A/N I'm doing this whole episode as much as I can from Lester's POV, so whatever he knows, we know. The problem is, he doesn't know anything, but at least he doesn't know that either. There must be times, however, where things he doesn't know about happen anyway.

"They're trying too hard."

"Are you a zombie?"

"Do you believe us now?"

"Absolutely."

"I hope she survives dinner," said Jeff as they drove away from the meet.

"I hope she remembers to push the buttons on the recorder in the right order," said Lester, "Or her survival will be the least of our problems. Have you called out the dogs yet?"

"They're on it," said Jeff. "They don't have much to report yet."

"All right," said Lester, a bit disappointed, but then he recalled who he was talking to. "What do you mean by 'much'?"

"Sperm count, things like that." Jeff handed Lester a little booklet filled with what looked like scratch marks but were in fact a practically unbreakable code, English as written by Jeff. "The ordinary stuff like kids' names and shoe sizes we got already."

Including the rap sheets. "Why would criminals like these be working with a witch, or any other kind of supernatural she-monster?" wondered Lester.

"Why would a witch be working with them?" asked Jeff. He slammed on the brakes.

In the headlights Lester saw a man so powerfully built he would probably have broken Loretta glaring at the two of them. He rolled down the window. "Apologies."

"If I had the time I would end you both," said the man in a low-pitched growl. "But tonight you get to live." He walked out of their lights and vanished in darkness.

"I hope someone ends him," muttered Jeff, putting the van in gear.

"Now, Jeffrey, what have I told you about the karmically imbalanced," said Lester, patting him on the arm.

"What have you told me?" asked Jeff.

"They're problems that solve themselves," said Lester. "No need to hope. For now we have to concentrate on finding these goombahs–is that the word, 'goombahs'? 'Gonzoes'?" He shook his head. "Whatever they are, we have to find them before someone else does." He pulled out his phone.

Next morning, at the Buy More…

Chuck held Rafe's phone in his hand, studying the design. He'd spent a good portion of last night trying to break through the encryptions without a lot of success. He couldn't call out, he could only wait for the guys they met yesterday to call in and play it from there. He started to get into character, to be the sort of person who used a phone like this one.

"Cool," said Hannah, seeing it from a distance and closing that distance. "Is it new?" She tried to take it from him.

He snatched it away, because that's what Rafe would have done. "Hands off, it's a tool of the trade."

Hannah looked at him funny. "What trade?"

Chuck, caught between her innocent question and his own attempts to act, think, and respond as a professional killer, flashed. He turned a hard, dark gaze her way and she backed off. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to."

Jeff and Lester watched her go from their position, currently stuck behind the counter trying to make gumbo a la Big Mike. "Interesting," said Lester, sawing at a carrot without making much headway. "A little more than she bargained for, perhaps?"

Jeff nodded. "Trouble in paradise."

"Something like that," said Lester. "Except totally different."

Big Mike came up, looking anxious. "Boys, this gumbo's just missing something." He looked where they were looking. "I was gonna ask Morgan. You think Bartowski knows gumbo?"

"Only if you want 'finger sandwiches'," said Lester, with a laugh. No one else laughed. Always unappreciated. "Perhaps you should try a cookbook…"

Chuck's phone rang. He put Miss Collateral Damage out of his attention and answered it. "Talk to me."

No one was looking at Chuck but Lester knew where all the mirrors in the store were. No one heard Chuck say 'two minutes' but Lester didn't have to. The second Chuck turned away, heading toward the back of the store, he raised his own phone and said, "Two minute warning."

Chuck paused inside the back door of the Buy More, slicked-back hair, stolen jacket, and all. He raised his phone to his lips, but stopped, wondering why. He worked alone. A car drove up behind the loading dock, but before Rafe, I mean, Chuck could verify the occupants two other cars drove up, blocking off both approaches. Police leapt out, weapons pointed, and Rafe, that is, Chuck saw his contacts get out, hands raised. He turned away from the door, annoyed.

How was he supposed to get his target's name now?

Jeff and Lester went to a local yogurt store to celebrate. Fortunately it was the blonde on duty again today.

Jeff scanned the menu board, and his eyes widened in delight. "Guacamole? I love that stuff."

"We'll take two large, please," said Lester, actually paying for his food this time. It was a feel-good sort of day.

"What's made you so happy?" asked Sarah, trying not to think about what she was doing. She'd only made that recipe on a bet.

"The witch's cohorts were just arrested," said Lester. For some reason this didn't make her as happy as it made him.

"End of the world averted," said Jeff, drooling as the green glop spiraled into his bowl.

Lester held up his phone. "Phone footage of the arrest to sell to the networks."

Sarah held out her hand. "Can I see it?"

Lester looked dubious. "Well, okay, but only because you were so helpful yesterday." He thought about yesterday, something else he wasn't fond of doing. "At least, you tried to be."

"You kidnapped me," said Sarah, handing Jeff his bowl without looking directly at it.

"No excuse," said Lester.

"Got any Worcestershire?" asked Jeff, pulling a spoon out of his pocket.

"It's a yogurt shop," said Sarah, filling a second bowl for Lester as she watched the footage of the arrest. Lester had positioned himself well to catch their faces, but there was another face she was looking for. She widened the image, looking for–there he was, his face showing through the window of the back door. No arrest was good, but now the chain was broken, they had no way to find out the target.

Back to square one. "That was a wonderful job," she said enthusiastically, handing over the second bowl. Jeff and Lester sucked it up, not usually getting praised for their little…hobby. "How did you find them?"

"Nothing to it," said Lester, more than willing to expand upon his genius, especially when it wasn't his. "They were spotted at this hotel, last night, very sloppy. Our network has been keeping tabs on them ever since. Plus we may have done a favor or two for some friends in the police."

"Friends?" asked Sarah, skeptically.

"Contacts," said Lester.

"Blackmail, is what I call it," said Jeff, wiping green yogurt from his chin. "They were gonna take Loretta."

"Until we showed them how useful we could be," added Lester. "Now, we look their way, every so often, and they look the other way the rest of the time."

So not her business. "So where was this hotel you spotted them at?"

Down in Castle…

Casey picked up the phone when the 'urgent and immediate' signal trilled. "What?" he snapped. Whatever he was hearing displeased him greatly, from the expression on his face. "What do you mean Gruber never arrived?"

He checked the monitors. Chuck was in the Buy More but he didn't see him anywhere, and it looked like Walker had customers for once. Dammit. He'd have to go it alone.

At the Double-O…

She couldn't get rid of her customers fast enough. She couldn't get rid of them at all, apparently the yogurt was a hit.

Trapped behind the counter, she put the relatively limited functions of her cash register console to good use, mapping out the locations of possible target sites. Rafe had a reputation as a marksman at extreme range, the only parameter she had. Only a small number of buildings qualified as possible targets, some more than others, and she ordered the list as best she could.

A message window popped up, urgent business from Casey. Dammit. She sent the list to her next most preferred choice.

At the Buy More…

Rafe, that is, Chuck looked down when his pocket vibrated. He pulled out an ordinary piece-of-crap phone. Whoever it was, obviously not his original contact, had sent him a text, with a list of addresses. He left the building at a fast walk, mapping them out as he went. This many possible targets had to have something in common.

Somewhere…

Rafe Gruber checked his stolen phone's GPS signal again, and stopped. His phone was in motion. He'd have to wait until it settled before he could deal with the guy who thought he could pretend to be Rafe Gruber. He tossed the phone into the empty back seat of a passing taxi and walked away. Time for plan B.

In the Buy More parking lot…

Jeff wiped his mouth with his tie. "Finally, a decent flavor."

Lester nodded. "Yes, you'd almost think they were deliberately trying to drive away business, but now I think we–" He turned to look back at the store. "Closed?" His keen mind analyzed the situation and came to the only logical conclusion. "Fools that we are," he shouted. "We told her the location of the hotel! Now she's trying to get the credit for saving the world instead of us. But it won't do her any good, I have the footage of the arrest." He checked his phone, to relive that glorious moment, but the video wasn't there.

"She erased my footage." He grabbed Jeff's arm and dragged him along."See, Jeffrey, this is why I won't have anything to do with women."

"But why won't women have anything to do with you?"

Lester shrugged that off as irrelevant. "We have to head her off at the pass."

"I hate that cliché," said Jeff.

Somewhere else…

Casey frowned down at the display. He'd been tracking the dead agent's stolen phone, but the signal just changed direction. Rafe had changed course, not headed toward the Buy More anymore. He checked his tracker. Chuck wasn't at the Buy More anymore either, but the phone wasn't moving to intercept. Gruber must have sent it for a joyride.

He didn't see Walker's phone on the tracker. He hit the contact, and waited for her to pick up. And waited. And waited.

Sarah stared up at the sign for the Hotel Roosevelt, a crappy little three-star no doubt hoping to be confused with the Roosevelt Hotel, which had a much higher pedigree. She checked her phone, hoping for an excuse not to have to go inside, but this area had no signal. She buttoned her grey blazer over the orange tank-top, trying to look professional but not 'oldest professional'.

The desk clerk took one look at her outfit as she walked through the doorway. "You here to see Miss Jones?"

Chuck approached the front desk of the hotel he'd placed at the geometric center of the several buildings on the list. "Hi, I'm here to meet some actors from the East coast, they should have checked in last night." He gave her a couple of made-up names.

Not surprisingly, she couldn't find them in the register. He leaned close and said in a low voice, "They get type-cast as hoodlums a lot, you know how it is. I try not to mention it." He gave her a number-two smile.

The clerk did indeed know how it was, and checked her screen for the previous night. One of the check-ins had a note attached, 'keep an eye on these, look like thugs'. Fortunately the screen was angled so guests couldn't see it. She smiled at Chuck, and gave him the room number.

Agent Jones opened the door. "Agent Walker?"

"Agent Jones," said Sarah, noting the other woman's relative state of undress. "May I come in?"

Jones looked less than happy at the request, but she took it as an order from a superior and complied. "Why?"

"This building is on my list of possible targets for Rafe Gruber," said Sarah, entering the room in spite of the lack of courtesy. She went to the window and stared across at the high-rise in the distance.

"This dump?" Jones waved at the not-so-luxurious room. "A target for a shooter like him? Who on Earth could that be?" She went to the window. "What are you looking at?"

The door to the bedroom opened and Daniel Shaw stepped out, wearing nothing but a towel. "Hey, Sam?"

Jeff and Lester shuffled through the lobby, fiddling with their ties and straightening their hair nervously. "Can I help you?" asked the clerk, expecting the answer to be 'no'. Her finger was poised to bring out security.

"We're looking for this man," said Lester, holding up a head shot of Chuck.

"You're from the studio?"

Lester took a deep breath and smiled. "Yes, we're from the studio. PAs."

"Assistants to the PAs," muttered Jeff. The clerk could readily believe that.

"He's needed back on set."

"And the others?"

"Them too."

She sighed, taking her finger off the security button. "Seventh floor."

Agents Walker and Jones both turned. They looked at each other. "You too?" asked Jones. "For real? 'Cause I'm not."

Sarah shrugged. "I've had a lot of names, but Sam was the first. Still, I feel more real as Sarah than I ever did as Sam."

"Did you ever tell Chuck?" asked Shaw.

"No," said Sarah, her fingers caressing her charm bracelet. "I never did."

"I never did."

She never had to, thought Chuck as he stared at Sarah through the scope, listened to Sarah with the earphones. There is no Sam, not any more.

He pulled his finger away from the trigger, raised his head to look at the weapon he knew how to use so well. Where am I? He stared at the back of the hotel, vaguely aware of its location. He stood up and turned around.

Jeff threw a cup of water in his face.

Downstairs…

Rafe Gruber walked into the lobby. "Touch that security button," he snarled at the clerk, "Touch anything, and I will end you." She raised her hands up to her shoulders. "Where is he, and don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about."

She pointed upward. "Seventh floor."

A good distance away…

"For God's sake, Daniel, go put some clothes on," said Jones.

"But we were just about to take a–"

"Well obviously not now!" Jones buried her face in her hands.

Sarah headed for the door. "I'll just see you at work, then, shall I?"

Back at the five-star…

Casey walked into the lobby. The clerk ducked down behind the desk, yelling, "Seventh floor!"

Upstairs…

"What the hell," said Chuck. "I just–"

"Do not tell me you just took a shower!" said Lester. "I won't believe you."

Chuck picked up a cloth, smelling faintly of machine oil. He flipped it over and wiped his face. "Well of course I didn't–"

A booted foot kicked the door in. Rafe Gruber pointed at…one of them. "You!"

Jeff looked around. "Who?"

"Hugh?" asked Lester. He looked at Chuck. "You?"

"Nu." Chuck shook his head. "I mean, no. It's me, Chuck. Thanks for the water, it really cleared my head."

Rafe stepped forward and grabbed Lester's skinny neck. "Come here, you."

Jeff pointed at Lester, grinning. "See, I knew you were you!"

Rafe let go of Lester, staring at his hand. "Ew." Jeff pulled the spoon from his pocket and threw it, hitting Rafe in the eye. "Ow!"

"Shut up," said Casey, punching Rafe in the face. He collapsed like a ton of bricks. Casey glared around the room impartially. "All of you."

Lester threw a cup of water in his face.

Casey raised his fist with a grunt of anger.

He stopped when Jeff and Lester started cheering. They high-fived each other. "It worked!"

A/N2 I know there are some of you who really like the hero shot, but this is the silly version. I hope you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.