A/N: A couple of housekeeping matters. Skip this if you don't care about canon questions.


In the story description, I said this was S3-ish. I've obviously made some changes. Most are small, simplifying changes that leave intact the form of the season while tinkering with its content. E.g., yes, I know that Chuck fires a warning shot when chasing Perry; I knew it from the beginning. I left that out because it simplified things for me. Sarah would still have found one-too-many bullets in Chuck's gun. That was all that mattered for the story. The form can survive changes of content.

I've exploited a tension about Casey and his identity. In the S2 Christmas episode, he apparently calls his mother, identifying himself as Johnny-Boy. But then in S3, we are told Alex Coburn was declared dead. My resolution of that tension occurs in the chapter. Obviously, I take the appearance of the S2 phone call at face-value.

The big content change is in how I am reimagining the end of the (awful) Tic Tac episode. I am imagining it to have happened more or less as per canon, but eliminating the reveal of Alex at the episode's end. All that will become clearer in the chapter as well.


On with our story!


A Year Without Christmas?

Three: Re-united; or, A Tape-Delay


Casey wheeled to Morgan. "What the hell are you doing up here? You're supposed to be in the car!"

Morgan did not answer. Instead, he nodded at Shaw. "We should get down there, see about him, make sure he can't get to that gun."

Casey glanced down. "Right. Gawddamnit!"

He started running for the stairs, Morgan in his wake. Casey was able to find a way out the rear without going back into Comfort Food. He emerged into the alley. Shaw was still chanting "No", but he sounded like he was slipping into shock. He had not gotten nearer to his gun.

Casey kicked the gun further away, then pulled a handkerchief from his rear pocket and picked the gun up. He handed it to, in the handkerchief, to Morgan, who had not been far behind. Morgan took it with a gulp.

Casey scanned the area. No one seemed to have seen the fall. He took out his phone and dialed Beckman's direct line. She was not going to be happy to hear from Casey, given her dismissal of him, and given what he had to tell her about Shaw.

Beckman answered the phone. Casey dispensed with preliminaries and told her that Shaw was hurt and that a clean-up team was needed. He gave her the address.

She took it and he heard her immediately engage another line. After a minute or so, she was back on his line.

"Casey, you're no longer authorized to use this number. You know that. What the hell are you doing, and what the hell happened?!"

Casey gave her a brief, unadorned but Morgan-less recap of what had happened in the restaurant and on the rooftop, ending with Shaw broken on the ground.

Casey glanced at Shaw as he finished the recap, took a picture with his phone and sent it to Beckman. Shaw had passed out, but Casey could see that he was breathing. Neither of the fractures, collarbone or lower leg, was compound, so Shaw was not losing any blood. Still, the pain must have been awful before he blacked out.

"Shaw is still alive?"

"Yes, ma'am. His sort's hard to end."

"So you just happened to show up at the same restaurant that Shaw chose for a meeting with Ring members?"

"Um...No, ma'am. I've thought Shaw smelled...off...for a while. Not at first, maybe, but for a while. He was too...perfect. Shaw turns out never to have been a perfect spy.

"He was pretending to be one to position himself for vengeance. He didn't give a damn about the Ring because they're a threat to good folk or the country, he gave a damn only because he thought they executed his wife. When he found out it was Walker. who did it, he was only too willing to change teams.

"He needs help, psychological help, General. Ain't no model; ain't no hero. Tells us something that a psycho could pass for what we, you, take to be the perfect spy..."

Gotta get my shots in.

Beckman was silent. When she spoke she let the jab go, her way of accepting it. "Red Test? Walker?"

"Yes, ma'am. This whole shit-show rolls back to Langston Graham's tombstone, surprise, surprise."

"And Shaw...turned?"

"Like buttermilk in the baking sun. Gone bad."

Casey knew how much Beckman hated being wrong, especially being proven wrong. After a long, tense moment, she spoke again: "And where are Bartowski and Walker? Why weren't they there?"

"You...dismissed...me, General. Not my Team anymore. But I did bump into Walker this morning before I got onto Shaw. She was going to take a personal day. Assumed she told you?"

"No, I haven't heard from Agent Walker. Or Agent Bartowski. Did you bump into him today?"

"No, but I did talk to Morgan Grimes; I'm with Grimes. Bartowski is at some gaming convention, Dragons R Us, I think Grimes called it. Didn't ask for more info. Left that as NTK, and I didn't NTK."

"Dragons? Oh, damn, damn. Just keep the scene secure, a clean-up team and an ambulance with our people should be there within minutes, Casey."

"Casey?"

Silence. Beckman understood his question.

"Colonel Casey."

"And the Team?"

"You're on it. Again. We can...negotiate...the details."

"Good to know. I have the thumb drive. I also should have an address of interest in a little while, a place to find a Ring leader, maybe a whole nest of Ring agents. — But right now, we need to talk about Grimes…"

Morgan had moved to stand beside Casey. He held out the thumb drive. Casey took it and put it in one of his CPO jacket pockets.

Casey finished negotiations with Beckman. When he ended the call, he turned to Morgan.

"So," Morgan said, looking at Shaw, "I'm on the Team?"

"Yep, but keep your day job."

Morgan looked hurt. Casey punched his shoulder. "It's your cover, numb-nuts."

"Oh, right," Morgan said, rubbing the spot where Casey hit him, Shaw's gun still in the handkerchief and in his hand.

"Why aren't you in the damn car?"

Morgan shrugged. "I got worried, so I slinked in a side door and found the stairwell, the door to the restaurant. I was looking through the small window for a while, then saw Shaw pull his gun. I saw him leading you to the door and guessed he would take you up there," Morgan glance up to the rooftop, "so I ran up and hid. Luckily, I was small enough to hide behind that A/C unit."

Casey put his hand on Morgan's shoulder. Gently. "You'll do, Grimes."

ooOoo

Shaw, still unconscious, had been cuffed to a stretcher and taken away in an ambulance.

Casey still had the thumb drive and was not giving it up until he had copies made and secured. Who knew what Shaw might say when he woke up? Casey had Morgan as a witness — but he had Morgan as a witness.

Best to preserve the video. Casey did not want to bring Alex, the waitress into this. His instinct was to protect her and he did not question his instinct.

Casey and Morgan got in the Vic. Casey called up the tracker from the balding Ring agent's car. It was now stationary, in a warehouse district not far away. Casey and Morgan drove to a spot near the source of the signal. Casey called Beckman, gave her the address. She was readying a strike team.

Casey was happy enough to leave it to them. He was not obliged to do it all, had none of the right equipment. Hell, he was just back on the clock, and it was Christmas Eve.

Besides, he wanted to know what had happened with Bartowski and Walker. He was hoping for the best, but knowing those two…

He started the car after the call. Morgan turned from the factory to face Casey. "Say, Casey, who was that waitress, the one you talked to, who helped you?"

"Why do you want to know, Grimes?"

Morgan shrugged. "She was really pretty."

Casey grunted. He aimed the car back toward his apartment.

He grunted again. The whole showdown with Shaw had shaken Casey. His own situation and Shaw's had distressing parallels. Same but different; different but the same. The whole mess with that bastard, Keller, the Laudanol, the threat to Kathleen.

Treason. Casey had, like it or not, gone down that path. Different intentions, same path. Different distances. Shaw had gone to the end. Casey had not, had turned back, but maybe that was a difference that made no difference. Maybe all that mattered was stepping onto the gawddamn path at all. The path to hell. Paved with good intentions, high-toned rhetoric.

Duty. But when your duty as a soldier or a spy violated your duty as a human being? No one should be damned so that others can be saved. Or be heroes.

Casey, back when he was still Alex Coburn, thought he made a pure-spun, selfless decision. But he now knew that was garbage. He made a decision that had radically altered his life, but it had also radically altered her life. Kathleen's. Casey had done it without her consent, done it knowing the hurt he would do. He had no right to do that, and, his talk about his choices being the right ones was aimed at himself, an attempt to convince himself.

He had let his mother know that he was still alive, although Keller did not know it. Casey could not let her think her son dead after she had lost his father.

But he never let Kathleen know. He hurt her horribly and let the hurt stand.

Hurt her. Her. Kathleen.

He had pushed her name from his mind except for one slip last night, but she had been present in what he decided then and in all he had done today. Helping Bartowski and Walker, if he had helped them, was a small attempt to make it up to her, despite her ignorance of it, and small attempt to right karma. And — Bartowski and Walker were Casey's friends, the only ones he had. And it was Christmas.

Kathleen.

And, thank God, Bartowski had saved her from Keller's men. Casey had almost hurt her again.

He could not face her, as desperately as he wanted to. He had forfeited all right to any place in her life; he was, as he deserved, castaway, in outer darkness. Weeping and gnashing of teeth.

For weeks after his decision to die — die as Alex Coburn — and be resurrected as John Casey, he had tried to ignore his pain, to tell himself that the depth of the pain he felt was a measure of the height of duty he achieved. He tried to console himself with another quotation from The Springs of Greek Wisdom.

Bear patiently, my heart — for you have suffered heavier things.
Homer

He had not suffered heavier things, though, and he would suffer nothing comparable until the death — the apparent death — of Ilsa.

Casey had carried the guilt about Kathleen around forever, and sermonizing to himself about his duty did nothing to absolve him. But today had made him feel...better.

Thinking about Kathleen brought Alex to mind…

"Casey, what are you thinking about? The last five minutes have been a symphony of grunts. Can I help? That business with Shaw…"

It dawned on Casey that Morgan was upset. "Look, Grimes, you saved my life today. What happened to Shaw...He did that to himself. He would have killed me, there's no doubt."

Morgan nodded slowly. "I...know that. But it feels, now, now that the adrenaline is gone, it feels like he...landed on me."

"It's a hell of a thing, Grimes, Morgan, doing what we do. You got the thorn, and there ain't many roses. This shit ain't Walther PPKs and shaken cocktails. It's a grind, physical and spiritual. And I won't pretend there's some pot of gold at the end of the NSA rainbow that'll make it all seem okay. It'd be fool's gold, best…"

"I get it, Casey."

"No, you don't, Morgan. But you're starting to. Look to Bartowski if you want a role model. Figure out how to do this without losing yourself."

"Chuck almost did, didn't he?"

Casey chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, but you saved him, or saving you that day in Castle saved him. Maybe it will turn out to save Walker too."

They rode on in silence. Finally, Casey spat dryly. "Alex, Morgan. The waitress, her name is Alex."

Casey parked the Vic at the apartment complex and he and Morgan hurried toward the apartment. Casey had the big, black duffle over his back.

"John!"

Shit, Ellie. "John Casey!"

Ellie had come out of her apartment and was walking toward them.

"Hey, Ellie."

"Where's Chuck, John?"

"Don't know, not for sure." That's the truth.

"Do you know where he is, Morgan?"

Morgan shrugged. "Not sure."

"What's going on, John? I haven't seen you for a while? Or Sarah. Is something wrong? Chuck ended things with Hannah. She's gone too. Why is everyone disappearing?"

Because spies, like everyone else, fall in love. They just do it badly. Casey shrugged.

"Well, if you see him, tell him I'm expecting him for Christmas tomorrow, like always. Sarah too, if...if she wants to come."

"I'll tell him if I see him. Her too."

"And both of you, of course; it's a family day."

Ellie turned to go back to her apartment. Casey watched her go. He was hoping for a family day too, an extended Team B holiday.

Casey opened the door to his apartment and he and Morgan went in. He dropped the bag and went to his computer. He had set up a surveillance piggy-back on the Barstow restaurant he sent both Walker and Bartowski too. Everything there should have been recorded. Casey figured Walker should have arrived an hour or two ago, Bartowski soon afterward.

Casey called up the footage. He fast-forwarded until he saw Walker arrive. Morgan pulled up a chair. Casey poured them both a tumbler of Johnny Walker. He took a sip. Morgan did too, then coughed. Casey looked at him and Morgan nodded.

"Like watching the big game on tape-delay, huh?" Casey said with a wry grin. Morgan crossed his fingers and Casey started the tape.

Walker rushed into the restaurant and looked around, panic plain on her face. He saw her say, "Chuck?" She scanned the restaurant, then went she went and ducked in the Men's room. She came out a moment later, looking worse than before. She scanned the restaurant again. The man Casey bribed saw her and approached. He said something to her and Walker's face became puzzled. Casey was praying she would not hurt the poor guy.

A moment later, Bartowski barrelled through the door and into the restaurant. Walker ran to him and threw herself at him, into his arms. Bartowski caught her, hugged her to him.

Casey stopped the video, then aligned the feed from Bartowski's bug as close as he could to the video. The sync was imperfect, a second or so behind. Morgan laughed quietly as Casey started them both together. "Like watching dubbed Kung Fu films."

Casey sat back with his glass.

"Sarah," Bartowski said urgently, "are you okay?"

Walker's head was buried in Bartowski's chest but she nodded. "What's going on?" Bartowski asked.

Walker pulled back. "I came to save you."

"I came to save you," Bartowski countered. "How did you end up here?"

"Casey," Walker explained. "You?"

"Morgan."

"Huh?" They both said simultaneously.

Walker looked around suspiciously. "I think we've been set up." She took Bartowski's hand and they walked to a booth and sat down, Walker on one side, Bartowski on the other.

"Shit," was Casey's comment.

"Casey told me you came here to meet a Ring agent who had threatened me."

"Morgan told me the same about you. — Where's Shaw?"

Walker shrugged. "Don't know. Right now, Chuck, I don't care."

"You don't?" Bartowski's question mixed hope and puzzlement.

"No, I only care about you."

Casey and Morgan watched as Bartowski gathered himself. "Sarah, Sarah...I…"

"Chuck, did you execute Perry?"

Bartowski slumped. "No, Sarah. I keep trying to tell you. I didn't. But I can't explain…"

Walker's face showed her pain. "I believe you."

"I didn't do it, but...Wait, you believe me?"

"Casey showed me the gun I gave you, the very gun. It hadn't been fired. Why didn't you tell me to check it?"

"I...I didn't think...I was so...mixed up. If I didn't kill Perry I was going to lose you. If I killed him, I was going to lose you. Logic says that I was going to lose you…"

"Chuck, why do you want to be a spy?"

"Because I want to be with you, Sarah. And I didn't see any other way. I felt...I feel like the..you know…" – Bartowski tapped his temple — "I felt like it required me to help. I was trying to live up to your example, yours and Casey's…"

"And Shaw kept pushing…"

"But so did you. You didn't seem to feel anything about...what happened. About Prague…"

Walker slumped. "Prague...Prague nearly killed me, Chuck. I didn't see any way forward except to...give you up...give us up."

"Us?"

"I'm...sorry, Chuck. I left you to work all this out on your own. And then that damned Red Test…"

"I didn't know what to do, Sarah. But I couldn't just shoot him, gun him down."

The restaurant owner came to the table and put down two cups of coffee. Bartowski looked up. "We didn't order these."

"They were ordered for you." The man left.

"Casey," Walker said.

And then Casey saw her face shift, saw knowledge on it. "That's right, Walker," Casey urged, "think…"

"It was Casey!"

"The coffee?" Bartowski asked.

"Yes. The coffee. And Perry."

Bartowski folded his arms and said nothing.

"C'mon, kid. The jig is up. Tell her."

Casey felt Morgan's eyes on him. "Casey?"

"I'll explain later. Pay attention!"

"You were going to lose me. Let me go with Shaw, rather than tell me…" Walker was talking to herself now.

Walker went on, shifting her attention to Bartowski. "I had a Red Test too, Chuck, and I've been...re-living it. The worst day of my life."

Casey fished the thumb drive out of his pocket and waved it at Morgan. Morgan's eyes widened, and then he nodded. "Oh."

"That day...nearly destroyed me. Maybe it did, but the effects were delayed. It was the beginning of my...special work...for Graham."

Bartowski leaned forward and put out his hand. "Sarah, I didn't know. I should have known…"

"I was of no help. I thought maybe you really wanted...this life...that life...my life. That you were choosing it after I made it clear that I didn't want it."

"Prague?"

Walker nodded softly. Bartowski's head dropped. They sat for a moment.

"C'mon...c'mon...Talk to each other, gawddamnit." Casey said, moving to the edge of his seat. Morgan was already on the edge of his.

Bartowski finally looked up. "This is all my fault, all of it. I bungled in Prague. I let Beckman make me feel like I had to give up...the things I cared about, if I was going to succeed. And I have felt like such a failure for so long."

Walker stiffened. "But why, Chuck? Look at all we've done."

"We, Sarah? I was just...along for the ride. The schmuck in the car."

Walker slapped the tabletop. "No, no. You may not have been the one with the gun and the badge, but you were the one defusing the bombs, swinging from Buy More signs. You were the hero. You were always the hero."

Bartowski looked lost. "But not the right kind of hero. I wanted...I wanted to be like Bryce, or Barker...or Shaw. I wanted to be the man you chose, not the man you got stuck with…"

Casey slammed his glass down, sloshing Johnny Walker on the desk. "Christ, Bartowski…"

"Chuck," Walker said, putting her hand out tentatively, "you are my choice...from the beginning. You were the one I chose, but...circumstances...my own cowardice...I was afraid to acknowledge my choice…"

"Prague?"

Walker nodded. Bartowski extended his hand and put it in hers. "You were choosing me, not just...saving me?"

"No more than my showing up here today was just me saving you. It was...it is...me choosing you. I choose you, Chuck."

"But Shaw...DC...you were there together. You are...were...going to DC."

"Yes, but only because I blamed myself for the choice I thought you made. I thought the spy life was your choice."

"Jesus," Casey roared at the video, "who is writing this crap?!"

Bartowski moved his hand so that it encircled Walker's. "But I only chose...And then I thought I couldn't choose you anymore. And so I tried to become what Shaw wanted me to be. It seemed like the only choice I had left."

"And...Hannah? Weren't you choosing the...real girl?"

Bartowski grimaced. "Hannah...I'm so sorry about that too. Of all the things I've done since Prague, I hate that more than anything. It took me a long time to see it. It took Morgan getting into Castle...I didn't choose her. I made her...my asset. My asset." Bartowski grimaced again. "I did to her the very things I feared you were doing to me our first two years together, Sarah. I manipulated her, lied to her...I never consciously meant to do it, but I did. I used her to...convince myself that I could make do without you. I used her. You were right. I changed." Bartowski's tone was one of utter defeat. Casey heard Morgan sniffle.

"I did too, Chuck. Shaw and I...I just wanted to forget Burbank, the mess of things I made of it, of you…" Walker put her other hand over Chuck's. "I've been so confused." Walker looked down. "And...I wanted to hurt you. I slapped you, beat on you with bo sticks, told Shaw secrets I would not tell you...Nothing has ever hurt me the way Prague hurt me. I wanted to see it, to know that I could hurt you the way you hurt me. I wanted to stop my pain but hurting you made it worse, not better. Then Shaw made me administer that damn Red Test and I got so lost in my pain, old and new, that I...I made horrible decisions. I should have said no. Or stopped you. Or not run to DC. Or not…"

Walker looked up at Bartowski, tears on her cheeks. His cheeks were wet too. Morgan was crying.

"It's...It's okay, Sarah. Really. Let's not let pain...and shame...keep us apart anymore, please."

"All right, kid, all right," Casey said, his voice cracking, "do it. Say it, for God's sake!"

"All I care about," Bartowski went on softly, his voice and manner all forgiveness, all request for forgiveness, "all I care about is you. I love you, Sarah Walker. I love you. I love you." Sarah's head lifted. "I'm going to say it again because the words have been eating a hole in me for three years. I love you. Please don't go to DC. Stay with me. Stay with the Team. We can find a way. I have the agent badge now, whatever the circumstances. No handler. No asset. — You aren't going to tell and neither will I. It could lead to bad things for Casey, maybe, and I don't want to build my happiness on his downfall. He saved me."

"No, Chuck, he saved us both. Casey and Morgan."

Casey wiped at his eyes with his wrist.

Walker got up and moved to Bartowski's side of the booth. She slid to him and embraced him. They kissed each other, locked together for a long, long time.

Morgan drained his glass and started coughing.

Casey toasted the screen. "Not perfect, maybe, but it'll do."

The manager came back to their table and put an envelope on it. "Good man," Casey muttered, "right on cue. Morgan, everything, and I mean everything, is arranged?"

Morgan nodded through his coughing and blubbering.

"What's this?" Walker asked but the man had walked away. She tore open one end of the envelope and dumped the contents on the table. A key and a piece of paper.

She picked up the key. "It's a hotel key." She handed it to Bartowski and picked up the paper. Casey knew what it said.

Merry Christmas. Get it right this time, you two. Gawddamnit.
Casey

PS You know the place.

"Sarah," Bartowski said in a voice full of wonder, "I think this is a key to that room at the hotel, the one where we…"

Walker folded the paper and put it in her purse. She looked around the restaurant, then looked into the security camera. "Thank you, John," she mouthed unmistakably and then smiled. She stood up and yanked Bartowski from the booth and pulled him out of the restaurant, almost at a run.

Casey turned to Morgan. "You fixed that I.O.U. problem? Just in case?"

Morgan grinned. "A full box, big box, middle of the bed."

Casey stood and stretched. He laughed long and hard. "Ho, ho, ho! Hermey, we know what Walker's going to get in her stocking."

It took Morgan a minute.


A/N: One final chapter to go, Four: "The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul".

Thoughts?