And when that foghorn blows

I will be coming home

And when the foghorn blows

I wanna hear it

I don't have to fear it

And I wanna rock your gypsy soul

Just like way back in the days of old

And magnificently we will float

Into the mystic

"Into the Mystic"

Van Morrison

May 16, 2036

Burbank, California

"Honey?" Chuck called up the stairs, then decided to not wait for a reply and started to climb them, stepping more than one step at a time with his long legs. Slightly out of breath when he reached the doorway to their bedroom, he leaned in, calling again, "Honey? What are you doing? There's like a million people here alrea…dy." He stopped talking, more out of breath than he had been from running up the stairs, once he saw his wife.

She stood before the open closet door in front of the full-length mirror. Twisting side to side with her arms slightly raised, bent at the elbows, she took another long look before she acknowledged him. "Does this dress make me look fat?" she deadpanned.

Her dress was deep claret, strapless, and it flowed from her trim waist, fluttering in soft layers of satin and chiffon, to just above her knees. Her shoes matched the dress perfectly. Her long blonde hair fell in a flowing cascade down over her shoulders. Thank god she didn't listen to Andrea and cut it, he thought to himself.

I'm too old for long hair like this, she had argued with him.

No one would ever guess how old you really are…until they looked at me, he had teased back, gesturing to his salt and pepper hair, much more salt than pepper at 55.

"Chuck?" she asked, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

Was she waiting for an answer? To that? he thought in disbelief.

"I'm…sorry. That dress took my breath away. What was it you asked?" he asked, smiling sweetly, teasing her in this usual go-round about how she looked.

She walked across the room to him, her hips swaying as she walked on her heels, something she only wore for special occasions any more. Like today, for instance, which was their 25th wedding anniversary celebration. She sauntered up to him, sliding her hands under the lapels of his charcoal jacket. "You're smooth, Mr. Bartowski. Expert diversion there," she teased. When she smiled, he saw the faintest hint of creases at the corner of her eyes that were in truth the only signs of her true age, for everything else to him looked exactly the same as she had looked the first day he had met her.

He smiled sweetly, the lines around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose well-worn also, but detracting nothing from how handsome he was to her. The ascot in his jacket pocket matched her dress perfectly, as did his tie, bright against his crisp white dress shirt. "I did learn from the best, Mrs. Bartowski," he murmured, leaning down towards her lips. More seriously, he added, "You look amazing, as always."

"Are we ready to do this?" she asked, looking up at him with her eyes sparkling.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered, stretching out his arm for her. She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and let him escort her down the stairs. Tonight was about having fun, about them, and she made a conscious effort to put everything else out of her mind. At least for now.

"Oh, Chuck," she whispered to him as they cleared the bottom of the stairs. "It still fits. You actually won that bet. For once."

He turned, his eyes wide and his smile gleaming. "You actually tried it on? Is that what took you so long?" he quizzed.

"Maybe," she teased him. "Although I was getting a little misty. That may have…hampered my progress…a bit," she confessed, glancing away shyly at that admission. "So what did you win, exactly?" she asked, raising one eyebrow, both bewildered by the fact that he had won, and also by the fact that she had been so sure he would be wrong she had left the spoils open ended.

Before the party, Chuck had bet her she could still fit into her wedding dress. Three children and 25 years later, she thought she knew her own body well enough to not believe it. She still worked out, still ran almost every day, but time could only be outrun for so long. When they had gotten married, she had been in the best shape of her life, training rigorously for the spy life they had still been living. But, miraculously, it did still fit. She had argued, but Chuck had argued right back. She knew her body, but so did he, he contested. He swore the shape of her hadn't changed…and he'd been right.

His body had changed more since their wedding day than hers. Almost all of the time she had known Chuck, from the day she had met him until about the age of 45, he had weighed close to 195 pounds. Taller than average, with a swimmer's build, trim but cut and leanly muscled. When he had transitioned from asset to spy, he had gained a bit more muscle mass than when she had first met him, but only a very slight difference. Once Chuck hit 45, his metabolism had slowed down. He had started working out, more than he had ever needed to do, with just the purpose of burning calories. Avoiding love handles, he had told her. With a moderate effort, however, he had actually drastically increased his muscle mass in the process of his exercise regimen. Once tall and lanky, he was now tall and broad, ten percent heavier, but all muscle.

He had been attractive to her since the first day she had met him, when he was tall and lanky. There was nothing about him that didn't attract her. But…there was something to be said for being held in his strong arms, reaching around his broad shoulders, that could still make her feel warm all over.

"I get to…take it off you later," he whispered, leaning towards her ear. She watched his eyebrows wiggle as he teased her.

"I lost. But I still win," she giggled, turning to him with a sultry smile.

"Ha ha," he said, with a deep guffaw and a wicked smile.

"Ok, you two, everyone is waiting," Alex told them as she rushed forward, stepping through the door that led outside where a huge crowd of people were mingling.

"Let's party," he said to his wife, making her flashback quickly to of all things, their engagement party. He paused on the threshold. "You know, when I met you, it was just me, my sister, and Awesome. And Morgan…" He sighed and shook his head. "My sister said family only, and I agreed. I just never realized how many people…that actually was," he added in wonder.

She turned her face up to him, warmed at the same thought. She'd had even less than he had to begin with, but all of the people here were her family, too. Just one of the myriad gifts her husband had given her for which she was eternally grateful.

She looked out through the glass at everyone. There were more people here than had been at their wedding, she knew. A lot of people had been there 25 years ago. Fortunately, all of their past guests were still alive. There were more people, because their family had grown, both by blood relations and additional friends who had become like family. Her eyes scanned the crowd.

Ellie and Devon, Alex and Morgan, Casey and Gertrude, Vivian and Carter–the group of couples was in the forefront. Behind them, seated at a table, were Corrine and Hartley, and Mary was seated with them. General Beckman was there, also seated. Sarah could still hear her grumbling about being seated at the "old folks" table as she called it. Sarah felt the sad ping when she thought of Roan Montgomery, who had passed away two summers before, at the age of 90. Sarah's mother Emma was seated on the other side of Hartley. Mike and Bolonia Tucker rounded out the other side of the table.

At an additional table to the left was another group of friends. Cole Barker and Carina and Zondra and Colin, both couples since the mission 15 years before had brought everyone together. At that table was Sarah's sister, Molly and her husband, Jim. Molly was seated with her feet propped up on another chair, Sarah understood, because she was very pregnant, literally due any day. Molly had promised her sister she would not go into labor at their party, as she had previously at Roan Montgomery's funeral. On the other side of Molly was Hannah and Jacques Robert, also new additions since the same mission from the past.

Mingling in the back was the huge crowd of what Sarah called the adult children, which would always get an eye roll out of her son. They ranged in age from 25 to 14 from the same generation, she thought. Clara Woodcomb and Cozette Robert were 25, Stephen was 23, Devon Woodcomb, Jr. was 22, Abby and Ally were 21, Max Grimes was 20 and his brother Matthew was 19. Their sister, Leah, whose impending arrival into the world had been first mentioned at Stephen's ninth birthday party, was 14. Ellie and Devon's third child, Jason, was 18.

A secondary group of youngsters was there as well. Vivian and Carter had two children, a daughter, Laura who was 12, and a son, Milton, who was 11. Molly and Jim had a young daughter, Marie, who was just two.

Andrea and Jim Tisdale were there as well, with their adult children, Chloe at 26, with her husband Greg, and Griffin at 23.

Each and every face in that crowd turned their way, smiling, laughing, and clapping as they made their appearance. It could have been overwhelming, Sarah thought. In fact, she knew 25 years ago if someone had told her she would have been here like this she would have laughed in their face. But none of it was overwhelming anymore. These people were her family, and she loved each and everyone of them.

She took Chuck's hand, threaded her fingers through his, and started to mingle.

XXX

"Who's the DJ?" Vivian asked Chuck as she walked up beside him, gently holding the straw in her drink as she sipped.

"Skip's son, Michael," Chuck told her. "Before he was my best programmer he was the official Buy More party DJ. He taught his son everything he knows," Chuck added.

"The music's a little…what's the word?" she pondered, rolling her eyes upward.

"Before our time?" Chuck teased. Vivian opened her eyes wide in agreement with Chuck's assessment, tapping his shoulder. "We said classic. You know, thinking early 2010s…not 1960s. My Mom is happy, though," Chuck added with a smile.

"I know," Vivian laughed. "She and my Mum have been spinning my Dad all over the dance floor all night."

His face more serious, Chuck asked, "Is everything alright with him now?"

She smiled warmly and nodded. "All that cardiac rehab was like a miracle. He's barely short of breath anymore. And, in case you missed it, my Mum was making sure nothing found its way into his mouth before she ok'd it."

Hartley had suffered a mild heart attack last summer and had been recovering slowly ever since. "I don't know how it doesn't drive him crazy," Chuck told her.

Vivian sighed. "She missed so much of their life together. She's trying to make sure he has a long life to spend with her now."

Chuck gave her a knowing smile. "I think his beautiful grandchildren were part of that motivation as well."

She turned, finding them with their father at the table behind her. Both of them looked just like her husband—dark hair and crystal blue eyes. She sighed contentedly to herself as Carter looked her way and smiled in return.

"Hey," she added with a wicked smile. "How did Jeffster not end up playing this gig?"

He laughed, knowing full well they had checked to make sure Jeffster's schedule and the party clashed. "They're in the middle of a lounge act tour. They've been in Vegas exclusively for almost a year now."

"Remind me to avoid that at all costs," she snickered. Chuck laughed with her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ interrupted over the microphone. The light din of conversation died down and his voice became more pronounced. "I have a request."

Chuck heard the music start to play and felt his heart start to beat faster. He scanned the crowd, seeing his son ducking through the couples on the dance floor. Stephen caught Chuck's stare, smiling and shrugging sheepishly as he continued to move on. Into the Mystic, a song from 1970, which fit right in with the DJ's theme for the night, as well as being a song Chuck and Sarah had danced to at their wedding. Stephen knew that all too well, and had purposely requested the song.

Chuck winked at Vivian, then ducked quickly around a few groups of people to find his wife. She was mid-conversation with Andrea, but Chuck grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards the floor. She just laughed, then spun on her heel to follow Chuck onto the dance floor. There were other couples who had already been dancing, who continued to dance to the new song. Regardless, most of them stepped aside, letting Chuck and Sarah take center stage.

With a dramatic flourish, Chuck held out his hand, then pulled her close. Long ago, Sarah had taught him to dance, after he had lost the Intersect 2.0. After all this time, he was a natural. Andrea made it a point to tell Sarah as often as she could how attractive a man could be when he knew how to dance, really dance. Sarah had taught Andrea's husband Jim some dance steps a few years ago for their 25th wedding anniversary as well.

As the music played, he held her close to him. She forgot all the people standing around watching them, resting her head against his chest as they danced, like they were the only two people in the world. His hand was warm and comforting pressure around her waist and she breathed in the scent of him until she felt dizzy.

"You see?" he whispered against her ear. "You thought I would be rusty." He kissed her temple. "I never forgot a thing you taught me, Honey."

She was lost in his arms, resisting the urge to swoon at what he'd said. Twenty-five years…and her heart still overflowed with her love for him, filling her insides with the pleasantest of warmths. She swayed against him until the music stopped.

Sarah was waiting for another song, but instead heard a soft screech of feedback. The other couples on the dance floor had stopped as well. People began moving back to sit at their seats. When most of the dance floor had cleared, Sarah saw the reason. Her son, standing in front of the DJ's table, with the microphone in his hand. He held the microphone away from his face and made a sweeping motion at his parents, instructing them visually to take their seats as well. Sarah was sitting beside her husband when her son started to speak.

"Hi," he started a little nervously, shifting as he tested the volume of his voice in the microphone. "Hi, everybody," he started again, his voice a little softer. Silence soon enveloped the room in anticipation of Stephen's words. "My sisters and I want to thank you all for coming here…to help us celebrate with my parents." Heads turned, searching in the crowd to where Abby and Ally were sitting. "I had quite a speech all prepared. Start with humor, my friend Griffin told me…'cause he knows how nervous I can get speaking in front of a lot of people. I had my pick of funny stories…until I realized how…incriminating some of those were…and that my sisters would literally kill me if I told those stories in front of everyone." Stephen sidestepped quickly to avoid the crumpled napkin his sister, Abby, had tossed at his head. That got the ice-breaking laugh he had been trying for.

"My sister, Ally, reminded me that everyone who was going to be here was family, and that I didn't need to be nervous talking in front of my family. But…I still kind of am…because there are a lot of people here," he said, half comically, half genuinely nervously. "So let me start at the beginning," Stephen added, his smile slipping ever so slightly as his gaze fixed on his parents, seated side by side and holding hands. "I'm named after my grandfather…although I never knew him, because he died before I was born. But I grew up hearing my dad and my Aunt Ellie talk about him all the time. He was a hero, my grandfather. I do know, despite that, my dad and his sister had a hard time when they were growing up…mostly because their dad wasn't around a whole lot. My Mom had sort of the same thing in her own life. So I know that my parents made a conscious decision, a really long time ago, to give to me and my sisters everything that they never had when they were growing up. This party is just a small token of our appreciation for that. Mom, Dad," he said directly, making eye contact with both Chuck and Sarah, who had grown misty-eyed listening to their son speak. "We grew up happy and healthy. That thing you were trying to fix? You fixed it. This…enormous," he gulped, "crowd here, all of us who love you, is more proof." Stephen's voice deepened, nasally as he fought his emotions. "I think I read somewhere…the best thing a man can do for his children…is love their mother. We grew up safe…and happy…because we always knew how much you, Dad, love my mother. And the same goes for you, Mom. We all love you just as much."

A soft rumbling of awws and gushingly sweet sighs followed. Sarah let go of Chuck's hand and rushed towards her son, wrapping her arms around him as he towered over her, one inch taller than his father was. Sarah spun in his arms to see Chuck with both of his daughters hugging him from behind. The emotion in the room made the air almost buzz, vibrating around everyone.

The DJ started playing music again, and the people started milling about. The cacophony of multiple conversations soon surrounded them again.

"That's quite a kid you got there," Ellie said as she walked towards the table where Chuck was sitting.

"Hmm," Chuck hummed as he sipped his drink. Ellie sat as he stretched out his hand. He watched as her smile gradually faded and her face became serious. He waited, almost anticipating her words before she spoke them.

"Look, I don't want to ruin your party, Chuck, but…were you going to tell me about the headaches you've been having?" she grilled him.

He sighed, tilting his face up towards the sky. "What did Sarah tell you?" he asked.

"Chuck, she's worried about you," Ellie chastised him. "I'm glad, after all that happened before, that you two are open and honest with each other about stuff like that. But, Chuck–"

He cut her off. "Ellie, it's nothing. Really," he stressed. "I spend a lot of time looking at computer screens. Tension headaches, things like that, they come with the territory, especially at my age."

Ellie studied his face for a long moment before she spoke again. "What Sarah described was more than a tension headache. Sounded more like a migraine to me."

"Ok," he said quickly in retort, as if there was no difference and she was splitting hairs.

"Migraines in men are rarer…and rarer still to develop in middle age like that. You shouldn't just ignore it, Chuck," she insisted.

"Look, when I passed out in March, you ran the whole gamut on me. I don't have a tumor, or a brain aneurysm, or anything wrong with me like that. It's fine, Ellie," he argued.

It was true that his unexplained episode of syncope two months ago had been the catalyst for thousands of dollars worth of tests. His cardiac functions as well as his brain functions had been all deemed normal and healthy, and it had been chalked up to low blood sugar. Ellie had made it a point to tell him he was prone to bouts of reactive hypoglycemia, which was a precursor to being pre-diabetic. His increase in physical activity may have been what was holding a case of type two diabetes away. The joys of middle age, he had teased her.

"Look, Chuck, I'm the neurologist, remember?" Ellie admonished. "I know you would just leave it alone." He followed his sister's gaze across the tables to where Sarah was standing, talking to their daughters. "But she loves you and she needs you. If you won't do it for yourself, please do it for your wife."

It was an argument he could no longer win, once Ellie phrased it as such. He sighed in resignation. "What else do you need to do, El?" he asked her.

Before his sister could answer, Sarah was there in front of them, as if she had sensed the topic of conversation. "Did she get you to listen?" Sarah asked him, crossing her arms across her chest. He nodded. "Did you tell her about the other night?" she prodded.

"What happened?" Ellie asked.

"He blacked out," Sarah told her sister-in-law.

"That is not what happened," Chuck answered, drawing out the words.

Sarah tightened her grip on herself and shifted her stance. Forcefully, she leaned towards her husband. "You didn't faint…and you don't remember going from the shower to the bedroom. That is a black-out, isn't it?" Sarah challenged, turning to Ellie.

Ellie paled, her brow furrowed deeply. "Sounds like it. That's not a migraine. That's…I don't know what," she murmured. She visibly shook herself. "Chuck, we need to run an MRI. You haven't had one in a very long time. You still have that computer program inside your head. It's worth taking another look."

"Ok, ok, El, I surrender," he teased, trying to keep the mood light, even as he sensed heightened worry from his wife and his sister. "Just set it up. I'll be there."

"Ellie, can we just keep it to ourselves for now?" Sarah asked. "The girls' graduation party is in a few weeks. Stephen is moving…it's just a lot right now…and I don't want them to worry needlessly."

Ellie's eyes lit up at the mention of Stephen and his plans. "So he's finally moving in with her?" Ellie asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

Chuck was glad for the distraction. "Yes. But he's only 23. It's not like he was living like Oscar Madison or anything."

"No, but that must mean that she decided she wants to…that they…" Ellie started, unsure how much more she should say.

"That they're following in our footsteps?" Sarah added. "Jacques was…worried. The same way we were. The same way your father was all those years ago. But they are…a remarkable team," Sarah sighed, her gaze drifting across the dance floor to land on her son and his long-time girlfriend. "And she's been in love with him since she was 13 years old…so…"

Chuck swallowed over the lump in his throat. Cozette's brother, Pierre, had died in a car accident when both twins were 13. Stephen and Cozette were friends, and his friendship had been what she had clung to in the misery that had permeated her existence after that tragedy. Her father's reluctance to condone Cozette's career choice, to become a spy, had been in part due to the thought that she was his only surviving child. Stephen had been there when she needed him, even at such a young age. Love had blossomed.

Stephen had chosen to use the talents that he was born with, his unique gifts, and put them to good use, becoming a spy. What General Casey had called him–Stephen was the Ultimate Intersect. Cole Barker had told Chuck 15 years ago that if Stephen chose spycraft as his career that he would become the world's greatest spy. Amazingly, that was soon becoming a reality. He had been waiting only for Cozette, who had recently made the choice to join him, so that they could be together. It was eerily similar to Chuck and Sarah's story, but it only made sense.

"Her father was a spy," Chuck rationalized. "That kind of thing runs in families I think. Even when kids are adopted."

"Hannah convinced her husband," Sarah explained. "She needed to become who she wanted to be."

Chuck himself had struggled with his son's choice at first. His own father's argument about not wanting his family to be in constant danger was real. But he still had his father's voice in his head all this time, reminding him that holding his son back from his destiny wasn't the right thing to do. Sure, he worried, just like Chuck knew his father and sister had worried about his own choices. All else aside, Stephen was amazing, and his desire to make the world better and safer was the most admirable of qualities. Casey had agreed.

There was commotion on the dance floor as a group of people suddenly stopped dancing. Looking curiously, Chuck could see his son in the middle of the dance floor, stepping slightly away from Cozette, who was studying him with curious eyes. Stephen dropped to one knee and held a black velvet box out in front of him, flipping open the lid to reveal a sparkling diamond. Cozette's hands flew up to cover her mouth. Chuck saw her nod vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she flew into his arms and squeezed him so hard he stumbled on his feet. The surrounding crowd started clapping.

Breathless, Chuck turned to Sarah. "Did he tell you he was going to do that today?" Chuck asked.

Sarah was smiling widely as well. "He couldn't decide. I told him to just do it. The place, the scenery…none of that matters, not when you have the right person."

Those had been very similar to John Casey's words to him what felt like a million years ago. Chuck smiled and grabbed Sarah's hand. It made perfect sense, he thought.

"Looks like we have a wedding to plan," Chuck mumbled softly to her.