A/N The beginning of the end. With three episodes crammed into two, this one gets a double-sized climax.

"You had the number one intelligence asset in the United States committed?"

"He's a very bad man."

"You think you're being modest but you're not."

"Someone's been in here. Recently."

"And what were you doing in the apartment, Colonel?" Frost collected on the speaker. "None of you are CIA." Beckman disliked apologizing for the trespasses of her agents as much as the next General.

"Following up on a suggestion made by Telescope, General." It's not passing the buck if it's true.

"Who is no longer on this case." And had no business making suggestions of any kind, even if she was CIA.

"We can call it a recommendation if you prefer, General. The point being that a number of elements of Eagle-Eye's last…flash…have turned out to be accurate, if a bit on the obscure side, and several are connected to Stoneface."

Better. "The ones we couldn't connect elsewhere?"

"Correct. Eagle-Eye's never been there but the construction notes for the safe would have indicated both the balcony and the picture frame as well."

"But not the picture in it," said Beckman, getting the picture.

"No, ma'am."

"Very good. I trust you have also kept Dr. Dreyfus informed?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey. "We also have him in the loop regarding Manoosh's little scheme, since he would have to do the hypnotizing. Shall we–?"

"Continue with that. I want to see it."

"Yes, ma'am." The call terminated without a 'dismissed' or a 'goodbye' or anything. "God save me from curious Generals."

Carina flicked him a quick glance. "Oh, come on, Casey, aren't you even a little curious yourself?"

Casey frowned out the passenger window at all the happy little cars with their happy little drivers, zipping past them. "Even if I was," he said, answering her question by not answering it, "You know he's gonna make me play Colt."

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop, Casey." Sarah ended the call and turned to Ellie, waiting nervously on the couch for any good news. "They found Shaw's apartment, it matches some parts of Chuck's dream, and it looks like someone's been there recently."

That sounded good, but–"How recently?"

"Well, more recently than Shaw." Sarah went into the kitchen and poured herself some more coffee. "Dust evenly scattered, except on the picture over the safe, and some dishes by the sink."

Ellie frowned. "A neat burglar?"

Milk. "More likely a Ring agent, if he was after whatever was in the safe."

"And then he made himself a snack and washed up?"

"We do tend to be neat freaks, most of us," said Sarah, wiping up a spot of milk. "We have to notice where things are and make sure they stay that way, but you're right. Light housekeeping and B-and-E don't really go together…" She turned and leaned back against the counter. "I wish he'd call."

"Who, Carmichael?"

Sarah sighed. "Yeah, him too. Much as I'd love to hear the sound of Chuck's voice, I'd rather hear from your stalker because it would prove it wasn't Chuck. Secure facilities don't come with phone privileges."

Ellie knew it wasn't just sentiment. "And you could get a trace."

You got me. "And we could get a trace. Which means we probably won't get a call." Sarah shrugged in resignation.

"So we just sit here?"

"Hey, don't knock it," said Sarah. "I'm getting paid to hang out with you. That's a pretty sweet deal."

"We could hang out together while shopping…" Ellie let her voice trail upward hopefully.

Sarah shook her head, smiling. "I'd love to, but it's easier for the techs to monitor your calls if you're in a known location. Gives them a fixed point to start the trace from."

"And operational concerns come before all else." Ellie made a face. "Have I ever told you how much I think your life sucks?"

Sarah took a sip to hide her grimace. "Maybe once or twice. Can we talk about the gown some more, please?"

"Hello, Chuck. How was your lunch?"

Chuck belched, delicately. "I'm hoping that was a rhetorical question."

"God, yes," said Dreyfus, laughing. "Working through lunch is one of the perqs of this job." He picked up some papers and moved over to his 'working chair'. "I have received a request from your team. While strictly speaking it has no part of our business here, we are both involved so we may as well take care of the issue."

Chuck sat on the couch. "What issue?"

Dreyfus glanced at the top page, not that he needed to check the name but just out of habit. It was a 'doctor' thing. "Do you remember a man named Colt?"

Chuck shuddered dramatically. "Do I remember hanging upside down off the roof of a building and being dropped to my death?" He rubbed his shoulder in remembered pain. "Casey poisoned, Sarah threatened? Yeah, I think so."

Dreyfus made a note. "I notice you didn't mention Carmichael. They tell me this mission was the first where Carmichael made a distinctive appearance, and they want to get a record of it. To be honest I'd like to see it myself."

"That was just me, acting like Carmichael. I wrote a report on it–"

"They want to see it, Chuck. We, you and I, need to see how you created the role, so that we can see how Carmichael is deviating from it. Remember, Carmichael is copying you." Dreyfus handed over the papers. "What I need from you is the dialog, as best you can remember it. Under hypnosis, we will reenact the scene for posterity, or CIA central records, which is pretty much the same thing."

HOW IS MY DAUGHTER, MANOOSH?

Shaken up pretty bad. Scared. They're saying the Host did it.

THAT'S RIDICULOUS.

That's what I said, but who listens to the smartest people in the room? I'm trying to prove them wrong.

YOU CAN'T PROVE A NEGATIVE.

I can if I find the guy who did it. That's why I need your help. I'm stuck in a hole, and I need eyes and ears.

I'M AFRAID I CAN'T HELP YOU THERE. THAT'S WHAT I'M TRAINING YOU TO BE. BUT

Orion?

WHAT'S THIS ON SCREEN THREE?

Ellie's phone rang.

She touched the speaker button. "Woodcombe residence."

"Hello, Eleanor. Killed anybody lately?"

Ellie pulled back her finger as if stung, but took courage from Sarah's approach. "Are you volunteering?"

"You've already killed me once, Eleanor. Never again." The line clicked off.

Sarah pounced on the phone, pressed a special button. "Anything?"

"Not long enough, Agent Carmichael."

Oh yes it was. "Long enough to know that that wasn't Charles." She grabbed the phone, speed-dialed Casey while pacing frantically. "Come on, come on!" She looked around. "What time is it?" She didn't wait for an answer. "They must be at the facility already, they aren't answering their phones. Come on."

Ellie got up and ran after her, grabbing a sweater and her bag. "Wait, I thought we were supposed to stay home for the technicians…"
Sarah was already in her car, and Ellie could barely here her. "Let them earn their pay."

"Where are we going? I should leave a note for Devon."

"Call him from the road. If you think I'm waiting one second longer than I have to to get my husband out of there, well, maybe you should stay in the car, otherwise they'll think you belong."

Dreyfus handed out papers. "Colonel Casey, you'll play the part of Colt."

Casey looked at Carina. "Told you."

Dreyfus nodded in satisfaction. "While the attendants are moving the tables, I'll go get our star."

Casey watched a bit as they cleared a space by the interior clear partition that would serve as the windows in this charade, setting up recording equipment for the show to come. He studied his lines, not a lot but they were all at the beginning. Dammit. He was a choir boy, not an actor! He didn't mind doing this in front of the whack jobs and their keepers but Carina could blackmail him for years. Why couldn't any of these mercenaries have been women?

Heh. This guy Colt was pretty good with the theatrics. Limbering up before a murder! He'd have to try that during his next 'rigorous interrogation.'

Someone called from the other side of the door. "Buy More Nerd Herd. Hello?"

Showtime. Casey went to the door as Chuck kept talking.

"I'm here to help with your computer emer…gen…cy…"

"Hello, Chuck," said Casey, "Come on in."

Hypnotic regression was as close to time travel as they were ever going to get. Dreyfus found it endlessly fascinating, the way his patients could become the people they had been, but none more so than this man who wasn't a patient at all. Chuck's memory was spectacular, but far from the most special thing about him. His sense of self was extraordinary, which Dreyfus expected, given how he'd managed to create such a complete alternate persona. His younger self was ever so much less prepared and confident, yet even so managed to keep his wits about him in the face of the several fearsome men he must be seeing in his mind's eye.

"That's not a problem, that's not a problem at all. I forget things all the time, just ask my sister. I forgot her birthday, I forget my own social security number. Just ask me and I'll forget it."

He sounded so young! Such a change in only a year or two.

"What are you doing?"

Casey was bending and flexing. Dreyfus read along from the script, wondering idly if a trained killer really would pull a muscle from breaking someone's neck. Well, Colt would know if anyone did. Dreyfus looked up as silence fell. Chuck was walking towards the glass partition as Casey taunted him. So young, thought Dreyfus again. Helpless and alone, and he looked it.

Where is Carmichael?

"See, you walked into a trap, Chuck," sneered Casey. "If that is your real name."

Chuck's face changed. Panting terror gave way to–Is he smiling? No, not just smiling. Dreyfus recognized the look of a man who was seizing his destiny, joy and terror all at once. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew.

Chuck turned, and Dreyfus willed himself to stay in his chair, out of Chuck's line of sight. He couldn't see the young man's face but he could hear his voice. "My name is Charles Carmichael. I'm a CIA agent, and this is my trap." That wasn't the hardened voice of the man who held a pen to his eye. This was Chuck speaking. He invented Carmichael in the time it took him to turn around.

Casey looked stunned, and the attendants with him. Dreyfus waved at one of them frantically, and the man remembered his one line. "Uh, nothing there, Boss."

Casey woke up. "Good try, Chuck?"

Chuck didn't notice the tone. "Of course you don't see anyone, who do you think we are, the FBI?" A nice touch, thought Dreyfus, listening to the ever-more inventive line of utter crap that Chuck was speaking. Then the phone came out. Hopefully the man they had waiting on the other end was ready. They really should have had one of their men do the job but this was Chuck's best friend. They couldn't risk a strange voice now.

"Hey, Chuck!"

Dreyfus noticed the red-haired agent smile as the voice on the phone embellished the fantasy Chuck was spinning.

"-got a little bit impatient and took out one of the sentries, don't worry, it was a head shot, he couldn't warn his buddies. You should have seen it, his head exploded like a watermelon. It was awesome!"

"They must have gotten, uh, Frank? No, Fritz!"

"I thought he was, uh, in the, uh, can."

Casey advanced on Chuck, his 'mean face' on.

Chuck look death in the eye, and smiled back. "One more time–"

"Let him go," commanded a strange voice. Everyone turned to see a skinny little man in the doorway. "Or suffer the wrath of Merlin! And his army!" He gestured at the cow-eyed line of whack-jobs against the far wall.

Casey looked at Dreyfus.

"Not now, Lewis."

"Spies! Attack!" shouted 'Merlin', and the line of sad sacks exploded into motion, very much like the spies they once had been. Carina cringed as they leapt around her.

Casey took matters into his own hands, mowing them down with his tranq gun like the sitting ducks they were, and turned to finish the scene.

"Thank you, Casey," said Charles Carmichael, plucking the gun from his hand. "I'll take it from here." One dart went into Casey's neck, and Carmichael had the attendants dropping before he even hit the floor.

"Damn," said Merlin, and then he fled.

Carmichael advanced on Dreyfus. "Doctor. Thank you for your assistance."

Dreyfus stood, not feeling threatened but wary nonetheless. So different, focused and cold. "Agent Carmichael, I presume?"

Sarah appeared in the doorway. "Chuck!" She ran to embrace her husband.

"No, Sarah, it's Charles!" yelled Carina, but too late. Carmichael stunned Chuck's wife with a blow to the head and continued around to shoot Carina with the last dart. She fell as he turned back to complete his escape.

Ellie wielded her purse like a mace, only heavier, striking Carmichael down with a blow to the head. "Get out of my brother!"

Charles struck his head against the floor, and Chuck flashed.

The Buy More was quiet at night.

Chuck walked through the door in his pajamas and bathrobe, looking for something. Not cheese balls.

Charles Carmichael stepped out from behind the Nerd Herd desk, immaculate in the uniform. "May I be of some assistance, sir?" he asked, price gun at the ready.

Chuck felt a weight in his hand, and lifted it up to see the same scanner there. "Is that really what you want?"

"It doesn't seem appropriate, does it?" asked Charles. In unspoken unity, they tossed their weapons to the side with identical gestures. "What do you say, Chuck? You have one good flash left in you?"

"–one good flash left in you?"

Ellie lifted her brother's head carefully as Dr. Dreyfus slid a pillow under it.

"Do you?" said Chuck.

"I don't need the Intersect," said the Charles voice, cold and passionless. "I am the Intersect. The perfect spy, just like you wanted. What I need is for you to get out of the way and let me have the body." Ellie and Dreyfus looked at each other. Charles smirked. "Take your time, I'll wait."

Chuck's face twisted in pain, his body writhing on the floor as he accessed the skills.

The brain has no nerves to feel pain, but Chuck wouldn't have believed Ellie if she'd said that. The velvet gloves had come off, and now facts and skills were shoved into his mind and body with iron claws covered with barbed wire. He blinked furiously, clearing his eyes, trying to focus on Carmichael as he raised his fists and adopted a fighting posture.

As one, they raced toward each other, but where Carmichael struck high, Chuck went low, his favored tactic from his days playing Catch and Release in the library with Bryce. If Carmichael was the Intersect, then it only made sense not to use Intersect skills against him.

Carmichael turned, eyes fluttering. "Bryce. In the library, with a dart gun."

Oh, crap. The Intersect had every one of his combat techniques on file. Every move Bryce had ever used, every counter he'd ever developed.

Carmichael moved in, hammering Chuck with precise strikes thrown at machine speeds with computer precision. Chuck fought desperately, but if any of the blows he struck hurt his robotic alter ego it didn't show. He couldn't outfight himself!

He launched a roundhouse kick, but Carmichael dodged easily and stepped in for the kill after the blow had passed. Chuck used the position to pass a hand of the Nerd Herd Desk to grab the microphone, and the momentum to swing it around like a bolo, wrapping around Carmichael's neck. He pulled his enemy face first into the desk.

Carmichael kicked out blindly, catching Chuck in the belly as moved in for a crippling blow. The Intersect Agent turned and shoved Chuck hard into a display, bringing them both crashing to the ground. As Chuck lay stunned, Carmichael casually leaned on one of the larger units and toppled it onto his rival. Only as Chuck struggled to free himself did Carmichael bother to unwind the cord from around his throat. "You cannot win, Bartowski," he declared, voice gruff from the strangulation. "I am the strongest."

Chuck couldn't help it. He laughed. Oh well, if he was gonna die anyway–"My cord has improved your voice," he said in a very bad Scottish accent.

Carmichael froze, eyes fluttering.

Chuck kicked out, toppling his distracted enemy, and he ran into the stacks of the Buy More before Carmichael could right himself.

Charles used his height to good advantage, checking all the mirrors carefully placed to prevent Jeff and/or Lester doing something they shouldn't in the aisles.

Chuck leapt over the display behind him as he turned, kicking him in the back.

"Tag! You're it!" shouted Chuck suddenly, and both doctors jerked back in surprise.

"Yes, Chuck!" said Dreyfus.

By the time Carmichael stood up Chuck had already run away. What kind of fighting style was this? He flashed on guerrilla combat techniques.

Chuck threw a waffle iron like a Frisbee, hitting Carmichael in the head.

Standard countermeasures against guerrillas applied here. Chuck used the aisles to good advantage, so Carmichael had to deny him that advantage.

"Fore!" As Carmichael turned to the sound of that voice he saw something burst up into the air, arcing toward him with ballistic precision. He computed the path and stood slightly to one side. Just before impact he turned, even as Chuck was about to whack him over the head. He shoved the display Chuck stood on, forcing his opponent to leap awkwardly from one perch to another as they toppled, lest he be caught under them once again. "You're pathetic, Chuck. The first opening I give you and you leap right into my arms." Carmichael walked into the Home Electronics section, where Chuck stood exposed, his eyes flickering left and right, searching frantically for an escape route. "Nothing to say now?"

Chuck's face settled into calm lines. "All ballerinas are tall."

Ellie looked at Dr. Dreyfus. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dreyfus smiled. "Nothing the Intersect can understand."

Carmichael froze again, calculating the significance of the words, and Chuck moved in. "My name is not Charles Carmichael. I am not a CIA agent, and this is my trap." He lifted his doppelganger up over his shoulder and let him fall onto the minimally carpeted floor.

Chuck spun around, facing the wall of televisions. "Initiate upload." The screens started to flicker as he bent and hauled his stunned adversary to his feet.

Carmichael's head cleared just in time to see where he was heading. "No!"

Chuck smirked. "Oh, yes." With one hand in his collar and another at his waist, Chuck propelled Charles Carmichael into the Intersect he was so much a part of, adding a kick in the rear for good measure.

The wall flashed. When the glare cleared, Chuck saw Charles Carmichael falling away from the screen, smaller, smaller. Individual screens flared, showing smaller screens inset, and Carmichael falling away in all of them, smaller, smaller. Then he was gone.

The screens changed, all showing the same scene. He stood on a roof, Sarah staring at him in shock and wonder.

"Tell me you got it," demanded Casey.

"Hey," he said, holding up the cipher. "This is me."

A/N2 One down, one to go!