Chapter 23: The Disclosure

Jamaica, Montego Bay, January 9th, 2008

"...and then we contained the slime until we could close the portal to the slime dimension," Morgan finished.

"With magic."

"Yes."

"A portal to the 'slime dimension'."

"Yes. Or a rift - the definitions are a little unclear."

"I don't think the exact terminology matters, Morgan," Chuck cut in.

"Yeah," Caridad agreed. "Suffice to say that we stopped the whole slime invasion."

"We and the Scoobies," Morgan corrected her.

Caridad huffed in response but didn't contradict him.

"This is insane!" Bane exclaimed. "You're talking about a global conspiracy to hide the existence of a threat to the entire world! A threat the CIA and NSA are completely unaware of! This is ridiculous!"

"Actually, the government and selected people in the intelligence services are aware of it," Chuck pointed out.

"Yeah, there was the whole Initiative debacle," Morgan added.

"I think we shouldn't discuss this in the middle of an alley," Sarah cut in. "Let's gather Casey and return to the hotel."

"Yes," Chuck agreed.

"There might be more vampires around," Caridad said, looking down the alley.

"Did you sense anything?" Morgan asked.

"No."

"We took long enough to find one vampire. Let's go back to the hotel now."

Morgan could be decisive if he had to, Chuck noted.

Caridad still grumbled all the way back to the hotel. Fortunately, that wasn't a long walk - now that they weren't following a roaming Slayer on a hunt.

"So… anyone want a snack?" Morgan asked, sitting - awkwardly, with one leg, the one with the sprained ankle, stretched out - next to the minibar in Casey and Caridad's room. He opened it and blinked at the, as Chuck could see, empty fridge. "Never mind."

"Vampire hunting is hungry work," Caridad replied from her bed, where she was sprawled out amidst half a dozen sandwiches she had bought from a food stall on the way back.

"I don't think a single fledgeling vampire is enough to work up an appetite," Casey said from his bed.

"Hey! If I had staked it quickly, maybe. But I had to keep it down while Miss Spy there tried everything she could think of to prove reality wrong. That took some time."

Fortunately, Bane seemed to ignore the not-so-subtle dig, Chuck saw. The spy shook her head. "This doesn't make sense. The United States wouldn't leave such a crucial area of defence to foreigners."

"Technically, they have special forces hunting demons," Chuck told her.

"In South America," Morgan added.

"They're more like walking demon bait - anything serious crops up, we have to bail them out," Caridad cut in after swallowing a large mouthful of bread and sausage. "But they're useful when it comes to keeping the other military idiots from trying to deal with demons and magic. Buffy and the others already had to save one military base in Sunnydale."

"What?" Bane gasped.

"Demon Research Initiative," Morgan informed her. "They had a secret underground base for capturing and researching demons. It went wrong after a few months, and the demons took over. The Scoobies had to clean the base out and save the few survivors before an army of demon-soldier-hybrids swept across the country."

"That was after graduation," Chuck said. "Morgan and I had already left the town, so we weren't around for that."

"We helped stop Mayor Wilkins from turning into a major demon and eating all of Sunnydale at our graduation, though." Morgan smiled. "Even though we had to blow up the school to save it."

Casey grunted something unpleasant - someone was touchy about the old military joke, it seemed.

"What?"

"Oh, that wasn't normal. Sunnydale was built above a Hellmouth," Chuck explained. "So it attracted demons and other weirdness from all over the world. But the Hellmouth is closed now."

"And the town disappeared into a sinkhole as a side-effect," Sarah spoke up. "As you can see, dabbling in magic is not recommended."

"And you've known about this, but kept it secret from the general." Bane narrowed her eyes at Sarah, then at Casey.

"Yes," Sarah admitted. "Although that was merely following the lawful orders of her superiors."

"The general's not cleared to know this," Casey added.

"And you are?" Bane retorted.

"Yes," Morgan said. "Since the Council cleared them."

"A foreign organisation."

"Actually, it's headed by Americans these days," Chuck told her. "But it's also an allied organisation. There are treaties with the US government."

"It's all above board. Well, sort of," Morgan added with a shrug.

"The Council takes care of the supernatural threats, and the government stays out of our way," Caridad summed up.

Bane shook her head. "And why doesn't anyone know about this? You say vampires and demons are hiding among humans - and preying on them! Why is this a secret?"

"Ah…" Chuck winced as he raised his index finger. "That's because if too many humans believe - really believe - in demons and magic, the Old Ones will wake up."

"And no one, not even the demons, wants that to happen. That would be the end of the world. Literally," Morgan said. "And the hell dimensions will probably follow."

Bane blinked. "...what?"

They left Grimes to explain the finer details of the supernatural world and their role in it to Bane and returned to their rooms. Or, in Caridad's case, went hunting, as the Slayer had announced while leaving. Sarah didn't know if that was merely an excuse not to spend the evening in the same room as Casey and didn't really care, either.

"Do you think she'll…" Chuck shrugged. "I mean…"

"...play ball?" she finished for him.

"Yes." He nodded emphatically.

She shrugged in response. "I don't know." Not yet. "She seems to still be in shock." Sarah certainly had taken the whole revelation about vampires, demons and magic much better than Bane.

"Morgan's with her."

That might not help matters overly much, in Sarah's opinion. Which she didn't share with Chuck. "It's a lot to take in," she said, instead. "But she knows our orders."

"Both the official and unofficial ones," Chuck agreed.

"Yes." She started to undress, taking care to appear unconcerned and casual. He was staring at her, she noticed with satisfaction as she dropped her shirt.

He cleared his throat. "Uh..." And there he licked his lips. "I mean… do you think she'll follow the official or unofficial orders?"

With her back to him, she slowly pulled her pants down, putting a little extra wriggle into it. "I think she is smart enough to realise that if she doesn't follow the official orders, her superiors will use her as a scapegoat as soon as the Council puts pressure on the agency." And if Bane wasn't smart enough, then she deserved what would happen to her.

"But doesn't that mean that she'll also realise that, like you and Casey, she'll be seen as compromised?" Chuck said.

She looked over her shoulder at him while she dropped her sports bra. "That's likely, yes."

He cleared his throat again, and she noticed that he was blushing. "So… she'll be looking for a way out as well?"

Bane probably had a few plans to get out should she end up burned by the agency - Sarah had made such plans herself, after all. "She might work on Morgan," she told him turning around and picking her robe up from the chair on to which she had dropped it earlier.

Chuck didn't answer until she had slipped into the robe. "Uh, yes. But she's doing that anyway, isn't she?"

"Yes." She faced him, not bothering to close her robe. "Aren't you getting ready for bed?" she asked with a sly smile.

He blinked, almost as long as when he flashed, then nodded. "Uh, yes…"

"Let me help you," she told him as she walked over to him, hips swaying. "And don't bother with pyjamas."

She hadn't used a favour so they could stay at this hotel on the CIA's tab for nothing, after all.

Jamaica, Montego Bay, January 10th, 2008

The Pirate's Eye Bar hadn't been affected by the 'earthquake', as far as Chuck could tell. He couldn't see any damage or fresh repairs, and they didn't seem to have picked up the business of the now destroyed Buccaneer Bar, either - the patrons appeared to be the same mix of mostly locals and a few tourists that they had seen during their last visit.

But… "Guys, I think the bouncer's wary of us," Chuck said in a low voice as they approached the bar. Did the staff have a guilty conscience?

"He should be," Caridad said, chuckling. "They know I'm the Slayer. And they know what happened to the Buccaneer Bar when we visited it."

"I bet the traitor's fled," Casey said in a low growl.

"We'll see," Sarah said.

"And we'll talk, first, right?" Chuck looked at the others. "Right?"

After a slightly too long pause, they nodded - if grudgingly, in Caridad's case. Chuck breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the entrance.

The bouncer didn't bother them - didn't even attempt to search them for weapons. Jim must have informed them of their identity. Or, at least, Caridad's.

Well, they had expected that. As before, Morgan and Bane had stayed at the hotel. Morgan because he was still limping, Bane because she still hadn't fully recovered from last night's revelations. And if anything happened, they would be able to call in help from either the CIA or the Council. Or both.

Inside, the group slowly made their way to the bar, checking for ambushes and curses on the way - well, the others did that. Chuck tried to check on the people present; see if the Intersect triggered on any of them.

But it didn't, and they reached the bar without incident.

"Jim's waiting in the back room," the bartender told them in lieu of a greeting.

That was a surprise. Jim must be either confident or ignorant. Or this might be a trap. Chuck looked at Caridad, but she merely nodded with a grin. So, she hadn't smelled anything demon-y, yet.

"Fine," Sarah told the bartender, then turned away and headed towards the door to the backroom. Chuck sped up a little to catch up to her. He wasn't carrying weapons other than a stake and the holy water vials, but, in a pinch, the Intersect should activate.

Sarah didn't bother knocking - she went straight into the room.

Where Jim and Zabuto were waiting.

Great.

"You sent us against a witch with demon allies without warning us!" Caridad spat. "Are you stupid, evil or both?"

Chuck winced. That wasn't helping - even if she was correct.

Jim frowned at her, then sneered. "Hey - you're the Slayer; you said so yourself. You could easily deal with Mary and her crew - and you did, too!" he retorted in his heavy accent. "I didn't think you wanted or needed a warning."

"Really? You didn't want to see us get hurt, maybe lose a few people walking into a trap, huh?" Caridad marched straight up to Jim's desk, then veered off and stepped to the side - the one opposite Zabuto.

Jim looked more nervous now, Chuck noticed. Did he realise that he had miscalculated? Chuck looked at Zabuto, who hadn't said anything yet. What was he doing here?

"And don't try to point your gun at me or I gut you like a fish!" Caridad snapped, and a knife that almost qualified as a short sword appeared in her hand.

Sarah and Casey drew their guns at once and spread out, covering both Jim and Zabuto. And Zabuto had a crystal in his hand - probably containing a curse that would be released should it shatter. Like, say, if the retired Watcher got shot.

But would Sarah and Casey be aware of that? Enough to stop them from shooting him out of reflex, should things start to go wrong?

"And tell your crew to stay put!" Caridad told the young man with a glare at the door behind Chuck. "If they enter this room, it'll go bad for them!"

Zabuto raised his crystal. "I believe that you all would be well advised to calm down," he said - his Queen's English a sharp contrast to Jim's accent.

"Or?" Casey aimed at him.

"This crystal both is fragile and contains a rather nasty curse," Zabuto confirmed Chuck's expectations.

That didn't make Casey lower his pistol, of course. Quite the contrary, actually. "You'd be dead before the thing hits the ground," the agent stated with a twisted grin.

And, as a glance told Chuck, Caridad was now eyeing Zabuto. Probably trying to figure out how to stop the crystal from getting shattered without shattering it herself.

"And you'd join me soon afterwards - and you'll wish you had been shot," Zabuto retorted.

Chuck caught Sarah glancing at him and cleared his throat. Best to get on with why they were here before someone started a fight by accident. "You withheld vital information," he told Jim. "You didn't treat with us in good faith."

"I told you - it didn't look as if you needed anything else than the address."

Caridad scoffed. "Your ego couldn't handle me being better at hunting demons."

She still wasn't helping! Chuck gritted his teeth and frowned at her, but she ignored him, staring at Jim. "We're all on the same side," he said, hoping that he wasn't lying. "Playing such games - for whatever reason - only helps the demons."

"The Council isn't exactly interested in cooperation," Zabuto said. "Yet we're expected to drop everything and support them without question when they call on us?"

"We're not your dogs!" Jim spat.

"We're not the Council," Chuck replied. "We're just another group working with them - with Caridad, to be precise." Which was true even though they were planning to join the Council. "And we came to you so we wouldn't cause trouble out of ignorance. We told you that. And yet, you withheld information - and so we ended up with a bar burned down, and a small earthquake damaging the area. Exactly what we wanted to avoid."

Jim pressed his lips together and glared at him, but Zabuto nodded if a little reluctantly.

"You knew about the spell on the bar, didn't you?" Caridad said.

"We suspected," Zabuto admitted. "But given the animosity between Jim's friends and Mary, and my own reputation, we were unable to confirm it without causing the very fight we wanted to avoid."

"You should have told us!" Cariad exclaimed.

Zabuto looked at Jim. "Sorry," the young man muttered.

As far as apologies went, it was one of the least honest Chuck had ever seen since the time the school board had forced Snyder to retract a detention against a bullying victim. And he knew his friends thought the same. But they weren't here to start another fight, even if Caridad might have temporarily forgotten. So he nodded with a thin smile. "Alright. Glad we sorted this out. Now, are there any similar problems we're bound to encounter during our stay?"

"No." Jim scoffed. "We keep the island safe."

Caridad snorted but, for a change, held her tongue.

Chuck looked at Zabuto. The older man inclined his head. "There are a few practitioners on the island," he said, "but they keep a low profile and wouldn't bother the Slayer."

That wasn't exactly a rousing endorsement, but Chuck was willing to take what they could get before someone got a cramp and everyone started shooting everyone. "Alright. So, we will enjoy our vacation, and you keep doing what you do, and in less than a week, we'll be out of your hair."

He was the only one smiling at his proclamation, he noticed. But no one was shooting or cursing or slashing anyone.

Which was a step up from their latest tense discussion inside a bar.

Jamaica, Montego Bay, Sandals Montego Bay, January 10th, 2008

"Get up, stand up; stand up for your rights!"

Chuck closed his eyes and sighed. The weather was perfect, the room great, the food excellent, and the pool just like he liked it, but he wished there was a little more variety in the music. He'd heard enough Bob Marley and love songs for a year.

"Getting homesick?" Sarah asked as she got back from a brief dip in the pool. "Two more days and we'll fly home."

"Oh, no, no," he quickly said. "I'm just trying to avoid singing along with the lyrics which seem to have been burned into my mind." He blinked. "And that was an unfortunate choice of words, sorry."

She chuckled at his lapse. "The music selection here is a little… conservative," she said.

"Bob Marley, conservative? He's got to be turning in his grave," Chuck said. "Although I guess the saying that the older you get, the more conservative you become holds true for songs as well."

She laughed again. He loved seeing her laugh. It made her look carefree. And beautiful, of course. But she always was beautiful. "Thank you," he said. "For this," he added, gesturing at the pool and the bar next to it, when she raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

"You're welcome" she replied. "It's too bad it was cut short so much."

"We've spent most of our days relaxing," he said. "It's only the nights that were really affected by, well, you know."

"And not all of the nights." She sent a sly grin at him that made him blush a little. Which, in turn, made her smile again.

"Does this happen often?" he asked after a moment. "To spies, I mean."

"Hm?"

"Spending a week on vacation." It wasn't the first time they had spent some time 'maintaining their cover', after all. But the first time in a Caribbean resort.

"It's not uncommon," she told him. "Spies need to decompress as well, after missions. And doing so while maintaining a cover ID is simply efficient."

"I bet it is." He gave her a sceptical look, to which she responded with another smile. "I could get used to this," he said. "Well, less lethal danger would be preferable, of course. But, still…" He could get used to being a spy.

As long as it was with her, of course, he added to himself when she nodded in agreement.

California, Los Angeles, January 13th, 2008

"Home sweet home!" Chuck said as they disembarked from the plane. After hours stuck in a narrow seat, he couldn't wait to stretch his limbs again. Another hour in that plane, and he'd need another vacation to recover. He'd prefer fighting a vampire to flying economy. Well, only if he had a flamethrower and the vampire was tied down.

Shaking his head, he snorted.

"What's so funny?" Casey growled behind him. "Care to share with the class?"

Chuck suppressed the flashback to Sunnydale High that brought up. "Just a stray thought," he said. Casey was grumpier than usual, what with having to spend hours next to Caridad, and Chuck didn't want to further annoy the man.

Contrary to Ellie's opinion, Chuck did learn from his mistakes. Eventually.

"I'll have to check how bad things got in my absence," Caridad announced behind them.

"Phil will have kept things under control," Morgan said.

"He's no Slayer," Caridad retorted. "And he better not have fought demons without me!"

"If there were a problem, he'd have called in another Slayer. Or a team."

"What? Los Angeles is my town!" Caridad's growl sounded remarkably like Casey's, Chuck noticed. "He better not have called in someone else!" She looked like she was about to rush off to Phil.

"We need to get our luggage," Chuck reminded her. And their weapons and other gear.

"Right." She nodded, then made a beeline towards the baggage claim area.

Chuck didn't bother reminding her that it would take at least a quarter-hour until their luggage would appear there. Probably longer - the airport was packed.

Still, it wasn't as if they had anything better to do, and they followed in the Slayer's wake at a more sedate pace so Morgan could keep up. Chuck glanced at Bane, who was helping his friend. They hadn't really talked about things. Not since the revelation. Well, Morgan had talked to her, a lot - they had certainly looked like a couple at the hotel - but Chuck wasn't entirely sure if he could trust his friend's judgement when it came to the spy.

The debriefing with the general would be interesting. But more interesting would be what Bane would be reporting privately afterwards.

They hadn't told her about Orion being Chuck's dad, after all. She had no idea that even her secure channels would be monitored. Or so Chuck hoped - the woman was a veteran spy and might expect that.

But between Dad and Willow, they should have all bases covered.

California, Burbank, The Castle, January 13th, 2008

"...and then we withdrew and used the prepared alternative airport to leave the island."

Casey nodded sharply as he finished his report. Which had been both completely true, technically, and full of holes. Chuck almost nodded in appreciation - for all of Casey's carefully cultivated image as a straight shooter, the man certainly knew how to stretch the truth and bend the rules. But then, he was a spy, wasn't he?

Judging by her unamused expression, General Beckman was aware of that as well, though. "I see. Thank you, Major Casey. I'm looking forward to the written reports - from all of you," she added with a stern glance.

Chuck struggled not to wince. That would require a lot of coordinating so they didn't contradict each other or accidentally revealed anything classified. He glanced at Bane, but her expression didn't let on anything.

"And what about your time spent in Jamaica?" the general went on, steepling her fingers as she leaned forward on the screen.

Uh-oh. Chuck swallowed, but Casey was already talking. "There was an incident involving a classified matter, ma'am. It was resolved without issue."

"I don't know whether I would classify setting a building on fire and using enough explosives to cause a minor earthquake as 'resolving an incident without issue', Major."

"The details are classified, ma'am." Casey remained unflappable.

But Chuck glanced, again, at Bane. The spy seemed to be imitating Casey's stony expression now. She sat straight and stiff in her seat - even Chuck could see that she wasn't acting as she usually did.

And so would Beckman, though the woman didn't say anything. "I see. So, the threat to Agent Bane has been neutralised, a drug-running organisation was destroyed, and a case of art and antique theft solved."

"The organisation run by Lindor might yet recover - we were unable to confirm the death of his partner," Casey pointed out.

Chuck didn't have to look at Sarah to know she was frowning - despite the fact that it hadn't been her fault that she had to leave Sanchez's yacht in a hurry before taking him out.

"Our sources report infighting among Sanchez's cartel, so there's a high probability of his death," Beckman told them.

Casey nodded in response, as did Sarah and Bane, so Chuck followed their example.

"Do you have anything else to add?"

Was that a not so veiled hint for Bane? Or just the usual question at the end of a debriefing?

"No, ma'am."

"Dismissed, Agents, Mr Bartowski."

A moment later, Beckman's image faded to black.

Chuck took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his arms. "She wasn't happy."

"No shit, Sherlock," Casey replied with a scoff. He didn't slouch, but he stopped standing at parade rest.

"She considers me compromised," Bane muttered. Chuck looked up and saw that the spy was slumping in her seat.

"Like us," Sarah said.

"Unless I tell her the truth. At which point shell consider me crazy." Bane shook her head.

Chuck almost asked if she'd only realised this now. But she'd had days to think this over. "Yes. Like us," he said. "Well, like Sarah and Casey." Stressing that they were in this together would help, wouldn't it? "She doesn't really consider me an agent." Even though she wanted him to sign up with the CIA. As an analyst, though. Not an agent. Although if she knew about the Intersect's skill package… He buried that thought. He wanted to become a spy to work with Sarah, and that wouldn't be possible under Beckman.

"She doesn't know what you can do," Bane replied.

"It's a simple ploy to make you feel different from the rest of us," Sarah pointed out.

"Well, it's not working." Chuck shook his head. He might not be a trained spy - yet - but he was part of the team. The Burbank Team. Or Team Burbank? The Burbank Station? Or was that just a naval term?

Sarah, standing next to his seat, put her hand on his shoulder. They smiled at each other until Casey scoffed again.

"So… what happens now?" Bane asked.

"We protect Chuck and his family and wait for the next mission," Sarah replied at once.

"I meant about the Council," Bane explained, frowning at the other spy. "You're planning to jump ship, aren't you?"

"Uh…" Technically, that wasn't true, was it? At least not for Chuck. Or did it count if he was being paid by the CIA, without being a real agent?

"Yes," Sarah admitted, to Chuck's surprise. Then again, it was kind of obvious, after Haiti and Jamaica, wasn't it? "Do you want to follow us?"

Now that was a surprise! Chuck really hadn't expected Sarah to… wait. She hadn't offered Bane to join them, had she? Well, it was implied, and she wouldn't ask, only to turn her down? That would make an enemy out of Bane for sure!

"I'm also checking other options," Bane replied. "But it's an obvious move."

Sarah and Casey nodded while Chuck felt a little lost. What did that mean? For Bane, for them, and for Morgan?

California, Burbank, Buy More, January 14th, 2008

"...and see, here? That's the menu to reset your default settings."

"Ah, thank you! It had disappeared - I did exactly what you just did!"

Of course. And the man had remembered this exactly like he remembered how to turn his laptop off. Chuck forced himself to nod as the customer blatantly lied in his face. "That happens sometimes," he lied in return.

His smile disappeared as soon as the man turned away to leave the store. "That was the third customer today who shouldn't be allowed to have a computer, and it's not even break time yet! Did Big Mike tell everyone like them to come back today?" he asked rhetorically.

Or not so rhetorically - Jeff and Lester were cringing at his, completely understandable, outburst, Chuck noticed. He narrowed his eyes at them and quickly grabbed Lester's collar when the man tried to run. "Not so fast, buster!"

"Uh… but we've got an urgent call. Two urgent calls!" Lester protested.

Jeff nodded, and not in his usual sloth-like slow movement. Which, Chuck realised, might be due to his demon nature. "Yeah."

"Then let's make this short!" Chuck smiled at them like Casey would - all toothy and threatening. They winced in return, and Lester even whimpered. "Did you reschedule all the annoying customers for today, when you knew I'd be back?"

"I plead the fifth!" Lester blurted out, Jeff nodding with every word. "You can't prove anything! We had no choice! No, we didn't!"

Chuck closed his eyes and sighed. "Guys, that's not OK. We don't do that kind of thing here - we don't push off our work on others," he explained when he saw their confused expressions.

Both of them glanced towards the staff area. Why would… Chuck groaned. Big Mike's office was there. "Guys, Big Mike's management."

"So are you!" Lester shot back.

Chuck frowned at the man, and he flinched back again. "I'm assistant manager," he corrected him. "I'm still working at the Nerd Herd desk, as you can see. And we don't push off our work to our colleagues. Especially not when they're on vacation."

"But there was so much work!" Lester complained again. "And we're Mac specialists! Not PC support!"

"Really? It seems you need some remedial training, then," Chuck said. "Like, say, an evening course in PC support?"

"Ugh…" Jeff groaned. The two miscreants exchanged glances. "No, no, we're good!"

Chuck let them scurry away and rubbed the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "I'd prefer to get shot at, I think," he mumbled. Then he blinked when he realised that it was actually true. Mostly.

"I hope I'm not turning into Casey," he muttered, watching the agent scare away another potential customer just by being his not so lovable self.

"Chuck! I need a hand!"

That was Morgan. But he was still on sick leave, wasn't he? Chuck turned towards the entrance, then blinked. Morgan was there, still on crutches, and next to him was a dolly with the stuffed shark he had bought in Haiti. Pushed by Bane.

He had actually sent the thing home? And it had arrived already? Why didn't that ever happen when they needed some crucial spare parts for work? "Morgan?"

"Hi, Chuck! We're here with Big Mike's souvenir! Can you give us a hand to help get it to him?"

Chuck forced himself to smile. This wouldn't end well. Not at all.

California, Burbank, Wienerlicious, January 14th, 2008

"...and Big Mike actually liked the thing! He said it went well with his Merlin! Can you imagine that? The two fishes take up half of his office!"

Sarah laughed at Chuck's tale. He pouted in return. "It doesn't make sense."

She shrugged, then took another swallow from her soda. "Apparently, he likes stuffed fishes."

"He can't even claim he caught it - everyone saw Morgan cart it inside, and he's currently telling everyone how he found it in some hidden, secret shop in Jamaica."

Jamaica, not Haiti? That must have been Bane's influence. Sarah didn't think that Grimes would have thought of lying about the actual origin of the stuffed shark by himself. She shrugged again. "I don't think that will stop him from inventing a story about catching it himself. Anglers are infamous for making up such stories, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Chuck admitted, downing his coke with a frown.

She cocked her head and studied him. "Is something wrong?" He wasn't like this, usually.

He sighed. "I'm just a little annoyed at having to deal with stupid customers and worse co-workers."

"Jeff and Lester?"

"Yes." He leaned back and shook his head. "They told every annoying customer to come back today, when they knew I'd be back."

"Ah." She frowned. "That wasn't very nice."

"No, it wasn't. And with Morgan on crutches for a few more days, we're still a man short," Chuck complained. "At least as spies, we don't have to deal with that sort of stuff."

"We only have to deal with traitors and assassins," she replied. And she didn't yet know whether Bane would reveal herself as either of those.

Chuck sighed. "You're right. Still - isn't it annoying to come back from a mission only to have to deal with annoying customers again?"

"You get used to it," she told him. "It's just a cover, after all. And," she added after a moment, "pretending to be normal, and dealing with normal problems, is also nice."

"Oh." He nodded. "I didn't look at it like that." He chuckled. "Not that I'd call Jeff and Lester 'normal', you know?"

She nodded with a snort. Those two were anything but normal, even discounting Jeff's real species. And yet, they were less annoying, and far less dangerous, than some of Sarah's past co-workers.

California, Los Angeles, Hollywood, January 16th, 2008

"I don't know about this…" Chuck trailed off as he looked around.

"What?" Sarah, standing next to him, frowned. "We need to know what exactly the Intersect is doing to you," she told him. "It's in your head affecting your brain. And your father's the best choice to examine you."

"The only choice, actually," Chuck replied. It wasn't as if there were any other experts with his knowledge and experience - even leaving aside the need for secrecy, Chuck didn't want some CIA-scientists with only a hunch about the real capabilities of the Intersect to poke around in his brain. "But I'm concerned about the fact that we're about to openly walk into a clinic for the examination. During business hours." Fake IDs and disguises notwithstanding, it felt wrong.

"A private clinic," Sarah retorted. "One known for the discretion of the staff." She smiled and took his arm "Come on, Mr Cadbury, we're going to be late to your appointment with your private doctor."

He smiled weakly as they entered the clinic, but as Sarah had predicted, the nurse at the reception desk didn't even blink at their large sunglasses, nor did she more than glance at the fake IDs they presented.

Although that probably was because Dad had completely penetrated the clinic's system and scheduled everything - Chuck didn't think a disguised journalist could enter as easily. At least he hoped they couldn't.

A nurse led them into the clinic and to an examination room. "Dr Waters is waiting inside, Mr Cadbury," she told them with a professional smile as she opened the door.

And that was Dad there. Even with a wig and fake beard, Chuck could recognise him at once. "Ah, Mr Cadbury. And Mrs Cadbury. Good afternoon. Everythings set up," Dad told them - for the benefit of the nurse closing the door behind them, of course. As soon as the door closed, Dad pulled a device out of the pockets of his lab coat. A prototype CIA scanner, Chuck knew the type - without the Intersect, he realised.

"We're clear," Dad announced after a minute. "So… tell me what happened!" He smiled as he sat down at the desk and took out a notepad, like a real doctor. Or psychiatrist.

"Well…" Chuck began, "we were in a village, captives of drug dealers, and they were about to hurt Sarah when I suddenly knew all sorts of martial arts…"

"...and that was the last time the Intersect activated like that," Chuck finished.

Dad nodded. "It looks like this is triggered by stress."

"I was plenty stressed in other situations," Chuck retorted.

"But not in lethal danger," Sarah pointed out.

"I wasn't in lethal danger when it activated the first time. But you were about to be tortured," Chuck replied.

"That's a good point," Dad agreed. "If it were just triggered by lethal danger, the Intersect wouldn't have activated I think. And it's not simply strong emotional reactions, either, that trigger it." He rubbed his chin through his fake beard. "Fascinating, really."

"I'm so glad that my situation is interesting," Chuck said in a flat voice. Sarah giggled but put her hand on his arm, and he smiled at her, "Sorry. It's just… It's bad enough to know I have a computer in my head that can turn me into a stone-cold killer, but to not know how it activates?" He shook his head. "I need to be able to control it, not the other way 'round." Or he'd never be a competent spy.

"Yes, you're right, Chuck," Dad told him. "But It's not all that bad. For one, we know that the whole thing is still evolving. It wasn't active for months after you received the Intersect, was it?" He smiled. "Your brain's still adapting to the Intersect's neural connections, I think. Things will probably change for some time still."

Chuck wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "What if the Intersect is adapting to my brain?"

"Oh, I designed it to do that."

"What?" Chuck gasped. What if it was taking over his mind? Changing him? "It's influencing me?"

"What? No, no. It shouldn't do that. It should only offer options and information, without influencing your decisions." Dad frowned. "Of course, by offering information and options, it is influencing your decisions, but not mind-control. Everyone is influenced by the information and options they have at their disposition, after all."

Dad was a brilliant scientist, but his bedside manner and personal touch really needed some work, in Chuck's opinion. "So, I'm not going to turn into a killer without scruples, am I?"

"You shouldn't," Dad replied. "Well, not because of the Intersect, in any case."

"Very reassuring, Dad," Chuck said.

Sarah chuckled as she squeezed his hand in support.

"Now, let's scan your brain and check if there are no physiological changes."

"'Physiological changes'?" Chuck gasped. That was possible?

"Scans are clean. Your brain chemistry is normal as well. Blood pressure had some spikes, but nothing lasting," Dad said an hour later as Chuck dressed again.

"And the verdict?" Chuck asked.

"As I said before: It's too early to tell," Dad replied. "It's all still in flux. We'll have to repeat this after your next episode."

That made it sound as if he were sick, in Chuck's opinion. Or going crazy.

"But I think we can assume that it'll keep activating in lethal danger, or other, similarly stressful situations."

"Nice. So in the event of me killing my co-workers, I'll have an excuse." Chuck snorted.

"Which you can't use in court, though," Sarah pointed out. "It's top secret."

Not that any such incident would go to court, anyway. The CIA would cover it up.

"So, all we have to do is wait for the next mission, or the next apocalypse," Chuck said, sighing.

He didn't like the way Dad cleared his throat at that. "Speaking of missions," his dad spoke up. "I'm done with the groundwork for faking my death, so to speak."

Oh.

"Which means the next step is framing the mark," Sarah said.

"Exactly."