A/N: Hi, I know, it's been a bit, but real life has gotten in the way. And before SC starts saying it's her fault, it's just as much my fault. It's one thing to write when it's just you, it's another to collaborate, but when you see where WE currently are and what we've done, we really think you'll understand why we have been as slow and precise as we have been with certain things. Remember how I yell ish a lot….there's some serious ish in here, you just have to pay attention to it. And it's leading to the biggest ISH ever. We're ramping up for something big. In fact, ch 50, we turn this fic on it's head. And you might feel the need to yell, but I PROMISE you, what's coming, it's goooooooooood. I'll shut up now, SC, you got anything?

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck, we aren't making any money from writing this fic.


Chuck checked his watch. He had ten minutes until it was time for him to leave the Buy More and spend the evening with the delightful Sarah Walker. Since the Casey named "Skate Date", things had seemed to be back to normal. Not that they hadn't been since the not-bomb, but there had been something extra in the air, and it had made things...tense. Now it wasn't tense, even though there still might be something extra in the air.

Chuck shook his head. He was getting lost and tonight wasn't the night to get lost. It was game night at her apartment which meant she was going to do all she could to beat him at Mario Kart. She had become quite the trash talker and he had to bring his A-game or he was going to be in big trouble.

He had defused Casey killing a customer earlier over a camera not auto-focusing correctly. That wasn't hyperbole. Casey was ready to murder. As the customer had walked away there were several growls and grunts out of the NSA agent. Chuck looked around the Buy More, looking for any possible points of combustion, but saw none…except for the Shawarma Girl.

He looked over at Lester and Jeff and saw no signs of a camera or any kind of recording device. Lester saw Chuck, threw his hands into the air, as if to say, "We're being cool," and the two walked away. Chuck grinned and nodded his head. He and Sarah were going to spend the evening together. No mission, just fun, just the two of them...as friends. And really, that was fine.

"There you are," he heard behind him in a voice that definitely was not Sarah's. He turned and his heart sank. This couldn't be real. This wasn't happening. "Don't pretend you don't know who I am."

"Hey, Chuck," Sarah said walking up beside him. Where the hell had she been? She was a spy. She was supposed to have better timing than this. She was supposed to protect him, and now she was too late. It wasn't her fault, but this was not going to be good. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm the guy that sold him four hundred dollars worth of fireworks, and it's time for him to pay up," the firework dealer replied.

"Really?" Sarah asked, perking up and looking at Chuck with amusement covering her face. "Well, does Morgan know about your change of heart?" The amusement on her face made Chuck quite warm for the usual reasons, and he realized he never had really told her the whole story about the Bamboo Dragon.

Chuck turned to her, his lips pressed together. "No, Sarah, he doesn't," Chuck stressed, and she raised an eyebrow, catching on. God, she was so good. "And, he probably shouldn't since it was the special time you and I were getting Sizzling Shrimp." She gave him a curious look, his generality being too...well...general. "You know when we took ol' IRONSIDES down to the Bamboo Dragon?"

She got wide eyed and nodded, realization hitting her. "Then you should pay off your debts. How much do you owe?"

"Well, you see, Sarah—" Chuck began.

"Are you short, because I can cover it," Sarah offered. Chuck gave her a thankful look. She was trying to play the helpful girlfriend, but she was also playing the friend with the CIA expense account, knowing he was broke. Not just broke, but BA ROKE.

"Oh, he doesn't owe me anything money wise," firework guy explained. "We bartered." Sarah turned to Chuck, amusement returning to her features. That feeling was back in him again. "He has to fix my computer." Sarah twisted her lips. Chuck knew she was trying not to laugh, which made it worse.

"He's right," Chuck admitted. "Let me have the computer, and I'll get to work on it." Firework guy looked around, and Chuck had a sinking feeling. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"See, I need you to come to the computer, it's in a hotel." Chuck gave him a look. "It's the hotel's computer." Chuck just continued to stare at him, knowing what was coming next. "It's kinda affecting the whole system."

"You got porn on the work computer and it's affecting the system and you don't want to call IT," Chuck translated.

"I am IT," firework guy admitted. Sarah turned her head away, laughing.

"Dude, this was not part of the deal," Chuck began.

"Do this, and we're covered. We're even, but you got to get rid of everything." He glanced at Sarah. "I never said I got porn on the computers."

"Where's the porn at?" Chuck asked.

"It's…." he trailed off, grinned, and shook a finger at him. "I see what you tried to do there, but again, I never said porn."

Chuck and Sarah shared a look. "It's porn," Chuck said to her.

"It is so porn," she agreed.

}o{

"GOOD GOD! HOW MUCH PORN DOES SOMEONE NEED?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide. They both slowly bent their necks sideways until their heads were nearly at a 90% angle. "That is some impressive flexibility."

"It won't stop playing," firework guy explained. Sarah had insisted on coming with Chuck for support, but really she just wanted to see him in action. She enjoyed watching him do things in which he was confident in himself.

She said they could just "hang out and talk" if it didn't interfere with him working. Chuck had given her a smile and then it fell. Before she could ask why, he blurted out, "Talk?"

They got to the Grand Saville and didn't have the chance to really explain what she meant. They were herded inside by Jeremy, who Sarah had finally gotten a name from since calling him firework guy was a little insulting. Chuck had logged on and they were now seeing the...issue.

"This is gonna take a bit," Chuck said to Jeremy.

"Cool," Jeremy replied, walked over to another part of the room, slapped on a pair of earphones, laid on the couch, and promptly began to snore.

Chuck turned to Sarah. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone fall asleep that fast." Sarah shrugged. "Really? You can do that?"

"When I'm in the field and I've been up for a long time, and know I can only get a couple of hours, yeah, but doing it with people I don't know in the room? Hell no." Sarah stared at Jeremy in wonder. Either he was stoned out of his mind, which was possible, or he saw them as no threat.

Chuck was working, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. She finally spoke up. "About earlier, and talking," she began. "Things have been…" She searched for the right words. "I don't want to say strained…"

"Different since Bryce showed up," Chuck offered, glancing over, but basically keeping his eyes glued to the screen in front of him. She didn't think it was because he needed to, it was more because he was trying to make things easier on her.

"Sure, let's say it's since Bryce showed up." She couldn't believe she said it, but damn it, they weren't middle schoolers. They were grown-ass adults who could act like grown-ass adults. She realized at that moment, he was giving the screen a weird look. He looked up over at Jeremy.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I got it. It's a really old virus, and it's gone. This guy...how the hell does he have a job?"

"You're kidding… It's really fixed?" Sarah asked.

"Here," Chuck replied. He pulled up a list of everyone staying at the hotel. "See, I'm into the registr—" He stopped talking and Sarah looked at him as he began to blink rapidly. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. "Might wanna grab a pen and paper." Her eyes widened. He took another look, and it started again. What the HELL!? "Okay, we've got Russians under fake passports, aliases, and they're all here for something."

"What kind of something?" Sarah asked. Chuck turned to her, a flat look on his face. She winced. "Sorry, I don't know what you see or don't see, or what you're figuring out." Chuck was staring at the computer, a strange look on his face from the last flash. "You okay?"

He turned to her. "Yeah, fine… It's a lot, so get ready to write, okay?" He turned back and began to give her names, but the look remained on his face. Something wasn't right and he wasn't telling her, but it was Chuck. If he wasn't telling her something there was a reason, and at that moment she realized something…

She trusted him. The nights he had stayed over and slept on the couch, she realized more and more she was sleeping straight through the night. In the Porsche on the way back from Stanford, she slept. She trusted Chuck Bartowski. She felt a warmth come over her. There was someone she trusted...truly trusted. He slowly turned toward her and she realized she had been staring. "Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, Chuck," she assured him laying her hand on his arm. "Do we need to stop?"

He shook his head. "No, this may be our only chance." Sarah nodded and he went back to it, and she continued to write down what he told her. Chuck was right, they were here for something. What, she didn't know.

}o{

Sarah dropped Chuck off at his apartment. She offered to come in with him, but he told her he had a massive headache from the flash. That wasn't a lie, and when she gave him that sad, soft smile, a part of him wanted to invite her in. Part of him said do it, and screw Casey for what he had done to them, but another part of him...that part said it wasn't right. It told him he had to tell Casey what he learned. He was really looking forward to seeing the look on Casey's face when he told him about Sugar Bear.

Chuck waved as she pulled away and turned toward the apartments. He walked over to Casey's door and knocked. Casey opened the door, holding his Bonsai.

"Bad night?" he asked, with a grin.

"Actually I came over here because you got mad last time we found out info and you didn't." Casey grunted. "I just had the mother lode of all bad guy flashes." Casey's eyebrow lifted, intrigued. "Mostly Russian, all traveling under aliases, fake passports."

Casey put down the Bonsai tree fully engaged. "That means they're arms dealers, money launderers, black market smugglers…"

Chuck crossed his arms, proud of himself. "Yeah. Apparently, they're all having a douche bag convention down at the Grand Saville."

"Sarah running it up the flagpole?" Casey asked. Chuck nodded. "Good, we'll wait and see what command wants us to do. Good work, Bartowski."

"Uh... one more thing," Chuck added, grinning. "There was another name, one name that I flashed on actually, but I left it—her—off of the list."

Casey had a frown on his face. "What the hell are you talking about, Bartowski?"

"Does the name Ilsa Trinchina mean anything to you... Sugar Bear?" Chuck had a knowing grin on his face.

Casey stepped out of the way and set the Bonsai on a table. "Come in." Chuck came in and the door slammed. Chuck's eyes grew wide. "I know you think this is the perfect time to get even with me for what happened." Casey was talking in a low voice and Chuck found his bladder on the verge of releasing itself. There was anger there, a threat, and Casey's hands were suddenly around Chuck's throat, but not touching it. "All I'd have to do is jerk and," he made a cracking sound. "You say that name ever again and I will end you," he said just above a whisper. "Nod if you understand." Chuck banged his head against the door a few times. Casey straightened and removed his hands. He stared at Chuck.

"Casey... you're scaring the Intersect," Chuck nearly whimpered.

Casey took his Bonsai tree, turned, and headed toward the kitchen. Chuck wheeled, grabbed the door handle, nearly ripped the door open and fled to his apartment.

He sat in his room, fuming. He knew he probably shouldn't have teased Casey, but there was something weird in her file. Something was bothering him, and it was like he was on the verge of a flash, but nothing came. Something really bothered him about Ilsa. He walked over to his computer, turned it on, and let his fingers do some digging.

What he found out changed everything.

}o{

Chuck entered the Wienerlicious the first chance he got the next morning. He walked in as a group of what he assumed were most likely hormonal teenaged boys left the Wienerlicious. Sarah spun when she saw it was him.

"Hey. Try this," she said with a grin. "It's the new breakfast corndog with country sausage and syrup wrapped in pancake. I'm sure it's better than the eggnog one." Chuck took the corndog, thought about throwing it away, but there was a look on her face that made him think maybe she had made it for him and was bringing it to him later. He took a bite.

"Thank you," he choked. Sarah began to laugh. "Wow, there's a lot going on in there." He looked at it and then back to her, trying to smile. She plucked it out of his fingers and tossed it in the trash.

"I have some serious business to discuss. It's a matter of national security."

"What is it, Chuck?" Sarah looked a little concerned.

"It's the Intersect," he began. "Well, it may be my life, but I'm not sure which handler is going to kill me." Sarah stared at him. Tough room. "Oookay. So, remember last night during the flashing you asked me if something was wrong?" Sarah nodded. Chuck gulped. "Casey's ex-girlfriend is in town," he blurted out.

"What?" Sarah was shocked.

"I flashed on her. Ilsa Trinchina. Super-hot, super-sexy, and staying at the Grand Saville as we speak," Chuck said, hoping she didn't kill him. "Listen, it was Casey's secret, and I felt he ought to know first."

"I get it," Sarah said. "I'm not crazy about it, but I get it, and you did the right thing." She paused. "Did you say super-hot?" Chuck nodded. "Now do you mean super-hot like for dating Casey?"

"I mean she is super-hot and there were some letters she wrote…detailed letters…very detailed...she had the right prescription glasses on if you know what I mean."

Sarah snorted. "He does know, right?"

"That she's super hot or that she's into him?" Chuck asked, now confused.

Sarah rolled her eyes and huffed. "That she's in town."

"Oh, yeah. Almost ripped my head off; it must've been a pretty bad break-up." He was silent like he wanted to say more. "You know for the longest time, I always imagined Casey was built like a Ken doll, you know, downstairs."

Sarah snorted. "I don't know what kind of woman would go for a guy like Casey. I mean, I guess there's always someone for somebody."

Chuck looked her in the eye. "I think there's more to Casey than he likes to show. He can be extremely sensitive when he knows someone needs….more than he usually offers. He can be a rock at certain times. And, when he thinks things are okay, and it amuses him, he's a dick." She snorted again. Chuck was quiet again.

"Okay, Chuck, tell me."

"Sarah...Ilsa's dead." Sarah's eyes widened. "At least, she's supposed to be. Died in a bombing. She's supposedly a civilian, a foreign national, and all the Intersect has besides what I told you are some love letters that now I'll never be able to scrub out of my brain."

"You want me to go behind Casey's back, reallocate CIA resources, and violate this woman's privacy so you can find out what their story is?"

Chuck shook his head. "She's supposed to be dead, Sarah," Chuck began. "There are the baddest of the bad staying at this hotel. There is something going on that Casey's hiding, and maybe it's simply a bad break-up or the fact he thinks she's dead. Someone with her name is in that hotel. Why?" Sarah sighed, he knew he was winning her over. "Tell me you're not curious, about all of it. If I'm right, you know there's a good chance she's either up to no good, or she's doing something that she'll need our help with."

"You're just tired of Casey messing with you," Sarah retorted. "And you think this is a way out of it." Chuck shrugged, but he didn't deny it. "Why do you think she's 'up to no good'?"

"If she is alive, and faked her death, there are very few good reasons to do that." Sarah shook her head, looking away. "You know that I know that's you're 'this is a bad idea but I'm going to do it and I'm going to regret it,' face." She turned toward him, her lips twisting. "If anyone asks, I wore you down with many hours of pleading." She stared at him. "I'll even grant you a rematch in Mario Kart."

She shook her head.

"You are going to be the death of me, Chuck Bartowski," she replied, but the smile on her face said otherwise.

}o{

Later on that afternoon, Chuck was in the kitchen going through the refrigerator when there was a knock on the door. "It's open!" he yelled.

The door opened and Sarah stood there, an urgent look on her face. "Ellie and Awesome here?"

"No, and I'm glad you're here early, because there is something going on with them and Morgan and frankly I didn't ask too many questions, but don't be shocked if Ellie texts you. It sounds like there's a relationship issue about to show its head."

"Oh, God," Sarah said, truthful shock on her face. "Are they okay?"

Chuck made a face and waved his hand. "They're fine. They have one of these every so often and Morgan has gotten in the middle. That's guaranteed to screw something up."

Sarah snorted and then she gave him a serious look. "Why was the door unlocked?"

"Because I have Casey the friendly watcher watching and my amazing fake girlfriend was on her way," Chuck replied.

"What if I had been a bad guy?" She was giving him the look that if he didn't answer right he was in trouble. She even crossed her arms. He knew he should take this absolutely serious, but he couldn't help himself.

"They tend not to knock," he replied flippantly with a shrug. "They tend to blow the door off the hinges and just barge in." She stared at him for a long second. "You know I'm right," he added. She huffed and looked away, and he pretended he didn't see her fighting laughter. "Soooo, I'm glad you're here because we now have three options for tonight since the double date is off." She turned back to him. "You're losing that grin battle." She pressed her lips together and his eyes widened. He hurried on, realizing he may have pushed it too far. "So the first option is to not do anything and we just see each other in the morning and originally I wasn't for that because Ellie told me I had to do something with you, but by the look on your face…" The look didn't change and he hurried on. "Secondly, we could go to your place and I could beat you soundly at Mario Kart AGAIN, but that is boring." A grin was fighting it's way through on her face. "Or, there's the third option."

"Where I kick your ass all over this apartment because I've been forced to listen to all of this?"

"Wow, you are grumpy today. Scooter must have been a special kinda jerk," Chuck replied, knowing he was playing with fire. "Wouldn't let you listen to Michael Bolton?"

"You do know I know numerous ways to kill you, right?"

"I thought that was too much paperwork," Chuck fired back.

"I'm sure Casey would help," she replied.

Chuck pressed his lips together and nodded. "Yeah, he might do it all for you, right now." Sarah looked away, chuckling. "The third option is dangerous." Sarah turned back, intrigued. "Ah ha! I knew that'd get ya. I was thinking I, your fake boyfriend, could make you a real meal. It'd really help solidify that cover."

"So you want me to spend the night in the hospital with food poisoning?" Sarah asked.

Chuck's mouth dropped and he tried to look hurt. "Sarah." She just smirked. "Two nights, minimum." She began to laugh and he joined in.

"While three sounds the best, there is a fourth option," Sarah replied. Chuck brightened. "We have a briefing."

"Fake date canceled?"

"Fake date canceled, but real mission with your favorite spy," Sarah replied.

"With Casey?" Chuck asked. Sarah mock glared at him as he grabbed his stuff and headed to Casey's. Casey let them in, only slightly glaring at Chuck. Chuck wasn't sure if that was more than the normal glare or not. Beckman was on the screen.

"We received your report, Agent Walker," Beckman began. "Ex-KGB, Eastern Bloc thugs, Russian arms dealers... Frankly, we're not used to seeing this particular crowd stateside these days."

"'Least not since President Reagan won The Cold War, huh, General?" Chuck swore there was more glee in his voice than he had heard in the entire time Casey had been in Burbank.

"So you want us to infiltrate the Grand Saville?" Sarah asked. Chuck loved how she always pulled them back in. He should probably be more professional during these briefings.

"The hotel's bar has been booked for a private party early this evening," Beckman replied.

"Fine, I'll clear my schedule, but just 'cause it's you, General," Chuck said pointing at her. That. That was where he should have been more professional.

"Mr. Bartowski, it's up to you to tell us what these criminal agents are all doing in Los Angeles. You and Agent Walker are going undercover. We need you to press some Russian flesh, see what you can flash on. And, uh... good luck." Beckman clicked off.

Chuck turned to Casey. "So, what about you, Casey?"

"What about me?" he snarled.

"I don't know. I just thought if Sarah and I have to go to the hotel to press some Russian flesh, that you might get mad at us being there with them," Chuck explained. "I mean I know communism isn't contagious, but I just want to make sure you didn't think that. I don't need you pissed off because I have to press flesh. How much pressing? Because I'm not really good at getting close to someone I don't know."

Sarah and Casey were staring at him. "You do know the phrase 'press some flesh' means to work the room?" Sarah asked. "In your case, you're to walk around the room and see who you flash on."

"I knew that," Chuck replied.

"You had no clue," Casey replied and walked away.

Chuck turned to Sarah and she was shaking his head. "You don't believe me either." Sarah continued to shake her head. "Well, I gotta tell you, I'm really glad that's what it means because I didn't want anyone pressing me, or you. Not that I get to tell you when or who you can press, I just didn't want to see you in one of those…" he trailed off, her eyes wide. He knew she was just enjoying this spiral. He threw a thumb up, pointing over his shoulder towards the door. "I'm just gonna go." When the door shut, he heard her laughter. "That could have gone better," he muttered.

}o{

I don't get it," Chuck said, to Sarah, walking into the room. "Why does this jacket fits my shoulders so much better?"

"I may have said something," Sarah replied. She had checked the measurements on file after the Lon Kirk mission and sure enough Chuck's jacket was a size too small, just enough to make him uncomfortable. Chuck looked over at her and she shrugged. "I'm not convinced Casey didn't screw with your measurements."

Chuck gave her a grateful smile.

"We need to be careful," she continued. "If Ilsa Trinchina is staying in this hotel it's probably someone traveling on a fake passport. It happens all the time in Russia. People die and their personal info gets recycled."

"My God, that's so horrible," Chuck said, seeing Casey. Chuck gave a slight head nod to him, and Casey replied, a little bit of pride on his face. Casey walked over to them.

"We've got work to do," Casey said, walking up. He tilted his head to the side toward a group of people. "Those are our Russians, and before you begin Bartowski, yes, this isn't a black tie thing, and you're way overdressed. Lose the jacket."

Sarah handed Chuck a serving tray. Chuck looked at it and then back to her. "Are we sure this is the best idea?" he asked. "I didn't do so well the last time I was supposed to be serving."

She started to respond but Casey beat her to it. "Hennessy's not around for you to moon over," Casey growled and walked away.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "He's still mad at me."

"Do I want to know what happened?"

"He told me never to talk about it and if I did he would kill me." Chuck felt himself turning pale. "I'm sure he's serious."

Sarah nodded and they got started. She really wanted to know...and she didn't. It was probably best she didn't. "Recognize anyone, Chuck?"

She watched his face, and saw that the flashes began. They were coming in one right after another. He was going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow. "That's, uh, Dmitry Siljak. Black market arms dealer," he said, nodding toward him. "Sergey 'Noodles' Romanov. Freelance hit man," Chuck said gesturing slightly with the tray.

Suddenly a small man in the middle of the group of people dancing yelled.

"Sacha! Is that you, my sweet Sacha?" Sarah saw Chuck had been picked out. She quickly took the drinks out of his hands. She was pretty sure of what was about to happen. "Everybody, meet fourth cousin on my mother's side. Sacha, come and give your cousin great big hug!"

Sarah got away, chuckling to herself. Chuck had a doppelgänger somewhere in Russia. Casey was gonna love that.

Sarah got away, watching the exchange. The little man kept insisting Chuck dance, and Chuck kept trying to get out of it. She was enjoying watching him, when she felt the squeeze on her backside. "How much for the whole night?" His hot breath on her shoulder made her want to scrub her skin. Sarah spun, holding his thumb, and spoke to him in Russian. "Don't touch me again, pig." She twisted his thumb and it made a popping sound. "Never again, mother fucker."

She turned around as the man slinked off, rage coursing through her, but it melted hearing Chuck attempt to continue his cover with talk of Baryshnikov and White Nights. She had to find him another movie about Russia. At least he hadn't pulled out Rocky IV. He kept making eye contact with her, and he began to point. She looked over and couldn't see anything. He pointed one more time, and the little man saw it this time.

"Sacha, you like blonde?" the little man yelled. Another little man took the drinks from her and escorted her to Chuck. Only Chuck could get them in the middle of a dance when they were supposed to be inconspicuous. "She is all yours, Sacha!" Sarah joined the dance, hopping in place with Chuck.

"She's here. Ilsa is here," Chuck said during the hopping, under his breath so only she could hear..

"What? Are you sure?" Sarah asked.

"Look over there," Chuck said.

Sarah looked over and saw her. She hit her mike in her watch. "Our cover has been compromised. Request team extraction." Casey responded and they kept dancing, waiting for the extraction. Chuck kept yelling nonsense and no one seemed to notice. Sarah knew they were in danger, and too much time had passed. Where was Casey?

She was pushing Chuck gently, leading him out of the circle of dancers when they saw Casey and Ilsa. This was bad. "We've got to get him out of here."

"Oh, come on. The guy spent four years of his life thinking he'd never see her again."

Damn it, there he went. She knew this was coming. Chuck was thinking with his heart, and not his brain. "His cover has been compromised," she stressed, but part of her wondered, was it okay to think with your heart?

"Can't the man live without a cover for just a couple of minutes?" Chuck asked.

A microphone flared to life and they turned towards the stage.

"Hello, everybody. How are we doing tonight, huh?" A man held the mic onstage, one hand up to get everyone's attention.

"Sarah?" Chuck said, getting her attention. She recognized that look as his post-flash look. "Sarah, I think I know what brought all the baddies together. Him. Victor Federov. A Russian oligarch with ties to everything from the mob to a plot to overthrow Parliament." This was bad. This was really bad.

The man continued. "We are so glad the daughter of our very smart friend was found, and has agreed to marry me. Please, I'd like to introduce you to a woman who will make me the happiest man on Earth by becoming my wife. Ilsa Trinchina!" Sarah looked at Chuck and they both turned to look at Casey. The scowl on his face told them all they needed to know. Fuck.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, and led them outside. "I'll inform the bosses," he said, climbing into his Crown Vic and taking off. Sarah watched him go, knowing that look. That look was someone who wasn't supposed to have feelings but did. Casey should probably talk to someone but there was no way in hell Sarah was having that conversation with him, not on purpose.

"I'm really sorry about that back there," Chuck said, pulling Sarah out of her thoughts. "My Russian dancing skills are a little limited." Sarah turned to him slowly. "Now voguing," he said, as they got into her Porsche. "That I'm so much better at."

"It's fine, Chuck, they were all drunk and had no idea what was going on," Sarah replied trying to reassure him. She glanced at him out of the side of her vision, Chuck was staring straight forward. She grinned and then slipped the spy mask into place. "That's gotta be rough seeing an old romantic flame like that."

"You should talk to him," Chuck said softly. "You would understand that life better than I."

"What? Me talk about an ex with Casey? You realize I'm only a few grunts away from speaking the same language as him, right." She paused. "No, Chuck. It's best we let him deal with it on his own. He'll get through it."

"Sarah, he needs someone to talk to," Chuck insisted.

Careful, Sarah. Careful. "Chuck, seriously, of the two of us, you're much better at this than I am, but we need to leave him alone. He'll get his Johnny Walker out and work his way through it."

"Sarah, he's our teammate." He paused. She held her breath waiting for him to say it. He was on the edge and she knew it. "I'll do it," he said softly. "I'll talk to Casey."

"If you're sure," she replied. Teach you to fuck with Chuck, Casey, she thought to herself, keeping the grin off of her face.

}o{

He had to talk to Casey, but how?

He was pacing his room the next day, fretting.

Casey'd slam the door in Chuck's face but he still needed info. He looked at his computer for a moment and decided he had nothing to lose.

He sat down and began. As he did a deep search, something that was said the other night kept resurfacing. "The daughter of our smart friend."

He knew what "our friend" meant because he'd watched The Sopranos. That was mob speak.

He started searching by key words—smart don, brilliant don, and he found what he was looking for under brainy don.

The flash began, Simon Mudkovich Yogilevich, the "boss of bosses". AKA the brainy don. Chuck shook his head. That couldn't be right, but now a secondary flash began and he discovered that Yogilevich had an illegitimate daughter, Ilsa. Chuck's eyes grew wide.

This wasn't a wedding for Federov. This was a wedding for Ilsa.

She was consolidating her power. This was her move! She was going to use him to further strengthen her position of power.

"First female mob boss in Russia," Chuck muttered. "I mean, good for her, but is that where you want to break the glass ceiling?" He thought for a second. "Sarah!" He jumped up, ran to Casey's door, and knocked. Casey opened the door, saw it was Chuck, turned, and walked away. Chuck walked in, closing the door behind him. Casey was sitting on the couch, a bottle in front of him, the glass dry. That meant either Casey hadn't started drinking yet, or he was drinking straight from the bottle.

Chuck needed info, quick. He sat down. "Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?"

Casey gave him a look. "How am I feeling?"

Crap this wasn't going well. "Yeah, uh, you know, about last night?"

Casey shrugged. "Our mission was a success. You I.D.'d Victor Federov. Agent Walker's been assigned to set up a surveillance on the target. In short, I feel fan-eff'in-tastic."

Okay, try this another way, Chuck thought. "Well... okay. I-I mean, I guess, uh, you know, I was referring more to the you and Ilsa situation. Thought maybe you'd want to talk about the fact that the girl you thought was dead isn't actually dead." Casey stared at him the entire time he spoke. He was going to kill him. He was going to do worse than kill him.

"No," he said in a clipped voice, pouring himself two fingers of Johnny Walker. Chuck starred at the glass.

He had to move quick. "Great. Good, good." Casey stood up, and headed for the kitchen. "Really good session here, Casey. Really feel like you're making a breakthrough." Casey rummaged around and found what he was looking for, apparently duct tape. "Look, I just... I just want you to know that I'm a good listener, okay? So, if you ever want to talk about anything. If you want to use me as a sounding board for your emotions, or…" Casey had come back over while he was talking, ripped off a piece of tape, and put it over Chuck's mouth. Casey chuckled, went back to the kitchen, and brought his sandwich out to the table. Chuck pulled the tape off his face, shouting as Casey chuckled.

"Come on, buddy. Just give me something, anything." Screw it, he had to throw his cards on the table. "...Where is she from? Or, where did you two meet?"

Casey stared at him. "Why is this so important to you, Chuck? Why the hell do you care so much about me and Ilsa?"

Chuck sat there conflicted. "There are two reasons," Chuck said softly. "I just... I-I think it would be nice to know that you had a life before... this. I just figured, if a guy like you can find love—no offense, Casey—then maybe there's hope for me, too. Maybe this whole spy business isn't as screwed up as I think it is."

"Hmm," Casey grunted. "And why do I think that has something to do with the second reason?"

Chuck looked frustrated. "I think Sarah's in danger, Casey, and I thought if I knew...more, maybe I could flash. Maybe I could understand this better, for you, for her, for my team, but how am I supposed to use the Intersect if you don't tell me everything I need to be able to flash?"

Casey studied him a minute. "You never cease to amaze me," he said softly. "I met her in a flower market. In Rome. Ilsa was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

Chuck smiled at him. "I knew it," Chuck said softly. "You do have a feeling, and it's alive."

"I hate you," Casey muttered. He looked away. "Sure, it was great. You know, we had what we had, but it's over." Chuck was silent. "I'm kinda surprised at you." Chuck looked at him. "I figured you'd be all, 'So, that's it? You're just going to let her walk back out of your life?'"

"Casey, why didn't she see you all these years?" Chuck asked.

"She fed me some bull about being unconscious after the explosion and losing her memory," Casey explained.

"Some bull?"

"That sounds very...spyish, so I let her say whatever she wanted to trip her up later. Something's off with her. Nice girls don't marry corrupt Russian oligarchs."

Chuck grinned at Casey. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but nice girls don't go around marrying guys like you, either. G-man assassin? International spy? I mean, pardon me for saying it, Casey, but at least on paper, you're kind of an unsavory dude."

Casey nodded. "Granted. But Ilsa never knew what I do for a living."

Chuck took a deep breath. "That's exactly my point. What if Ilsa did know, and now she knows what her fiancé is? ... Does the term the Brainy Don mean anything to you?"

}o{

Casey pulled him out of the car at the hotel, Chuck still protesting. "Wait!" Chuck said. "Listen, I know we've had our issues and you like to mess with me, but I need to tell you something, in secret, and not even Sarah knows this." Casey straightened. "Does the name Piranha mean anything to you?" Casey's eyes widened. "Yeah, I take it it does."

'You're Piranha?" Casey asked. Chuck nodded. "We need to have a serious talk about that numbnuts, but right now I need to know what you did."

"I did some digging and between that and the flashes….I think Ilsa is the illegitimate daughter of the Brainy Don."

"Son of a bitch," Casey muttered. "She's pulling a power play uniting families under her wing." He had a slightly proud look on his face.

"Not to make too fine a point but you realize you're projecting pride in your ex-girlfriend for being a great mobster, right?" Casey glared at him. "I mean, uh, good for her, shattering that glass ceiling. That is HUGE!" Casey shook his head. "What are you thinking?"

"I need answers. Did she know who I was? Was she using me?"

Chuck grinned and couldn't help himself. "Casey, did she pump you for information?" Casey growled at him and began to pull him toward the hotel. "For the record, that was the line. That was too far, and I now understand that."


A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!

-SC and DC