A/N: Thank you, good readers, for your patience and kind words as this story continues to unfold.
Thanks go out to my beta, michaelfmx. And to Zettel and Grayroc for their encouragement and suggestions.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
—-
SECOND CHANCES
When Casey had told her the chances were one in three, she'd had to stop herself from laughing bitterly. The fates had never been that kind to Sarah Walker. She'd known with a weary, bone-deep certainty than Daniel Shaw was heading her way.
The big question is will he be able to find out about Chuck and me? Can I keep it under wraps? Keep Chuck safe?
She stares. "Was that—"
"—a flash? Yeah, it was. It seems the Intersect is back." Casey gives her a long look. Smirks. "It appears our boy just needed the right incentive."
He hesitates. "Sarah, her name was Evelyn. Evelyn Shaw.
"Daniel's wife."
Chapter Eleven: Morally Bankrupt?
"I killed his wife?"
Sarah feels her gorge rise, wonders if she's going to be sick to her stomach right there and then. Swallowing heavily, she somehow manages to fight it off.
But, of course, Chuck notices. "You OK?"
She shakes her head. Snaps at him, angrily, sarcastically. "No, Chuck, I'm not. I killed another agent's wife, for god's sake. How could I possibly be OK?"
He winces, but doesn't respond in kind. Instead, he turns to Casey and calmly asks, "Can you give us a few minutes?"
The big man gets up from his chair, grabs a cigar from his humidor. "Sure. I'll be in the courtyard. Take your time."
"Thanks. And, Casey?"
"Yeah?"
"As a personal favor, I'm gonna ask you not to tell anyone the Intersect started working again. Not yet. For all we know, this may just be a one-time thing."
Casey looks reluctant but, after a couple of seconds, grunts, "Yeah. OK."
As he reaches the door, he turns and says, "Just so you know, Walker, I observe standard agent residence protocols."
"Thanks, Casey."
After the door closes behind the Major, Chuck looks at her and asks, "What does that mean?"
"No bugs in his residence. In other words, he won't be recording our conversation. His way of giving us privacy."
"Oh. That's good to know. Because we need to talk."
Chuck slides his chair back and stands. He takes her hand and leads her to the couch.
"Sit, please."
For a moment, it's in her mind to refuse, to flee from the uncomfortable conversation she's about to face. But it only takes a single glance into his eyes, overflowing with concern, to crumble her resolve.
She sits.
He sits close beside her, turns to look at her, then quietly says, "Sarah, when I asked if you were OK, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that you looked so ill for a few moments there."
She shakes her head. "No, I know you didn't. I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's just that…"
"What?"
She looks at him. "You've read Shaw's file, you know how much of a boy scout he is. Pretty much the perfect agent. And yet I was sent to kill his wife, without ever being told why. And now I'm wondering. What could she have done that was so wrong as to deserve a death sentence without him knowing about it? For all I know, Graham could've ordered her execution for personal reasons. Or political ones."
"Sarah, trust me. There were reasons. Legitimate ones. Ones I flashed on. Which I'll lay out for you and Casey in a few minutes."
"But that's not the only problem, is it, Sarah? Maybe not even the main one. There's something else that's bothering you, isn't there?"
She turns away, doesn't answer for a few moments. "Chuck, how can I fault Shaw for doing exactly what I would do in his place?"
"What do you mean?"
"Before you came to my room, I was thinking about what I'd do if someone was to…take you from me." She can't bring herself to use the actual words.
He doesn't seem to have the same problem. "You mean if they killed me?"
She flinches. "Yes."
"And what did you conclude?"
"That I wouldn't rest…until they'd paid for what they'd done."
"With their life?"
"Yes."
"Only theirs?"
She doesn't respond.
"Let me guess. Not just theirs, but also the lives of that person's family. Maybe their friends as well. Right?"
"Yes."
"I mean that much to you? That you would do something like that?"
"Yes."
"No."
"No?"
"Yes, I would want justice, closure for those I left behind. And yes, that may mean that the person responsible would have to pay the penalty. I get that.
"But, no to going beyond that. No to some mindless, soul-crushing, all-consuming thirst for vengeance.
"That's not you."
She's defiant. "You're wrong. It is."
He looks at her sadly. "Sarah, do you actually believe that you're capable of doing that?"
Under his gaze, she feels her confidence waver, but still firmly replies, "Yes."
"I think you're wrong. Those thoughts were nothing but a knee-jerk reaction."
She feels herself bristle at his presumptuous words. Clearly, her expression reflects that, for he launches into an immediate explanation.
"Hold on! Don't misunderstand me. I get it. Sometimes, late at night, I've thought of what I would do if someone…hurt…Ellie. Visualized the actions I might take. Violent, retributive ones.
"But, in the light of day, I knew I'd never carry them out. Just as I know you wouldn't."
"You can't really know that, Chuck."
"Excuse me, Sarah, but I can. I can because the woman I held in my arms last night told me a story. How she did what was right in case after case, even in the face of staggering odds.
"But in the end, I would've been convinced even if you'd told me nothing other than what happened in Budapest."
…
The moon has almost set by the time she starts to wind down. He's still holding her close on the wooden bench, his attentiveness having never wavered. But she's almost spent, her eyelids drooping.
It's at this moment that it comes to her that there's a defining event—a hugely important one—she has yet to tell him about. One that has played such a large part in whom she is right now, that to leave it out would be almost criminal.
But she hesitates, knowing why she's held back from telling him until now.
Only two people are certain of the little girls continued existence. Only two know what Sarah had to do to get her to safety.
Sarah wonders, despite all that she's told him, if she can find it in herself to trust him with this, her deepest, most private secret.
If it gets out...
But then she stops herself.
Sarah, either you trust him…or you don't.
Trust is not trust unless it is wholly given, without reservation.
Can you do that?
Her mental response is immediate, forceful, certain.
Yes.
She pulls back so she can look into his eyes. "Chuck, I want…need…to tell you about my last mission. The one shortly before the accident."
He reaches over with his free hand, pulls the blanket a little higher around her. "It's OK, Sarah. Really. You sound tired. We can do this another time."
"Please. I need to tell you now."
His reply is softly spoken. "Of course. If it's important to you, it's important to me."
"It is."
He says nothing further, just nods.
She takes a breath. "It was in Budapest. I was assigned to work with a senior agent by the name of Ryker. For reasons I never fully understood, Graham had made him my handler for this mission. I was instructed to retrieve a...package...from a certain location. A mansion, in one of wealthier sections of the city.
"I wasn't sure why he needed my particular...skills...for something that seemed so simple."
She grimaces. "I found out very quickly.
"The place was occupied by members of a local crime syndicate. They'd killed the couple that lived there, had left their bullet-riddled corpses off in a corner as if they were nothing more than two sacks of trash. The murderers were celebrating when I arrived.
"I was instructed to take them out. All of them."
He's already heard her tell of the numerous termination missions Graham had assigned her, so is not visibly taken aback by the almost casual way she speaks of being ordered to take even more lives. But she can sense a certain level of something—resignation, perhaps—in his reply.
"How many?"
She hesitates, knowing what his response will likely be. "Eleven."
Sure enough, all she hears is his concern for her in his startled reply. "Eleven? Are you telling me that this…this Ryker sent you in alone, one against eleven?"
She nods.
"What kind of idiotic handler was he? Those kinds of odds would almost guarantee you'd get hurt…or worse."
His anger is suddenly replaced by concern. "Wait. You weren't hurt, were you?"
"No, Chuck, I wasn't. And before you ask, I did as I was told."
He shakes his head, bewildered. "But, how? Against so many?"
"I had surprise on my side. And they'd been drinking.
But most of all, they weren't ready for someone…like me."
"What do you mean?"
"I was well trained, proficient with weapons…agile.
"But I'm also a woman. Who looks the way I do. It's…hardwired…into most men that such an appearance does not go hand in hand with acts of violence. A part of them denies what they see happening right in front of them, slows their reaction time, just a hair, but enough for me, moving quickly, to take them out."
"All eleven?"
"Yes, Chuck. All eleven. It was...macabre…a dance of death, which I'd prefer to avoid speaking of any further."
"Sorry."
"It's OK. No need to apologize. Just a scene I'm trying hard to put behind me."
"I get that." He pauses. "Can you tell me what the package was?"
"A baby."
"What?!"
"Yes. A baby. Which I wasn't about to leave behind. So I harnessed her to my chest and fought my way out past other members of the gang who'd shown up. More of them died.
"I took the baby to a small hotel, one that, no one, including Ryker, knew about."
She pauses, the memory, even now, making her shudder. He pulls her a little tighter to him, but doesn't comment. "I was terrified. I had no idea what to do with this child. I emptied my weapons case to make a bed for her. I only came to appreciate the irony of that later on. A beginning of life taking the place of the implements I'd used to make an ending for so many.
"I paid one of the hotel employees to get the things I thought I needed. But nothing seemed to work. I changed her, fed her, but she wouldn't stop crying. Eventually, I called my mother."
She hears the surprise in his voice. "Your mother?"
"Yes, I know I haven't mentioned her before. Our communication through the years had been…sporadic. But I turned to her then. And she helped me. I was able to get the baby to sleep and got some fitful rest for myself.
"The next morning I met with Ryker. I pretended to bring the baby along in a carriage. In fact, she was being watched over by one of the older hotel maids. One whom I'd subtly encouraged to believe I was a mother on the run from an abusive husband or boyfriend.
"Ryker explained that whoever had the child had access to a vast fortune. Which he clearly wanted for himself. Once the money was in his hands, I knew what would happen to the baby.
"He told me that he'd chosen me for this mission because I had no one in my life to tell the story to. No close friends, no close family. Alone. He intimated that I was incapable of really caring for anyone or anything, so handing over the baby would be easy.
"Rather than persuade me, his words only served to crystallize my determination to protect her. At any cost.
"When he finally recognized that I wasn't going to go along with it, he aimed his pistol at me."
"I reacted." She grimaces at the memory.
"You shot him?"
She nods. "I had no choice."
"Killed him?"
Her reply is curt, devoid of emotion. "Yes. I wasn't about to miss my target from four feet away.
He pulls her a little closer.
"After, I took the baby and brought her back to the States, by a long and convoluted route. I wasn't about to turn her over to the CIA. Ryker was gone, but I had no idea how many other 'Rykers' there were at Langley, just waiting for the opportunity. I hid her with my mother, who's been raising her for the last couple of years.
"No one else knows, for sure, that the child is still alive. And no one at the CIA is even aware of my mother's existence, let alone her whereabouts."
His gaze is thoughtful, his voice curious. "And yet, you told me. Why?"
"Because I want you to know me, who I am. Budapest became a…watershed event…in my life. It changed me. Almost as much as my Red Test did."
"How so?"
"I didn't consciously realize it at the time, but, looking back, some part of me knew that after what'd happened there, I was finished with termination missions. I'm certain that I would've refused Graham point-blank if that had been my next assignment. He'd likely figured that out, so skirted the issue by planning to send me here instead."
She frowns. "Not that his plan worked out."
He gives her a grin. "Well, better late than never."
"Yes." She manages a small, brief smile in return. "But, as it turned out, I believe I was for the best that I was late…to the game."
"Why, Sarah?"
A few moments of silence pass before she speaks again. "Ryker's words were harsh, deliberately cruel. But that didn't make them any less true. They affected me. Deeply. Especially his description of my file, how it screamed, 'loner'.
"I was lonely, I knew that already. Had known for years. But, until then, I'd never had it so clearly laid out just how alone I was.
"However, if I'd made it to Burbank as intended, I believe I would have been able to suppress those disquieting thoughts by doing what I've always done. What I've always forced myself to do.
"Don't dwell on the last mission. The only one that counts is the next one. Throw yourself into it. Don't stop and think. Just do.
"But, this time, there was no mission. Nothing to focus my thoughts on. I've had the last two years to reflect upon Ryker's words. Again and again. Two years to see how my life proved that he was right.
"I had no one I could turn to. No one I could talk to. No one."
His words are gentle. "Until now, Sarah."
"Yes, you're right. Not until now.
"And that's exactly the point I'm trying to make. If it hadn't been for Kieran Ryker and that reckless eighteen-year-old driver, this—what we've found together—wouldn't have happened.
"I simply wouldn't have been ready.
"In a twisted way, I have them to thank for giving me this opportunity."
He looks at her thoughtfully. "I'm still not certain I completely agree with your assessment, but if that's what it took to bring Sarah Walker here, I'm thankful as well."
...
"Surely, you can't believe that this same woman would feel that innocent family members deserve to be punished any more than she deserves to be punished for the sins of her criminal father."
He stops, clearly waiting for her reply.
How does he keep doing that? Make me see myself through his eyes? Those beautiful, honest, caring eyes?
Each time he does, it's another gentle but effective hammer blow to the foundation of the person she'd thought herself to be. Or, perhaps more accurately, the person her father, Graham and Bryce had made her believe she was.
Each of them had only viewed her as an adjunct to themselves and their agendas. Shaped by word and deed to carry out her role.
Con artist. Enforcer. Partner and lover.
Not one of them had ever encouraged her to look at herself, her life, with any sort of honest objectivity. No, to the contrary, they had actively discouraged her from doing so, clearly aware that, if she did, she would almost certainly no longer allow herself to be molded by them.
But not Chuck. Over and over he's compelled her (if that could be considered the right word for an action carried out so gently and so patiently) to evaluate herself in the light of truth. The truth of who she really is, deep inside, not the multi-layered façade known as Agent Walker.
He's still waiting for her response.
She looks into herself. Strips away the overlaying emotions. Sees the truth of his words.
She's momentarily shamed. "No. You're right. There are things…I could never do. Regardless of the circumstances."
"Good. Because just the thought of you taking that path makes me feel ill."
Softly, he goes on, "It would destroy you, Sarah. The you I've come to care for.
"You know that, right?"
Her response is quiet. "Yes. I know."
She moves closer, briefly kisses him on the lips. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For having faith in me. For reminding me to have faith in myself."
"How could I not, Sarah? After all the trust you've shown in me?"
His absolute sincerity no longer surprises her. Not totally, at least. But that doesn't mean that the warmth it sparks in her heart is any less intensely felt. She leans in to kiss him again, quite prepared, this time, to prolong and expand upon it. But then she remembers where they are and why they're here.
She pulls back, reluctantly.
"We should get back to the business at hand."
He gives himself a little shake. "Yes. Of course. I'll go and get Casey. But before I do, I like to say something.
"In the abstract sense, the fact that you care for me enough to even contemplate going to those extraordinary measures is…kinda overwhelming. Humbling."
And with that, he stands and walks to the front door. Opening it he calls out, "Casey, we're ready."
…
"Yes and no."
"Chuck, you're confusing me. Was Evelyn Shaw a traitor or not?"
Casey growls in accord, "Yeah, make up your mind, Bartowski."
"Sorry. The flash I had about her was kinda…twisty. It's no wonder that no one saw the pattern. Only this thing," he taps his temple, "could put the pieces together."
He takes a deep breath. "OK, here we go. Evelyn Shaw was a CIA agent assigned to infiltrate Fulcrum. A double agent.
"The intel she initially produced was instrumental in bringing down several Fulcrum agents. Looking back, these were minor, essentially unimportant individuals, but that wasn't appreciated at the time.
"After some time passed, though, it was thought that she as actually working with Fulcrum. A few Fulcrum-related CIA operations had gone off the rails, and suspicion fell upon her.
"She was brought in for interrogation. She admitted that she'd given Fulcrum the information. That it was necessary because they'd suspected she was working for the CIA. The only way to convince Fulcrum that she was on their side was to give them something. But she'd been careful to choose operations that were of minor importance and reveal them in a way that didn't result in any loss of life.
"Apparently, she was convincing. Graham let her go back into the field. Where she again produced seemingly valuable intel.
"However, while there was no actual evidence she'd been turned, Graham eventually grew suspicious again and ordered her termination."
Chuck quickly glances at Sarah. "And that's where you came in."
She replies, tersely, trying very hard to keep her voice level. "Are you telling me I killed her based solely on Graham's suspicions?"
"So it would seem. But only the surface. The flash showed me otherwise. Evelyn Shaw may not have have been a traitor at first, maybe wasn't one until after Graham sent her back in.
"But, at some point, a traitor she surely became. I don't think anyone, including Graham, connected all the dots, but what I saw pretty much confirms she was instrumental in the death of at least a half dozen CIA agents. And the turning of a dozen more to Fulcrum's side."
He looks Sarah's way, quietly states, "Evelyn Shaw was far from innocent."
And with that, Sarah feels the burden she'd been carrying for all these years suddenly lift. Part of her had always wondered if the nameless woman she'd gunned down in the streets of Paris had been deserving of the brutal justice that had been meted out.
Now I know.
Evelyn Shaw had been a CIA agent. Had been well aware that the choices she'd made would result in the death of good men and women. Had known the price she would assuredly pay if knowledge of her treason came to light.
But she'd still chosen to go down that road.
You reap what you sow.
Not that this revelation will lessen the load of self-reproach Sarah has carried ever since that fateful encounter. Nor will it eradicate the memory of the gut-wrenching despair she'd felt as she watched the woman collapse, lifeless, onto the sidewalk. Or the recurring images of her fleeing the scene, finding herself, mere minutes later, in some filthy back alley, vomiting until there was nothing left but foul bile.
Innocence lost.
Casey speaks up, dragging her mind back to the present. "Do you think Shaw knew she'd crossed over?"
Chuck shakes this head. "Can't be certain, but there's nothing to indicate he did. The whole time this was happening, he was working tirelessly to bring down Fulcrum. He cut quite a swath through that organization. And as far as I could tell, none of his operations were compromised. Being the straight arrow he is, I suspect he didn't breach operational security even with his wife."
Casey nods. "So we're asked to believe he never figured out that the woman who shared his bed was working against him the whole time?
"It seems so. That's likely why he's so keen to avenge her. He thinks she was a loyal agent taken out by our people for no reason."
Chuck shakes his head. "I find it hard to believe he could be fooled like that."
"I don't."
Both men to turn to Sarah.
"I never had any idea Bryce was a traitor. Not until the very moment I was shown the evidence. Even then, I had a tough time believing it. Initially, at least."
She sees the inquiring look on Chuck's face.
"We're taught to mislead, misdirect, misinform pretty much from the first day we walked through the doors of the Farm. To the point that it becomes second nature.
"Make sure you've got your story straight. Make sure you never let your mark see the real you."
Chuck blurts out. "But he wasn't her mark. He was her husband. Supposedly, she loved him, at some point, at least. Are you saying it was all a sham, right from the get-go?"
She shakes her head. "No, not necessarily, although it's possible." She pauses. "How long were they married? Three years?"
"Yes. Three."
She thinks back to the man's file. "So Daniel was already involved in the fight with Fulcrum when they met. She could've have been a Fulcrum plant, assigned to get close to him, to find out the CIA's plans."
"You think so?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "Who knows? Regardless, we do know at some point she started to betray him. Emotionally, at the very minimum. Maybe physically as well."
"Why would you say that?"
"She needed to get intel from somewhere. It seems she either underestimated Daniel's loyalty to the CIA or chose not to use him. She may have had to go…elsewhere."
"How?"
"She was an attractive woman. She could've used that."
"Seduction?"
"Yes."
"They taught you that at the Farm?"
"Yes. The course was officially designated as 'Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel', but seduction school was the way most of us referred to it."
Casey growls, "Damn Montgomery failed me...twice."
Sarah manages to suppress a smile. Chuck looks confused.
She explains. "Agent Roan Montgomery. He's a James Bond type who somehow managed to fall into bed with a different woman, or sometimes, women, on every mission. They felt he'd be a natural to run the course.
"He was very good at it, but even the best teacher has his or her…less successful students."
Casey grunts, but makes no further comment.
Chuck nods understandingly, but then asks, "Did you pass, Sarah?"
She's caught a little off guard by his question.
She flushes a little. "Yes. I did. But, to be fair, most of us did."
He looks acutely uncomfortable. "Does that mean they expected you to…you know…on a mission?'
"No, Chuck. We were taught that the art of seduction did not include the act itself. We were instructed on how to flirt, how to entice the mark into believing he or she would get what was being offered. But at the same time maintaining control of the situation to make sure it never came to that."
His relief is clear. But then he frowns. "Sorta like what Forrest did to me the first time we met."
"Yes.
"But I will admit I've known of other agents who did carry it through to the seemingly logical conclusion. It's possible that Evelyn felt that she had to go that far to get what she wanted."
"And Daniel never figured it out?"
"Chuck, how many times do we hear of spouses who've cheated without their mates ever knowing?"
"Yeah, you're right.
"But how could she do that and still love him? Assuming she did."
"She would have to compartmentalize. Keep her personal life separate from her professional one."
Like I've had to do. Until now.
"She possibly felt that by not putting him into a position where he'd reveal classified information, even inadvertently, she was actually showing how much she cared for him."
"So you're saying she may have been showing him how much she loved him by cheating on him?"
"Yes. It's possible."
He shakes his head. "I don't see how anyone could do that."
I know. Another reason why I love Chuck Bartowski.
Casey pipes up. "Us chatting about what Evelyn Shaw did or didn't do isn't gonna do us any good right now. Shaw's not coming out here for some sort of grief counseling."
Chuck brightens. "Maybe we could show him what she had done? Shaw seems like a real patriot. Might that not make him stop and think?"
"He's already killed two guards, Bartowski. It's not as if he can drop this, say I'm sorry and everything goes back the way it was. He's committed."
"But—"
"He's right, Chuck. Shaw's in too deep. And we don't have any real evidence of his wife's malfeasance."
"What about my flash?"
She tries to clamp down on her fear, but her words come out sounding far harsher than she would like. "Chuck, Shaw, of all people, can't know about the Intersect. It's for your own safety. You understand?"
"But if that'll stop him from coming after you—"
"No. Don't even think about it."
He recoils for a moment, but when she gives him a tight little smile, hoping to take the sting from her words, he responds with a slow nod.
"OK. I won't say anything."
"Good. Besides, he wouldn't believe you. And even if we could get our hands on the physical files, he'd just say there were faked."
Chuck's shoulders slump. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
She'd like to tell Chuck just how much she appreciates his efforts to defuse the situation without resorting to violence, especially in light of their recent conversation, but doesn't feel comfortable doing so in front of Casey. Instead, she flashes him another smile, a bigger one this time. hoping he can sense what she's trying to tell him.
He catches it, smiles, a little tentatively, back.
"We're not going to talk the man down, Chuck. At the very minimum, he'll have to be brought in. By force, I suspect."
At that moment Casey and Sarah's phones chime with an incoming text message.
Sarah slips her phone out of her jacket pocket, frowns as she reads the message. She looks over at Casey, who nods, a look of satisfaction on his face.
Chuck asks, "What was that?"
Casey reads out the message. "Subject's current whereabouts unknown. Intel Indicates that Burbank is likely destination. Take all precautions. Additional security is being dispatched. Permission granted to terminate subject on sight. Beckman."
"So you're allowed to shoot him as soon as you see him?"
"Yeah. It makes things a lot easier, kid."
Chuck turns to Sarah, pleads, "Could we not at least try to bring him in?"
"We'll try." She glances Casey's way, sees, after a second or two, his choppy nod. "But understand this." She pauses to make sure Chuck is paying attention. "If there's even the slightest chance that doing so would put you or any other civilian in danger, Casey or I will put him down."
It appears Chuck might be about to balk at her statement but, before he can, she firmly states, "That is justice in our world, Chuck. Shaw knows that. Knew that when he killed those two guards."
She can see Chuck picks up the slight emphasis she'd put on the word 'justice'.
He sounds a little weary as he acknowledges his defeat. "Yeah, Sarah. I've got it."
"Good." She looks down at her phone again, wishing the text could tell them more.
"We really could use more intel on Shaw's location."
Chuck raises his hand. "Maybe I could help there."
"How?"
"While we've been talking, I've been running a search program I wrote a while ago." He gestures towards Casey's laptop.
"Facial recognition?"
"Yeah, it includes that, but other things as well. The Intersect got me thinking, about how I'd often flash on people due to the way they walk, gesture and stuff like that. So I wrote a search engine that hacks into surveillance cameras and looks for those tells as well.
She can't keep the surprise and pride from her voice. "That's amazing, Chuck."
He flushes. "Well, that's my world, Sarah. I'm sure-footed in it.
"When I hacked into the CIA database, I found some videos of Shaw. Not sure what they were there for, but I was able to program some of his mannerisms into my program."
He stands and walks over to the table, sits down in front of the computer. "Time to check and see if anything has shown up."
Again, Sarah watches, fascinated, as Chuck slips into his world, a world where she would have no footing whatsoever.
A couple of minutes pass before he looks up from the screen, smiling.
"It worked. A camera picked him up at the Idaho Falls airport half an hour ago."
Chuck asks, puzzled, "Why would he go way up there?"
Casey replies, "To throw us off the track. No one would expect that he would go that far off course before heading to Burbank."
"Gotcha."
Sarah asks, "Anything else?"
Chuck looks at the screen again, presses a few keys. "Yeah. Got him at a rental car booth."
He pauses. "Let me guess. He's renting a car because he knows the CIA, the NSA and a few other alphabet agencies will be watching all the airports and train stations in LA and the vicinity."
Sarah smiles approvingly at him. "That's right, Chuck."
Casey asks, "How far is Idaho Falls from here?"
Chuck checks his computer. "Around nine hundred driving miles by the most direct route."
Sarah shakes her head. "He won't take the main route. He'll stick to the side roads and smaller highways. Less chance a camera will pick him up that way."
Casey responds. "That gives us a full day at least."
Sarah replies. "From what I saw in his file, I'd say two. He'll want to make sure he's rested before he gets here. And he'll want time to plan."
"So we have one, possibly two days to plan."
"Yeah."
"OK. First things first."
Casey looks between the two of them. "It'll be a lot easier if we only have to worry about one target. So I'm gonna suggest we sever—temporarily—whatever it is the two of you have going on here."
Sarah sees Chuck blush before he turns away. She can feel the heat in her face.
"Saw the kiss. And Grimes can't stop flapping his gums at work about 'Chuck and Sarah'. Practically has the two of you engaged."
Sarah ignores that, focuses instead on Casey's suggestion. "We thought about that, but concluded that a breakup out of the blue would be too obviously contrived."
"I'm not suggesting a break up so much as an old flame putting in an appearance, putting a monkey-wrench into the works."
Casey looks at Chuck, asks, "How many people here know what Roberts looks like?"
"Jill?" He sounds simultaneously angry and panicky. "You wanna bring Jill into this? I don't even know where she is, and besides, how could she help us or why would she want to help—"
Sarah jumps in. "Chuck, calm down. I don't think that's what Casey meant."
"You didn't?"
The Major shakes his head. "No, I just need to find out who in Burbank knows what she looks like."
Chuck takes a deep breath. "Just Ellie, Devon and Morgan."
"Good, then my idea could work."
Sarah asks, "Which is…"
"There's an agent we worked with a while back. She likes Chuck, so I'm pretty sure she would agree to play the part of Roberts once we explained what was happening here. He could pretend he's really missed what they had, wants to get back with someone he's has a history with, not with a woman he's only known for a few days."
Casey glances at Sarah. "No offense."
"None taken."
Chuck suddenly cuts in. "Casey, do you mean who I think you mean?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you weren't seeing her anymore."
"I never was seeing her. We'd occasionally meet up between her assignments was all."
"But you told me she was trouble."
"She is, but I've gotten to like trouble."
Chuck shakes his head. "Still."
"Not your business. I'm not sticking my nose into your private life, am I?"
"No. You're right. Sorry."
"OK, guys what's going on here? Who are we talking about?"
Chuck smirks. "Casey's girlfriend is who."
Casey growls, "Can it, Bartowski," he scowls. "She's not my girlfriend, Walker, despite what the moron seems to think. But it just so happens she was heading out here today. That's why we have enough time to set things in motion, assuming she agrees to do this. And it'll give us another gun.
"After he dumps you for her, she'll be able to stay close, freeing you and me up to deal with Shaw."
"Sounds feasible. Can we trust her?"
Chuck snorts.
Casey ignores him. "Yeah, on the important stuff, she'll come through."
"I'd like to meet her."
Chuck replies, smiling, "You already have, Sarah."
"Excuse me?"
At that moment there's a chime from one the security monitors. Chuck looks at the screen, smirks once again. "The perimeter alarm just picked her up. She should be here in a few seconds."
Casey stands, walks to the door. "I'll let her in."
She whispers to Chuck. "What's going on, Chuck?"
"Patience, grasshopper. All will be explained."
There's a knock on the door. Casey opens it. A slender arm, one that somehow seems familiar, reaches in and pulls him out of their view. There's what sounds like a kiss, followed by Casey muttering, "Not now. We've got company."
Sarah can't make out the woman's reply.
Casey walks back into the apartment, the woman trailing behind him. His bulk hides her from view. That is until Casey steps aside upon reaching the kitchen.
"Carina?!"
"Walker?!"
"What the hell—"
"—are you doing here?"
TBC
—
A/N: You probably saw that coming from a mile off, but I felt we just had to bring her back into the story.
Reviews, comments, thoughts are always appreciated.