"Devon noticed."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Casey's form stiffen and his face turn slightly toward her, but she didn't look at him. She continued to watch the backs of Crewe and Hansen as they wheeled the gurney down the hall away from them.

Finally, after a tense moment, Casey grunted in acknowledgement and turned again to watch the agents as they turned the gurney into the elevator midway down the corridor. "What did he say?"

The conversation automatically played through Sarah's mind again, and she cringed inside. There was no denying that Devon had been pissed, which she had rarely ever seen before. But with such limited information, what could he do?

"He knew my bruise was…older," she said.

"Did he realize the body was—"

"A fake?" She shook her head slightly. "I don't think so. He seemed to accept that Chuck is…" The word seemed to pinch off her vocal chords such that she couldn't finish the statement. She cleared her throat before she tried to continue, but Casey had already moved on.

"Will he say anything?"

"I don't think so. He said that Ellie was all that mattered now."

She saw his head bob once. She suddenly realized that they were both still staring down the hall for no reason; Hansen and Crewe had loaded into the elevator almost a full minute ago. At this point, they were just avoiding eye contact with one another. She dropped her eyes to the floor and spun on her heal, taking up long, hurried strides toward the exit.

"Walker—"

"We have work to do," she called back to him without slowing down. She knew what he was going to ask her. He had already asked half a dozen times: Are you okay?

In truth, she didn't know. She had left the question unanswered every time he'd asked—which was probably why he had repeated it so many times—but it hadn't been because she wasn't okay. It was because she didn't know. Two hours ago, she'd been a mess. Half an hour ago, she'd lost all semblance of control over her emotions. Now, though, she felt…

Well, she didn't know what she felt. She'd just witnessed firsthand the extend of Keuer's reach: Chuck's abduction spelled disaster for him, for her, and for the United States as a whole; but it also destroyed Ellie, Morgan and Devon, and it would destroy his father, too, when he found out.

She was done. She was done wishing it hadn't happened. She was done panicking. She was done crying. Her emotions felt numb, but her mind was sharper than it had been all day. It was a mysterious combination of fire and ice, and it was taking her through the doors and across the parking lot toward the van, leaving Casey struggling to catch up. Those ribs were probably slowing him down.

Was she okay? In a word, no.

But also, yes, because there was only one thing in the world she was sure of, and it was a big one.

She was going to find this son of a bitch, and he would pray for death before she was through with him.

"El?"

"He's still alive."

Devon's grim expression cycled through surprise, confusion and concern before he found his words. "Babe, you were there. You saw him."

"I know what I saw," she said, letting her eyes flick to his briefly before resuming her study of the candle on the coffee table. Her fingers grazed absently along her jawbone as she traced her eyes over the rim of the candle: around, and around, and around…

"Okay," her husband responded slowly. Challengingly. "Then tell me."

Ellie closed her eyes and let out a scoff of frustration. She knew that she sounded crazy, but she couldn't make her mind slow down. It had taken all of her restraint to suppress her theory long enough for Morgan to disappear into his own apartment, and now it was tumbling out faster than she could stop it.

"I saw a body on the table. It looked like Chuck. Exactly like Chuck. But it wasn't. I know it wasn't. He—"

"Ellie, Ellie, I gotta stop you there," Devon shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Devon, I know what I saw!"

"Babe, I think you need to calm down—"

"I am calm!" She shouted at him, stunning him into silence. She was well aware of the inherent contradiction in her outburst, but it didn't faze her. She couldn't let it. "And if you would just listen to me for a second, I could finish telling you!"

Devon gaped at her, his eyebrows raised, his hand hovering by his ear, an expression of complete disbelief fluttering over his face as he searched for words. He seemed to waver for a moment between telling her that she was crazy and letting her explain. After a moment, he pressed his lips together tightly and dipped his head, his hand gesturing hesitantly for her to continue.

Ellie pulled in a shuddering breath, willing herself to explain slowly. "Do you remember," she enunciated, "when Chuck cut his hand open playing video games?"

Devon's eyes flicked briefly to one side. "Vaguely."

Ellie nodded breathlessly. "Right. He got thirteen stitches in hand, his right hand, and he still has a scar there. Remember?"

"I…guess so…"

"Well, he didn't have that scar just now."

Devon's expression softened minutely as his eyes flicked away again.

"Scars like that don't just disappear, Devon," she pressed him.

"Wait, so," Devon hesitated, his face pinching in mental pain, one hand raising again to rub his brow, "you think that the person we just saw can't be Chuck—"

"Exactly!"

"—because he doesn't have a scar?" Devon raised both hands now, pressing them into his eyes as he tried to comprehend what she was telling him. "Babe, I don't know—"

"Devon, please!" Ellie's voice wavered as desperation crept in. "I know it sounds crazy, okay? Believe me, I do! But I know what I remember. Morgan remembers it, too!"

"Morgan? Babe, since when—"

"Devon! Focus!"

"Right, right, I—" He resumed rubbing his eyes. "I—I don't know—"

Ellie bit her lip as she watched him. She wanted to keep yelling at him. She needed him to see it. She needed him to take her seriously, even if she was crazy. But she wasn't. She knew that she wasn't. And she needed him to think about it, really think—

Suddenly, his hands flew away from his face, and she instinctively leaned forward on the couch. His eyes were darting side to side, as if he was realizing something. Something big.

"Devon?" she hesitated. "Honey?"

"I—I—" he stammered, his eyes steadily growing wider. Suddenly, his eyes met hers, and his face crumpled into an expression that looked like fear. The expression startled her, and she felt her face start to mirror his.

"Dev—"

"Ellie…" he breathed, and he swallowed. "Babe..."

"Devon," she warned, leaning back a little, "you're scaring me."

"Yeah, I, uh—I think I believe you," he said, "but I have to go talk to someone first. Right now."

"Who?"

"Uhhh…S-Sarah."

"Sarah?" Ellie's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Devon swallowed nervously.

"Why Sarah?"

"Because…" he cowered slightly under glare, "…because she can explain everything better than I can."

Ellie grit her teeth together as she realized that Devon was hiding something from her. "Explain what?"

Devon swallowed again and sucked in a deep breath, the uncertainty in his face deepening. "Babe," he said, "I need you to trust me...and don't freak out."