WOW! I was definitely floored by the warm welcome you gave this new story with your reviews, favorites and alerts. I really can't thank you all enough for it. This timely update is merely a small token of my appreciation for your support, even though finding time to write turned out to be a tad difficult this week. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Present day

Devon used his key to enter Chuck's apartment. Even five years later, it still amazed him how fast Chuck had made enough money to not only buy his own apartment, but the next door one for his sister as well. Sure, him being a cardiothoracic surgeon and Ellie being a neurologist weren't minimum wage jobs, far from it in fact, but it would have still taken them a while to save enough for such a place, deposit and mortgage payments included. And he did appreciate the gesture.

Making his way to Chuck's room, he wasn't surprised to find him fast asleep. He'd been working late the past week, as his company was on the verge of launching a new site. Still, it was time to head out. "Chuck," he said, shaking the younger man's shoulder. "Wake up."

"Huh? Devon? What time is it?"

"Still quite early, but late by your standards," Devon replied.

Chuck shot up and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Shit, I overslept!"

"Dude, what are you worried about? Didn't you tell Ellie over the phone yesterday that you didn't have to go to work today?"

Chuck blinked several times, trying to come fully awake. "Um, yes… Yes, I did! We launched the site, so I'm free for the day."

"Perfect. Get changed. We are going for a run."

This made Chuck pause. He took a good look at Devon. His sister's boyfriend was dressed for a run: sweats, iPod and running shoes. "I'll stay here, if you don't mind."

"I don't. Ellie does. She told me to take care of you."

"She's not here though, is she? She's in Nashville for a convention of some sort," Chuck pointed out.

"About the convention… it was cut a bit short."

"How short?"

"Ellie-is-on-a-plane-home-right-now short," Devon replied. "Therefore, you need to at least appear to be engaging in some sort of exercise when she gets here."

"All right, all right," Chuck said resignedly. "Just give me a couple of minutes to change and I'll be right out." He was as good as his word. Within minutes, he was dressed in his favorite black Stanford sweatpants and a Stanford t-shirt. "Let's go," he said simply when he rejoined Devon in the living room, strapping an iPod to his arm.

Devon nodded. "I'll go get the car."

"The car?" Chuck echoed. "Aren't we going to the park for our run?"

"The run will have to wait a little," Devon replied unhelpfully. At Chuck's raised eyebrow, he decided to elaborate. "I have some paperwork to drop off to a patient, who happens to be a good colleague's father. He lives in Palos Verdes, so I thought we could go there before our run." Just then his phone chimed, announcing an incoming text message. He read it and smiled. "Mr. Wyatt wants me to meet him at the Palos Verdes Beach & Athletic Club. Let's go, Chuckster." He led the way to the car, typing a quick reply on his phone.

The drive from Burbank to Palos Verdes didn't take long. They avoided the worst of the morning traffic thanks to an app Chuck had uploaded to Devon's phone, so they knew in real time about traffic conditions and which route to take in order to avoid jams. They were about halfway to their destination when Ellie called. She had promised to call the moment her flight landed. The car's Bluetooth picked up the call and Devon pressed the button to answer it.

"Good morning, El," he said cheerfully. "How was the flight from Nashville?"

"It was OK," Ellie shrugged. "Mom is picking me up for breakfast as we agreed last night, so I don't need you to come. She'll also drive me to the hospital for my shift."

"Good, because I'm heading to Palos Verdes right now. The Chuckster is with me. We'll be going for a run once I drop off some paperwork."

"Say hi to Mom for me," Chuck cut in.

"Will do, little brother." There was no mistaking the glee in her voice at learning that her boyfriend had kept his word about not letting Chuck slack off on his workout schedule. She talked to Devon about some household stuff for a little while and then wished them both a good day before ending the call.

"Ellie thinks you work too hard, bro," Devon said suddenly as he kept on driving.

"She shouldn't worry," Chuck said dismissively. "I haven't been neglecting myself or anything."

"It's not that. She's started nagging again about Stanford."

"Again?" In Chuck's opinion, this had become something regular, following a pattern. Every once in a while, Ellie would remember his unfinished business with the university and get on his case about it.

"Yes, again," Devon nodded. "Bro, it's only twelve credits. Do something about it."

"Six," Chuck mumbled.

"Come again?"

"Six," he repeated. "I only have six credits left to go."

"Then what happened to the other six?"

"I've completed them."

"You never said anything. Not to me, not to Ellie and I don't think you've even told your parents."

"I didn't tell anyone because I want it to be a surprise. But I'd like to put your mind at ease, especially since you're the one in a unique position to help by keeping my sister off my back."

"OK. How did you do it?"

"I signed up for online courses. It wasn't easy fitting them into my schedule at first, but I managed to do it. I still had to put in some long hours at the office, but it was totally worth it."

"Huh. I understand why you kept it a secret from all of us, but when did it all happen?"

Chuck smiled. "It began last year, right after I'd managed to finally pay off my original investors and secure my position as the sole owner of the company. I had no outstanding financial obligations, any and all expenses could be covered by the profits and then some, so… the rest is history."

"Everyone would be delighted to know about this, bro."

"I considered telling you guys, but somehow I think it would have only made things worse. Take a right here."

"OK. What do you mean by worse?"

"You know, Mom and Ellie especially would have put more pressure on me to get my degree as fast as possible… maybe Mom not so much, because she understands what running a business entails."

"Can't fault your logic here," Devon conceded as he made another turn, following the directions given by the GPS. For the rest of the drive, he and Chuck exchanged stories from work. He told a particularly hilarious story about wheelchair racing in the hallways of the pediatric ward, something he had organized to cheer the kids up, while Chuck regaled him with the story of how he'd come up with the idea for his latest online game.

Before long, they were walking towards the main building of the Palos Verdes Beach & Athletic Club. Devon gave his name to the receptionist and she informed him that Mr. Hutchinson was waiting for him by the pool. They followed her directions and didn't have to look too long to find him.

"Hey Doc!" The man who called out to Devon was a well-dressed man in his early sixties. "Over here. Want a cup of Joe? It's my treat."

"A coffee would be nice, Mr. Hutchinson, thank you," Devon replied. "This is Chuck Bartowski. Chuck, meet Mr. Henry Hutchinson."

"Call me Hutch. Everyone does. You with the hospital too, Chuck?"

"Um, not really. I do some volunteer work for the hospital, helping with their website, databases and electronics, but I run my own business. In fact, Devon and I are going for a run later."

"You live healthy. It's good for you."

"If only Devon and especially my sister were less pushy," Chuck grinned.

"Ah, that's why your name sounded so familiar. I take it the nice Dr. Bartowski I met the other day at the hospital is your sister?"

"The one and only," Chuck confirmed.

"Let's get down to business, Hutch," Devon said after some more small talk over coffee. "I'm sure Hank has already told you a few things about…"

Hutch cut him short. "Junior is a great ophthalmologist, but he absolutely sucks at the cardio stuff. That's why I'm gonna need you to explain a few things, OK Doc?"

Devon managed to suppress a grin at the way Hutch referred to his son, whose full name was Dr. Henry D. Hutchinson Jr. and being called Junior instead of Hank was kind of irritating to him. "Sure. I'll start at the beginning then. Before you got discharged, I told you about the immediate things that you needed to pay attention to. Now, moving on to the long-term stuff…"

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I need to visit the men's room, so I'll leave you two to talk in peace." He got up, went inside the main building and easily found the men's room. After taking care of business, he went back outside and walked alongside the railing overlooking the ocean, admiring the view and enjoying the light breeze while listening to the soothing hiss of the waves on the rocky shore. When he reached the corner, he stopped for a moment and let his gaze travel slowly from Point Dume to the Northwest all the way down to the Southwest where the curve of the shoreline where the Neighborhood Church was built blocked the field of view in the direction of Flat Rock Point. Suddenly, he did a double take, as he thought he saw a flash of color among the rocks about a hundred and twenty or so yards away. Curious, he fished into his waist pack for his Smartphone and the clip-on lens. He had both a telephoto and a wide angle lens, both being his Dad's creations. Stephen J. Bartowski made a nice living inventing stuff and licensing out the use of his patents. He selected the telephoto, clipped it on over the camera lens and focused it, increasing the magnification.

What he saw made him gasp. He still had the presence of mind to snap a quick photo before running to where Devon and Hutch were still talking. "Excuse me," he said, remembering to at least be polite. "Devon, get up."

"We were done here anyway, but where's the fire?"

"That way," Chuck replied, pointing in the general direction of what he'd seen. "And this is the proof," he said, thrusting his phone into Devon's hands.

All Devon had to do was take a single look. "Crap! Hutch, do you have a doctor or nurse or lifeguard on duty in the club?"

"Normally yes, but since the pools are not yet open for the day…"

"I'll need a first aid kit and a stretcher."

Hutch nodded, finally understanding what the rush was all about. "I see the manager. He's a friend and I'll get him to help." They quickly brought the man up to speed and he was very helpful, directing them to the first aid supplies, telling them the fastest way to get to that specific part of the beach and volunteering to call an ambulance.

"Hutch, stay here and wait for the paramedics. Chuck and I will take care of the rest."

"No problem, Doc, go do your thing."

Devon had complete faith in Chuck. After all, he and Ellie had given him considerable training in first aid and he could definitely help, provided the person on the beach wasn't beyond medical help.

"There!" Chuck yelled, moving nimbly even though he was the one carrying the stretcher and reaching the person sprawled among the rocks first. Now he could see it was a blond woman. It was simply dumb luck that he'd spotted her. He cast the folding lightweight stretcher aside and felt for a pulse, just like he'd been taught to do it. "Devon, I've got a pulse," he announced.

"That's good. Unfold the stretcher and help me get her on it."

Together the two men executed a textbook transfer and then moved the unconscious woman away from the surf line. Once on the dry part of the rocky beach, Devon directed Chuck to put down his end of the stretcher and then knelt to examine the injured woman. She was very pale, had a gash on her temple and by the condition of it he estimated that she'd been in the water for several hours. This ruled out temporal bleeding, as it would have been fatal after so long. On several places on her body, where it wasn't covered by what he determined to be a high-end sports bra and shorts set, of the kind many wore as swimwear or instead of wetsuits when going surfing, he could see bruises and cuts, which he attributed to the rocks.

"Well?" Chuck asked worriedly.

"She's one damn lucky lady," Devon replied. "She's still breathing, she's got a pulse and I see no outward signs of internal injuries. We need to warm her up, too. Get the blanket from the kit. It should be either blue or looking like a folded piece of foil."

"Got it!"

"Wrap her up, but be careful not to jostle her."

"I know. You taught me, remember? By the way, I can hear sirens from the road. Maybe it's the ambulance."

It was the ambulance. Rather than wait for the paramedics to get down there, Chuck and Devon carefully carried the stretcher up to the road. There, they transferred the still unconscious woman to a gurney, while Devon, in full doctor mode, fired off instructions and supervised as a paramedic hooked her up to a heart monitor and another gave her an IV.

"Which hospital are you taking her to?"

"Westside Medical," replied the paramedic. "I know it's far from here, but the nearest ERs are swamped after an accident involving two buses not half an hour ago, so all non-immediately life threatening incidents are referred to other hospitals. Unless you want to classify it as a life-threatening emergency, we've been instructed to transport the patient there."

"It's OK. I work at Westside."

"Excuse me, sir," an LA County Lifeguard Service officer said. "Since this incident happened in our jurisdiction, I will need you to give a statement."

Devon fished in his waist pack for a business card. "Here," he said, handing it to the lifeguard. "You can contact me either directly or through the hospital."

Chuck also handed over his business card without having to be asked for it.

"He's the one who noticed her down there," Devon explained. "Chuck, I'll ride with the ambulance to the hospital. You take my car and meet me there."

"Okie-dokie. I'll also give my statement." He was as good as his word. He quickly proceeded to explain how he'd come to notice the woman in the surf and even sent a copy of the picture he'd taken to the lifeguard's tablet. The other man in turn assured Chuck that he would inform his colleagues to keep an eye out for a car, a beach towel, a surf board, or anything that might belong to the blond woman.

-o-

Meanwhile, somewhere in the DIA building in Washington DC, a hulking black man in a tailored suit and a petite redheaded woman wearing an Air Force Brigadier General's uniform were going over some reports.

"Are we sure this was an accident?" CIA Director Langston Graham asked.

"I got the transcripts of the radio communications between the aircraft and Edwards, as well as the initial statements from the survivors," General Diane Beckman said. "The pilot in his last transmissions declared an inflight emergency due to a fire in the cargo compartment. The loadmaster reported that the fire initiated in a cargo pallet."

"It wasn't sabotage then."

"Doesn't look like it. I'll have people cross-reference the loadmaster's statement with the cargo manifest and see if we can figure out what went wrong. What about the search and rescue effort?"

"Luckily, the submarine USS Asheville was in the area and COMSUBPAC ordered her to assist with the rescue effort. Navy and Coast Guard air and surface units were involved, as well as Air Force helicopters and fixed-wing aircraft, and fortunately merchant traffic was kept out of it."

"I imagine it would raise a lot of questions if a merchant ship came across an occupied pod," Graham mused.

"Speaking of pods, how did the unit fare?"

"It could be worse. The pods are self-contained and reasonably crash-resistant, but there were still casualties. I have the summary here. Thanks to the pilots, who managed to ditch the aircraft just as all elevator and rudder control authority was lost, most were recovered intact with their occupants in good shape, even though some needed immediate medical attention." He paused, handing over a report to the General. The plane had broken up on impact with the water, but it could have been much worse. "Two sank due to crash damage, but their locators functioned and we were able to recover the bodies. One just disappeared and I'm afraid we have to consider its occupant dead. Officially, she'll be listed as missing and presumed dead. I've instructed my people to keep an eye out for reports of unidentified bodies recovered from the sea in local morgues. Notification of next of kin is in progress."

"The loss of Dr. Busgang is going to be a blow to the U Project," Beckman pointed out.

"Fortunately, it won't be as bad as we originally feared. The operation was also a success. I reckon we won't find it difficult to recruit new volunteers in order to bring the unit back to full strength."

"Maybe, but it will take time until it's fully combat-ready again. At least we won't have to lie to the families of the dead about how they lost their loved ones. I always hate when I have to do it. We'll just leave a few details out."

-o-

It was midday by the time Chuck drove Devon's car to the Westside Medical Center staff parking lot. Since he volunteered there regularly, the staff knew him, so he was able to get in without a fuss. He found Devon in the doctors' lounge. He'd changed out of his workout clothes into scrubs and a white coat.

"Chuckster," Devon greeted him.

"Here, Captain," Chuck said, tossing him the car keys. Devon caught them deftly. "I see they shanghaied you for duty even on your day off."

"Nah, I told them I'd stay. I'll get the weekend off, which is awesome because Ellie will also be free then."

"How is the patient doing?"

"Well, she had a dislocated shoulder, bumps, cuts and bruises, including a nasty one on her head, but thankfully no internal injuries. She also had a moderate case of hypothermia, but she's all right now. Ellie has taken her for an MRI. They should be wrapping it up about now, if they haven't already."

"Good to know. Has she woken up yet?"

"No, but we are not worried, at least not yet. We will start to worry if she doesn't wake up in the next few hours."

"When can I see her? I know it sounds stupid, but I kind of feel responsible for her."

Devon grinned. "It's only natural to feel that way, bro. You should be proud of yourself, but I think you already are, subconsciously." He drained his coffee and set the mug down. "Come on. I'll take you to see her."

Chuck followed Devon to a room in one of the hospital's wards. The blonde was in a bed and she looked a lot better compared to when he'd first found her. Color had returned to her face and she appeared to be resting comfortably. Ellie was making notations on a chart.

"Hey Chuck," she said, smiling brightly. "Devon told me all about what happened this morning. You did well, so congratulations."

"Thanks sis. How's your patient."

"She should be waking up soon."

As if on cue, the blonde in the bed stirred and groaned. "My head," she grumbled, almost inaudibly. With some effort, she opened her eyes and managed to focus after blinking several times. "Where am I?"

"You're in Westside Medical Center. I'm Dr. Bartowski, Ms…" Ellie began.

"I don't… I don't know who I am," the blond woman replied, her eyes going wide as saucers as she began to realize the implications.