A/N Okay, so you're a pro badass like Ryker. Do you turn your back on a knife-wielding Sarah in the middle of a fight, just because you hear a gunshot? I'm thinking the answer is no. So I populated the whole floor Ryker had Sarah on with lots of guards, disarmed her, and sent Chuck and Casey off on a wild goose chase. You'd think that would matter.

As noted earlier, flashbacks are the text in bold.


"Surprise."

"I am the guy."

"You're helping a child."

"Mr. Ryker?"


They were finishing up the last of Morgan's spectacular breakfast feast when the doorbell rang. Devon wiped his lips and excused himself to answer it. "Can I help you?" he said to the man waiting on his doorstep.

"Is Carina here?" said the man. "I'm Davis."

"I remember you, Officer Davis," said Devon with a bright smile. He shook the man's hand, following it with a slight pull. "You were at the wedding, dude. Come on in."

Since the dining room in the Woodcombe house was more of a concept than a thing, everybody heard and had turned around by the time Devon was shutting the door behind his latest guest. "Let me get your coat, Mr. Davis." Devon looked over at his wife. "El, do you mind?" He nodded toward Carina.

Ellie rose from the table to be a proper hostess. Morgan, tactful as always, followed up his handshake with a quick question. "Is Davis your first name or your last name? It's all Carina ever calls you."

Davis flashed Carina a smile. "Oh, I've got a first name and a middle, but believe me, 'Davis' is the best of the lot."

"I hear that," said Devon. "Have you eaten yet, Davis? You must have gotten an early start." Once his guest was supplied with some food, Devon continued. "My own middle name is a total nightmare. Ellie knows it, but she's sworn to take the secret to her grave."

"And besides," added Morgan, thinking about what he said, but only after he said it, "It's not like Casey doesn't call everyone by their last names, too. Except for Ellie." Suddenly he looked curious. "Why is that?"

"Save it for Game Day, Morgan," said Devon. "Sounds like you're jumping the gun just a smidge." Devon held up his hand, two fingers precisely one smidge apart.

"What's game day?" asked Davis. "Doesn't sound like you're talking about football."

"Not unless it's UCLA," said Devon. "Around here game day is an old Bartowski family tradition." He pointed over to the box containing all their favorite and most-played games. "A family that plays together, stays together."

Davis looked over at Carina. "But you called me to come and take you home?"

"Well, you know me," she replied, trying to sound coy. "I have so much more fun playing with someone…"

"Oh," he said, suddenly getting her point, or at least thinking he did. "You need a partner. Sure, I'll play."

"Outstanding," said Devon, as Carina looked for something to bang her head against. "Couples' night it is!"


Sarah came to her senses, wishing someone would hit her. That would at least be a single thing to deal with, not the general, all-over body unpleasantness that was the usual sign of a tranq antagonist fighting off the tranq everywhere at once. Better than torture, at least the torturers thought so. Less work on their part.

Sitting. She was sitting, wrists and feet fastened to the arms of the chair. She tried to reach around, find out what they'd tied her with, and estimate how long it would take her to cut through it with her razor-nail, but this chair was too thickly-built for her to reach around the arm easily.

Someone hit her. Ryker must be getting impatient, and she forced her eyes to open. "Welcome back, Agent Walker," said the smarmy bastard, leering into her face. He'd lost a lot. Hair, weight, time. "Come to have a cup of coffee with your old handler?"

Hungarian coffee was a torture worse than the tranqs, in her opinion. It may be the national drink now, but when it was first introduced they called it 'black soup'. Sarah had never seen any reason to change the name. "You're as bad an interrogator as you were a handler. You're asking the wrong questions." She head-butted him in the nose, and he stumbled away from her in the empty, anonymous room, the kind that could be anywhere.

He came back and slapped her. "You haven't changed either, Agent Walker." He grabbed her hair, pulling her head up to make her look at him. "Even with two partners you're still here, all alone, while they're wandering around downtown, waiting for instructions that will never come. Do they even know why they're here?"

She shrugged as best she could. "Do they need to?"

Ryker laughed. "Like I said, you never change." He let go of her hair and stepped back. "People like us, we don't need to. We just need to find ways to force events back onto the right path, such as you giving me that little girl, and me giving you a quick death. I won't even make you thank me for it."

Sarah smiled. "So you really don't know where she is," she said, satisfied. "That's all I needed to know."

"Oh," said Ryker in mock-surprise. "That's all you need to know." He waved a hand in the air. "Like this whole thing was your clever plan to draw me out." Ryker grinned at her, digging the barrel of his gun into her chest. "Good idea with the fake email, by the way, but Miss Volkoff and I didn't communicate by email. She made her drops to me by courier. The emails were code keys to decrypt the files. So when your note came in I saw a chance for me to draw you out."
"Why?" said Sarah. "You know I'll never tell you where she is."

"But I don't need you to, Sarah. Vivian already gave me all the information I need to track her down myself." Ryker lifted a thick folder. "All I needed, and wanted, is you, here, while my team is in the States, looking for a house with a red door." He pulled out a photo and showed her a picture of her own house.

She always loved the smell of her mother's flower garden, the smell and sound of grass being mowed, somewhere. Her father found such things tedious, the reward never worth the effort, and for awhile so had she. Eventually she came to see that the reward was the effort, not the pleasing sights and sounds.

Today she smelled paint, the door and the fence retouched last weekend, the house to be done next weekend. Even as she stood on that familiar porch she drank in all the sights and sounds of home, knowing she would never have them again. Her mother would keep that little girl safe, just as she'd tried to keep Sarah safe, and Sarah would protect them both by never seeing her mother again.

"There are lots of houses with red doors," said Sarah, realizing as she said it that it was the wrong thing to say. 'My husband chose it' would have been better, equally true, but she knew why he'd chosen it. The houses she'd bookmarked on their list had red doors or gardens or picket fences a-plenty, but none had them all.

"Of course there are," said Ryker with a smirk.

"Which state will you start in?"

He pretended to think it over. "California."

"Really? Interesting choice. Southern, Central, or Northern?"

"Northern. Would you like to know why?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, impress me with your brilliance."

"I'll accept brilliance," said Ryker with a nod. He pulled up a chair, reversed it, and sat down, facing her. "Did you have any idea just how long the CIA had been keeping tabs on your father?" Ryker didn't wait for her to try to answer. "Years. He ruffled a lot of feathers, internationally, on more than one occasion. Have you ever seen a list, or better yet, a map, of all the places your father's run his scams? It's huge!" Ryker gestured with his hands. "Like a hurricane, with this…big old eye right in the middle." He drew a comparatively small circle in the air with the tip of his finger. "East to west, north to south, but he never goes there. Why is that, do you think?"

"Can you guarantee its protection?" she'd asked, watching the little girl, not an 'it', never an 'it', listen to the sounds of the rain.

"You know I can't make guarantees, Sarah," her boss Graham had said. "The CIA keeps records on these kinds of things, records that a man like Ryker might be able to get his hands on, and who knows what he would do."

I do. Sarah made up her mind. "I'm not in possession of the package, sir."

Sarah's face was a mask of ice, because, you know, 'Ice Queen' and all that. "What did you tell those men when you sent them to their deaths?" she asked. "I'm guessing it wasn't the truth."

"The only deaths around here will be your own, and those of your men," said Ryker, tapping her leg with his gun. "Although maybe I'll just sit back and watch them stumble around looking for you a while first." He stood up and got out his phone. "My men found a nice house yesterday, red door, garden, soccer ball in the front yard. Older woman, with a young daughter, named Molly." He paused in his button-pushing to give her a funny look. "'Molly'? What'd you do, use a freelancer for the paperwork?"

"Had to," she said. "I think even you would have noticed an infant agent coming out of the CIA identity mill."

He ignored the dig, getting back to his business with the phone. "I thought you might like to listen in as my team slaughtered that poor mother and took the frightened, screaming child away."


Back in DC, after round one of Game Day…

"Is something wrong?" asked Davis, as Devon helped Carina away from the table.

"Probably just the sitting," said Ellie. "This is the longest she's been up since the initial injury, and I'm sure her hip isn't happy about that."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "She doesn't look…"

"She doesn't look what?" asked Alex, when he left the sentence hanging.

"I don't know," said Davis. "She didn't look like she was in pain, she looked…sad." He looked back at them, clearing the table of the paddles and the pens. "Does that make any sense?"

"No," said Alex. "You guys just kicked ass at Know Ya, your first time out. You're so simpatico it's scary. What's there to be sad about?"


Behind the closed door of Carina's room…

"He doesn't know me at all," said Carina miserably.

"What are you talking about?" asked Devon, gently inspecting the wound while he had the opportunity. "Every answer he gave was spot on."

"Of course they were," she said. "They're the answers I let him have."

"Oh."


In the dining room…

"Whatever it is, Devon can talk her through it," said Ellie, in low tones, shuffling stuff around in the box. "He's good that way."

Davis turned his attention her way. "Look, I know I'm just a guest in your house, and if you think I'm out of line just tell me and I'll shut up, but somehow I don't think you really believe that."

"Of course I do," said Ellie, her voice flat, slapping the box shut.

"Ellie?" said Alex, also skilled at the recognition of atypical behavior. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Ellie, plopping into a chair. "Nothing he can fix, but he keeps trying."


In Carina's room…

"I don't believe that," said Devon, confidently. "I just think you've been Agent Miller so long you've forgotten where she ends and the real Carina begins."

"What if there isn't one?" asked Carina. "What if I'm so far gone that only Chuck can see the real me? I don't want Chuck, I want Davis."

Devon smiled again. "No problem. There's nothing easier to fix in the world."


At table…

"Some things there are no easy fixes for," said Alex, moving closer to the place where Ellie was sitting. "We were there when Chuck had to take a life, we'll be there for you." She reached out and took Ellie's hand in hers.

Davis sat on the other side. "No cop I'd want to be partnered with ever takes that sort of thing lightly, Mrs. Woodcombe." Not that he thought Ellie would ever kill anyone. "I don't know what you did, I probably never will, but I can tell you now that in time it will get better. Right now you're staring at the thing you've done, and it looks huge, and it is huge. But whatever it was, you didn't do it for no reason. Hopefully in time you'll see some of the good results that you bought with that action."

Ellie smiled, a little. Chuck had told her that Dreyfus said pretty much the same thing.

"It hurts, Ellie, we know it hurts," said Alex. "And it's probably the last thing you want to do right now, but you have to pay attention. Sometimes those good results are very small, and if you blink or look away you might miss them. I can guarantee Chuck will see them, even if you don't."


A more bedside manner…

"The secret is paying attention," said Devon. "Pay attention to your life, all of it, not just the Cliff Notes version you feed all your marks. You'll see lots of stuff that never made it into that little book."

Carina felt around inside her own mind and found a vast echoing wasteland, not even a Cliff Notes version of her. "What do I do if there isn't anything?"

"Make something," said Devon. "That's what humans do. When your life goes off the path you thought it was on, you make a new path."

Easy to say. "I don't know if I can."

"We'll help."

"You'll try," said Carina with a sniff. "That's not what they teach us in training. We're only supposed to count on ourselves, trust ourselves."

"You're not alone, Carina. In fact, I know the perfect guy to talk to. I'll be right back." Devon left Carina's room, and noticed almost everyone else huddled together at the far end of the table, talking softly. He ducked into the kitchen and found the man he was looking for. "What's going on?" he asked Morgan.

"Don't know. Cop stuff, I think."

Devon didn't know what 'cop stuff' would put even that little smile he saw on his wife's face, but he was glad to see it there. He put an arm across Morgan's shoulders. "Come on, little buddy, Carina needs you."

"Me? Don't you mean him?" Morgan pointed at Davis.

"I mean you," said Devon, steering Morgan out of the room. "She wants to upgrade her life, and out of all of us here you've proven yourself to be the best at that, Mr. Manager."


Budapest, in some rat-hole office…

"You'd better be planning to kill me," said Sarah.

"You know, I actually wasn't sure," said Ryker. "This building is slated for demolition, so I was thinking about just leaving you here, and letting you ride it down. All things considered, now I'm thinking maybe I should just shoot you and have done." He put the phone on the table and pressed the speaker key. "Are you in position?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Ryker," said the phone. "There's a woman in the kitchen doing dishes. No sign of the kid."

Ryker shrugged. A four-year-old girl at that time of day wouldn't be that hard to find. "Move in, and make it loud." He put the phone on mute, but turned up the volume.

The phone made sounds like multiple car doors opening. The men were quite clumsy, or perhaps they were just trying to 'make it loud' per their boss' command. Some of those clumsy feet faded away, as men took up positions around the perimeter. The man holding the phone was apparently the designated shooter, since the clump-clump of his feet on the wooden steps was as loud as ever.

The knob turned, the door creaked. Sarah heard it all, and fought her bindings as if that would accomplish anything. Even if she killed Ryker now, that team couldn't be stopped by anything she did.

The screen changed, as the phone buzzed with incoming messages. Ryker picked it up. "Oh, how nice," he said to Sarah. "They're sending us pictures." He held out the phone, images of a baby girl on the screen. With every soft footfall of his man's feet through the house, he moved through the pictures of the life that he was determined to end.

The sound of running water came over the phone, covering the noise of the assassins' stealthy approach. The flow of the water, the splashing, the clinking of dishes, got suddenly louder, and Sarah knew that they had entered the kitchen itself. Whoever held that gun was getting closer with every beat of her heart.

Suddenly there was a splash, and a gunshot. Two shots, and Ryker grinned at Sarah. The phone made a loud noise, as if it had fallen to the floor, and Ryker's face fell with it. He took the phone off mute and shouted, "Johann!"

Rapid footsteps echoed over the phone, as whoever held it ran across the floor. A loud noise exploded over the speaker as the front door slammed open, the remaining men fanning out to find the girl now that the mother was dead.

Or not. More shots, the sounds of meat falling to the floor. "Karl," shouted Ryker uselessly into the phone, with no response. "Johann!" He saw Sarah stop struggling as if it had all been a show for his benefit.

The shooting stopped but the noise continued, as whoever was in the house fought hand to hand. Ryker turned his back on Sarah's mocking grin as he continued to shout names into his phone, but aside from assigning names to tombstones it did no good at all. Finally the phone said something back, in a woman's voice. "I'm sorry, all your men are busy being dead right now."

"Who is this?"

"You can call me Frost," said the phone, "Put my daughter on."

"You can listen to her die!" said Ryker.

"Oh, I doubt that," said Frost.

Behind Ryker, Sarah shouted, "Thanks, mom," and Ryker started to turn, to make good on his threat.

Sarah hit him with the chair, knocking Ryker to the floor as she casually freed her other wrist. Ryker reached for the gun, but she lashed out with her foot and kicked it from his hand.

Ryker launched himself at her, fist raised to strike, and Sarah turned slightly, automatically, to protect her belly and her child. Ryker missed his target, hitting her in the ribs, but managed to move her from his path as he reached the door. "You never learn, do you Sarah? You show up with two idiots, while I've got men all over this floor!" He pulled open the door, certain that his backup would be there.

Two men stood on the other side of the door, their positions indicating they'd been leaning against the frame and listening. "Hey sweetie," said Chuck. "You almost done?"

Ryker turned at the sound of the strange voice, catching a glimpse of his men lying on the floor behind them.

Something stroked the side of his neck, and suddenly Ryker felt cold, and very weak. He sank to his knees.

Sarah stood behind him, pressing her fingers against his neck so he wouldn't lose consciousness or bleed out too quickly. "Sarah Walker would have been alone, Ryker, but I'm not Sarah Walker. Not now, not ever again. And that little girl will live a normal life, never knowing that monsters like us ever existed." She let go of his neck, standing up as Ryker's eyes glazed over.

Sarah picked up the phone. "Mom?"

"Yes, dear," said Mary. "He's dead?"

Chuck grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled the phone closer. "All the way dead, mom. Casey's going through his pockets looking for loose change as we speak."

Casey looked at the kneeling corpse, his lip curling with distaste. This guy wasn't worth a grunt.

"That's nice, Chuck," said Mary. "Now let the grown-ups talk. Sarah, your mother's fine. She got your signal and went to Orion Industries last night. We've kept her and Molly safe for you. You can come home now."

Sarah rushed up and grabbed Chuck, kissing him soundly. "Home," she said, when she had breath to speak. "I love that word."


Back in DC…

Devon put down the phone. "That was Chuck and Sarah," he told the assembled players. "They're coming back, but not to DC. Sarah's mom is waiting for her in LA."

"I didn't know Sarah had a mom," said Morgan, thoughtful as ever. Carina got a peculiar look on her face.

"Um, yeah," said Devon into the sudden silence. "So anyway, they'll be back here in a couple of days." He looked down at the board. "Who's turn is it?"

"Mine," said Carina. She flexed her fingers and reached out for the spinner. It rattled 'round and 'round, slower and slower, finally coming to a stop, caught between two numbers by the little plastic tongue that was just barely holding on.

The table thumped, and the tongue let go, firmly in the '10' space. "What?" said Morgan, as everyone turned to look at him. "I mean, it was the suspense, you know how I twitch when I get nervous. And besides, I didn't even win."

"No one's blaming you, Morgan," said Devon, surprising most everyone else, "It looks like Carina won the Game of Life." With a little help from her friends.

"Not yet," said Carina, picking up her token. A little plastic car with two little people in it, no kids. She thought some more about her mother. "But I'm working on it."


A/N2 Okay, that's it for the plot. Next chapter is Happily Ever After time, with lots of Charah fun to go around.