A/N Did anyone notice how Casey's leg miraculously healed between one episode and the next?

"I feel like Death."

"A damn shame."

"Ellie was curious."

"This is why."

Chuck stared at the monitor. "Look at him." Technically it was 'them', but the expression of terror on his brother-in-law's face wasn't the cause of Chuck's anger. The man walking with Devon, on the other hand, was a smirker. A smirker with a black eye, Devon's arm in one hand and a syringe in the other, ready to inject somebody. "Did he just wink at us?"

"Hard to say, with that shiner he's sporting," said Casey, leaning against the table. As the author of that shiner he felt a certain proprietary pride in it, although clearly the guy deserved a lot more. He just hoped he'd be able to get in on some of that action, if and when they found the guy. He wasn't about let a little thing like a bullet wound keep him out of that.

"It's the needle he's sporting that bothers me," said Chuck, shifting from camera to camera as his targets went out into the parking lot.

That setup line just spoke to John Casey's excuse for a soul. "So what else is new?" Really, Chuck should have known better.

"He'll be all right, Chuck," said Sarah. "Obviously they want him for something. The needle is just to force compliance."

"It's when they run out of hostages that I'm worried about," said Casey, putting weight on his leg again. "The heroic idiot may try to resist."

"He won't," said Chuck. He'd better not, not with Ellie waiting for him. "He's no idiot, and he's no hero." His phone rang, and he picked up with no loss to his typing speed. "Hey, sis. You're at the hospital? Great…His car is there? Not great…Not responding to any pages either? You're going to where? Security?" His fingers buzzed, and suddenly the images they were looking at turned to static. "Well, I hope you're right. Let me know if you find him. Right, I will too. Bye."

"Good move, Bartowski," said Casey, shuffling around slowly. "The last thing we need is another incident with the damn Costa Gravans." Ellie might have recognized the uniform Artman was still wearing.

"Chuck?" said Sarah, putting a hand on his shoulder. A case like this, Devon of all people, had to be stressing him in both directions at once. Hard to say where the proper balance was, but she had to find it.

"That's true, Casey, but it's not why I did it," said Chuck. "If anything about our business takes him away from her, I don't want her last sight of him to be that one." Sarah's hand relaxed, and he reached up and put a hand over it before she could pull away. "Thank you, too, Sarah, but I think for this one maybe I need to be a little more C than B. Comprende?"

Sarah nodded, and let him go. "Got your back, partner," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Casey peevishly. The pain in his leg was annoying, but not as much as feeling like a little fat kid. Not that he felt sorry for them, the little blobs, but he'd made too many sacrifices to be denied a chance to contribute. Marines went in first.

"It means we all need to be at the top of our game, Colonel," said Agent Carmichael. "How's your leg?"

Jack Artman hated hospital syringes. In his line of work the people were disposable, but a good implement was a treasure, and he'd lost his treasure to that NSA troglodyte. With its greater heft and the loops for his fingers he could control it much more easily. To keep this plastic thing in position against his victim's leg he had to use his fingers in a totally different way, and they were beginning to get sore.

Devon looked down yet again at the needle by his leg. Every time the car shifted and he lurched that way he got stuck by it, and having seen what even a little of that goo did to Goya he wanted none of it in him. Assuming it was the same goo, and he couldn't assume anything else. The guy had threatened to stick anyone he saw, if Devon bolted, and now he had no place to bolt to.

Oh, no, the guy was slowing to make a turn, and Devon pulled his leg away when he saw the ramp. The car bounced up and into some anonymous parking garage. The guy took the ticket and contemptuously tossed it in the back. He drove up a couple of ramps, before pulling into a dark space, near a big van.

The guy got out of the car as several men got out of the van, and Devon didn't know who was scarier. The poisoner pulled open the door and dragged him out into several waiting arms. "You'll be sorry you interfered in the affairs of the Ring, doctor," he sneered, as the other bad guys cuffed Devon. One of them pulled a bag over his head.

"You're such an idiot, Artman," said a mocking voice. "You have no idea who you've got, or what you've done. We don't tolerate interference but we tolerate incompetence less." One noise, low but sharp, and a second noise, like a bag of clothes falling to the ground, and Devon was suddenly very glad he had a bag over his head. "Dump him," said the unseen man, but from the sound of it they didn't dump him very far away, probably in his car. Then hands were pulling Devon backward into the van. When they finally did stick a needle into him he didn't feel it at all.

"Cut it out, Chuck," said Casey, examining the possible hits from Facial Rec for false positives. "You're blowing your cover."

"Uh, Casey, I hate to tell you but we're in Castle," said Chuck reasonably. "We don't have any covers down here."

"Yeah, but you're not supposed to be down here," said Casey. "You're supposed to be up there, freaking out like your sister is and driving everybody crazy. Instead, you're down here, not freaking out, and driving me crazy."

"Well excuse me for trying to be effective."

"You're not supposed to be effective, Chuck," said Sarah. "We are. You're supposed to be upset, and up there." She pointed to the Buy More exit.

Chuck started to walk over to the stairs, and then looked back at Sarah. "What a minute, was that wordplay?"

"Just get out already," said Casey. He looked at the monitor. "Looks like Grimes'll be needing your shoulder to cry on any minute now. Big Mike hauled him into his office in record time."

Morgan's head was almost spinning as he left Big Mike's office, holding the assistant manager vest. For days Mike had been haranguing them about the power of positivity, the need to say 'yes' even when you meant no. He'd done it, too, saying 'yes' all over the place, but it was the one time he'd said 'no' that made all the difference.

So many times in his life, he'd said 'yes' simply because people expected him to say yes, and he'd suffered for it. But the strength of those expectations was an illusion, ready to fold at the slightest 'no' from him. Except for his Mom, that had been a mistake, but he'd learned from it. The power of 'no' was awesome, but he had to use it sparingly, or else it would be like a chocolate chip cookie with too many chocolate chips in it, which really wasn't a cookie at all but more like a brownie with cake…and now he was hungry again.

Wait. Nobody knew the store was under new assistant-managership. He could sneak in one last snack run before taking the reins. He folded the Ass Man vest into a wad and hurried to the lockers, where it would wait until he returned to don the mantle of leader–"Chuck?" he said, opening the door. He put the hand holding the vest behind his back. "What are you doing here?" He hadn't seen him enter. His Chuck-radar hadn't gone off. It was like he just suddenly appeared in the break room. What the Hell?

"Hey, Morgan," said Chuck, trying to look freaked out, but not having to work too hard at it. The room had been empty when he opened the new locker entrance to Castle, but leave it to Morgan to take a spontaneous break. One problem too many for today. "Problems at home, Devon's been gone a while, not answering his phone…"

"So why aren't you at home?" Morgan tried to edge around Chuck while keeping the vest under cover.

Yeah, genius. He really should have thought about his cover story more. Then he saw the label on the locker in front of him and had an idea. "Because Ellie's at the hospital already, and I figured if I wanted to find somebody, the people to go to weren't the police, but Lester and Jeff."

Morgan had his doubts, but not about their abilities. "You want those two to help?"

"You think I shouldn't?"

"Yes," said Morgan, meaning no. The power of positivity, and he was positive he wanted Chuck out of the room for a minimum of about fifteen seconds. "Absolutely you should. You know how much those two love to be involved. In everything. They'd be really upset if you didn't."

"You're right," said Chuck, and he finally left Morgan alone.

Twenty-two seconds later, Morgan was heading out the door. Nobody at the Nerd Herd desk paid him any mind. "This brother-in-law, is he female?" asked Lester.

"Ew," said Jeff.

"No," said Chuck.

"You waste our time, Bartowski," sneered Lester imperiously, and he sauntered away into Action DVDs, pulling Jeff along in his wake, as always.

Chuck watched them go, satisfied that the 'freaking out' part of his mission was accomplished. No one in their right mind would ever ask those two to help. Which made him wonder about Morgan, standing there with one hand behind his back and urging him to do it. Maybe he should turn his mind to that mystery for a while.

"They found Artman," said Sarah, who'd been listening to chatter on the police bands. She gave Casey the address, and he pulled up whatever traffic cam images he could find from that area. Which were quite a few, he wasn't Chuck but he was no slouch. The images that contained Artman's face, or especially Devon's, he erased. No police would be going to Ellie's door asking about her husband and dead bodies.

"I'll go tell Chuck," said Sarah, and left him to it.

Chuck was in the DVD aisle, rearranging the DVDs into correct alphabetical order. The job, though tedious, was relaxing to his mind, allowing him to focus on important matters, like Morgan's strange behavior. Stranger behavior. Missing game nights, which was most nights. Movie night. He looked at the video in his hands. Morgan loved Chuck Norris. It's like he'd…gotten a life.

His phone rang. Ellie. Her twentieth call in the last hour. "Hey, El–"

"What's that in your hands, Charles?" said Lester, popping up out of nowhere. He was good at that, just ask any of the ladies who never came back to the store. He reached out plucked the movie from Chuck's grasp. "Delta Force? Really, Chuck, just because we turned you down is no reason to go running to second-rate hacks like these." He waggled the box in Chuck's face and tossed it back at him.

"What? No, Ellie," said Chuck as he caught the disk in mid-air. "Just Lester being more Lester than usual."

"Hey! You guy," said a woman in a harshly accented voice.

"Hold on, El." Chuck turned to hand her off to an employee who wasn't clearly on the phone, but they'd all fled at the approach of a customer with a question.

"This say you have big sale on hdtv," said the woman, holding up a copy of the Buy More circular.

Chuck looked around the store for anyone to save him. He saw Sarah walk through the doorway and immediately forgot the woman. He walked away, but she wasn't about to let him go.

"Hey!" she shouted, following him into the next aisle. "Young man! You listening?" In Thai, she continued, "This is why I shop at Large Mart!"

Chuck flashed. In Thai, he yelled back, "You like to shop in Large Mart? Then go shop in Large Mart!" As the woman ran away, Chuck remembered he still had his phone up to his ear. "Ellie!" he continued in English, "No, no, just an irate customer, berating me in a language I don't know a single word of. What do you mean, he sounded like me? I don't even sound like me!"

"Charles, Charles," said Lester condescendingly, oozing out of a cross-aisle. "You really must stop hiding behind your mother's skirts, or in this case, your sister's."

"Nicer skirts," said Jeff. "Shorter."

"So let's just drop this ridiculous pretence of a phone call, and address the real issue," said Lester with a firm, bold posture. "Chuck Norris vs Steven Seagal. Do you really think your boy has a chance against the aikido-Master?" Lester adopted a pose that maybe some martial artist somewhere might have adopted at some point, if he was drunk, or falling off a cliff.

"I'm sorry, El," said Chuck, turning away from the pathetic display.

"Show me what you got," said Lester.

"No, I still haven't heard from–"

"Hit me!" said Lester, jabbing the air. "Hit me now." He touched Chuck in the back.

Chuck flashed again, and hit Lester. Kicked him, in fact, but Lester was unlikely to appreciate the distinction from down on the floor.

Jeff dropped to Lester's side, and Sarah stepped into his place, blocking first one strike, then another, sending his phone flying.

"Help me, Sarah."

Sarah helped him, stepping inside his perimeter and pressing her body, her lips, tight against his. Chuck shuddered in the throes of conflicting impulses.

"Oh you two," said Morgan from behind them. "If you're gonna do that sort of thing here, do it in the HT room with the blinds drawn, like I do." He looked down. "What happened to Lester?"

Jeff pointed. "Chuck did."

Morgan shook his head. "Jeffery, Jeffery. You should have said she did it," he said, pointing to Sarah. "I'd believe that one first."

Jeff was a veteran of dozens of chop-socky flicks. "She's good."

Sarah released Chuck now that it was safe. "I've been practicing," she hissed, right in Jeff's face. "In case I meet any stalkers. With their telescopes."

"My telescope's broken," said Jeff, wide-eyed. He leaned a hand somewhere on Lester's body. "His too."

"They'd better be."

Jeff nodded frantically. "I'm throwing them away. I'll find a new dumpster."

"Good," said Sarah, and she yielded the space to Morgan, as he and Jeff dragged Lester off to someplace else, she didn't care where. She turned to Chuck, only to find him some feet away, looking for his phone.

"Ellie," he shouted, "If you can hear me yell real loud!"

"Call her back later, Chuck," said Sarah, pulling him close. "They found Artman dead. Casey's trying to figure out who has Devon now, and how they got him out of there."

"This just keeps getting better and better," said Chuck. "I should never have gotten him involved. He wants no part of this life."

"And whoever has him has to know that, Chuck."

"I don't know, Sarah, he does look the part, you said so yourself, and you were right."

"Oh, I don't know," said a booming baritone behind him, and Chuck turned. Devon stood behind him, rubbing his cheeks. "James Bond never got all stubbly, did he?"

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