Casey was surprised to hear the knock at his door. He knew who it had to be. It had to be Chuck. But why was Chuck coming here? Why wasn't he on his way to Agent Walker's – to get in every second of screwing he could before she got shipped off? Didn't he know by now that her coming over there that night, what she'd said, that marked her as damaged goods. If she was lucky, she'd just get pulled off Chuck's case and sent to a psychologist for a while. She was good enough that she might be that lucky.

Casey wasn't sure what had brought him home early that night. It was one of his rare nights off, one of the rare nights he didn't have to listen to Chuck go on and on about sandwiches or listen to him playing some mindless, stupid video game that was obviously designed by somebody who'd never seen anything resembling real combat. He should have been off celebrating being alive, finding a fling, anywhere but at home. Some instinct had told him, though, that Walker wasn't right and he needed to listen, too. His instincts were usually right. They had proven that again tonight.

"Didn't expect to see you here." he said, as he opened the door. The scanning system had indicated no weapons, of course. He still checked. He was still a professional, even if Agent Walker had screwed up. He didn't relish the thought of breaking in a new member of Team Bartowski, but he wondered if he might start getting intel direct, instead of always hearing about it second-hand. He still sometimes felt like Team Chuck's little fat kid. It didn't bother him as much as it used to, but the thought of being third in a three-man team wasn't exactly pleasant. Then again, he'd never worked on a team like this before.

"Casey," the words didn't sound exactly like Chuck. It was more like the Agent Carmichael personae that Chuck was learning to wear. "I need your help."

Casey rolled his eyes. "Kiss, fondle, follow your prick. It's not that hard." Sheesh. Casey had always assumed that Chuck had at least lost his virginity at Stanford, if not before. And why would he come to Casey for advice? Casey had had his share of adventures, but he was hardly the world's leading expert. From the surveillance tapes, he had the motions down pat – though practicing solo wasn't exactly Casey's preferred modus operandi. Not that anybody would need help with Walker. She was a legend – more like a myth – in certain circles. He didn't believe all the stories, of course, but he'd heard enough to wonder if there was a grain of truth to them.

Chuck's eyes flickered with annoyance, but he didn't rise to Casey's bait, as he used to always do. Casey wondered if he was losing his touch. Or if Chuck were just finally growing up.

"Not with that. I need to talk to General Beckman. Now."

It was a voice of command that Casey hadn't really heard before. Chuck had just put his foot down to Casey the day before. And now he was ordering him around? That was not kosher.

"Not happening, loverboy. Besides, I've already filed my report." Casey softened just a bit. "So, go. Grab the time you've got."

"It is happening, or you will have to explain to her why the Intersect agent was killed, probably by his own hand. I'm not fooling around with this, Casey. I need to talk to her." Chuck's tone of voice was still firm, level, but there was a wildness to it, a mania behind it that got Casey's attention.

"I could just tranq you right now." Casey wasn't prone to idle threats. He'd loaded the tranquilizer gun earlier. With Walker and Roberts both near Chuck, and Walker acting so erratically, he'd judged it necessary. The gun was in easy reach.

"Probably, but you can't keep me under forever. Eventually, I'll be myself for a while. And then the government will be short one super-computer", Chuck replied, pointing to his head. His voice barely wavered. He was deadly serious – a kind of focused determination Casey had always suspected the man was capable of, but one that he had never seen.

"OK, but you're taking the blame for this."

"Casey," Chuck said, sounding a bit relieved, but still determined, "you have no idea."

Casey hit a few buttons, wondering if his superior would even be in. She seemed to basically live in the office, checking in with him at all kinds of odd hours of the day and night. But he had failed to reach her before. The TV turned on, showing a view of Beckman's office. She was there, looking as kempt as ever, despite the hour.

"Casey," she said, "what is it? I've already read your report and agree with your conclusion about replacing Agent Walker immediately."

Chuck stepped into the camera's view. "That's what it's about. If you replace Sarah, you may as well cancel all activities in this area. I will refuse to cooperate and will attempt suicide at every chance I'm given." Both Casey and Beckman blanched at that. "I know I may not succeed, but your ability to get usable intelligence from the Intersect will be minimized." The word 'Intersect' is laden with as much bile and disgust as Chuck can muster, which was a surprisingly large amount, given his general disposition.

"You would put yourself ahead of millions of people?" Casey let the words slip from his mouth. He could have kept them in, but they would score for him with General Beckman. Plus, they echoed his real thoughts. Such opportunities were rare. He wasn't going to let this one pass him by.

"I would. I've been pushed around and bullied long enough. I know what I want, what I need, and I'm ... I'm not going to let anything stand in the way. Not any longer." Chuck's bluster was starting to run thin, but he was clearly very committed to his course of action.

Surprisingly, Beckman defrosted a little at his words. "Chuck, think of the danger for the two of you. Is it really worth risking both your lives?"

Chuck chuckled. He chuckled! Casey couldn't believe it. The guy who normally screamed like a girl when facing even the slightest danger was now laughing in the face of death. What the hell was going on with the world tonight? It was awfully topsy-turvy. Chuck spoke. "General, life without Sarah is not worth living. I think I've made that clear. If events conspire and one of us dies ..." Chuck swallowed at the thought but he rallied gamely. "Well, I doubt just one of us would die that day."

Casey couldn't believe the expression he was seeing on Beckman's face. Was she really considering letting this madness continue? Casey groped for something solid, something that hadn't gone loco in the world. His eyes settled on the picture of Ronald Reagan, a man who knew how to run a country, build a government, shoot a gun, a man to be admired. But, almost against his will, he thought of Nancy and the love the two of them had shared. For an instant, he wondered if that kind of passion could make a man stronger. But only for a moment. He knew better.

But he held his peace. No sense sticking his nose in against his superior. As long as he kept his head, he could stay safe. And he could keep moving up the ladder. If Beckman started showing weaknesses, all the better for his future. No, staying quiet was the smart play here. Casey had made a career of smart plays.

"Chuck," Beckman spoke, after a long pause. "I don't like being threatened. I've never liked bullies. But you have me over a barrel. Agent Walker will stay in LA. But we will be assigning a new agent, one less prone to emotional failings, to your case. Agent Walker is benched indefinitely."

Chuck looked straight into the camera. "You're wrong, General." he said. Casey couldn't believe his ears. Directly defying a superior officer, when you'd already gotten your way? Then again, in a strange way, it made sense. It was nonsensical, so it fit the evening quite well. Chuck continued, "Emotions aren't failings. Hiding emotions is. And I'm not hiding mine any longer."

He rushed out the door, leaving Beckman to look at Casey. "Has the world gone mad?" she asked.

Casey grunted – he thought it was in agreement. "It sure has here, ma'am. Sorry for the interruption, but he insisted. And, as you heard, he can be quite persuasive. Good night."

Beckman replied "Good night. Oh, and major? Be sure to keep them in line and safe. Beckman out." The screen went black and Casey was left to ponder a world he thought he'd understood, but which was now standing on its head. What did "in line" even mean anymore?

Note: The author's sentiments do not necessarily match those of Casey. Particularly in regard to the strength of passion and love.