A/N One of the reasons I was convinced that Shaw's role in canon was more abstract than that of a spy boss is in this section. In Nacho Sampler, Casey demonstrated proper procedure for dealing with unknown enemy objects. He put it in a plastic box and handled it with gloves. In The Mask, Shaw and Sarah are poking and prodding at an unknown enemy object as it stood on a table, and they set it off. Utterly stupid, and a blatant contrivance, like Shaw lowering himself into a vacuum chamber without an oxygen bottle. And how stupid is a vacuum chamber as a fire prevention measure, especially when it takes an hour to empty the room? I can't imagine a building inspector okaying that, for exactly the reason we saw. I don't consider The Mask to be the worst episode, there are several different episodes that qualify for that honor, in various ways, but it's very hard to respect.

"The prodigal returns!"

Given the amount of noise in the range, and the fact that he was wearing ear protectors, John Casey might not have even heard the shout. Given the high-pitched female whoop! in the voice there was no way he could not, which is probably what Carina was counting on.

Casey always kept himself under tight control, especially with a gun in his hand. Clearly she wasn't planning to go away any time soon, so the easiest way to get her out of his relaxation time was to acknowledge her and send her on her way. "Carina."

She put her bag on the bench and checked inside. "Where you been hiding yourself, Casey?"

He bristled, and pulled his arms back. Marines do not hide. "I found a range with higher standards, This one's letting in all sorts of riff-raff lately."

She ignored the comment. Not only was she preparing to fire, she was used to ignoring Casey's idea of humor. Leaving her gun on the bench, she watched as he put all his shots in a cluster in the center of his target. "Nice shooting, Tex."

He hit the button to retrieve his target. "What do you want, Carina?"

She sent her target downrange and picked up her gun. "Isn't it enough to want to spend time with a friend?"

He watched her put all her shots in the heart. "We aren't friends, Carina. You don't have friends. You have boytoys and marks."

"Sarah was my friend."

He ejected his magazine, picked up the spare. "So go hang with her. You're on the same team now."

"I can't. She's got this husband now, who keeps her out in the boonies."

Casey laughed, as much as Casey ever laughed. "No one keeps Sarah Walker anywhere she doesn't want to be."

"I know. It's depressing. She used to be fun." And Carina didn't have a spare.

"No, she was just tolerant of your idea of fun. Now she's a real girl and has her own." He killed another target.

"It's all Ch-his fault."

He'd expended all his rounds, and started packing up. "Now that's the first true thing you've said today."

"Didn't you know?"

Did she know that her husband had somehow snuck out of bed without waking her, to go to the roof of a secluded museum and wait for the arrival of another agent? Clearly not. Did she know enough not to let any of that ignorance show on her face? That she did.

She initiated a call on the room's shielded system, the only way anyone from outside the room could know what was happening inside. "General Beckman?"

"I'm here, Agent Carmichael. Where are you?"

"I'm in a CIA Quiet Room, with Agent Shaw."

"What's the problem?" Because obviously there had to be one.

"Agent Shaw switched the Mask of Alexander last night, with the aid of Charles Carmichael."

They could practically hear the wheels turning. "I see. Where is the Mask now?"

"It's in a secure locker downstairs, until I can get it examined," said Shaw.

"I'll contact Colonel Casey and Agent Miller and have them take over the analysis. You two continue your debrief. I want a specific report on Charles Carmichael's involvement."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Dismissed."

Sarah made sure the call was terminated from her end.

"I don't understand," said Shaw. "What interest does your team have in the Mask?"

"Agent Shaw, you heard the General. Can you give me a complete summary of your activities last night, and Agent Carmichael's role in them?"

"Certainly. I was just going to write it up anyway."

"If anyone wants to know what happened last night, Mr. Shaw, tell them to ask the General. Treat this as 'need to know', and only she needs to know."

Brows rose, his only outward sign of surprise. "Very well. I didn't meet Agent Carmichael until after I got to the dumbwaiter shaft—"

"What are you doing here?"

"Exactly what you think."

"You're trying to steal the Mask too?"

"Okay, not exactly. I'm here to make sure your attempt is successful this time."

"My attempt would have been successful if my backup in Castle had done their jobs properly."

"No doubt. Shall we proceed?"

"You think you can do better than them, with no prep time?"

"As I understand it a CIA janitor could outthink that crew."

"A CIA janitor? He said that?"

"Exactly those words. Not very subtle, your husband."

"I'm sure he'd like you to think so. Continue, please."

"He wasn't much help until after I got into the air duct–"

"Shaw. Stop here."

"Why? It's a straight run from here to the Colombian Pavilion."

"Spray the tube."

"Lasers. Do you see them?"

"Keep your head still please, I need to track their movements."

"You need to what?"

"Tracking the source. Source located. Okay, lasers neutralized. Proceed to the next junction."

Shaw shook his head in wonder. "It was like that all the way to the display and back again. He must have been in the system in real-time, finding and defeating every hazard in my way. It was the most incredible display of hacking I've ever seen." Shaw sat back. "But I guess not you, eh?"

Sarah smiled. "No, not me." She cleared her throat. "What happened after you got back to the roof?"

"I looked over to where I'd seen him last, and I was surprised to see he was still there. I congratulated him on the success of my—our—mission, but he said nothing. He didn't even move."

"He wasn't there, was he?"

"So I discovered. He'd put up a cloth, left some shoes, a relay, and a pair of transceivers. I have them with me, of course. He could have been anywhere."

She shrugged. "Knowing him, he probably left the vicinity the second you made the switch. You wouldn't have needed him to get out, and his hacks probably self-destructed the second you discovered the relay–"

He nodded. "Thus restoring the system. I wondered how he'd done that."

"You're not alone. Most of the people who contribute to his miracles wonder how he does them. Is there anything further you have to add?"

"No." He shook his head slowly. "Are we done?"

"I think so. If we have any further questions you'll be hearing from me." She stood.

He didn't. "I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

She sat.

Secure lockers are, strangely enough, not locked. The security is all for their contents, designed to prevent the release of any chemical or biological agents, as well as containing the blast of most explosives that would fit in the box. Anyone with the proper security clearance can open it. Carina, for some reason, lacked such clearance. Casey did not.

The Mask of Alexander was an ugly-looking thing, a sheet of hammered gold, mounted on a post with a base for the plaque and other necessary details. The obvious place to start…was in getting a clear containment unit for the damn thing. Casey couldn't help but think of the shaving cream that didn't get sprayed all over Castle.

Not that they'd thanked him, or anything. Still, he'd kept the ungrateful morons alive long enough to procreate, always something to be proud of.

"Hey, Casey! I think I see something!"

Casey looked over quickly, but Carina wasn't touching the thing, or even scanning it, just giving it a visual once-over through the heavy clear plastic of the bag. "What is it?"

"Looks like someone drilled a hole. What do you say I take this thing out of the bag and poke a small rod through there to see what it does?"

Safe-room humor. "What do you say I shoot you now and test the sights on my guns?"

"You're in a mood," she said as he lugged over a proper-sized unit and started fastening it to the table.

"Somehow, 'my day off' and 'test unknown weapons in a safe-room with Carina' just don't go together in my mind." He opened the door, and Carina placed the display inside. "Now, poke away."

"Isn't that my line?" She could almost hear his face twist in disgust, but she had put her hands into the gloves and was removing the bag, so she wasn't looking at him. Once she'd passed it out through the airlock, she picked up a small probe and inserted the tip into the hole, pushing gently.

"I don't like being pushed, Agent Shaw," said Sarah. "If the day comes when you need to know anything about Chuck, rest assured I will tell you. Provided you had nothing to do with that day coming, in which case I'd be standing over your bleeding corpse and not saying much of anything. Are we clear?"

"Cyclosarin, huh?" said Chuck. "I don't like that at all."

"Why not? I mean, wholly aside from the fact that it's a proscribed WMD that only the Iraqis have ever deployed in the field?"

"Think about it, Dirtnap. A slow-acting poison, in low dosage, ready to explode in a museum of all places? That sounds like a creepy hostage-taking, terrorist-y kind of thing to me. Do we know who was expected to be there when it was supposed to open in LA?"

"Not really an issue, Graboid, but I guess it's something those pinheads in Castle might be able to follow up on without getting into trouble. We've got bigger fish to fry."

"I'll get North Star."

"That's a good thought, team. Agent Bartowski's in conference with Agent Shaw, and he has a prior contact with the Castle team on this matter, so I'll let him take point on that end of things. What is our next move?"

"We set a trap, General. They shouldn't know we have their little toy. Shaw expects they'll scope the place out tonight and try to steal it afterward, but he doesn't know about the gas. The possibility is they may try to use it instead. Either way they'll be at the opening."

"I've already told Sarah to attend, she can scope them while they're at it."

"Who's her backup, in case they have something more in mind?" asked Casey. "Not Chuck."

"Obviously not. I was considering asking Agent Shaw to lend us his expertise. I want you and Agent Miller on hand, but getting you positions on the wait staff will be tricky at this late date. You can attend, or monitor from the van."

Casey was typically unenthusiastic. "Is it black tie?"

"In that part of the state, Colonel, a stick-ball game is black tie."

He jammed a cigar in his mouth, growling "Van" around it.

Carina looked disgusted. "You know I'm always up for a party."

"Yeah, I know," said Casey. That's why I chose the van.

"Agent Walker, you look lovely tonight."

Sarah inserted her poison-tipped hairpins just so. "Agent Shaw, for this mission you can call me Sarah, and I will call you Daniel. All right?"

"Sarah, you look lovely tonight," he replied, in exactly the same tones as before.

"Thank you, Daniel. You're looking very dapper yourself." She allowed him to drape her wrap over her bare shoulders. Despite the General's words, they were not as formally dressed as they might have been, the museum simply hadn't had time to make as big an event of this as they would have liked. The crowd would be composed of scholars and other students of Byzantine lore, and the social set. Neither agent claimed to be a scholar.

He got the door for her too. "Shall we go?"

'The van' in this case was a limousine, with Casey done up as the driver, a disguise that would allow him to wander the grounds while his fellow agents wandered the halls. The 'beautiful couple' mounted the steps slowly, exactly as if they were really there to see and be seen. At the top they made a hefty CIA-funded donation to the Museum in lieu of tickets, and took up some of the flutes of champagne that their employer's generosity afforded them. It wasn't the best quality, but they weren't drinking it anyway. Letting Shaw play his part with some other wealthy men, she did her bit, looking over the crowd, and incidentally letting Chuck see them all through the camera in her brooch.

Behind her, a familiar voice. "Sarah?"

She turned.