A/N: I bet no-one was expecting an update so soon. I'll be honest, neither was I. It's only been what, 6 days? You can thank Dana, she basically beta'd this whole chapter for me in a few hours, which I am very grateful for. So, thanks Dana! Which reminds me, if you haven't already, you should all check out her new story, Mary and Chuck vs the Ties That Bind. It's really very good. And Mary is actually likeable in it. Also, I'd like to give a quick shout-out to NMH, who correctly picked up on all the 24 references I was dropping in the previous chapters.

And for everyone with Twitter, remember to tweet #Chuck on Monday to get it trending during the episode.

Chapter 7

Nice to Meet You, Sarah, Sarah Walker

13th October 2007

Industrial Park, Port of Los Angeles, CA

02:23 PST

Aside from a large security light aggressively blasting light in all directions, the single-story building across the street looked to be entirely devoid of activity.

Sarah hadn't seen anyone go in or out of the small power station in the hour or so that she'd been parked there watching it, the lack of street lights concealing her position to all but the keenest of observers. And why would they? Even if the building was some sort of Ring base, it was still the middle of the night and even bad guys had to sleep, right?

The only way in or out was the single door she was currently staring at. Any other way was impossible thanks to the windowless walls. Still, as she had yet to see another person in the derelict industrial area that surrounded the plant, it should have been relatively easy to break in and have a look around, if it wasn't for that damn security light. She'd canvassed the area upon arrival and the same lights were repeated on all four sides of the concrete building. Her main problem was that the lights made it difficult to identify whether there were any cameras on the building and, if this really was a Ring base, sounding the alarm really wasn't the best idea.

She sighed and shifted in her seat slightly. This was going to be difficult.

The black coffee tucked away in the drinks holster between the seats had long since gone cold. Just as well probably - more caffeine wasn't going to help her focus. Her stiff muscles were aching from sitting in the same position for so long, with her legs set on the car floor and her hands on the ten and two position on the wheel. She'd decided long ago that sitting still for this long was unnatural for her, an annoyance usually reserved for flying and mission briefings.

But a stake-out was a stake-out. Putting the seat back would have made things a lot more comfortable for her. Unfortunately, it would probably also send her one step closer to the sleep that she was starting to crave. The ache in her muscles did have its benefits, however. It kept her alert. Maybe she should put some music on, if only break the silent monotony. Actually, that was probably a bad idea; she needed to stay focused on watching the power station, not on listening to the lyrics of the -

She threw her head back against the seat and groaned when she realised that she couldn't actually name a single band. Even Bryce could do that.

This stake-out had the potential to run into an extremely long night. She'd yet to decide how long she was going to stay here. It was her only lead, after all.

Whatever the hell Chuck had been doing here was anyone's guess. Her normally cool and analytical mind was having trouble processing it all. Trying to keep some sort of grasp on objectivity had been hard when she had just been dealing with Bryce's supposed treachery, but now with Chuck's death and apparent Ring involvement, that was becoming next to impossible.

She couldn't understand why Chuck's death was bothering her so much. She had only actually met the guy for a few days, after all. Was it some misplaced sense of loyalty after what Bryce had done to him? Or perhaps it was guilt that she hadn't done more to fight Chuck's case, and that now that he was dead the least she could do was defend his memory.

And now, at least in the eyes of the government, he had joined her other former partner as a traitor.

Sarah felt her jaw clench even tighter as she tried to shut out these questions.

Maybe she should just screw protocol and storm the Ring base, guns blazing. It really was hard to justify sticking to protocol considering that she wasn't even supposed to be here. She could close the distance between her car and the building in twenty seconds. The door looked pretty old; two shots from her S&W couldtake care of the handle and one strong kick should be enough to -

Oh.

Apparently that wasn't going to be necessary.

Because someone's need for a cigarette couldn't be contained any longer.

The man who exited the building had to try several times before he successfully managed to light up, his frustration growing ever more apparent with every attempt.

Here's where the fun begins, she thought to herself as she stepped out of her car, the sudden movement doing wonders to her legs as the blood started to rush back through them.

As she casually crossed the road towards the man, and into the realm of the security lights, his features came into focus. The first thing that she noticed was that he was massive, well over six feet and perhaps twice or three times her weight. He was wearing a thick leather jacket – really not necessary in the LA climate - and kept a neatly trimmed goatee with a shaven head. He looked more like a professional wrestler than a power station/Ring security guard. She approached with caution, hands at her sides so as not to appear threatening.

He didn't see her coming until she was within a few feet of him. She wasn't sure whether his look of surprise was simply due to her presence there, or because he hadn't heard her coming.

"Hi," she said simply, giving him a small smile in the process, continuing to close the distance between them.

He frowned in response, the cigarette drooping slightly in his mouth.

She stopped and waved a hand casually back in the direction that she'd come. "I live down the street," she explained, doing her best to imitate Carina's "sweet-and-innocent" voice, "and I'm having a little trouble with the power."

"Power?" he asked, removing the cigarette from his mouth. As he did so, the hem of his jacket was pulled back, revealing a Desert Eagle. That was hardly the typical weapon of choice for a security guard.

"Uh-huh." She nodded. "And I was wondering if you guys here would be able to fix it?"

Her eyes flickered towards the building and now that she was closer, she could see that there weren't in fact any cameras. Gotcha.

"Fix it?" he responded, sounding stumped. "Lady, you're gonna have to go some place – Hang on, wait a sec, there aren't any houses around here."

He suddenly dropped the cigarette and started to reach for his waist.

Now, a tiny voice inside her head said.

Leaping into a sprint, she charged towards him and, pivoting on her left heel, swung her right leg high. The roundhouse kick smashed into his face with a loud thud, the transferred momentum causing him to spin backwards before he went crashing to the ground.

She stepped forward to pick up the gun which he had, in fact, just managed to draw, removing it from the newly unconscious body. "Smackdown," she muttered.

After stubbing out the man's cigarette, she crept up to the door of the building, which had been left ajar, and pressed herself against the wall next to it. It was unlikely that there was anyone else by the entrance,as no-one had intervened to help Captain Wrestler over there, but she'd learnt a long time ago that, in her line of work, nine lives was far too few and arrogance had its price.

Peering into the building, she could see that the door led into a small lobby area. Its sole occupants were a few stray chairs, strewn casually about in front of an old, worn-down reception desk. The only other exit was a door at the back of the room, which looked like it had been recently replaced.

Sarah slid into the room, drawing her S&W as she did so.

It was much darker inside without the security lights - lighting the lobby wasn't apparently a priority - and it smelled heavily of damp. Carefully navigating the chairs, she silently crossed the room to the other door which, although being closed, was thankfully unbolted. Allowing herself a small smile at the desperate dependency some people had on nicotine, she reached out for the handle and pulled the door open.

The cool air that rapidly came pouring through the doorway caused her to recoil slightly. No wonder her unconscious friend outside had been wearing that thick leather jacket – it was freezing in there! And, looking through, she could see why.

Hard-drives.

Loads of them.

Consciously trying to avoid shivering and letting her S&W guide her, she stepped through to get a clearer view. It was one massive room - unlike the lobby, completely refurbished - divided into corridors and corridors of towers of hard-drives, all of which were giving off a gentle hum. They were all stacked into glass cases and given the size of the room, she estimated that they must be in the hundreds. Giant air conditioning units ran along the ceiling, maintaining the cool temperature.

Okay, The Ring were definitely not using this place as a power station.

Two thoughts came to her at that moment. The first was that she knew Chuck had been an electronic engineering major at Stanford. The second was that The Ring had gone to massive efforts to conceal this place, so much so that they had avoided using cameras on the outside of the building and maintained its outer worn-down shell. If this place was what she thought it was, that could only mean that -

Two shots fired in quick succession suddenly flew past her head, abruptly cutting off her trail of thoughts.

Shit, she silently cursed as instinct took over and she dove towards the nearest corridor of hard-drives, away from the direction of gunfire. Rolling up into a crouch, she gripped the gun with both hands and took cover against the hard-drive casing. Where the hell had he come from?

She could hear steps now, around ten feet away and getting closer. The "walls" were at least six feet high, so her attacker would have to come to the end of one of the corridors to get a clean shot.

Moving back to the the end of corridor, she let her attacker approach. Listening to his steps, she counted. One. Two. Three -

Swinging her weapon round the corner, she unleashed a blind hailstorm of fire where the steps had come from.

Four.

She heard a body slump to the ground.

Still gripping the gun, she stood up and stepped round to see a body spread-eagled across the white floor. The pooling blood had already reached the nearest hard-drive. This one was a lot smaller than the man outside, but was still wearing a similar jacket. It didn't quite fit him.

She ejected her near empty magazine and replaced it with a clean one, and then begun to sweep the rest of the room. She didn't want any more surprises. She hated surprises.

The rest of the room was clean. No-one but her and the hard-drives. Now, it was time to find out what the hell this place was...

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small USB cable that would connect to her cellphone. Hopefully, she should be able to download at least some of the data on the hard-drives. Looking around for the nearest USB port, she crouched and began to -

Wait.

Did that sound like a -

"Dammit!" she cursed, out loud this time, before sprinting out of the room, back into the lobby, past all the chairs, through the door, out into the street, just in the time to see -

Her car speeding away.

Captain Wrestler's body was also gone.

How the hell had he managed to – She'd been in the building five minutes, tops. A kick like that should have rendered him unconscious for at least another ten!

Sarah threw her arms up in the air in frustration and said something that would have made Carina blush.

After calming down a bit and realising that it was useless to stand outside dwelling, she returned to the room of hard-drives. At least the guy inside hadn't gotten up.

The USB cable was right where she'd dropped it. She picked it back up and connected one end to her phone, the other to the nearest hard-drive, after opening the casing. She sat there for a second. Nothing happened, and then – Please select directory for download.

The overdue grin that blossomed on her face was her first true smile all day.

Lists and lists of files then began to pop up on her screen. Thousands of them. Almost crossing the screen too quickly for her eyes to read them. Most of the file names were random letters of code, but there were some words that she recognised: Percuis. Costa Gravas. Operation Nightfall. Oil. Nacho Sampler. Paris.

Unfortunately, most of the files looked encrypted and she probably wasn't going to be able to read them here. Chloe really was going to have her work cut off for -

Then the lights went out.

Sarah was up in a instant, eyes glancing around for movement, ears listening for footsteps.

Except there was no-one.

Then she caught something in the periphery of her vision.

She spun around to see sparks start to spit from one of the hard-drives – No, make that two. And then the sparks were everywhere and the lights on the hard-drives were starting to flicker, too. More and more sparks and the sounds of circuits being fried.

No, this wasn't happening. Not when she was so close to -

The sparks stopped.

And the lights of all the hard-drives in the room all went dark.

"Dammit!"

# # #

13th October 2007

Echo Park, Burbank, CA

07:43 PST

As she stepped through the little archway, past the series of mailboxes and into an open courtyard where water was flowing freely from a little fountain, Sarah tried to imagine what it would be like to live in this small apartment complex, and failed. There was nothing particularly bad about it – what with the overgrown hanging plants that bridged the gap between open windows and the garden chairs that appeared to belong to no-one in particular - it was just so cliché. She doubted that she would find any place more subdued in the whole of L.A.

And yet, this was the official residence of one Dr Eleanor Faye Bartowski.

Shrugging off a strange feeling of mild claustrophobia, she proceeded to the apartment that was listed "Bartowski/Woodcomb," and knocked on the door three times.

Here goes nothing.

After what had happened at the Ring base, she'd headed to back to the cheap hotel she was staying at – unsanctioned missions had a somewhat smaller expenses budget – to recoup and gather her thoughts. Three hours of sleep and one long shower later, her failure to retrieve any information from the hard-drives was still stinging. Her only lead had turned into a dead end and she'd let a suspect escape – in her own car!

But instead of sitting in her room waiting for the Feds – or the NSA - to find something, she'd decided to try a different approach to tracking Chuck. Maybe he had some sort of connection to L.A: job, friends, family, anything. Strangely, the personnel file she had on him had drawn a blank, the only piece of personal information being that prior to joining the CIA he'd attended Stanford University. No family listed. However, not satisfied, she'd pulled up county records and found one Bartowski currently residing in LA.

That had to be something.

Bartowski was a fairly uncommon surname, after all. The Feds were still keeping a wrap on the investigation, as the ID of the body had yet to be confirmed. So this unknown Bartowski would not know Chuck was dead. Lying to this person was not going to be fun. Who was this woman to Chuck? Perhaps a mother or a -

The door opened to reveal a tall woman with brown hair and a kind face. She looked to be in her late twenties and was wearing medical scrubs.

Sister.

"Hi," she said with a smile. "Can I help you?"

"Err, yeah," Sarah replied, suddenly feeling very awkward. "Are you Eleanor Bartowski?"

The woman gave a small nod, her smile not dropping. "It's Ellie, please. Only my dad ever calls me Eleanor."

Sarah felt her mouth form a silent "O," somewhat unnerved at the other woman's willingness to share personal information like that with a stranger. Or maybe it was just the mention of fathers. "Ellie," she repeated.

Ellie's smile broadened. "That's right. And you are?"

"Sarah. Sarah Walker." There really was no need for cover names. Not another one at least, anyway.

Ellie held out her hand, which Sarah shook. "Well, Sarah, Sarah Walker, nice to meet you."

Sarah just stood there for moment, still a little taken aback by the resemblance Ellie shared with Chuck...particularly the eyes. "Likewise," she finally said.

Ellie looked like she was waiting for something, though that face didn't look like it was capable of showing impatience. The woman was, well, a doctor so she probably did have a busy - "I'm looking for your brother," Sarah suddenly blurted.

Crap. That had come out wrong. Way to be smooth, Sarah.

"My brother?" Ellie's expression immediately changed. The smile was gone and her face looked harder. Older, even. Pursing her lips, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder before stepping outside and closing the door. This caused Sarah to take an involuntary step back. "How'd you know Chuck?"

Remember the mission, CIA.

"We worked together in Washington for a while before he was transferred here. And – God, this is kinda embarrassing – I told him I'd look him up to say, um, hi, if I were ever in town. Only the thing is, my phone got a little busted and I sorta lost his number. But he mentioned having a sister and I thought you might be able to put me in touch." At least the last part was true. Kind of.

Ellie blinked, the look of suspicion replaced by curiosity. "You and my brother were...friends, then?"

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks – why did she have the feeling that this woman could see right through her? "Something like that," she muttered truthfully.

"Ah, I guess that kinda figures then," Ellie said with a grim smile, hunching her shoulders a little. "It's been a while since my brother's had a girlfriend, especially one like – actually, never mind. He does have a tendency to get, um, distracted a little. So that might explain why he's been so distant."

Girlfriend? Why not? She had almost as implied as much. There were honestly times when she hated her job.

"He's been distant?" she asked.

Ellie frowned. "Really distant. He hasn't even called for six months, it's just so unlike – wait, didn't he speak to you about this?"

"We haven't really spoken in a while," Sarah answered. "It's complicated."

"It's my brother, of course it would be," Ellie said, shaking her head from side to side. She looked so...deflated "I'm afraid I can't help you, though. I don't have a number for Chuck any more – not that he'd answer my calls anyway – and I didn't even know he was in L.A."

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know..."

Ellie shook her head again. "It's not your fault. I'm sure Chuck will have some ridiculous explanation for where he's been, anyway."

No, he won't. She'd gladly take another round with Captain Wrestler over having to continue to lie to Chuck's sister. She couldn't even blame anyone for putting her in this position. She had come here on her own.

Sarah raised her eyebrows slightly and forced a smile. "He's Chuck."

Ellie nodded. "That he is. Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat...A friend of Chuck's and all. But my shift at the hospital started ten minutes ago so..."

"Oh, don't let me keep you."

Ellie disappeared back into the apartment before re-emerging thirty seconds later with a sports bag slung over her shoulder. She hesitated slightly before handing Sarah a card. "Call me if you hear from Chuck. Please"

Sarah made the promise which she wouldn't be able to keep and Ellie set off down the courtyard. Just as she reached the archway, she called back. "Oh, and Sarah, Chuck will probably be able to help you out with that phone, if you ever see him. He's good with that sort of stuff."

And then she was gone, leaving Sarah alone in the courtyard.

A unpleasant thought began to wrangle its way through her brain. The very time she might see Ellie next could be Chuck's funeral.

What the hell would she ever say to her then? Hi Ellie, I kind of already knew your brother was dead and lied to your face about it. Oh, and by the way, I wasn't actually his girlfriend. I was Bryce Larkin's girlfriend. You know, the person who almost got your brother kicked out of school and – No.

Remember the mission, CIA.

Ellie Bartowski hadn't been lying. She genuinely didn't know where Chuck had been. That underlying look of concern that had plagued her face throughout the entire encounter hadn't been fake; it was the look of a worried sister.

Whilst Ellie Bartowski was certainly oblivious to Chuck's recent whereabouts and activities, things were not boding well for the man himself. Cutting off family ties was a necessary step in going dark, and Chuck hadn't struck her as the kind of person who'd do that without having a good reason – such as, say joining The Ring. The voice in her head that kept insisting that Chuck was innocent had quietly been diminishing.

"Excuse me?"

Ripped from her thoughts by the voice behind her interrupting the silence, Sarah spun around to see a bearded man standing in Ellie's doorway. His hands were tucked away in his pockets. How long had she been standing there? She hadn't even heard the door open.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, sounding apologetic.

Sarah shook her head. "Don't worry, you didn't."

"Good to know, I guess," he said, his eyes widening a little. "I don't mean to pry, but I sorta overheard that you're looking for Chuck?"

"You heard correct," she answered, giving her lips an almost imperceptible lick. "Sorry, do you live here?"

The man laughed a little and shook his head. "God no, I'm not nearly awesome enough for that. Ellie just lets me have breakfast here sometimes. Occasionally. "

"That's nice of her," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Sarah, I worked with Chuck in DC."

"Morgan Grimes," he replied, shaking her outstretched hand as he did so. "Chuck's best friend. Soul mate/heterosexual life partner."

Heterosexual what now?

Morgan Grimes was a strange little man. "So, you worked with Chuck, huh?"

"I – err, we were friends," she said, again caught off guard by the question.

"Ah, I see. Good for Chuck," he said with a smile.

"Ellie said that Chuck hasn't been in touch for months?" she asked, trying to change the subject before half of Burbank had her labelled as the future Mrs Chuck Bartowski; the reason he ditched his family and friends. Then again, that was better than the alternative.

Morgan suddenly looked very awkward at the question she had posed. He stepped out of the doorway and gestured for her to follow him. He took a seat on the edge of the little fountain and putting his hands on his knees, waited for her to do the same. She did so a little nervously, keeping a distance between them.

"I saw Chuck a few days ago," he revealed, letting out a long sigh. "Ellie doesn't know," he added.

"What? Where?" she demanded, abruptly turning to face him, her eyes wide.

He raised his eyebrows, looking a little taken a back. "In Griffith Park. Yeah, he was acting all weird," he said before adding, "Something was clearly bothering him."

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Well, he said some things to me that were, um, very un-Chuck like," he said, pausing to straighten his tie . "But before I could say anything, he practically ran off on me."

"Oh," she said simply. Morgan had clearly been bothered by something his friend had said to him. Should she comfort him? "Do you, um, know where he is now?"

Again, Morgan looked awkward. "Not exactly," he answered.

"What does that mean?"

"After Chuck ran off, I was a little, ah, distraught and didn't have the good sense to go after him. But, as it happens, two rather, um, unscrupulous colleagues of mine were also getting lunch in the area at the time of said encounter and decided to follow him themselves."

"They stalked him?" she said, cocking an eyebrow slightly.

Morgan sighed. "For, and I quote, "suspicious and morally questionable behaviour." But really, compared to some of the other stuff these two do, stalking is hardly – Anyway, sorry that's not important. Yeah, so they followed him back to some hotel but, being the hard working employees that they are, turned back before they could follow him in."

At seeing Sarah's slight frown, he added. "Their lunch break was over."

"So Chuck was – is staying at this hotel?"

Morgan shrugged. "That's the thing. I went to check this place out and there was no Chuck Bartowski on the guest list. The management weren't very helpful."

Sarah nodded sympathetically. "Can I get the address of that hotel? I'd like to have a look myself if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, be my guest," he said enthusiastically. He pulled a little pad from his pocket and wrote an address down. "Just let me know what you find, okay?"

"I will do," she said, taking the piece of paper from him.

"Thanks."

She hesitated for a second, before asking, "Just one more thing, why didn't you tell Ellie you saw him?"

Morgan slowly stood up and, scratching his beard, said, "Ellie practically raised Chuck on her own. Now he's avoiding her and everyone else, for whatever reason and – I just wouldn't know what to say."

"I understand," she said simply, standing up herself. "Oh and, if I were you, I'd talk to those two "colleagues" of yours about what they do in their lunch breaks. You know, being the Assistant Manager and all."

Morgan looked down at the Assistant Manager's vest he was wearing and proudly grinned. "I will do. New job and everything. I've yet to flex my metaphoric muscles."

Sarah smiled back at him and after thanking Morgan again for the address, turned to leave.

As she stepped back through the archway, she realised that she may have misjudged Morgan Grimes. She also had a new found respect for Ellie Bartowski.

Now Chuck, it's time to find out what you've been up to.

# # #

13th October 2007

Daniel Marks' Hotel Room, Los Angeles, CA

08:30 PST

This lead probably wouldn't pan out.

That was what Sarah kept telling herself.

At the end of the day, this was only a hotel room and Chuck had been dead for over 12 hours now. She was almost sure that she wouldn't find anything here. Clothes, toothbrush and a suitcase would hardly shed light on Chuck's recent activities, nor would they reveal Bryce's location or whatever The Ring had masterminded.

But however much rationalising her mind did, it wasn't enough to subdue the overwhelming sense that behind this door there would be an explanation for everything that had happened. She knew it was stupid, but that feeling had been with her since she'd left Echo Park, re-enforced by the receptionist downstairs having seen Chuck as recently as yesterday.

Like Morgan had said, there was no Chuck (or Charles) Bartowski on the guest list and the receptionist hadn't exactly been helpful. But, after flashing her badge, there had been a change of heart, and upon showing a photo of Chuck, the receptionist had recognised him as "Daniel Marks, management consultant." Security had then given her a master key and she'd insisted upon going up alone – even if she couldn't look after herself, the room was going to be empty, anyway.

Her hand was shaking slightly as she moved to put the key into the slot in the door. Nerves? Maybe it was just the caffeine. Instinctively, her right hand was resting on her S&W, which was in its usual spot in the back of her jeans and after a light green light flickered, she opened the door with her left.

Pushing it fully open with her shoulder revealed -

No-one.

As she'd expected, the room was empty.

But someone had been staying here. Recently.

The bed was unmade and clothes were strewn about the place. The window at the rear of the room had a large crack in it, spiralling outwards, as if something heavy had been thrown at it. There was no "Do-Not-Disturb" sign on the door, so surely the maid would have cleaned things up by now? Given the nature of the hotel, it was hardly likely that the help was lazy...

Laptop.

Sarah moved fully into the room towards the laptop, which was sitting on the large work desk. It really looked like it had been through the works, but there were still lights on it. Always a good sign, she thought to herself.

But before she reached the desk, her phone buzzed.

Pulling it out her pocket, she started to read the text message. It was from Robinson, the FBI agent investigating the bombing.

UPDATE: Preliminary dental analysis just came back. Body found at the scene is not -

"Sarah?"

Sarah's eyes shot up from the message to where the shocked voice had come from. Standing in the open doorway, looking paler than a ghost with arms hung loosely at his side, was Chuck Bartowski. Very much alive.

"Chuck, you're – but, how?" she stumbled, completely dumbfounded.

Chuck looked like he was about to be sick. His head started to shake uncontrollably from side to side. "You shouldn't – you can't be here. You have to... to go."

They were both still in such a state of shock, that neither of them immediately registered the other man step up from behind Chuck.

Sarah was the first to react, dropping her phone and reaching to grab her -

But he was faster.

There was already a gun in his hand.

"Cooper, NO!" Chuck yelled, trying to block the other man to no avail.

That was strange. There was no bang. She'd always thought there'd be a bang. Hadn't he fired yet?

The other man just stood waiting. Watching her. So did Chuck, having been shunted aside.

Her fingers were feeling funny. Why couldn't she get a grip on her gun?

And why were her knees suddenly unable to support her weight? She hadn't been shot; she knew what that felt like and this was not that.

Her vision was starting to get cloudy.

"Chu..." she tried to say.

Then darkness took her.

# # #

A/N Sorry to leave it like that. I promised there'd be Chuck. There was Chuck. When will the next update be? I don't wanna put a date on it, but probably within a week, definitely within two.