A/N Not a lot in this section, especially with the Fight Club stuff gone, so Beckman gets some time she didn't get in canon.

"We've met."

"A trained monkey would have a better plan!"

"The feed's been looped!"

"I guess we'll never know."

The battle was over, the post-battle clean-up took a bit longer. Bodies, bloodstains, and of course a few top-of-the-line washing machines having made the ultimate sacrifice. The only Buy More item not in its original position when the clean-up crew left was a soiled green shirt. It was bothering the crew, but not enough to justify breaking out their haz-mat gear. Chuck didn't think anyone would miss it.

Shaw had picked up the broken phone from where it lay near Sydney's body, but Chuck claimed it for himself as the best technologist of the group, and of course Shaw couldn't argue with that. With Sydney herself in a body-bag, it was the only useful intel they were likely to get from the whole debacle, unless it could lead them somehow to her base of operations, which wasn't likely.

Their vehicle was a rental, with nothing in it except the jammer that Shaw had predicted they'd find.

Eventually even the reports were finished. "Congratulations, Chuck," said Shaw at the wrap-up meeting. "You brought off the mission, your mission, with flying colors. You've protected your brother-in-law's identity admirably."

"We got lucky," said Casey. "If Sarah hadn't noticed the looped footage we'd have still been down there while Sydney was dragging Chuck away."

"I think you underestimate Agent Bartowski, Colonel," said Shaw. "A relic, no doubt, of your earlier service together, before his training. This is why I was brought in, a fresh pair of eyes with no preconceptions about what Agent Bartowski can or cannot do."

"I know what Chuck can do, Shaw, and that's a lot," said Casey, standing. "And I still say we got lucky." He limped away, before Shaw could insult him a second time.

"And we didn't risk my family doing it," said Chuck. "I don't expect you to understand, being the spy that you are. You don't care about anybody…"

"I may not agree with Colonel Casey about why we got lucky, Chuck," said Shaw, "But that doesn't change the fact that we did get lucky. Family and friends make us vulnerable, make us unable to pull the trigger. That normally puts everyone in greater danger. Just ask your partner here, she'll tell you the same thing."

Sarah spoke up for herself. "Sometimes it helps to know you've got something to lose."

"Exactly my point," said Shaw. "Normally those connections put everyone in greater danger, but a good agent can use those same connections as motivation. You wouldn't risk Devon, so you came up with a plan that put him at no risk." He waved a hand towards Sarah. "Our risk was greater, of course–"

"I'll take the trade," said Chuck. "There's nothing I care about more than my friends and my family."

"And that's a good thing, Chuck," said Shaw, "When your family and friends are threatened. What you have to learn is to summon up that same kind of drive when they aren't. That's what I'm here to help you learn to do. But not tonight. We'll get a fresh start in the morning." With a friendly nod, he left the room.

Chuck and Sarah sat companionably at the table, each lost in his own thoughts. "Sarah," said Chuck suddenly, "I'm sorry if my plan put you at any greater risk than Shaw's would have. I was only trying to protect Devon."

"And that's what you should do, Chuck," said Sarah, putting a hand over his. "We're trained to handle this sort of thing, Devon isn't. You are that guy, even Shaw sees it. You made the right call."

Diane Beckman sat in her office, wondering if her counterpart had gotten accustomed yet to the… bombardment of reports that erupted out of their Burbank field office at such irregular intervals. Not that this batch was unexpected, just a bit early, according to the timeline. She could have warned the man to disregard timelines when dealing with Team Bartowski, but why make it easy on him.

First up, she scanned the cleaners' report, and sighed. Three washing machines? The machines were cheap compared to the fake identities that would have to be created to buy them, but she signed off on the purchase. At least Colonel Casey would get another Salesman of the Year award. Those were always fun.

She pulled up the first of the reports, saving Colonel Casey's for last, as usual. Not only was his style the most suited to her own, it helped to have read the other reports so she'd be able to interpret his arcane footnotes. Chuck's were as open and forthright as the man himself, which was refreshing, so she usually started with him, putting Sarah's in second position. Now she would have to figure out a proper positioning for Shaw's reports as well, but for today she'd place his report in the third spot.

Chuck's reports had gotten much less verbose over time, clear and concise, and his Failure Analysis was candid, as usual. He understood his own errors, but he was too willing to accept blame. Sarah's report would probably have a better take on that, she was far more willing to tout Chuck's accomplishments than he was. Ah, Chuck's plan was modified by Shaw. She would have to see what Shaw had to say about that.

His report was both dry and colorless, she didn't envy her CIA counterpart having to deal with this man on a daily basis. Probably why they shifted him across the country. A computer printout would have more character. The modification he'd recommended was there, but no mention was made of any possible pinch-points resulting from it, which there should have been.

Casey's report offered no new insights but a certain amount of humor, as always. Still chuckling. she skimmed the overnight feed from Castle and the Buy More above it. The encounter started well, but Chuck was outnumbered five to one, his backup still watching a blank screen. As Chuck fled the room Sarah suddenly moved, and she and Casey went for the stairs, while Shaw stayed below. Gunplay, gunplay, blah, blah blah. Shaw strolling to the Orange Orange exit. Miss Prince shot front and back, thanks so much Agent Shaw for killing our only lead…Cleaners cleaning, meeters meeting, leavers leaving, and…there's Chuck, sitting at the table, fiddling with that damn phone.

Wait a minute…

Chuck sat in the living room, examining the phone yet again, as Morgan busied himself in the kitchen, his Benihana dreams dashed but his culinary skills intact. The house had been cleaned from top to bottom, not that it needed much, Bartowskis being neat freaks and all. Since the place had once been Ellie's home, the last thing Chuck wanted was for her to see any lack in his caretaking. Especially after that disastrous 'housewarming' party Jeff and Lester had thrown!

A knock on the door and it was showtime, only without the guns and the violence. Ellie glowing, Awesome far too relaxed, he didn't want to know what that was about but he could guess. "Welcome to our, formerly your, home."

Morgan came out bearing a tray of something red that smelled good. Even Ellie allowed that she might possibly love it. As she pressed Morgan for the details of his work, Chuck went to the door to answer a second knock, to let Sarah and Casey in. Devon flashed them a discreet thumbs-up. "Looks like you two are just in time," he said. "As usual."

Morgan wiped his hands on the towel hanging off his apron. "What am I, chopped scallions? No love for the new Buy More Assistant Manager?"

Everybody congratulated him. Even Casey's grunt had a more positive note to it. They all sat down as Casey opened the bottle of wine Ellie'd brought. He'd brought one too, but his wouldn't complement the meal as well as hers. He took a lot of pride in his work, even if it was just fake-bartending.

"And let me tell you," said Morgan as Chuck began serving out what he'd made, "After this first day on the job, any other day is gonna seem like a piece of cake. Oh man, I forgot dessert! Anyway, Lester bumped his head at work–he and Jeff tried to claim Chuck did it, like I'd ever believe that–and came up with this whole cockamamie theory of pain as a sign he was alive."

"Pain is a sign that you're alive, Morgan," said Ellie. "I'm a doctor, trust me."

"Okay, but Lester turned it into a cult," said Morgan. "Started a fight club, had everybody beating each other up while he egged them on. Pretty sick stuff."

What Morgan didn't mention, because this was supposed to be a happy dinner-ish occasion and he didn't want anyone to lose their appetites, was Jeff's shirt. Not his work shirt, which smelled bad enough. Apparently he'd taken someone else's green shirt as a trophy of his first victory in the ring, and used it to wipe himself down after every bout. He'd claimed he'd lost it, which only proved to Morgan that the man had no sense of smell whatever. Morgan had told him to look in the back room, in a pile of debris, but Jeff came back and said it wasn't there. Since he couldn't imagine anyone touching the thing without a direct order, and a pair of tongs, Morgan had gone back there himself.

He didn't find it either. The pile of trash had been still there. Everything had been where it was supposed to have been, except…except something. It was too…neat. Even the dust was scattered evenly. Weird. He'd gone for his teddy bear, not for comfort but for the recordings inside. Except the recording was blank.

He'd checked around the store, looking for his other cameras, but they were blank too. Except for the one actually in the camera section. Apparently Jeff and Lester had co-opted it, recognizing its secretive recording possibilities and in need of a new device. "Some newbie sold our boob-cam," Jeff had complained. "I hope it was to a guy." Whatever presence was manifesting in his store, aliens or ghosts or whatever, he was clearly going to have to be smarter about catching it.

"Well, I'm glad that you're there now to give them better leadership," said Chuck.

"Thanks, Chuck."

"This must be the weekend for weird experiences," said Ellie.

"Babe?" cautioned Devon.

"It's all right, Devon," she said. "They never said we couldn't talk about it."

Three pairs of hands stilled. "Talk about what?" said Chuck.

"You remember that phone thing you helped Devon with?" she asked, and Chuck nodded. "Well it turns out it was real spy stuff. After saving the Premier twice someone actually thought Devon was a spy, can you believe it? He can't lie to save his life. So he had this team, all in black, they said it was so I wouldn't accidentally recognize them in a store. That kind of creeps me out, the idea that these same guys could pass me in a store and I wouldn't recognize them…"

Far away, Daniel Shaw watched her tell some story, throwing her arms around animatedly while the others just sort of sat there. He wondered what she was saying, but the bug he'd planted in Bartowski's home didn't have sound capacity. That would have made it too easy to spot. The only reason he could think of that Bartowski hadn't already found it was that agents' private spaces aren't supposed to be monitored. Which made what he was doing illegal, but he did illegal things all the time. He was a spy.

Sarah and Casey were spies too, but Chuck had invited them to this dinner and not him. Some sort of personal thing. That was going to complicate his mission. He pulled out the box he kept in his pocket at all times. He opened it, took out the ring inside, and slipped it on the third finger of his left hand. Daniel Shaw knew better than most why spies should never fall in love. He had to make sure Chuck learned that lesson as well.

It was his duty.

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