A/N This part of the Coup D'Etat is perfectly fine for the Rough Draft, which actually makes it harder to write.

"So awkward."

"Anything we should know?"

"Even I don't want him dead."

"Costa Gravas calls once more."

Chuck and Sarah looked at the front door to Ellie and Devon's place, but they headed over to Casey's first. He'd been keeping them updated as best he could, but once the soldiers had gone inside he lost his eyes on the situation. Ellie hadn't wanted any internal monitoring, but at least she hadn't activated her screamer.

He buzzed them in. "Leave your guns," he said, not taking his eyes off the monitor. "As far as they know you two are medical. Besides, they're army. Sarah could probably take the lot of them by herself."

Chuck's phone rang. Ellie. "Hey sis," he said, trying to sound all brotherly and non-threatening, in case someone was listening. "We were gonna come over but we saw you had guests...Really?... Sure, we'll be right there." He put his phone away. "We may be established as medical but I'm also established as family. Wanna go see what's going on?" he asked Sarah.

"I'm a bit tired," she said. "How about you go on without me?"

Chuck's face went slack. "Um..."

"Let's go, you goof," said Sarah. She looked at Casey as they walked away. "'Wanna go see?' Can you believe this guy?"

"Yeah," said Casey. "It's you I can't believe."

She stopped, looking at him funny. "What do you mean?"

"He's right, you know," said Chuck, pulling her along to the door. "You did say you weren't funny."

"Yeah, well...I'm tired of being a cannibal, so I figured maybe I'd better learn."

Casey watched them enter the apartment, like a nice, normal couple, their guns left at home. With Ellie's safety handed off to someone else, he changed his tasking, and hit the button to report to the General. His report to her was brief and to the point. "Any word on Grimes, ma'am?" he asked, when all the important matters were dealt with.

"Nothing yet, Colonel, and from the noise I'm hearing from Mr. Depak I'm suspecting there won't be any," said Beckman. "On the plus side it has inspired him to develop a number of new search algorithms, in the belief that there must be more to Mr. Grimes' life than what he's found so far."

"No, there doesn't," said Casey.

"Don't tell Manoosh that, please," said Beckman. "Also on the plus side, if it should turn out that there is a legitimate threat, Mr. Grimes' footprint on the web is small enough that we should be able to replace him with a different and far more capable operative."

"Why would you do that?" asked Casey.

"Because if we don't you know Agent Bartowski will," said the General, not entirely unhappy. "The man is loyal to a fault."

"Hard to call that a fault," said Casey. "Permission to contact Verbanski Corp. on the matter? She still does technically work for us."

"Technically," said Beckman. "But please be discreet. An independent outfit like hers having more intelligence than the NSA is bad for our image."

"Copy that." Once he was off the line with his superior Casey pulled out his personal phone, touching the top contact. "Miss Verbanski?...You're alone, excellent. Gertrude, I'm calling about Grimes, and this termination order..." Casey listened for a few moments, and began to laugh.

The next morning...

Someone had the nerve to knock on Big Mike's door. Even more strangely, Big Mike actually told that someone to "Get your ugly self in here", although he didn't use those exact words. He was looking down at his keyboard as the door opened carefully, and he didn't look up as it closed with a soft click. "What do you want?" he asked, although again, he didn't use those exact words.

"A moment of your time, sir?" said his guest humbly.

That got Big Mike's attention. He looked up at the well-groomed stranger standing at attention in front of his desk. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, using those exact words.

"Jeffery Barnes, sir, 'ugly ass' and all."

Mike put his keyboard to one side. "What are you up to, Barnes, looking all normal and stuff?"

"You can thank Doctor Woodcombe for that, sir. He told me to stop sleeping in my van and I did."

Mike stood up to see all of Jeff at one time. Even his shoes were shined. "Somebody ought to give that boy a medal."

"I think so too, sir."

Mike sat down again, gratefully. Ever since yesterday his knee had been hurting. "So, what's on your mind, Barnes?" he asked, wiping his nose. He threw the tissue on top of a pile of them in his wastebasket.

Jeff noticed that, and other telltale indicators on Big Mike's face. "Have you been crying, sir?"

"Not where any of those animals could see it," said Mike. "I was just...processing Morgan's termination papers, but I can't type through the tears. I love that boy, but he's gone to fly on his own. Now I'm gonna need me a new number two man. Damn. It's not like I want to have to deal with all your little problems when there's fish to catch."

"No, sir. Sorry, sir. Speaking of problems, I just came to you to report that I detected a flaw in the program that tracks all the sales for the Salesman of the Year contest, Big Mike. I fixed it, though. Everyone has their proper numbers now."

"Well, thank God, you did, Barnes. Those guys are like rabid wolves out there, and the ladies are worse. If someone had gimmicked the numbers there would have been hell to pay."

Jeff nodded. "I thought so too, sir."

"Who was getting all the sales?"

From outside, an anguished shout came clearly through the thin walls. "God-dammit!"

"Lester Patel," said Jeff. "I'm sure it was accidental, sir."

"I'm sure it was, too," said Mike. "That boy wouldn't live long enough to get within smelling distance of any of that popcorn shrimp, or those inland empire lady parts he talks about all the time."

Jeff shook his head sadly. "All the time, sir."

"Corporate may go by the numbers but we know better down here. All he does is eat Pirate Booty and scare the customers."

"Not anymore, sir," said Jeff. "I also disabled the boob-cam and destroyed all the disks. It was disrespectful of our female customers and coworkers."

From outside, an anguished shout came clearly through the thin walls. "God-dammit!"

Something splashed Morgan Grimes in the face and he awoke, spluttering, his head spinning. He didn't fall out of his chair only because he'd been tied to it. He didn't understand. The last he knew, he'd been...he'd been...funny, he couldn't remember the last thing he remembered. Then he smelled himself. "I smell like asparagus!" He hated asparagus.

A speaker in the corner crackled to life. "That's not all you'll smell like if you don't tell us what we want to know, Agent Grimes."

Agent? "I'm not an agent, whoever you are, but I know a lot of-" agents. "People. A lot of big, bad-" spy people. "A lot of very unhappy people who will take care of me, and they'll take care of me by taking care of you."

"You're not fooling anyone, Agent Grimes. Your associations are well-known. Before we're through, you'll tell us everything you know about Chuck Bartowski."

"Who?"

"Really, Agent Grimes? If you want to go down this road things will become very unpleasant for you, very quickly." A screen came down in front of Morgan, and it lit up with a still photo. "Chuck Bartowski, Agent Grimes."

"Oh, you mean Chuck. I know Chuck, we've worked together for years. Funny story, I don't know if you know this but Chuck and I used to work together long before we were in the Buy More. He ran the ferris wheel at a carnival, and I ran the merry-go-round, but we never met, because we ran in different circles. Get it? Different circles?"

"You asked for it, Agent Grimes."

Morgan slumped. "You have no sense of humor."

From behind him, someone grabbed Morgan's head, holding it still as blocks were placed, preventing him from turning his head, or doing anything but looking straight ahead. The room got darker, familiar music played as the screen lit. EPISODE 1 - THE PHANTOM MENACE.

"Nooo! Nooo!" shouted Morgan, twisting and writhing in the chair, unable to look away, forced to listen to every God-forsaken word.

Gertrude Verbanski turned the sound down on the screaming. "You're sure this will work?"

Casey took the cigar from his mouth and blew smoke into the air. "Define 'work'."

Somebody knocked on the door again. "What is it?"

Jeff took that as permission to enter. "Sir, we need a decision on the Salesman of the Year."

"Did you call Bartowski?"

"Yes, sir," said Jeff. "He mumbled something about bikinis and to call him in a week."

Mike looked horrified. "You want me to call corporate, and then go out there and tell those monsters that only one of them gets to go on an all-expenses paid resort vacation to Riverside? Do I look suicidal? This is what I have an ass-man for."

"But you don't have an ass-man," said Jeff. "Morgan resigned."

"I do now," said Mike. "You've been number two to Lester for years, you be number two to me now." He opened a drawer and pulled out a beaten-up looseleaf notebook, put a folded grey vest on top of it, and handed them to Jeff. "Here's the phone numbers you'll need. Don't let me down, son."

Chuck couldn't watch as the premier of Costa Gravas slobbered all over his sister's hands. Not that he wanted to, he didn't, and the sound alone was bad enough, but there were only the two of them to protect her. This environment was thick with armed men he couldn't trust, so he was only listening with a part of his attention as Goya somehow realized that Ellie was pregnant. Good nose, apparently.

When Goya introduced his wife, he and Sarah switched off on tracking the guards as they made small talk. Chuck smiled at all the right places, putting an arm around Sarah protectively in case Goya should make any attempt to charm her away. They danced one dance, leaving the rest to Devon and Ellie as they continuously scanned the perimeter, making innocuous small talk from the I Do book while pretending to drink. The big, cloth-draped object in the center of the courtyard bothered him, anyone could be hiding under there.

As it turned out, the only person under the cloth was Devon himself, as oversized as the generalissimo's ego. Chuck took advantage of the presentation to scan the yard while no one was moving. When the flash came, it was almost a relief. "Chuck?" asked Sarah.

"There's a Soviet-era weapons system behind that red door," he said. "Now or later?"

"We're supposed to be protecting Ellie."

"So what do we do?" asked Chuck. "Ask Goya to please not aim any missiles at the West Coast?"

Sarah thought about their options. "The party. It's a good cover."

Chuck thought about his options. "Care to be swept away with passion?"

"You men, maybe you have to sweep," said Sarah, smiling as she sauntered past him toward the indicated hallway. "Me, I just have to-" she crooked one finger, "This." The crowd parted around them as he followed.

In the hallway they came to a shocked halt, seeing Ellie and Devon in a passionate frenzy of their own. Sarah immediately covered Chuck's eyes with her hand. "What are you doing here?"

"When you see eleven feet of marble husband you'll know," panted Ellie. "Why are you here?"

"The missile control panel behind the door Devon's holding you up against."

Devon put her down, and she smoothed her dress. "I thought there was a missile somewhere around here."

Sarah dropped her hand as Chuck covered his ears. "La-la-la-la, I'm not listening."

Ellie high-fived Sarah. "Still got it."

Which is when all the automatic weapons started firing.

John Casey was at home, drinking Scotch and reviewing all those godawful tapes of Chuck and Morgan talking about any dimwitted topic under the sun, building a list of Morgan's personal most-hated. Consulting for Gertrude had its advantages. Nothing like a good interrogation to get the blood-

His phone rang. He stabbed the playback off and checked the caller ID. Why would the Buy More be calling him now? Ugh. Why wouldn't the Buy More be calling him now? He strangled his irritation. "Hello?"

"May I speak to John Casey, please?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Funny, Big Mike said the same thing. It's Jeff. Jeff Barnes."

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"Just to congratulate you, John. Tomorrow you'll be in Riverside, representing the Burbank Buy More as our Salesman of the Year!"

Ellie and Devon cuddled together in the back of the plane, safe and sound after Goya had extracted them all to his private escape plane. He'd even left a few of his guards behind to make room for his personal physician and his family. The bride, anyway, but the bride was adamant about her brother coming too, so, two more guards gone. Chuck and Sarah guarded them by blocking the aisle as they stood behind Goya.

"The embassy in LA is waiting for you, Excellency," said Turrini, one of the guards not left behind.

"Good," said Goya. "While they are busy waiting for me there I will go to the only truly safe place in all the world."

Turrini looked confused. "Where is that, excellency?"

Goya blew the smoke of a Costa Gravan Double Corona in his face. "Wherever John Casey is."

A/N2 Next time, Episode 5 - The Lester Strikes Back. Hopefully you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this story.