A/N: I'm sorry. This chapter's going to hurt, and I'm going to take a bit of a hiatus on this story after this to see where I want to go with it from here.

XXX

With just one visit, Chuck's life would never be the same. This time, saying that wouldn't be a cliché.

"Walker, you in?" Casey's gruff voice called, no knocking whatsoever.

Chuck scrambled up from the couch and went to the door, looking the peep hole to see if Casey was alone, which he was.

Chuck opened the door and let the captain in before saying, "She's in, but she's in bed. She's not doing great today." Chuck figured Casey would connect the dots. He was a police captain after all. A police captain Chuck couldn't help but notice was in a uniform and not his usual suit.

"That may be for the best she's not here at the moment. It'll give us a minute to talk," Casey said, his voice as deep as always, but just a little quieter.

"About what?" Chuck asked, his defenses raising.

Casey put his cap on the table and without warning, pulled Chuck into the tightest hug he'd ever received. It was the last thing he would have ever expected from Casey.

"She's gone, Chuck."

Chuck's brain went into full stop right there. He forgot how to breathe, how to make a sound, how to react.

"I'm sorry. She's not coming home," Casey said, his voice calm and level. "The DEA raided where she was working. There was a gunfight and she got caught in the middle of it. I'm sorry," Casey said again, still not letting Chuck go.

Chuck did breathe this time. Taking in a big gulp of air, he cried out, one long scream shredding from his throat and reverberating the walls of the apartment. His knees buckled and he held on to Casey's frame to stop himself from crashing to the floor.

With his fists balled into Casey's uniform and his face pressed against his chest, he let out an identical scream that shook at the end as sobs clawed their way from his mouth.

Casey didn't say anything, just held Chuck as he fell apart in his arms. Casey had done this job for years, and this part never got easier. There was something different about this time, though. Perhaps it was because he was holding a grown man who had faced trial after tribulation to try to bring his sister back, because Chuck was a man who just lost his entire family.

Casey wasn't going to tell the man who had lost everything, and had started to rebuild in hopes of taking care of his now deceased sister that it would be okay. It wasn't going to be okay for Chuck Bartowski.

Chuck released his hold on Casey and Casey loosened his grip on Chuck, allowing Chuck to slither down to the linoleum kitchen floor and crawl backwards to throw himself against the cupboards, hugging his knees tightly to his chest to hyperventilate.

Despite the hangover, Sarah bound into the kitchen gun at the ready, the barrel pointed at Casey before she could identify him. Years of gun training saved Casey's life, because she had the control time to analyze that it was Casey and to lower the gun.

Her eyes searched out Chuck and found him on the floor, the sobbing mess he had become.

Her voice broke before she could even get the first word out of "What happened?"

Casey slowly turned his face to Sarah, completely unphased by the gun that had been pointed at him. "Larkin called."

Sarah's face immediately melted and her chin quivered, her eyes quickly filling with tears. "No," she pleaded weakly, a shaking hand covering her mouth. "No."

"I'm sorry, Walker. Eleanor Bartowski has passed on. So have five two cooks and three trained gunmen, and two DEA agents. They made a bust on her place and there was a hell of a firefight."

"Who ID'd the body?" Sarah asked, trying to pull herself together long enough to do her fucking job.

"Larkin did. She was dead before they could get EMTs on the scene," Casey said, approaching Sarah and carefully putting his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sarah." It was the first time he could remember him using her first name in conversation.

Sarah looked at Chuck, whose eyes were screwed shut, his face soaked with snot and tears, body trembling. She wasn't even sure he was hearing them. She heard the occasional "Ellie," "I'm sorry," and "What do I do now?" It brought Sarah to renewed tears, standing there with her arms limp and helpless at her sides.

"What… what I do, sir?"

Casey looked at the ball of man on the floor and without looking back at Sarah said, "Take a few days off, Walker. Call the Buy More. Tell them Chuck needs some time off, that there's been a death in the family. I think Mike can connect those dots," Casey finished, still calm and quiet, but returning to his usual seasoned and calloused self. "As for what to do for Chuck… just stay with him.

"He's not going to want to eat or bathe, or even drink anything. Don't even try to talk to him. Just literally be here with him and take care of him. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, of course," Sarah responded, sniffling and wiping her cheeks and nose with the back of her hand. "Thank you, Sir. Thanks for coming here personally."

Casey just nodded. "Now may be not the time, but Chuck should be safe now. That bust was all they needed to bring the syndicate down. They'll be in hiding, licking their stitches too much to worry about Chuck. There's no reason for Larkin to keep digging into them, either, which is what I think turned them towards Chuck. I'll see what I can do to figure out how they found out about Chuck in the first place."

"Thanks," Sarah said weakly, her eyes on Chuck. She had no idea what to do for him now. All she could think of to do was get on the floor next to him, clutching her own knees to her chest as Casey gave them some space.

XXX

The apartment was in total darkness now, save for the glow of a street light that was leaking in through the window.

"Chuck," Sarah asked, her voice coming out raspy. "Are you awake?" She received the tiniest, single nod. "Can you try to eat for me, Chuck? You haven't eaten since breakfast."

Chuck shook his head, and continued to say nothing.

"I can't make you any toast or soup?" Sarah tried again, her eyes glassing again. "Can you at least drink some water?"

Chuck shook his head as it rested in his arms, and he nudged her with his shoulder.

Sarah took it as a hint and gave him some peace. "Okay, Chuck. I'll be here if you need anything."

Chuck nodded once and went back to showing no sign of life.

A few minutes later, she heard a defeated whisper say, "Sarah? Garbage can."

Sarah got to her feet as quickly as she could and ignored the tightness in her stiff knees as she brought him the waste basket, which he quickly took and heaved into, a wet splash sounding and then just heaving.

Whatever was left of breakfast hit the can liner, followed by just water and a mucus-like bile. It was all that could come up.

"Thanks," he muttered as he placed it on his opposite side incase he needed it again.

"You poor thing," Sarah whispered as she resumed her post next to him. This time, Chuck slightly leaned into Sarah, and Sarah wrapped an arm over his shoulder.

"Chuck, can I get you into bed? Sitting on the floor all night isn't good for either of us. Can you walk?"

Chuck nodded and stood up slowly, his legs shaky and his breathing labored. With help from Sarah, he was able to drag his feet to bed. He laid down on his side, going fetal again.

Sarah excused herself long enough to grab the can and put it on Chuck's side of the bed before getting into bed next to him. She cuddled into his back and held him tightly, rubbing his belly.

Chuck placed his hand over hers and breathed in deeply, but continuing to say nothing.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," Sarah said as she closed her eyes.

XXX

A/N: According to , 458 federal, state, tribal and local law enforcement officers died in the line-of-duty in 2021. According to , in 2021, 995 people were shot to death by police in the United States. According to , 20,726 Americans were killed by gun violence, excluding suicide in 2021. The total includes murders, accidents, and homicides that were ruled justifiable.

The spaces and commas are where I attempted to include sources, but the programming removed them.