Chapter 12: The Gift

California, Los Angeles, Echo Park, December 17th, 2007

By the time they finally arrived home, Chuck was feeling better. Dancing with Sarah usually had that effect, and he had enjoyed talking with Willow, Xander and Dawn, too. They'd head back to London respectively Cleveland soon, and there wouldn't be a chance to just hang out and reminisce about the good parts of Sunnydale. Few as they were.

But now his bed was calling. Strongly.

"Chuck! Sarah!"

Not as strongly as Ellie, though, who was waving at him and Sarah. Obediently, they changed course and headed towards his sister's apartment. "Ellie?"

She held up her hand, grinning widely. "Devon asked me to marry him!"

Sarah squeed in response - if Chuck hadn't known better, he would have been convinced that this news had come as a surprise to her. He had to make do with blinking.

Fortunately, Ellie took that as the shocked reaction she'd expected. "It was so romantic! He took me out to our favourite restaurant, and then we drove to the beach where he went down on one knee and presented me with the box! The ring, I mean."

Part of Chuck wanted to know which beach, and if the sun had gone down already - some vampires liked to hunt at the beach; it was easy to dispose of corpses there, especially if you didn't need to breathe, and the authorities would assume a missing person had drowned instead of suspecting a crime.

He ignored that part. "That's great, Sis!" he announced, hugging her. "When's the wedding?"

"We're thinking spring. Organising will take a lot of time. Fortunately, Devon's parents will be helping." Her smile slipped a little - as always when she was reminded of their own parents' demise.

Chuck nodded. "Well, we'll help, of course!"

After a moment, Sarah nodded as well. "Of course."

"Thank you!"

She hugged both of them. "Now come inside! We want to celebrate!"

"Uh…"

California, Los Angeles, Echo Park, December 18th, 2007

"Come on, Chuck, time for our morning run."

"I can't run. I'm busy being dead." Chuck felt dead. He'd had… well… four or three hours of sleep by his count. He squinted at the alarm clock. Five hours? It didn't feel like five hours. And his mouth felt as if something had crawled in and died there.

He blinked. Were there demons who did that? "Oh my God!" He quickly sat up and started towards the bathroom, but crippling headaches stopped him. "Oh my God."

"Chuck?"

"Don't mind me, I'm busy dying from demon poison."

"You've got a hangover. You won't die."

Oh, yes. Now he remembered - Devon had had to show them his awesome new cocktail recipes. And Chuck had had to try them. He groaned. "Devon will lose his license."

"What?" Sarah asked. Far too loudly, in his opinion.

"He violated his Hippocratic oath. First, do no harm, right? Serving us those cocktails most certainly did us harm," Chuck explained.

"You weren't forced to drink all of them." She shook her head but made no move to help him.

He laid down again on the bed. "Peer pressure. And you were there, so it's your fault, too!"

"Get up, Chuck. We've got to be at work in an hour."

"We can call in sick. It wouldn't even be a lie," he replied.

"Get up, Chuck."

She was a slave driver. He got up.

California, Burbank, Wienerlicious, December 18th, 2007

Chuck had managed to survive the first part of his shift in the Buy More. Sending off everyone who got close to him with an errand or two had driven off most of those who'd disturb him, and 'testing VR goggles' - a set of night vision goggles on which he had glued some Sony logos - had allowed him to take a nap for the rest of the time. Who'd have thought Morgan's tricks to catch up on some sleep after a night spent gaming or working with Phil would be so useful?

Still, Chuck wasn't exactly a hundred per cent fit when he entered Wienerlicious.

"Hi, Chuck. Wow, you look like shit!"

And Caridad looked far too chipper for a heartbroken Slayer. He didn't say that, of course. "Hi, Caridad. Where's Sarah?"

The Slayer pointed at the storage room with the concealed stairs. Downstairs, then. It was their usual break time, but if Sarah was in The Castle, then Chuck probably should go down as well.

Sarah was there. So was Bane, though.

"Good morning, Mr Bartowski!"

"Good morning, Agent Bane."

She didn't comment on how he looked. Since she was a spy, she hadn't missed that but was ignoring it. "Hi, Sarah!"

"Hi, Chuck!" Sarah smiled, but it looked a little forced.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. It's good news, actually." Her smile didn't change. Bad news then. Chuck steeled himself. "Congratulations to your graduation from Stanford."

He blinked. "What?"

Graduation? He had been expelled from Stanford years ago. How could he have graduated? And without realising it?

As if he had asked the question out loud, Sarah went on: "You were expelled shortly before your graduation because of Bryce framing you."

Bryce. His former best friend. Now dead in the line of duty. "Yes."

"So, the CIA pulled a few strings to explain your innocence to the dean, which led to your expulsion being reversed."

"Years after the fact?" Chuck asked.

"Well, while they weren't exactly at fault, it would look very bad to a jury if they didn't do what they could to undo the damage caused by this." Sarah smiled, though more than a little cynically.

"Ah." Money talked. "But I was expelled shortly before graduation - I hadn't actually graduated."

"That's the second thing the CIA did," Bane cut in. "We arranged for your stellar work for us to be accepted as practical studies. That awarded you enough credits to graduate." She beamed at him.

"Oh." Chuck blinked.

"You were working with the most advanced electronics in the world, after all, on various missions. You identified, countered and even took over sophisticated security systems. That perfectly fits the requirements for practical studies at Stanford," Bane went on. "Congratulations, Mr Bartowski."

He had done it! He had graduated! After all those years… "Thank you!" He smiled widely. He was no longer a dropout!

"And here's your diploma, Chuck," Sarah said, handing it over.

He took it - already framed. And an expensive frame, too. "Wow! Ellie will be over the moon." He blinked. "Oh… what do we tell Ellie? We can't tell her I graduated thanks to my work for the CIA."

"You can tell your sister that you had been working for a while on reversing your expulsion, and had, in anticipation of a positive decision, filed for a practical studies credit," Bane explained. "Everything will check out, I can assure you of that."

"Wow. You've thought of everything." Of course, Chuck knew how good the CIA was with creating covers. Arranging a graduation wouldn't be a challenge for them.

"It was the least we could do for you, Mr Bartowski." Bane nodded. "You've more than earned it, too."

"Indeed," Sarah said, though her smile still looked a little forced. "Which is why you'll also get a nice sum for the emotional and financial damage you suffered due to Bryce's actions."

"You made Stanford pay?"

"No. It wasn't their fault, after all," Bane replied. "And we would rather not strain our good relations with the faculty. No, the agency is taking responsibility for Agent Larkin's action, although officially, it'll be paid by a fund of the bank where he was officially employed. That way, you can also access the salary you've earned as a civilian consultant without the IRS asking questions."

"Ah. Convenient." And very welcome, especially with Ellie's wedding coming up.

"Of course, going forward, we'll have to find another cover for your income," Bane went on.

He almost said that the Council could handle that, but given what the CIA just had done for him, that would have been gauche. "I'll worry about that then," he said instead. "It's not as if I'm going broke."

"Unlike the Wienerlicious," Bane replied.

"What?"

"We're not going broke," Sarah said with a glint in her eyes. "We simply need a little more money than was budgeted to cover the additional expenses incurred during the last mission."

"Ah." Apparently, feeding three Slayers was even more expensive than Chuck had thought.

"And it's a drop in the bucket compared to restocking our armoury," Sarah said.

"An also unexpectedly high rate of consumption for which, I have to remind you, you still haven't accounted," Bane said.

"It's classified," Sarah told her with a toothy smile. "Now, come, Chuck, we'll celebrate later, but we can take our break now."

Her smile hadn't changed, which made it clear to Chuck that refusing wasn't an option.

"Congratulations, Chuck!" Caridad greeted him as soon as he stepped into the store.

"Thank you," he replied. "Did you know?"

"I heard," she said with a grin.

Slayer hearing, of course.

Sarah wasn't looking happy as they took their usual seats. "What's wrong?" he asked after the first sip from his cola.

"The Agency's trying to bribe you," she said.

"What? You mean I haven't actually earned the diploma?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, of course you did. But the fact that they are doing this now? And the convenient laundering of money? They're trying to butter you up. Bane, the diploma, the money - and the hint that future payments need another cover. Like official work for the CIA, perhaps?"

"Oh." That made sense. "But since I now know about that, it won't work, right?"

Once again, Sarah didn't look as if she agreed.

California, Los Angeles, Echo Park, December 18th, 2007

"Oh, Chuck, this is wonderful! Devon, come, look at this! Chuck graduated from Stanford!"

Yes, Ellie was over the moon. Chuck smiled as his sister showed his diploma to her boyfriend. Her fiancé, he corrected himself. Future husband - Chuck had to get used to the thought. He glanced at Sarah and noticed that she was genuinely smiling.

"Now you'll be able to quit the Buy More and get a real job!"

Uh. Chuck felt his smile slip. He hadn't considered that reaction. In hindsight, that was a very obvious mistake. "Uh, Sis, let's not be hasty, OK? The Buy More's a real job - I'm an assistant manager. And it counted for Stanford."

"What?" Ellie frowned at him. "It's a dead-end job! You want to be Big Mike in twenty years? Or run your own software firm?"

In hindsight, telling his sister about his dreams might have been a mistake as well.

"I agree, Chuck. You need to find a better job," Devon cut in, handing the diploma back to Chuck. "No offence to your colleagues, but tech support isn't a Stanford graduate position. You need an awesome job! And you'll get one!"

Chuck would get an awesome reaction if he rendered all the effort the CIA and NSA had made to protect him and hide his identity obsolete. The Castle alone would have cost a fortune. "Look, let's not rush things! I've got a decent job, things are stable - there's time to carefully consider my future. Our future," he added, wrapping an arm around Sarah's waist.

"Oh, of course!" Ellie looked a little guilty. "I guess you're growing up." Not too guilty, though.

"How did you manage to get your expulsion reversed?" Devon asked. "Stanford wouldn't have been eager to admit a mistake."

Fortunately, they had prepared for that line of inquiry. "Oh, in the aftermath of Bryce's death, apparently several unsavoury things he had done came to light as his affairs were settled, and the police contacted me. Virginia's, not ours," he clarified. "I couldn't tell you since it was an ongoing investigation - they were very clear about that. Sorry."

"We understand," Ellie said, still smiling. "I knew the man was a rat."

A spy, actually, who died on a mission. But that was classified. "And afterwards, well, I had already contacted Stanford, but I didn't want to raise your hopes in case it didn't work," Chuck went on.

"But it all worked out," Sarah added. "And now he's a Stanford graduate!"

"Larkin was a banker, wasn't he?" Ellie frowned. "I read his obituary. You should sue his estate and get compensation for the damage to your reputation, the loss of income, and the time you lost until you could graduate.."

"Already handled, Sis," Chuck said. "I have a settlement with the bank. It's not as big as it could be, I guess, but I didn't have to sue and pay half of it to my lawyer." He handed over the balance sheet.

"Chuck!" Ellie looked at him, then at the sheet, then back at him. "With that amount, you could found your own firm!"

"Well, a very small firm," Chuck said. "And I'd have to work out of my apartment."

That's how Apple got started," Devon pointed out.

"And they almost went broke a few times, I think," Chuck retorted. "Let's not spend all at once, hm? We also have your wedding to consider, after all."

"Oh, that's another piece of good news!" Ellie said. "I almost forgot - we got a notice today. Apparently, Dad had set up a fund for such an event, without telling us so we wouldn't feel the pressure, but there's enough money for a dream wedding!"

What? That was a little too convenient. And where would Dad have gotten the money? They'd had to struggle after his and mum's deaths. Wouldn't he have used the fund to provide for his orphaned kids, first?

Chuck exchanged a glance with Sarah. She, too, looked like she suspected something.

"Uh, Sis, which firm was handling the fund?"

"Bradbury and Lem, here's their letter," Ellie replied.

'Bradbury and Lem'? Had Dad picked them because they had the same names as two classic science fiction authors?

Or was that a front? They'd have to investigate.

"Don't worry, we're only using half the fund - the other half is reserved for your own wedding," Devon told him with a smile, derailing Chuck's thoughts.

His own wedding? They weren't planning his wedding, were they?

California, Burbank, The Castle, December 19th, 2007

"Bradbury and Lem is a front," Sarah said as she dealt out several sheets at the planning table in the base. "Their records check out, but all they do is holding money in escrow for 'selected clients'."

"With the right clients, that should be lucrative," Chuck pointed out. "Also, probably illegal."

"Exactly," Bane said. "Money laundering and black books."

Sarah frowned. She had spent most of the day researching this - this was her intel. "More or less. We haven't found any evidence of such activities, but we haven't checked their books yet. But their CEO is a lawyer who will sign anything for money and is the official CEO of several dozen firms all set up in a similar way."

"A true entrepreneur," Chuck quipped. "There's a demand, and he provides the service. Pure capitalism."

Casey growled at him and showed his teeth at the dig. "It's a crime, not capitalism."

"More importantly than discussing politics," Sara nipped the discussion in the buds before it could escalate, "we need to investigate them and uncover who's behind the money - and what their goals are."

"Didn't your father go missing?" Bane asked. "It might be him, using the firm to keep his identity and current whereabouts secret."

Sarah pressed her lips together. Chuck's dad had gone missing in Sunnydale.

"My father's dead," Chuck said in a flat tone.

"Presumed dead," Bane tried to correct him.

The agent didn't know about demons and Sunnydale. If not for the pain this was causing Chuck, Sarah would have been happy about Bane putting her foot in like this.

She spoke up again: "Speculation without any evidence or information won't serve us. We need to investigate this firm."

Chuck smiled at her as Bane frowned. The agent recovered quickly, though. "Of course. This presents a clear threat to Mr Bartowski's cover - and to his family."

"At least it's not Fulcrum," Chuck threw in. "If they did suspect me, they would attempt to kidnap me."

Sarah winced. He wasn't completely wrong, but there were several reasons for a more subtle approach. It could be a test for a theory and a distraction at the same time. On the other hand, setting up such a payment took quite the effort - and they would have had to care about Ellie's upcoming wedding. And Fulcrum had, at least in the past, used far more direct means. Although they might have lost too many assets or had a change in command resulting in a different tactic. "We'll have to be certain not to tip our hand," she said. "Someone might be watching for signs."

"Do you think your cover might be compromised?" Bane asked.

"No," Sarah replied at once to the blatant hint. "But we've been operating in this area for some time, now, and basic analysis will show that." And Fulcrum was bound to have more skilled analysts on their payroll.

"Your close relations might increase that danger."

"My cover was chosen with that in mind." Sarah smiled. "Fortunately, as things turned out."

"Yes," Chuck agreed with a smile, then frowned. "Wait… you're not suggesting we break up, are you? I mean for show."

"That would make it harder to work together and protect you," Sarah quickly said before Bane could say anything.

"Nothing of the sort," Bane said. "I was merely pointing out that your close relations mean that if one of you becomes compromised, it will endanger Miss Bartowski."

Casey glared at her. "My cover includes being his co-worker and neighbour."

"Which is another potential weak spot," Bane retorted.

"Protecting the Intersect requires such close covers," the NSA agent replied.

"Yes," Chuck added. "We're like, all-in. But we have a good hand. An excellent hand, even. And a few aces up our sleeves."

Sarah smiled as she nodded. It wasn't the best turn of phrase, but it fitted their situation perfectly, in her opinion.

California, Los Angeles, Malibu Beach, December 20th, 2007

"Well, apparently, signing anything put before you pays really well," Chuck remarked as he took in Larry Grover's home. It wasn't a beach house, but it was close to the beach. Probably a third-tier beach house, if that was a technical term. And it had good security - the gate wouldn't budge for anything short of a tank, and the walls looked massive, not ornamental.

"If it didn't, the slimeball wouldn't risk it," Casey growled. "Also, get used to being quiet. The hired help doesn't make jokes. Not in this business."

"Got it," Chuck replied, swallowing his comment about Casey's unfortunate choice of words so close to the averted slime apocalypse. And about the fact that he wouldn't actually go inside with Casey. "I'll be a good criminal minion." He fought the temptation to tug on his fake beard. He would much prefer to be in his Charles Carmichael persona - that would have allowed him to be with Sarah, too - but he'd had to talk fast to get onto this mission at all, seeing as it was aimed at his civilian life, despite him being the best hacker on the team. Even Bane, who supposedly was trying to earn his trust, had been against his participation. But Sarah had come around on his side - though she had insisted on Chuck posing as the driver while Casey and Bane went to meet Grover.

The gate started to open - they were expected, after all - and he drove the armoured SUV onto the grounds, stopping in front of the main entrance to let Casey and Bane out before parking to the side.

"We've arrived," he said.

"Good. Do you see any guards?" Sarah, hiding under a blanket in the back, asked.

"No." He took another look. "Just a security camera covering us." As predicted. "Wait, there's another one."

He flashed. "Shit. That's a Hallwyl Custom system. The cameras we saw on the pictures are the decoys; the real ones are better hidden. Closed-circuit, with image-recognition and motion detection routines, and backup batteries." Quite a good system. Not the best, of course, nor the newest, but better than expected.

Sarah remained unflappable, though. "Can you see their data lines?"

"Uh…" He leaned back, acting as if he were just a bored driver. If they had installed the lines inside the wall, that would… They hadn't. "Yes, there is a metal pipe running down from the camera, disguised as a lightning rod." Not quite sloppy, but Grover shouldn't have tried to save money there - he could see the cable branch out to the camera.

"We'll stick to the plan, then," Sarah decided.

Whoever had installed the security system was good, Sarah had to admit as she studied the wall through the tinted windows of the car. The two cameras - the visible and the hidden one - completely covered the parking area without leaving a blind spot - on this side.

But Chuck had parked the car at an angle that left a blind spot between the rear door and the bushes framing the parking area. She rechecked the angle of approach, then told Chuck: "Let's do it."

"Alright. Operation Distraction is a go."

His smile was a little forced, but when he got out of the car, he looked like an average driver stretching his legs. Sarah watched him circle the SUV as she moved to the back. There he ducked, then straightened - any observer would see him noticing something near the undercarriage. Nothing suspicious.

And opening the rear door so he could get a towel to clean whatever stain he had noticed? Completely natural. And, thanks to the blind spot, no one saw her slipping out of the car and rolling into the bushes while Chuck 'searched' for a towel.

By the time he had finished cleaning the mud they had sprayed on before the mission, Sarah had crawled fifteen yards and was one dash across the small pathway circling the house from reaching the camera's data line.

She should be in a blind spot, but she waited until Chuck opened the trunk to the car again, providing a small distraction, before she crawled to the wall. You could never be sure, after all.

The metal pipe looked strong - almost like a real lightning rod; it might even serve as one, which would probably fry the security system - but there was a gap at the bottom, and Sarah had no trouble connecting a small transponder. "Done," she whispered into her radio.

"Alright," she heard Chuck's reply. "Give me… hm… that's a standard… yes… almost… Oh."

She clenched her teeth. Chuck's sometimes-habit of commenting on his own work wasn't as adorable in the field as it was in the kitchen.

"And done! We can now control the feed. Starting a loop."

Good. Sarah had already connected another to the feed from the regular camera.

Five minutes later, both cameras were looped, and Chuck could leave the car without being seen. Sarah was picking the lock of the door facing the parking area - it had a security lock, so it took her a few minutes until she could signal to Casey and Bane that they had completed the first part.

Then they were inside, Sarah on point. The hallway behind the door was clear - no camera. That was a little sloppy. But then, they weren't dealing with a spy, but a lawyer turned criminal. He probably didn't want to be caught on his own cameras. Well, whatever his reasons, as long as it made it easier for her - not that she needed it - and Chuck, she wouldn't complain.

"Are you sure his office is on the first floor?" Chuck whispered.

"Yes," she hissed her reply. That was where the architect had placed it, and people like Grover tended to follow 'expert advice' - as they expected their own advice to be heeded.

Movement! Sarah pulled Chuck back into the hallway. Ah. She pressed herself against the wall as a woman carrying a tray with beverages and snacks walked towards the front of the house. Where the salon for visitors was located.

With the coast clear, they snuck upstairs by taking the smaller stairs next to the kitchen. Dashing past two guest rooms - which probably were never in use since there were two more impressive ones in the back - they reached the door to Grover's office. No security there, but it was locked. Thirty seconds later, they were in.

"Whoa!" Chuck exclaimed - fortunately, in a whisper. "That's a Ceres Hi-Power! Back when they came out fifteen years ago, they were top of the line! Morgan and I used to dream of owning one, but the manufacturer went bankrupt after a year."

"Can you hack it?" This wasn't the time of gushing over old computers.

"Uh, I should. I'm just saying that this is an almost priceless antique. It belongs in a museum."

"Yes, Dr Jones," she shot back. Antiques were older than fifteen years.

He blushed a little but started working on the thing. Sarah went to cover the door as he worked. They didn't have all the time in the world - there was only so long Casey and Bane could drag out negotiations.

Chuck realised straight away that this wasn't an original Ceres Hi-Power. Someone had upgraded the software with a custom OS, or at least a shell - his usual exploits and tricks wouldn't work here. He bit his lower lip. He could open the case and get the drives out, to crack them at the base, but… if someone went as far as to write custom programs, maybe even a custom OS, then they would have protected the dives against such tampering, too. Encrypted, perhaps even with a self-destruct system - he was pretty sure that the computer's hardware had been updated as well; who'd focus on software and keep a fifteen-year-old core running? Outside businesses where the management saw the IT department as the best place to cut costs if the firm had troubles, of course.

"Chuck?"

"I'm thinking," he replied. He couldn't hack this. A quick attempt proved that. Not in the time he had. "Think, Chuck, think!" he whispered. The machine was too bulky for them to carry it off without getting noticed. But, perhaps… He grinned. The weakness in any system was the human factor. People were lazy, and Grover made his living by acting as a strawman for criminals, keeping their money for them without doing anything strenuous.

Would such a man practice basic computer security? Chuck didn't think so. "There's always a weakness!"

He looked around the desk upon which the keyboard and screen rested. Unfortunately, there was no post-it note with a password 'hidden' nearby - Chuck was quite familiar with the common spots where lazy users hid such information. Grover wasn't as careless as Chuck had thought. Perhaps he had done the man a disservice, and Grover had memorised the password - he would have used it often enough.

Oh. Of course! He looked around, spotted the shelf in the back and grinned. "Perfect!"

"Chuck?

"I'm working on it," he told her as he approached the shelf. And the latest expensive laptop perched there. A model Chuck knew how to crack since some people with more money than sense kept locking themselves out of their status symbol.

Grover might have had enough sense not to write down his password, but Chuck suspected that the lawyer had used the same password on the laptop as he used on the Ceres. He picked the machine up and carried it to the desk so he could work on it. "Let's see what you've got…"

To his relief, Sarah didn't question his change of target. Chuck could crack the laptop's laughable security in under a minute, but he took a little more time here - he couldn't rush this. If whoever maintained the Ceres also ran Grovers other machines… But they didn't, and Chuck managed to retrieve the password.

He turned to the Ceres and took a deep breath as he entered the password. "Here goes…Everything!" he hissed in triumph. "We're in!"

He quickly called up the file manager - another custom job. He frowned. He had never seen that shell, but it looked familiar, somehow. And elegant. "Who made you?" he mumbled as he started a search - which ran faster than he expected.

"Bartowski… no code names for us? I almost feel insulted," he joked as he connected a memory stick to the computer and started downloading the data. First, the files covering him and Ellie, then the rest - waste not, want not. The CIA would make good use of such compromising information, wouldn't it?

He carefully put the laptop back on the shelf - exactly where it had been. More or less. Returning to the desk, he discovered that the data had already been copied.

"I've got to meet the programmer," he mumbled as he pocketed the stick. If Windows were as quick to move files, his work would be much less boring. Well, his work at the Buy More.

"Done," he announced - but Sarah was already moving.

Five minutes later, they reached the door to the parking area. Sarah held up her hand, and Chuck stopped, waiting in the hallway while she checked the outside. If anyone was waiting to ambush her… But no one was.

"Clear."

Chuck held his breath as they ran, crouched, to the SUV. The cameras were looped, but that wouldn't help if anyone outside, or at a window, saw them. But no one yelled at them - or shot at them as they climbed into the car, Sarah sliding under the blanket in the back again.

"Package secured," Sarah reported to Case and Bane.

"Good," Chuck heard the reply in his ear bud.

He started to relax, fiddling with his driver's cap. Mission accomplished.

Then he berated himself - the mission could still fail. They weren't in the clear yet.

California, Burbanks, The Castle, December 20th, 2007

Chuck rubbed his chin and shook his head. This didn't make much sense, as far as he could tell.

"Chuck? Is there a problem with the data?"

"Huh?" He looked at Sarah. "Yes. I mean, no, there's no problem with the data. But…" He took a deep breath. "The funds sent to Ellie? They came from Grover's very first client."

"Oh?" Sarah frowned and bent forward to look over his shoulder.

He smelt her scent as he pointed at the screen. "See? The first files related to this client are at least a year older than any other files in the system."

"He started with your fund. And branched out later," Sarah said.

Chuck blinked. That made sense - only it didn't make any sense. "Why would a criminal prepare funds for us? Fifteen years ago?"

Sarah looked grim as she replied: "I don't know. But we'll find out."

"Alright," Chuck said a few hours later, "the funds weren't marked for us fifteen years ago. The 'Bartowski' tag was only added a little while ago, probably when Grover received orders to arrange the payout." He smiled, obviously relieved, Sarah noticed. "So, we weren't marked by a criminal fifteen years ago. Whew!"

She hated to say it, but she had to. "But that means that someone who was hiding money from dubious sources fifteen years ago and probably started Grover's entire business recently took an interest in you. Enough of an interest to move money out of their hidden funds."

Chuck's face fell. "They know that I've got the Intersect in my head!"

She put her hand on his arm, gently squeezing. "At most, they'll suspect."

"Which is bad enough," Casey snarled. "If they're part of Fulcrum…"

"But why would they pay for Ellie's wedding?" Chuck asked. "And anonymously? They'd know that we'd not naively think they're the good guys."

"And as a bribe, it's not really much," Sarah pointed out.

"People have sold out America for less," Casey said.

"But we wouldn't!" Chuck said - a little heatedly. "And they'd know that!"

"It's the first step," Bane interjected. As everyone turned to look at her, she smiled, Sarah noticed. "A valuable gift or favour, but nothing overly generous. The recipient will be, even unconsciously, grateful. It gives you an in. All you need is a plausible story to explain why the mark received the gift. Then you build from there."

The agent was probably quoting her own playbook. But she had made a good point, Sarah had to admit. This was an opening move. Someone was planning a long con.

"Can we, uh, interrogate Grover?" Chuck asked. "His security isn't really up to snuff, is it? We could go in and grab him. Find out what he knows."

Casey grinned. "Feeling a little vicious, Bartowski? Do you want to do the waterboarding yourself?"

Sarah glared at the NSA agent. Chuck was worried about Ellie, as Casey would know, but he wasn't a torturer. Well… unless it was demons - Sarah remembered the demonstrations arranged for them.

"Kidnapping Grover runs the risk of alerting the donor to us," Bane pointed out.

"And I doubt that he knows the donor personally," Sarah added. "Whoever set this up was very cautious; they would know that Grover is the weakest link in the chain, and wouldn't have let him know their identity."

"But they installed the computer!" Chuck retorted. "That would have had to be done in person."

"Hired help, nerd." Casey scoffed. "Like your day job, just for criminals."

"No, no, no, guys," Chuck replied after a moment, shaking his head. "This wasn't some tech support. Whoever rigged up this system was a genius. Not the kind of person you hire for some delivery and installation job."

"Even geniuses can fall on hard times," Sarah said. Like Chuck.

Chuck looked at her for a moment, and she saw him understand what she hinted at - his lips twisted in that forced smile of his. "Point taken. But the thing is, the 'donor' would know how valuable the 'programmer' is. Whatever they are doing for a living, a genius programmer and tech guy will help. A lot."

"Trying to convince us or yourself?" Casey interrupted with a grin. Sarah felt a sudden urge to hit him. Chuck was turning into a good spy, even without the Intersect.

Chuck frowned at the man. "I'm not wrong. In any case, if Grover is a dead end - not literally, I hope - then whoever programmed this is the key." He pointed at the screen. "That was fifteen years ago. They will have done other things. And they will have left tracks!" He tapped his temple. "And the Intersect is perfect for finding them!"

California, Burbanks, The Castle, December 23rd, 2007

Another dead end. Chuck sighed. He had been so sure this would pay out. A selection of the best code from various skilled hackers, both the kind to make headlines and the ones working for various spy agencies.

And he had flashed, solving two high-profile hacks in the process. But there was nothing on the elusive 'Baker', as they had code-named the programmer - on Chuck's suggestion, since Ceres, the goddess, had been synonymous with grain and bread in the Roman era. Not that anyone had cared. Not even Sarah. But she hadn't been rude about it, unlike Casey.

He sighed again. He hadn't found pieces of the Ceres code in commercial programs. Nothing distinctive, at least. And now the illegal programs hadn't paid out either - not even the Intersect had helped.

He clenched his teeth. The Intersect was useless. He was useless. Ellie was in danger because of him, and Chuck couldn't do anything. Useless!

"I don't get it!" he complained.

"Hm?" Sarah looked up from her report.

"'Baker' started at least fifteen years ago, and we know he kept updating Grover's computer regularly. That means he was active for one and a half decades - and yet the Intersect has nothing on the guy? It had data on a kid hacking his grades in high school in 2001!" It didn't make sense. This was what the Intersect had been designed for, so why wasn't it working? It was as if the Intersect was blind… "Oh my God!"

"Chuck?"

He looked at her as his stomach seemed to drop. "Sarah… who exactly created the Intersect?"