The entire car ride to the hospital was silent.

Ellie could hardly breathe.

Anything that made Devon as pale as he was now wasn't good. He was more optimistic than most medical professionals when it came to medical complications, definitely more than she was, but that could easily have to do with her tendency to overthink, well, everything.

Which she was absolutely, one hundred percent doing right now.

Her mind was spinning endlessly, supplying horrifying scenarios of what might happen to Chuck…

And it certainly didn't help that the last (several) messages Chuck had received from her, she'd been upset with him.

"Ellie," said Devon softly as he pulled swiftly into the hospital parking lot. "He'll be okay."

Another tear fell down her cheek. How can he always read my mind? "But what if he isn't? Devon, what if…"

"Don't go there," he said gently.

Too late.

They both practically ran on their way through the hospital. Every time a doctor or nurse recognized them, a look of pity washed over their faces. Ellie ignored them, trying to stop the burning in her eyes.

Once they made it to the OR waiting room, Ellie spotted Morgan sitting in one of the chairs. "Morgan!" she called.

He snapped his head up, and he looked like a lost puppy.

"Where's Sarah?" asked Devon.

"She's talking with a doctor," said Morgan, gesturing off to a closed door.

"In private?" asked Devon with a raised brow, and it made Ellie's heart beat faster. That wasn't normal protocol.

But they didn't need to wait long; just then, the door opened and Sarah walked back into the waiting room.

"Sarah!" cried Ellie, voice just barely edging on hysteria. "Morgan said you were talking with Chuck's surgeon; what did they say? Is he okay?"

"They said," said Sarah unevenly, "that he lost a lot of blood, and something about hitting an artery."

Ellie let out a sharp breath, echoing Awesome's. Morgan looked lost at the words, but paled even more from Ellie and Awesome's reactions.

"They also said," continued Sarah, looking shaken and slightly intimidated by Ellie, "that it'll depend on how well he reacts to the transfusions."

Ellie couldn't stop the tears anymore.

She let them fall, her worry breaking a sob out of her chest.

There was no way to know right now, and to imagine losing Chuck—her little brother, her family, her best friend—was too much to take.

Awesome quickly took her in his arms, pulling her gently to his chest. He held one hand to her head, and with the other, rubbed her back with his thumb and whispered, "He'll be okay, El. He'll pull through."

She shut her eyes, unable to help the tears.

For over a year now, she's felt like she's been losing Chuck.

She can't lose him for real.

She just can't.

It was a long two hours until they heard more news.

Two hours of Ellie voicing her fears to Awesome in between tears.

Two hours of Sarah staring unseeingly at the doors to the operating room.

Two hours of Awesome harassing his coworkers for news—any news—of how Chuck was doing, but always coming up empty.

And two hours of Morgan being rigid and quiet, so much so that Ellie had nearly forgotten he was there.

The minute Awesome sat back down from another unsuccessful harassment attempt, the doctor who'd spoken alone with Sarah came back out of the double doors and all four of them jumped to their feet.

"Is Chuck okay?" demanded Ellie. She grabbed Awesome's hand as she pleaded with the doctor, "Please, Jen. Just tell us."

The doctor—Jen—smiled tiredly. "He pulled through."

A collective sigh of relief from all four of them.

"He's reacting well to the transfusions." she said. "The, er…" A half-second look toward Sarah that Ellie didn't quite understand. "...knife hit a really unfortunate area. It caused quite a complicated clean up."

Ellie let out a breath.

At least Chuck was okay.

"You can see him in a little bit," she said with a grin. "He'll be fine, El," she said, taking in Ellie's distress.

Awesome pulled Ellie right to his chest again and Sarah watched, enduring the rare sense of emptiness inside her.

Morgan sat back to the chair, face just a little too pale.

Something stirred within her and Sarah put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up.

"He's okay," she said quietly.

He smiled a little and nodded.

With a whisper that she'd be back, Sarah excused herself from the waiting room, looking overcome with emotion. Ellie understood the feeling, and it made her glad to know Chuck had someone who loved him as much as Ellie did herself.

Ellie gratefully took the tissue that Devon handed her, and wiped more fresh tears. Even with the news that he was going to be just fine, the liquid emotion was likely to burn trails down her cheeks for the rest of the day.

She was fully ready to chastise Chuck the moment he woke up for being so careless with knives and making her panic. At the same moment, however, she was going to hug him so tightly and remind him once again just how much he means to her and how damned much it would hurt to lose her only real family left.

"I don't get it," she said out loud, shaking her head, the question nagging at the back of her mind.

"What?" asked Devon, sitting next to her.

"Morgan," she said instead, aiming her words at the younger man sitting stock-still in the chair a few away from hers. He looked up with surprise. Ellie asked, "What was Chuck even doing with a knife?"

"I don't know," said Morgan after a second, looking like his mind had been on a similar subject. "I mean, I coulda sworn I opened those boxes earlier this morning." he said faintly. "Maybe we got in another shipment?" He shook his head. "But no one's ever had a problem with the knives before. No one's ever had any kind of accident." He looked up. "I mean, Jeff and Lester work there. If someone was going to do something like this, you'd think it would be one of them." He paused before adding, "Or me."

"He makes a solid point," mused Devon with a frown.

"Well," said Ellie finitely, "Chuck's never opening another box ever again."

Devon gave her a slightly odd look. "Ever? What about cereal?"

Ellie glared at him. "Not now."

He held up his hands in mock surrender.

Casey smiled grimly.

His entire body was rigid behind the wheel of the Vic, and he was pushing seventy.

Just ahead of him was the van Chuck's shooter took off in.

And just ahead of the van, about half a mile down the one way road, were three cars parked in an NSA blockade, guns drawn and ready.

Casey gunned his car, the engine growling just as Casey did, yanking his wheel to strike the back of the van, sending it skidding, crashing on its side.

Haphazardly throwing the Vic in park, Casey grabbed his gun and kicked open the door.

The Fulcrum agent was climbing out of the broken passenger window, bleeding from a cut on his forehead from the crash. He ran, twisting around with his own gun toward Casey. But he was far too slow. Casey felt a blast of satisfaction as he aimed and fired, the bullet striking the agent's shoulder—unfortunately non-fatally—and sent him to the ground with an agonized grunt.

Two other NSA agents approached him quickly, taking his gun and hauling him off the ground.

The agents held him, both grasping one of the struggling agent's arms, and Casey walked dangerously up to him. He glared at the agent, every ounce of hatred that for the first time was far past the fact that this man betrayed his government and his country.

This was personal.

He stopped inches away from the agent, eyes glowering, his finger itching to pull the trigger on the man about ten more times.

"Agent Bradford," growled Casey.

"Do what you want to me," he growled right back, almost enough anger to match Casey's. "I got what I wanted." A grim smile. "I killed who I wanted."

Casey felt familiar red-hot fury boil his blood.

Because Chuck's fate was still up in the air.

And he was quickly finding that if Chuck didn't pull through…

Something very foreign suddenly hurt his chest.

He let the anger build, slamming the muzzle of his gun under the agent's chin, forcing his head up. The agent gasped, but held Casey's glare. "Why'd you shoot him," he demanded. When he said nothing, Casey shoved the gun against him harder, and cocked it.

"I was in one of the highest-ranking flanks of Fulcrum," he snarled. "One mistake, because of that bumbling non-agent, Carmichael. I was the running the operation with the Black Widow. She and the team were captured, I wasn't. I underestimated that idiot, and Fulcrum demoted me to the bottom of the damn barrel." His eyes narrowed. "Carmichael got what he deserved," he spat.

Revenge.

Chuck was shot, and possibly killed, for petty revenge.

As much as Casey forgot—or pretended to forget—that Chuck didn't ask for this life, he was fully aware of that fact.

He didn't deserve any of this.

Least of all for it to potentially take his life.

"Well," said Casey in a voice dark with the promise of hurt, "be assured, that you will get what you deserve. I will make sure of that, personally," he growled, every emphasis punctuated with another jab of the gun. He removed it from under the agent's chin, telling the two NSA agents, "Get him in a holding cell. I'm not done with him." They started to drag him away, but Casey said, "Wait."

Then, he promptly punched the agent across the face, with so much force it nearly knocked him out of the agents' grip.

Casey watched them drag the agent away, his chest burning with more than the physical exertion.

The hand holding his gun was shaking.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He picked it up after half a ring.

"He pulled through," came Sarah's voice through the phone. "Chuck pulled through, he'll be okay."

Casey shut his eyes, that hurt in his chest easing the slightest bit.

And it felt so… so strange to…

Feel.

He attempted to shake it off, glad no one could see him when he let loose the smallest of genuine smiles. "Roger that."

"And the Fulcrum agent?"

"In custody," said Casey, watching him get thrown in the back of an NSA vehicle, rather gracelessly. "Unfortunately still alive," he added.

He heard a release of breath from her. "Good. Keep him… mostly that way."

Another slight grin. "Looking forward to it. Everything under control there?"

"I've briefed the doctor," she confirmed. "And Chuck's family and Morgan believe that it's the knife injury. We'll have to doctor some reports to sell it to his sister."

Casey nodded, making a mental note to send one of the teams on that right after he hung up. "Bartowski's just going to have to be careful now," he said. "That wound is a bullet wound even to the untrained eye."

They hung up simultaneously, and Casey stood in silence for half a second.

Chuck pulled through, he'll be okay.

That was the strange feeling running through him.

Relief.

He got back in his car, feeling just a little lighter.

After talking with Casey, it took another half an hour for the doctor to allow Chuck visitors. Sarah waited until Ellie returned to go in herself after a verbal nudge from Morgan.

Chuck was as pale as the sheets he lay beneath. Sarah felt her heart break a little at the sight of him, feeling it sink guilt's teeth into her chest.

She lowered herself into the chair beside his bed and, hesitantly, took his hand. It's for the cover, she told herself, again, but every bone in her body knew she was lying.

"Chuck?" she asked in a choked whisper. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be in the hospital for a gunshot wound. He didn't deserve to feel that kind of pain. His family didn't deserve to worry about him.

He didn't deserve this life.

He didn't deserve for her not to be there to protect him.

That was her job, damnit.

"You're gonna be okay, Chuck," she found herself saying. "We caught the agent who did this and…" Anger rushed up her spine so quickly it stole her breath. She breathed out. Opened her eyes. "You're gonna be okay. Because I'm never going to let this happen to you again."

She stroked her thumb over his hand, feeling a hot tear trail down her cheek.

And even she knew it stopped being for the cover a long, long time ago.

Chuck woke to pain, and a voice.

Someone was talking, or rambling more like it.

"...and I know I can be overprotective and go all crazy-big-sister on you," the voice was saying, "but I just care about you and I miss having you around all the time, and I—"

Chuck gained a little more consciousness, feeling a harsh discomfort somewhere in his stomach. He might have groaned, and he felt a hand take his.

"Chuck! Chuck, can you hear me?"

Chuck hesitated; he suddenly recognized that voice.

His ascent to reality sped up and he opened his eyes. A white room blurred into view, and then more familiarly, he saw Ellie's face leaning worriedly over his.

Chuck looked at her in confusion. "El?" he managed.

She smiled. "Yeah, it's me, little brother. You had us really worried, you know that?"

Chuck screwed up his face deeper in confusion. "Why?"

Ellie's face fell a little; she seemed to think he'd remember. "You got hurt," she said quietly. Then, Big Sister kicked in: "Do you have any idea how scared I was when they told me what you did? How could you do something so dangerous?"

Chuck blinked. Hurt? When did he—

Memories flooded in all at once. He saw the storage cage, saw the Fulcrum agent, then—

The agent shot him.

He had been shot.

Ellie knew?

Oh no…

"I didn't… want to do it," he said, his voice still raspy. He had to explain his spy life to her now?! How on earth… "El, you… gotta understand. I didn't want to do it. It just kind of happened and I never wanted to be a sp—"

"That's it," said Ellie shaking her head, tightening her hold on Chuck's hand. "I'm suing that stupid store. If you're saying they forced you to cut open that box and hurt yourself so badly then—"

"Wait, box?" repeated Chuck. What is she talking about?

Ellie just looked at him even more worriedly. "Chuck, did you hit your head when you fell?" She gently started feeling his head and Chuck tried to shake her off.

"Uh, no—I jus'—"

"Chuck?"

Chuck opened his eyes. His heart jumped before he even saw her.

Sarah walked into the room with two coffees in her hands. She quickly put them down on a table and rushed to his side. "You're awake!" she stopped herself at the side of the bed, then flicked her eyes toward Ellie, then leaned over him to hug him and kiss his cheek. Chuck felt a tingle run down his spine.

Ellie smiled at him and squeezed his arm. She seemed to sense the major I-want-to-be-alone-with-Chuck vibes radiating from Sarah, and with incredible reluctance, Ellie said, "I'm glad you're okay, Chuck. I'll… be back in a minute."

She got up and, slowly, left the two of them alone.

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Sarah gently.

"More confused than anything…" he said. "I… did I get… shot?"

Sarah's face fell a little. She nodded, lowering her voice. "The bullet hit an artery, and broke two ribs. You… you lost a lot of blood."

Chuck just stared at her, trying to fathom it. Shot. He'd been shot.

"I'm sorry," said Sarah quietly, so quietly he almost missed it.

Chuck looked up. "For what?"

Sarah looked at him in disbelief. "I should have been there. I should have… protected you."

Chuck swallowed, still trying to wrap his head around it all, but more than anything he hated seeing her so upset. He gave her that crooked smile of his, trying to make her feel better. One of them should. "It's all right. I'm still here, right?"

It didn't seem to make her feel any better. But she shook it off a bit and looked over her shoulder toward where Ellie went. She turned back to Chuck. "Before she comes back, you should know your cover. You were at the Buy More cutting open a box with a packing knife and you lost control, stabbing yourself by accident."

"Oh," said Chuck. "That's what Ellie meant." The moment he was shot was a complete blur, but he could remember fragments, and a part of the memory where he told Morgan he cut himself.

Sarah nodded. "We can't do anything about the scar yet, not before you heal some more, but the CIA has plastic surgeons that can erase the scar once you're healed, and give you a facsimile of a knife wound scar."

Chuck's brows shot up. "And… how do they do that?" he asked tentatively.

Sarah smiled sadly. "It's an intricate tattoo, in essence."

Chuck swallowed hard. "Needles?"

Sarah squeezed his arm, smiling a little at his almost comical expression. "You're not awake during the operation, Chuck. You don't feel a thing."

At this point he should know how intricate spy agencies get. Erasing things as if they never existed.

"Hey!" said a voice floating into the room. "Chuck!"

Chuck smiled tiredly. "Hey, Morgan."

Morgan sat in the chair Ellie had vacated. "Damn, I'm glad you're okay!"

"That makes two of us," said Chuck with a weak laugh, followed by a wince as something twinged painfully. He felt Sarah's grip on him tighten just a little.

"Man," breathed Morgan, shaking his head. "I had no idea how dangerous opening those boxes were! I've been opening those every single day for years and always lurking around the corner, sudden death waited." He shook his head to himself and Chuck and Sarah simply… witnessed his monologue. "Well, I'm not taking that for granted ever again, I'll tell you that much."

"Buddy," said Chuck. "I just made a stupid mistake. You'll be all right. I shouldn't have been in such a hurry."

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just weird, though," he mumbled. "I thought we already took care of that shipment. I did it this morning. We didn't get another. What were you trying to—"

Chuck and Sarah shared a look, but were saved by an Awesome-shaped bell.

"There he is," said a voice by the open doorway. The three occupants looked up to see Awesome and Ellie returning to the room with some food. Both of them—actually, all four of his family— looked exhausted and worn. Chuck's face fell a little. It made him wonder just how close a call it was. He hated that he made them worry.

"Hi, Awe—Devon," said Chuck.

"Good to see you awake, bro," said Awesome. "You gave us a major scare. I didn't know how life threatening the Buy More could get."

Ellie swatted him with her hand and the mood dropped significantly. Chuck swallowed. That answers that question.

Chuck forced a smile. "I'm okay now," he said. "Sorry I worried everyone."

Ellie sat back down in the chair she vacated and took his hand. Her concern was bright in her eyes but there was a warmth in them—a love. Despite him being the worst brother in the history of ever… he still had the best, most caring sister in the world. And that meant more to him than anything.

The best, most caring sister… who almost just lost him.

He needed to get the Intersect out of his head.

He was beginning to have more reasons to do so than secrets in his head.