I don't own Chuck

Chuck and Sarah went straight to their room, where Casey was waiting for them. Chuck and Sarah told Casey everything they had been told and showed him the article. Casey studied the article, thought for a moment, and then looked at the two of them.

"Well, we've probably stepped in it," Casey muttered. "Any ideas, Bartowski?"

"None," Chuck admitted. "And the worst thing is, I'm now useless."

"How do you figure that?" Casey asked him.

"Everything in my head, it's got to be filtered by Graham," Chuck replied.

"Wait," Sarah cut in. "You figured out about Graham, so, maybe that's not true."

"I think you're both right," Casey told them. The two turned to Casey. "I've been talking to Beckman and we both found it odd that Chuck even flashed on Graham."

"It is," Chuck agreed. "You'd think he'd of cut out everything about him."

"The Intersect, it's supposed to take information from everywhere, and come up with things," Casey said. "At least that's the way Beckman explained it." He paused, and then looked at Sarah. "Think about it Walker, you can clean your record, your files, but you know what doesn't get cleaned? Money."

"So while I might scrub all instances of my name," Sarah said, understanding. "There's still mission reports out there, dates, times, money trail, other action reports, other agent reports, and the Intersect sifts through all of that?"

"Exactly," Casey told her. "We have to find things that make the Intersect put it all together."

"This sounds complicated," Chuck admitted.

"It was never going to be easy," Casey agreed. "Now, Bartowski, what can I do?" Chuck gave him a confused look. "Listen, you two need to be couple-y. I can go do some real investigating."

"There's a third brother, what happened to him," Chuck said. "Is he dead, buried in some field."

"A potter's field," Sarah said. Chuck looked at her, nodding. "He could be buried there. That's a good place to hide someone, especially during that time period."

"What about this Cecil?" Chuck asked. "I know that's a long shot, and may not even be his name-"

"No, that's good," Casey said. "A possible CIA agent, in Montgomery, in 1951, that would be most interesting."

"We did open the Office of Current Intelligence then, a US operation," Sarah reminded him.

"And given what was going on here in '51," Casey added. "No, that's good, Bartowski. I'll reach out to my contacts, and see who I can find. At the end of the day, it sounds like we know Graham is a son-of-a-bitch, that may have killed people he knew."

"And the Intersect thinks he killed opponents," Chuck added. They both missed the look on Sarah's face.

}o{

He woke up, alone in bed. He looked around and saw her standing by the window, looking out at the evening traffic that still flowed. He wasn't sure what had woken him until he heard it again. He stood, and walked quietly toward her and then thought about how that might be a bad idea.

"Hey, it's me, please don't kick me…well, wherever," he said. Her shoulders shook, and he thought it was from laughter. She didn't turn around, and he knew why. "You know, I talk….a lot, and people find this really crazy, but I can also listen."

She didn't say a thing. She just kept looking out the window. Chuck could see her face in the reflection, the redness of her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm a killer," she said in a soft voice. She looked up, caught his sight in the reflection of the window. "I'm a cold blooded killer, and murderer."

"No, you're not," Chuck disagreed. She spun, anger, mixed with sadness on her face. "You aren't," he said, straightening, not backing down, but terrified all the same.

"How can you say that?" she asked, just above a whisper.

"Cause I'm standing here," Chuck told her. "Listen, did some of those people do what Graham accused them of, probably not, but were they still bad people?"

"Chuck, it doesn't matter," Sarah told him. "I'm…evil."

"No," he said, putting his hands on her upper arms. "You are not." She stared at him. "Don't hit me," he said softly, and he pulled her in for a hug. She stood there a second, and then she wrapped her arms around him and began to sob softly into his shoulder. "Let it out," he encouraged her. The hate she had for herself, she cried it out. The rage at taking lives for a man's political and personal agenda, she let it out. She sobbed until she was weary, and nearly out on her feet.

He tried to lead her, but quickly realized the easiest thing was just to pick her up. He carried her to bed, and tucked her in. He got in on his side, and watched her. Small sobs escaped her. He scooted over, and pulled her tight against him. She cried softly. Chuck wasn't sure how long it lasted, but eventually they turned to a soft snore.

"We're gonna get him, Sarah, I promise," he told her, gently rubbing her back. He placed a soft kiss into her hair and held her until he fell asleep.