part is, they'll probably give me a medal for shooting you."

"No, they won't, Jane," said Alex, coming up beside Mary. "She's not an assassin."

"You'll stay out of this, Mrs. Grimes, if you know what's good for you."

"'Mrs. Grimes'?" said Morgan, grinning. "You little minx, you."

"Shut up," said Jane, gesturing with her gun, "Over there by the little woman."

"I have a name," said Alex.

"Good for you, Sandra. Stand up for yourself."

Alex brought her gun up and stuck it in Jane's face. "Thanks, I will. The name's McHugh. Special Agent Alex McHugh, FBI. Move and you're dead."

Jane didn't move. "You move, and you're all dead."

"Won't help you, will it?"

"Wait, wait, wait," said Mary with a sigh. "This is all so pointless." She pulled her phone out of her pocket, slowly, and pressed a contact button, setting it on speaker.

A woman picked up on the first ring. "Mary?"

"Sarah," said Mary loudly and quickly, before Sarah could say anything more. "You remember what you said earlier about Verbanski's assassins? Can you remind me, please, I think one of them may be involved here."

"That's impossible, Mary, they're fictional."

Jane flinched, and stared at the phone.

"I remember that part," said Mary. "I thought maybe she modeled them after somebody."

"She used to," said Sarah. "But nowadays they're all fake. She didn't want to get sued."

"That must be it. Thank you, dear, false alarm." Mary pressed the button, and looked at Jane. "See? There's no payout here. Nothing in it for you except an FBI manhunt."

Jane lifted her gun, and her men stood down behind her. "That bastard Decker set me up."

Mary nodded, putting up a hand to block Alex' gun as well. "Looks that way. Stupid of him, considering that you really are the world's greatest assassin after all."

Jane smiled again, but it still wasn't very nice. She flung up a hand, and her crew pulled away from the door and vanished. She backed to the door. "We were never here."

"No one was," said Mary, and Jane closed the door on them all.

"That could have gone worse," said Alex, finally looking nervous.

"Very true," said Mary. "Can you to take care of Manoosh from here? I've got some business I need to take care of."

"And so do I," said Morgan, suddenly realizing that they had been in danger. "Like where the hell did my staff go?"

"It's not their fault," said Mary, going to the door. "I told them I had guests. You know, my son is really very good at what he does."

They watched her go, Alex held loosely in Morgan's arms. "Alone at last, Mrs. Grimes."

"Morgan…"

"Alex," said Morgan, and he opened his mouth to say more.

"Oh, my head," said Manoosh.

Mary crossed the street to where she'd left her car, and stopped, scanning the lot for the deepest shadows. As quietly as a mouse in church she walked across the lot and adapted herself to the darkness. As she got closer she could hear the sounds of a heated discussion.

"–look like an accident," said Jane. Someone mumbled something. "Use your imagination, just don't use the gas leak story. Even the FBI should be able to see through that one. While you're going after the civilians I'll get Decker, and then we can see about this Verbanski character."

"Her name is Gertrude, if that helps," said Mary.

Jane looked up, into the gloom. How the hell did a civilian manage to get this close? "Mary?" she asked, her hand going for her weapon.

Mary Bartowski fired her silenced weapon seven times. Six bodies fell to the ground, one shot twice for good measure. "Call me Frost."

"Download complete," said Ellie, as the door light turned green. She checked the telemetry, all values well within bounds. "How do you feel, Chuck?"

"Glad for the chair," said Chuck. "Is it my imagination, or does this room just pack more of a wallop than the glasses?"

Ellie made a note as Chuck continued. "Anyone heard from Mom, yet?"

The phone started ringing. "Maybe that's her now," said Sarah, going to answer it. The caller ID did not have her mother-in-law's name. "Morgan?"

"Chuck?" yelled Morgan, knowing that wherever Sarah was, his best friend couldn't be too far away. "Chuck?"

"I'm right here, Morgan," said Chuck, sounding pained. "What's the matter? Something wrong with Manoosh?"

"No, your boys fine," said Morgan quickly. "But your mother! Alex' FBI buddies just took her away in handcuffs."

Headache completely gone. All three Bartowskis gathered close to the phone as Chuck asked, "On what charge?"

Alex answered, "Murder."

A/N2 Let me know how this worked for you. I considered stopping with 'Call me Frost', but who am I to argue with canon?

Yes, that was a joke.