A/N Shaw's first day on the job.

"We got lucky."

"You made the right call."

"Pretty sick stuff."

"That kind of creeps me out."

The Buy More was quiet this morning. Weird. Chuck could track Casey down by the grunts and the clanks. The cleaners had done a great job, but they didn't work here. He preferred his machines to be presented 'just so', and was perfectly willing to do the grunt work of making it that way.

"Hey, Casey, where is, oh, anybody?"

"You ask as if you thought I wanted to know," said Casey, tightening the straps around the next machine with increasing ferocity. "I'd say they were in the back room, if I had to think about them at all, but then I'd have to think about them. Why are you trying to ruin a day that's starting out so well?

"Don't wear yourself out," said Chuck. "I was hoping we could do some sparring."

"Can't," said Casey, tilting the handtruck. "Superboy came back, he's down in Castle right now. Seemed like a good opportunity to make myself scarce." He walked away.

Chuck followed. "Scared of him, Casey?"

"You watch your mouth, Bartowski," said the big man. "I've got back-issues of Guns & Ammo older than him, even if he is a special agent. The problem with special agents, especially the CIA kind, is that they can usually do what they want. This gives them the illusion that they're in charge. Seemed like a bad way to start off our first day to remind him that he isn't." He undid the strap and shifted the machine into place. "I'll save that for the second day."

"He's more special than me?" asked Chuck.

"Different kind of 'special', numb-nuts," said Casey, grabbing his hand-truck. "Yours is a form of merit, I don't know how Shaw got his, but his is the kind that puts him in charge of yours. Sucks to be you."

Chuck followed him back across the floor. "He's in charge of me? Really?"

"No," said Casey, "Not really. Just your training. And anything to do with the Ring. I imagine he'll be looking for those missions the way a hammer looks for nails."

Meaning Chuck was screwed. "Great."

"Oh, it gets worse," said Casey cheerfully. "For you, that is. Whenever a special agent takes over, even if it's a little dinghy instead of an ocean liner, he usually conducts a review. Sarah's down there with him right now."

Sarah had nothing to do with his training. Not officially, anyway. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Down in Castle…

Sarah sat across from Shaw at the big table. She was a little cold, the orange tank top wasn't very warm, but Shaw seemed to think it was her problem. At least he wasn't staring at her, either, mostly looking down. He wore glasses, and took notes on paper. "How many times has Agent Bartowski lost control of the skills?"

"Positively or negatively?" asked Sarah. Negatively? Almost twice. He eventually got the mariachi guitar thing to work. Positively? Four times, and she'd had to kiss him back into control for two of them, not that she minded. They were the only times she got to touch him, more than a little bit, and now Shaw was going to take even that little bit away from her. So easy to hate him for that, but he was also there to help Chuck learn control. That meant she wouldn't have to be the guardian of his heart anymore, and could…close in.

She stared at the top of Shaw's head as he wrote. All of those incidents were in the reports, so clearly he was after something that wasn't in the reports.

"Both," said Shaw, looking up. "I need to know what kind of man I'm working with. The reports from the last two years tell a very mixed story, don't you think? Part James Bond, part…Jerry Lewis." He gave her a smile.

She didn't return it. "No, Agent Shaw." She wondered what reports he was reading. Her own were mostly positive about Chuck and his contributions, but since he was an asset and supposed to stay in the car, she'd tried to keep them low-key. Casey mostly went on about the gunplay, and of course Chuck rarely played himself up at all.

If he really saw Chuck that way, she'd have to correct him. If he was trying to get her to see Chuck that way, she'd have to correct him more. Either way, she was in no mood to smile at Agent Shaw.

Shaw lost the smile and sat back, putting down the papers he was holding. "Explain."

Sarah held up her hands, far apart. "James Bond and Jerry Lewis are opposite extremes, suave and silly." She shook her head. "Chuck is like neither of them, in any way. He's simply Chuck being Chuck, for better or for worse."

Shaw looked at her, she looked at him back. "Better?" he asked.

"If you're going to compare him to James Bond, be aware that those times are when he was most himself, when he was being Chuck," she said, as if it was obvious. "His 'Jerry Lewis' moments are from when he was trying to be a spy."

"Trying to be?" said Shaw. He'd read all of Agent Bartowski's fitness reports, his final scores. Trying to reconcile those with the team's prior reports is what prompted this review. "So Chuck isn't a spy?"

Sarah smiled, finally, but not at Shaw. "'Spy' is the least of the things Chuck is."

Upstairs...

"They're talking about me?" said Chuck, as Lester walked past. "Why doesn't he just talk to me?"

"Where's the fun in that?" asked Casey.

More greenshirts walked by. "Has he talked to you?"

"Of course."

"What he ask? What did you say?"

"Come on, Chuck, haven't you heard of a little thing called confidentiality?"

"I haven't," said Jeff as he ambled past.

Chuck shrugged. "I doubt you said anything that bad, it's not like you want to stay here."

"Got me there," said Casey. He looked past Chuck and curled his lip in a sneer. "Well, here's another county heard from."

Morgan was dragging himself across the floor in a chair. "This is new," said Chuck. "Are you glued to a chair?"

"That's the only reason it worked," said Morgan. "Believe me it's going into the book. I don't suppose you can go over to the Large Mart and get me some new pants?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, but dropped his bag in his best friend's lap. "Be right back. Casey, can you do something to get him out of there?"

Casey smiled. "I know just the thing." He grabbed the back of Morgan's chair and dragged him back down the hall, ignoring Morgan's every attempt to hold on to anything.

"Chuuuuuck!"

Meanwhile, back in DC…

Someone, probably her aide, tapped twice on General Beckman's door. "Come," she said, not looking up.

The door opened and her aide stuck his head into the room. "Agent Jones to see you, ma'am."

Beckman looked up at that. "Excellent. Send her in."

Agent Jones walked into the room and came to attention before the General's desk. "It is my understanding that you are acquainted with Agent Charles Carmichael in LA, is that correct?"

"He blundered into our mission and I mistook him for an assassin, General."

"And took him down in textbook fashion. Good work." Beckman slid open a drawer, and pulled out a box. "That also means that you know the man I want you to give this to, by sight."

Chuck came back to the Buy More, red bag in hand, the offending 'Large Mart' logo carefully folded under. He went to the corridor he'd last seen them rolling down, where a large crowd had gathered around a broom closet. "Ow!"

"Stand still, Grimes," came Casey's muffled voice from inside. "Bad enough you're losing your pants, but I'm the only commando I want to see in this room." Something made a ripping sound. Morgan made a screaming sound. The closet door opened from inside, and Casey stuck his head out, and one hand, holding a Ka-bar knife. "Work," he snarled at his audience, and they all fled. "Pants," he snarled at Chuck, and Chuck handed him the bag.

Casey pulled back into the room, and closed the door, not that this caused Chuck any difficulty hearing his every word. "Grimes. You will take this knife and remove the rest of this crap on your own. I will hold station outside this door and I do not, repeat not, want to hear a sound as you do it. You will then put on these pants and perform your duties to the best of your ability. You will return my knife cleaned, sharpened, and disinfected. Is this understood, or shall I get out my crayons?"

Chuck heard a mumbled affirmative.

The door opened and Casey came out. He closed it and stood in front. "Lester's not talking, which can only be a good thing."

"Morgan fired him."

"Good for him."

"And then hired him back."

"That was his mistake," said Casey "There's only two things you should do to a defeated enemy, and that isn't either one of them. He should have let Lester dry up and blow away, like a leaf in the wind. You just give me five minutes in charge of this popsicle stand, we'll be ready."

"And if the Russians ever invade, I know where I'll hole up."

Casey's phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. He pounded on the door. "Hurry up in there, Grimes, we've got things to do."

To Chuck he said, "You go. Shaw wants to see you. I'll be right along."

Chuck sat and looked at Shaw. Shaw sat and looked at Chuck. Sarah sat and watched them both. Finally Casey came down the stairs and sat. "Okay, Shaw," he said. "You wanted us, we're here."

"Thank you, Colonel," said Shaw. He stood up, trying to control the floor. "I think we can safely say that this team has been pretty dysfunctional for the last two years."

"I'm sure all the terrorists, cabals, and conspiracies we've put away in that time will agree with you," said Casey.

"I don't say you haven't been effective," said Shaw, coming to stand between Sarah and Casey, opposite Chuck. "But considering all the glowing words I've been hearing about Agent Bartowski's abilities, I would expect this team of being capable of far more. I think I've determined the critical weakness, and how to address it."

"What weakness is that, Agent Shaw?" said Chuck, prepared to take his medicine.

Shaw spread his hands. "These two."

"What?" said Sarah.

"Like I thought, he's a moron," said Casey.

"Chuck, I believe Sarah and Casey when they say you have tremendous ability–" both Chuck and Sarah looked at Casey, boggle-eyed "–so much so that I can only believe that this team's failure to live up to its potential is because you are holding back, and your partners are the reason." Shaw went back to his chair, but didn't sit. "You're protecting them, limiting yourself so that they can keep up to the best of their abilities, which I think fall far short of your own."

"That's just the Intersect–"

"Noted," said Shaw, "And ignored. You had no Intersect skills until recently. They are an addition to your own natural talent, not a substitute."

"You think so?"

"I know so," said Shaw, brimming over with confidence. "So, my plan is to send you on a solo mission, where I can get a sense of your ability, unhindered by other agents."

"I…don't think that would be a good idea," said Chuck, looking at Sarah.

"Agent Walker is a good, experienced agent," said Shaw with a nod. "But she's not an Intersect agent, so that experience does you no good. You have to blaze your own trail, so I'm going to send you on a solo flight to Paris, and let you blaze it there." Shaw smiled. "Maybe we should start calling you Agent Lindbergh, Charles."

A/N2 The Bond-Lewis comparison was an attempt on their part to retcon the whole story into that line, which was a ridiculous comparison for anyone who actually watched the first two seasons. Unless the producers actually believed that about their own creation, or wanted it to be that. I hope you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.