A/N Another case of characters acting OOC to generate fake angst. The trick is to keep the plot while losing the stupid. When I did this bit, with Carina as the patsy, at least she was wired. For this one I'll have to come up with something else. I hate to do the same thing twice.

"I'm something of an expert on bad ideas."

"That's what friends are for."

"Why would she lie?"

"We thought we'd find you here…."

John Casey was not a man given to dwelling on the past. For him the past was full of mistakes, usually other peoples', but mistakes nonetheless. He didn't mind thinking about the ways in which he'd corrected those mistakes, but the real pleasure of gunplay was physical. He'd rather be correcting new mistakes than thinking about old ones.

His own mistakes he didn't like thinking about at all. The old ones he'd sucked all the juice out of long ago. Bitter juice, the best kind. The new ones, like the smell and feel of a gun ejecting a bullet, had a way of forcing you to notice them, but the new mistakes and the old ones didn't really have a lot to say to each other.

Which made today just so special.

Signing on with Colonel Keller had been a mistake, the kind you recognize only after it all goes to Hell. At the time, Honduras in 1989, it had looked like a dream come true, which is true of all the best and biggest mistakes. Newly rejected from training in Special Operations Command, his dream not come true, he'd barely stumbled twenty feet before he heard a voice call out, "Tic Tac?"

He still didn't know why he stopped, it's not as if the call had a 'Lt. Alexander Coburn' attached to it anywhere. Lots of guys around. Him staring at his feet, and the ruins lying there. What would he tell Kath, waiting for him to come back and marry her? His proposal had been made in a kind of innocence, the kind of lifeline most men need to have as they head off to war. The war had changed him, or revealed him, and he had discovered that he was or could be a man who didn't need a lifeline.

Keller spoke to that man, while Kath waited for the other. Until he'd made that phone call. Until the day he died. Even now, Keller was talking to that man.

No, really. He was talking to that man, standing in Casey's apartment, giving him the details of a new mission. "I'm glad you took my call."

As if Casey would turn down an opportunity to gather intel on Ring operations. He never knew what had happened to that old 'covert black ops team' he'd signed on to be a part of, beyond the sudden transfer of himself and a few others, the ones he could actually stand, out of it. Finding that Keller was in the Ring explained a lot.

"Tomorrow, General Beckman will give you a trace-cell mission," said Keller, revealing the presence of at least one mole somewhere in Beckman's ops center. "Test the security all you like, but you'll pick something up for me while you're there." He handed Casey a key, like the one Shaw used to open that lockbox. "I know you'll make the right decision"

Inside the Casa de Bartowski y Grimes…

Chuck sat in the living room, playing something after a long day and night in Castle, working his way through the encryptions on Sydney Prince's phone. The NSA already had tech to crack the network they operated on, but getting into the phone itself was a different story, hopefully just a different chapter of the same book.

The code-breaking was fun, but keeping the knowledge of what he was doing from Shaw was a bit of a pain. Or from Jones, since she would just tell Shaw. Fortunately Shaw had been recalled to DC, and Jones didn't want to be around Chuck if she didn't have to be. Those two were so chummy that only the fact that Beckman had sent Jones with the phone herself kept them from suspecting Jones too.

Suspecting her of what, they didn't know, and probably wouldn't until the phone was unlocked, but Shaw had to have misdirected it for a reason. At least, they hoped he had a reason. Scary enough that way.

Suddenly Morgan came in. "Chuck! Thank God you're here."

Chuck looked up at the tension in his friend's voice. "Morgan? What's going on?" He noticed all the equipment Morgan carried. "What's with all the gear?"

"I, uh, 'borrowed' it from Jeff and Lester," said Morgan. "I can't get into Castle without one of you guys, and you'd never let me check out any of the real gear without a lot of paperwork–"

"Like training and certification."

"Exactly, but I need to practice my spying now, dude, otherwise I'm never gonna catch up–"

Facepalm. "Morgan…"

"So I got this gear and started checking out what Casey's up to."

Chuck raised his head. "You were spying on John Casey? Are you insane, spying on a spy? One who has a lot of guns?"

"A lot of guns, Chuck, you have no idea." Morgan paused. "Or maybe you do. Anyway, that's the beauty of it, Chuck. John Casey, unlike me, is certified, so I know that there's no way he'd ever shoot without figuring out who he's shooting first, and he'd never shoot me."

Probably never. Almost maybe probably never. "He might."

"Okay, he might."

"Unless he thought you were Jeff and/or Lester, with all that crap," said Chuck.

Morgan nodded. "Right, Jeff and Lester."

"I understand Casey keeps leftover mop water on standby, just in case."

"Okay, fine, I'll stop spying on Casey," said Morgan. "But then who am I going to practice on?"

"How about nobody, buddy," said Chuck. "Spying is dangerous business."

"You think so?" asked Morgan. "All I saw was some old guy, giving Casey a new mission."

"See, now there's where you're making a classic mistake, Morgan," said Chuck. "You're jumping to conclusions. See, I would know if Casey was getting a mission, since I would be getting a mission too."

Morgan got out his phone, moving his fingers on the screen. When he was finished he held it out to Chuck. On the screen Chuck saw a figure with his back to the camera, shaking Casey's hand. "Pleasure working with you again, old friend." Morgan pulled back the phone as the man walked off. "See, I figured, since Casey's a spy, and this guy said 'working', I'm thinking–"

"Working on what?" said Chuck.

The next day, in Castle…

"Tonight you will be performing a trace-cell mission," said General Beckman. "Details have already been transmitted."

"What's that?" asked Jones.

"A practice incursion into one of our own facilities, testing the security," said Sarah.

"Will Agent Jones be part of the mission, ma'am?" asked Casey. Normally these drills were done with a three-man team.

"No," said Beckman, surprised. Only senior agents had the clearances required to be tasked with these missions. "The LA field office will be glad of another pair of hands for the night. Please stay on the line, Col. Casey. The rest of you are dismissed."

That night, in the LA Vault…

The alarms went off when they opened the door to level one, an annoying sound with equally annoying lights to go with it. "What's all this?" asked Chuck.

"We're intruders, Chuck," said Sarah.

"I know we're intruders, Sarah," said Chuck. He waved at the air. "I was expecting armed guards and pincer movements, but this is really annoying."

"The guards have the night off," said Casey. He looked up at the cameras. "Probably watching us on the monitors, eating popcorn. It's just us and the automated defenses tonight."

"Should be a piece of cake," said Chuck.

"You're up against the CIA's best tonight, Carmichael," said Casey, sounding abnormally respectful.

"They're up against a nerd who's seen every Indiana Jones movie ever made, Casey, as well as the Pacifier."

"Don't think you're going to be able to Panda Dance your way past this." Casey threw a coin on the floor, hard. Hard enough to set off pressure sensors set to extremely high sensitivity levels. Darts shot out of both walls, from floor to ceiling. "See?"

Chuck assumed a ready position. "Did I forget to mention the Intersect-level gymnastics?" He ran down the hall, flipping over, under, and through the darts, always managing to put himself in places they weren't. In no time he was at the other end, using the panel to deactivate the devices.

Casey marched up to him. "I will give you one, and I mean one, Intersect pass tonight, Carmichael, and you just used it up. You're better than that, dammit."

"Oh, come on, Casey," said Chuck, as Casey pushed through the door into the stairwell. "There were lots of other ways to do this." He turned to Sarah. "You saw them, didn't you?"

"I know, he thinks he knows everything," said Sarah. She patted him on the back. "Just let it go, we've got fourteen more levels to get through."

"Okay."

Level fifteen…

Casey entered first, rubbing his arm. Sarah had a limp. "See?" said Chuck with a groan, rubbing his neck. "Perfectly manageable."

"You're telling me you already knew how to juggle?" asked Casey.

"Oh ye of little faith." Chuck looked around. Unlike the others, this hallway was short, with nothing more than a desk for the vault guard (also given the night off), a panel and the door to the vault itself. Sarah had already stepped up to the panel and was attaching the code-breaker. Chuck checked his watch.

When the door opened, Casey directed Sarah to watch the door in no uncertain terms. "What?" he asked with an air of total innocence when Chuck gave him a look. "You saw the limp. She'll watch out for us, and I'll watch out for you. SOP."

Chuck let it go, searching among the racks of sealed boxes until he found the one he sought. Casey watched him go, moving off in time to Chuck's footsteps to find the box he'd been told to find. He pulled out the key Keller had given him and put it in the slot. Casey opened his box softly, one ear cocked for the sounds of Chuck's progress.

Chuck had a standard-issue code-breaker, but instead he pulled out his own homemade unit and set it to work. He kept his eyes on his watch until he heard a beep. Ha! Faster than standard issue, just like he expected. He turned the handle until it clicked, and pulled open the drawer. Inside was a piece of paper in General Beckman's official stationery. 'Job well done.'

Inside his box, Casey found a zippered pouch. Still no beep from Chuck. He picked up the pouch and unzipped it, verifying its contents.

Suddenly Casey heard a click. He zipped the pouch and stuffed it in his bag, shutting the door to the box.

"What are you doing?" asked Chuck, taking Casey by surprise. The click hadn't been Chuck opening the box, as he'd expected, but him closing the box instead. Now he stood there in the aisle just a few feet away. He must have seen everything.

Still, Casey wasn't a Marine for nothing. "It's need to know, Carmichael, and you don't need to know."

Suddenly Chuck smiled, tapping the side of his nose in a gesture that Casey supposed might have been meaningful to someone who wasn't him. "I got it, Casey, I got it. No need to say anything, I got your back."

Casey grunted suspiciously as he donned his pack. "Good."

Behind him the door opened and Casey turned. "Everything all right in here?" asked Sarah.

"Yes it is," said Casey. He looked at Chuck. "Right?"

"Absolutely," said Chuck, touching the pocket with Beckman's note, making the paper crinkle so Sarah could hear it. "Everything's just fine."

A/N2 This stuff ain't easy. I hope you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.