A/N Had to change the conversations at the gala. This time Ellie was awake while Devon was the one sleeping it off, when Goya shows up at her door. Chuck, as usual, is not treated like a fool. Most important, Devon doesn't want to be a spy.

"She's gonna kill me."

"Heart surgeon will do."

"We're assuming nothing at this time."

"You're just gonna have to take a number."

Many hours later, Chuck had still thought of no solution to his dilemma. Devon had already booted the soldiers from the room, which made it harder to approach but also removed the possibility that any traitor among his men would get a chance at a second attack. Operating through intermediaries, Chuck's team had been receiving updates regularly, so they knew of Goya's recovery and imminent release long before the regular media. That was all they knew.

Not all. After the press conference they also knew Devon spoke reasonably fluent Spanish. The patient's symptoms and course of treatment were still firmly under wraps. When asked that exact question, Devon said only, "He's an amazing man. A real fighter."

Casey looked ill.

Devon staggered into the courtyard of the apartment complex, barely able to see the way to his apartment for the blurring of his vision. At least the fountain made its usual noise, now that it had been repaired after that party. So glad they missed that one. He was dragging his keys out of his duffle when something large loomed up at him out of the shadows. "Ah!" Then he saw his shadow clearly. "Jeez, Chuck, you scared me to death."

"And that's why we don't go creeping up on people from dark corners. Okay?"

"Okay. God." Devon pressed two fingers against his wrist. "What do you want?"

Chuck checked to make sure that Ellie hadn't been disturbed by his little prank, or anyone else. Just to be safe he urged Devon closer to the fountain, and its ambient noise. "I have a few questions I need to ask you."

Even this late, Devon was no fool. "It's about the premier?" He didn't wait for Chuck's cautious nod. "You wanna do this here? Doesn't the CIA want to debrief me or something?"

"Depends on who you ask," said Chuck. "This here, what we're doing right now, is me debriefing you. I'm not sure what Sarah would do. Her normal tricks involve drugs and lingerie, which likely wouldn't work since you know who she is already and she wouldn't want to hurt Ellie's feelings, or something unpleasant that I don't even want to contemplate. No, wait."

Devon looked around, dazed by his own imagination. "Wait for what?" Was a lingerie-clad Sarah even now getting ready to pounce and do something unpleasant?

"That's interrogation," said Chuck. "My bad. Fortunately for you she's already put you in the 'civilian' zone and told me to play nice. This would be Sarah debriefing you too."

Devon was feeling less and less awesome about his bro-in-law's secret life. "What about Casey?" Did he even want to know about Casey?

"Well, let's just say that Casey isn't likely to agree with you about the muy amazingness of a communist dictator like Goya anytime soon, comprende?"

He didn't want to know about Casey. "Comprendo."

"Good," said Chuck. "Now, what can you tell me about Goya?"

"Well, nothing," said Devon. "I said everything they told me to say at the press conference. The rest is confidential, dude, you know that."

"Yeah, Devon, I know that. So what can you tell me?"

Devon yawned. "I can tell you that these plants need more potassium in their soil," he said, waving at the potted plants all around, drooping a little. "They're like us, too little isn't good, but for us too much is worse. Too much K, I mean like 'off the charts' too much, can give rise to all sorts of cardiac events."

Chuck tried to look earnestly well-informed. "Is that a fact?"

Devon shrugged. "It better be, it's what they taught us in medical school." He shook himself out. "Sorry, I was rambling. What did you want to ask me about?"

Chuck waved a hand. "Oh, nothin' special. Just wanted to make sure you got home all right."

"You kidding?" asked Devon with a grin. "I could do this stuff in my sleep, but hopefully without all the guns, next time. That's a kind of excitement I don't need. I'll just stick to my runs, my cardio…"

"Gotcha there," said Chuck, who could do without the guns himself.

"…the skydiving, and of course Ellie's enough excitement for any man…"

Chuck slapped his hands over his ears. "Devon!"

Devon snapped back to awareness. "Huh?" He noted Chuck's posture. "What did I say?"

"Nothing I wanted to hear," said Chuck. "But I expect Ellie would. Go home and say it to her." He backed away from Devon's slight smile and went to make his own report, and then bed.

At times, the single most important item of equipment in Castle was the coffee machine. This was one of those times, but they weren't in Castle, and Casey made his coffee to Marine specifications.

Unfortunately for him, Beckman was in the Air Force.

The meeting did not, as they say, go well. A poisoning implied a poisoner, and the gala the Costa Gravans were throwing to celebrate their leader's continued existence was a perfect opportunity for him to strike again. But try telling them that. "Three times, over thirty years, I was ordered to kill that commie crackpot–"

"And failed, all three times," said Sarah, chugging her coffee just to prove that she could.

"What's your point, Walker?" snarled Casey. "That you're better than me? That I didn't want it bad enough?"

Chuck looked at Sarah. "It happens, big guy. Sometimes what you have to do and what you want to do aren't at all the same thing."

Casey ignored the blatant display of ladyfeelings, if he even noticed it at all. "Oh, I wanted to, Bartowski, and I still want to, but orders are orders. Just as well the Angel de la Muerte has to sit this mission out."

"The who?"

"Angel de la Muerte, the angel of death. That's what they call me down there," said Casey proudly. Bad enough they were tasked to infiltrate a foreign embassy, they didn't need a wanted man showing his face too.

"Zealous much?" asked Chuck. He made a face, speaking with a stilted and bizarre accent. "Oh, the angel of death, we must flee or perish." Then his eyes went wide. "Wait! That gives me an idea."

Suddenly there was shouting in the courtyard, and armed men securing the perimeter. Sarah got there first but Chuck was taller. "Costa Gravan soldiers," she said.

"They must have found out I was in LA," said Casey, heading for his nearest weapons cache. "They've come for me."

"Give it a rest, Casey, that was the 80s. You're not the only one with Costa Gravan connections, you know." He jerked his thumb toward the window and the courtyard beyond, where even now some uniformed man was knocking on Devon's new front door.

The door opened, and Ellie stepped out, wearing her bright blue scrubs. She looked around the yard, fear in her eyes at the sight of all the guns. The man at the door bowed, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, but she pulled it back before it got that far.

Casey dialed up the volume on one of the bugs from the courtyard.

"Sra. Doctor Woodcombe," said the man in strongly accented English, "Do you know what your husband has done?"

"My husband?" asked Ellie. "He was at the hospital all night. He just got home a few hours ago."

"Your husband is a hero," said the man. "I owe him my life. I am Alejandro Fulgencio Goya, master of Parliament and Chief Military Officer of Costa Gravas, and I am at your most humble service."

"I'm going in," said Chuck, heading for the rear exit to the apartment, and from there to his own. He took an earwig so he could listen in as he moved.

"You're that man from the news," said Ellie.

"I am indeed," said Goya, who expected his doings to make headlines, pleased to find that this was so even in America.

Ellie looked him over with a practiced eye. "You look very well, but you probably shouldn't be out of bed."

"So your husband also said," said Goya. "But I am here on a mission that cannot be delegated. Tonight we are hosting a gala at my consulate." An aide flicked out an envelope for his master to take.

Chuck stepped out of his own apartment and said, "Gala?" All eyes and guns turned to him. He raised his hands, and the pitch of his voice. "Hey! Easy there."

"Chuck!" yelled Ellie. "That's my brother," she said to the man who controlled all the guns.

"Your brother?" he said, waving his soldiers to lower their weapons. "Yes, I see the resemblance. Your own feminine beauty, in a more manly form."

"Uh, yeah," said Chuck, unable to tell if he'd just been insulted or not. He came over to stand by his sister.

"You must come too," said Goya, taking the invitation his aide held and thrusting it into Chuck's hands. He immediately gave it to Ellie as if it burned him. Goya didn't see it, as he'd taken and was holding a deep bow.

"He's waiting for you to say yes," said an officer.

Both of the Bartowskis rushed to say yes, even though they had no idea what Devon's plans were, scratch that, had been for the evening.

Ellie restrained herself from squealing joyfully as the squad departed. "I can't believe this is happening!"

"Yeah," said Chuck, glancing at the window of John's apartment. "Neither can I."

As expected, Devon had nothing better to do that night. His wife wanted to go, therefore he did too. Strings were pulled, and suddenly the couple were free of any hospital obligations for the evening as well.

They entered the ballroom to polite applause, Ellie and Devon dressed to impress, Sarah and Chuck dressed to reflect. The last thing they wanted was for anyone to notice or remember them as they scoped the room. "Guards at the north and west."

"Metal detectors in the doorways," said Casey from the van, using various bits and pieces of equipment on the two agents to scan and update the interior schematics of the building. He secured any and all weapons with metallic components. Just in case.

Sarah left to do a pass by Goya himself, while Chuck moved to support his family. Ellie had stars in her eyes, Devon was much more subdued after Chuck had let him in on what was going on and what he needed to do. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it and you already have, is to keep my sister out of danger."

The biggest danger she was in so far seemed to be from Goya himself, judging from the strained smile. Devon unwittingly echoed his brother-in-law, "I'm going in", but Sarah defused the situation first. The ladies found a table with their backs to the wall and a view of the room, while Chuck used his height to good advantage.

"So, here we are, alone at last," said Ellie.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Sarah, watching Chuck as he watched Goya.

"Exactly what it sounds like," said Ellie. "You and me. No Devon. No Chuck."

"What's wrong with Chuck?" She was watching him now, looking to her, so she signaled that she was blocked and he kept going.

Ellie saw her watching him but nothing else. "Nothing. I just don't want him to get hurt, and I don't want you to feel safe," she said, continuing on as Sarah attempted to respond, "You know and I know that he'll defend you, and I don't want that."

"Defend me from what?"

"Do you still have feelings for my brother?"

Devon shook another hand, thanked another person he'd never see again. Then he turned back to Chuck and saw him looking at Sarah. After a second Chuck looked away, so Devon leaned in for some private talk. "So, what's up with you and Sarah?"

Chuck's head kept turning. "What do you mean?

"Is it real?"

Chuck smirked, but Devon couldn't see it since he was looking in the other direction. "Of course it's real."

Devon took a sip of his champagne. "Doesn't look it."

Sarah ran her fingers lightly over the charms on her bracelet. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Ellie pointed at the decoration. "Can I see that?" Sarah held it up and Ellie stroked the charms herself. "The hearts are new. Chuck. Who's Sam?"

Sarah pulled her hand back. "No one you know."

"One of the men you were seeing while Chuck was away?"

Chuck's head came back around at that same steady pace, like he was measuring the room. "Good."

"I thought you were supposed to be involved? Aren't you supposed to look it?"

"We're supposed to look it for people who don't know we aren't," said Chuck. "We're supposed to not look it for people who don't know we are."

"What?"

"It's our job to fool people like you, Devon. It's a bit harder to fool people like us."

Sarah touched the heart labeled Chuck with easy familiarity. "Chuck gave me this heart himself, to hold for our present and our future. I gave myself the other heart, to hold for the past. There is no Sam, not anymore."

"And the men?"

"Uh, investors," said Sarah, resolving to kill Jeff and Lester slowly. "Hopefully."

"Thank God," said Ellie. "I knew all that stuff couldn't be true." She pointed at the bracelet. "I don't know why he gave you that charm, Sarah, I don't need to know. But you need to hold it safe and guard it with your life."

Guard him. As my life. Sarah looked back, saw Chuck looking at her, and gave him a new and better signal. "Way ahead of you, Ellie." She got up and went back to her man, as Devon came to take her place.

"Can we do our jobs now, please?" said Casey.

"Oh, no."

"What's the matter?"

"Goya's dancing with Ellie."

"Good. That means everyone'll be looking at him. I got a hit off the guest list, sending you the image now."

"Got it," said Chuck. "We see him. Across the floor."

"Don't dance too well, Chuck," said Sarah, breathing harder. "Remember, Ellie could be watching …Getting close…three…two…now." Something made a loud noise over the comm. "Dammit. He's just a protestor."

"I see him Sarah, one of the guards…Jack Artman…"

"Yes, sir, we'll come quietly," said Sarah, and the rest of their detainment faded away. Casey entered the name Chuck had given him and got a hit, ex-KGB specialist in poisons. He scanned the photo as he disguised himself to enter the compound. He'd made a bad call, now it was up to him to fix it.

Devon saw Chuck and Sarah fall, really, Chuck had no business on a dance floor. Then they were all taken away, and now he was Ellie's only protection. He went into high alert mode, checking everyone, like he'd seen Chuck do, so he spotted the assassin the second he came in the room.

He maneuvered himself into a clear path, saw the gun come out. Like the tight end he had once been he raced the short distance to his target and threw himself onto him, taking them both to the ground.

Devon opened his eyes, staring into John Casey's face, the cheesy mustache lost somewhere in the fall. Hard hands grabbed him and lifted him up, an honored guest given the benefit of the doubt while the man in the soldier's uniform was held down by pointed guns. The officer came up and looked at Casey. "El Angel de la Muerte!" At his gesture his men lifted Casey up and dragged him from the room.

When the situation was secure Goya came forward. "So, Doctor Woodcombe, you save my life a second time."

"You stopped an assassin," said Ellie, breathless, eyes, sparkling once again, for him alone. "I can't believe you did that."

Devon spotted Casey's mustache, inside someone's champagne flute. For some reason it just fascinated him. "Neither can I."

A/N2 I hope you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.