All the Roads That Lead to You Are Winding

by TakeItTo22

Sarah Walker and John Casey are sent to Burbank to investigate a man, calling himself Osiris, who has been stealing intel from the CIA and the NSA. While there, Sarah runs into her old, childhood best friend, Chuck Bartowski. AU better description inside.

9. Commando Monday

A/N: Wow, who remembers this story? I guess I should apologize for not having updated this bad mama in forever, but I do have a couple of good excuses. My dog ate it. Not really. I suffered from a string of bad luck that started with leaving my window open on a rainy day, and frying the power source of my laptop. After I got it fixed, I suffered from writer's block. Severe writer's block. So pretty much, the reason for the delay is because of writer's block (something I said three times in three sentences. Yikes!). Thanks goes out to my good friend, mxpw, who beta'ed this chapter not once—but TWICE. Both times, he returned this bad mama to me in record time! He's super awesome, and he's helped me out so much, and listened while I whined about…WRITER'S BLOCK for about three hours a day. And an awesome thank you goes out to everyone who commented, sent me PM's, and really cared enough to ask about updates! It made me feel special knowing that you guys missed this fic.

Oh, before I forget, I should let you know that this is the beginning of a new arc for the story, so rest assured, any questions you may have will be answered in upcoming chapters! Thanks again!

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November 15, 2007
Orion's Den
6:45 PM PST

Chuck walked down into the basement of his old house in Encino to see Carina, still in her Eisley gear. The armor had been coated with shiny, black latex and clung so tightly to her body that it revealed most of the muscle definition in her legs. Her usually red hair was covered by a black wig, and her light blue eyes were covered by brown-tinted contact lenses. The mask she was wearing was different from Chuck's. Whereas Chuck's mask had more facial structure and covered the entirety of his head, Carina's mask was lighter and wrapped around the back of her head, letting her black wig flow freely.

Chuck plopped the McDonald's bag down next to Carina along with the large Diet Coke. "Did she give you any trouble?"

Carina shook her head. "Next time, give me something harder. All I had to do was tranq the bitch and drag her here."

Bryce and Jill exchanged smiles. "Go change your jacket and put on your mask," said Jill.

"Why?"

"I told you that I was going to teach you a couple of things, didn't I?" asked Carina. "Today, I'm going to teach you some interrogation skills. Just ask Bryce. I'm one of the best."

"It's true," Bryce piped up.

Chuck shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to learn something that could come in handy in the future. "I'll be right back, then." He headed over to his office and quickly changed into his Osiris attire, sans body armor. When he walked out of the office, adjusting his mask a bit, Carina grabbed the McDonald's bag and drink, and led the way over to the holding cells down the dimly lit, concrete corridor. Chuck followed behind Bryce and Jill.

"Just stand there and observe the master at work," said Bryce, grinning up at Chuck.

He rolled his eyes. "I've seen the good cop, bad cop routine a million times in movies. I think I know how to handle myself."

"Well, Carina will most likely do things that could shock you."

While he tried to imagine what more Carina could do that would put him off-guard, she nodded at him. He stepped in front of Bryce and Jill to catch up with her. "When we get into the cell, give her these," she said, handing him the food.

"Yeah, I was wondering why you wanted me to get you McDonald's when there's an In-N-Out not too far from here." If they wanted to torture information out of someone, made sense to use McDonald's to do so.

Carina shrugged and stopped in front of a heavy, solid steel door. "After you."

Chuck adjusted the cup and bag and typed the code into a keypad. The door made a loud pounding noise and slowly slid to the side. He strode into the cell to see a familiar woman in her early to mid-thirties sitting, shackled to the steel bench bolted to the wall. Her right eye was swollen shut, undoubtedly by Carina, and her hair was disheveled.

He placed the food and soda down, next to the bottle of water that Carina had probably given her earlier, close enough for her to reach. "Hungry, Ms. Prince?" Carina asked, stepping in front of Chuck. He walked over to the side of the cell and watched.

Sydney didn't answer. She only continued to look straight ahead at the wall.

"No?" Carina took the bag and pulled out a French fry. "More for me, then." She popped the fry into her mouth and smiled coyly as she chewed.

Step one, taunt prisoner with greasy food.

Still glaring a hole into the wall, Sydney groaned impatiently. "Where am I?"

"In a holding cell, stupid."

Step two, insult target childishly.

"Where am I?"

"You're somewhere that's eight hours away from Los Angeles. Far, far away from your team," Carina lied.

She reached over for the diet soda and made a show of inserting a straw through the lid. She took a long sip. "Speaking of your team, what are you all doing in L.A.? More specifically, what were you planning to do inside Legend Enterprises?"

Sydney didn't answer. Carina shrugged and pulled out the Big Mac box from inside the bag. She opened the box and took out the hamburger. She took a large bite and chewed slowly. "That really hits the spot." Her voice was muffled by the food.

Step three, continue taunting the target by eating more of their food.

Carina swallowed and took another swig of soda. She held out the hamburger. "Are you sure you don't want any? It's really good."

Sydney ignored her once again. Carina shrugged and made her way to the end of the bench, out of Sydney's reach. She continued to munch on the burger with so much gusto that it even made Chuck hungry. And he hated McDonald's, so that was saying something.

"You know, I don't normally eat these things," said Carina, indicating to the half-eaten burger, while holding onto a fry. "I probably eat these once a year or so, but every time I do, god damn! These things are awfully tasty. It's a damn shame that these bastards are so bad for you, though."

Still, Sydney glared at the wall as if it insulted her mother.

"Oh, I am stuffed!" Carina placed the burger back into the box and set the food down beside her, out of Sydney's reach, but in plain sight. "Well, bitch, it's a shame you didn't want to eat. I'll see you tomorrow, sweet lips. Oh, and I'll be bringing my whip. So unless you're into that kind of shit, I hope you'll be ready to talk. If you still don't tell us what we want to know, don't think that I don't have nipple clamps."

Wondering whether Carina had some strange nipple fetish after that comment, especially after the fact that she had bitten his own nipple a few weeks ago, Chuck followed her as she left the cell and entered the code into the keypad. When the door shut, he pulled his mask off while Carina did the same. "What was up with telling her that she's been out for eight hours?"

"Mind games," she replied, taking the wig off and freeing her red hair. "By seeing the food, and thinking that it's probably been at least ten hours since she's last eaten something, she'll think that she's hungry."

"And you only asking the questions once, even more mind games?"

Carina nodded. "It gives her a false sense of security, but at the same time, she's probably freaking out right now, thinking that we don't care how long it takes her to give us the answers. Combine that with confusion, hunger, whips, and nipple clamps, she'll be talking within five days."

It was harsh, but it didn't mean that he wasn't impressed. He had assumed that Carina would torture Sydney physically for information. Mental torture was far worse, he realized. Bringing in a McDonald's burger made sense now. If he had brought in an In-N-Out burger or any burger from the local joints in Los Angeles, then Sydney would know that she wasn't too far from home. But by telling her that she was eight hours away, she had no idea where she was. At least, if she thought they were in Los Angeles, Sydney had the comfort of knowing her team would be able to locate her.

"Oh, good job in bringing her in, by the way," said Chuck.

"It was easy."

"Well, even so." He patted Carina's shoulder. "So what are you going to eat in front of her tomorrow? Burger King?"

She made a disgusted face. "If I keep eating burgers, then it'll go straight to my ass. Unless you're into cottage cheese asses?"

He chuckled as they walked back to the central hub of the basement. Bryce had his headphones plugged into his computer, most likely listening to chatter, and Jill was nowhere in sight. Chuck assumed that she had gone upstairs. Carina looked at him. "You know what I like to do after completing a mission?"

He shook his head.

"I like to have a victory screw."

He laughed. "Well, that's what Bryce is here for," he said, patting her shoulder once more and walked toward his office.

November 16, 2007
Legend Enterprises
12:25 PM PST

Somewhere in D.C., Sarah Walker knew she had a fan. That fan was called Stanley Fitzroy. Stanley was a young, short, and already balding man that wore glasses that looked like they came from the early 1990s. He worked in Logistics and Supplies and was Sarah and Carina's personal quartermaster. Essentially, Stanley provided them with anything they needed. Chuck would have called Stanley Sarah's own personal Q from the old Bond movies, only Stanley wouldn't be able to provide jetpacks and cars that turned into boats.

Carina would sometimes joke that Stanley had saved CCTV stills of Sarah and hung them on his walls. The redhead had a habit of overdramatizing certain things, but even Sarah was sure that that was what he really did do. It was both frightening and flattering at the same time, having a fan so devoted to her that he would believe anything she said.

She didn't want to involve poor Stanley, but she didn't have any other choice. December would come in fifteen days, and she was beginning to doubt that Osiris would infiltrate Castle before then. In case he didn't, Sarah had an escape route ready. She was going to accompany Chuck to New York for a shareholder's meeting. Taking him and running was her only option. But in order to do that, she was going to need a few supplies. In order to get supplies, she was going to need an untapped phone. Since she had tapped all of the phones connected to the landlines in the building, as there was a probability that the Ring would be placing their operatives inside Legends, Sarah couldn't use her office telephone. There was also a high probability that her own cell phone was tapped by Omega to make sure she didn't do anything rash.

So Sarah went into the break room, carrying her steel thermos mug. Her steps were nonchalant, but her eyes were dancing, flicking left and right to find her mark. And then she saw him. She didn't know his name, but in her mind, she called him Mouth Breather Guy. He was a rotund, short man whose breathing seemed to echo throughout the room. She spotted his phone hooked to his belt loop, and made her way over to the counter, while Mouth Breather Guy was fussing over the coffee pot. It was the perfect distraction.

Placing her thermos on the counter, Sarah reached with her left hand for a green teabag while her right hand swiftly unhooked Mouth Breather Guy's phone from his belt. While she brought the teabag up to her teeth to tear away the wrapper, she also pocketed the rotund man's phone. She placed the teabag into her thermos and then she poured some hot water. After dunking her teabag in the steaming water a few times, Sarah made her way out of the break room.

When Sarah returned to her office, she dialed Stanley's number. The dial tone rang three times before she heard a woman's voice. "Cobb Petroleum, this is Whitney, how may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm calling about lot number 888257."

"Please hold."

She didn't miss the humorous coincidence as Born to Run began to play through the phone. Before the song hit the chorus, Sarah heard a shuffling noise. "Stanley Fitzroy."

With the best cheerful voice she could muster, Sarah said, "Hey, Stanley! This is Agent—"

"Agent Sarah Walker!" Stanley exclaimed, after an excited gasp.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you recognized me!" Outwardly, she giggled, on the inside, however, she felt like vomiting. Seduction was her least favorite method to get what she wanted. It was degrading for women to have to use their sexuality, or to appear dumb for the sake of upping a man's self-confidence. Yes, Sarah's roommate at Harvard was a liberal feminist.

"Of course I remember you, Agent Walker!"By the way Sarah could practically see Stanley gushing, she knew that she just made his day; his week, maybe.

"You are just too sweet," said Sarah, with a chuckle.

"Yes…well…what can I do for you today?"

She let out a breath. "What I'm about to tell you is above top secret, but I can trust you, right, Stanley?"

"Yes, of course you can!"

"I have a mission coming up," she said. It was somewhat truthful. "Deep undercover, and the Agency has no official knowledge of it."

"Okay…?"

She couldn't tell if Stanley was buying her story. Maybe she should have flirted a bit more.

"So why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I need a few things, and you're the only man that can get them for me." Sarah decided to add another giggle for extra measure. "It's risky, though. If you agree to help me, everything needs to be kept off the books. But if you don't want to do it, I under—"

"I can do it!"

Just like clockwork, she thought, smiling. "You understand that no one can know that you helped me, right?"

Stanley gulped. For a moment, she thought that he had hung up the phone. But finally, he said, "Yes, I understand."

"Oh, Stanley," she said as flirtatiously as she could, "you are so brave!"

"Ah, well," he said, chuckling nervously. "What do you need?"

Sarah began listing off supplies she would need. Chuck was going to be in New York. Mary's group was most likely watching his and Sarah's every move, so she needed to do something different. She asked Stanley to have a small motor home set up at a campground close to Mt. Poconos. They could stay there for a couple of days before driving up to Ontario. She also needed new identities for Chuck and herself. Chuck would also need a disguise since he was a fairly large public figure.

"I'm sending you a jpeg that I reworked," she said, uploading a reworked photograph of an older looking Chuck with a beard and graying hair. "You think you could provide the supplies for him to look like that?"

Stanley paused for a moment. "Yes, that should be easy. So you're going to need two sets of passports and ID cards?"

"Yes. Let's go with…" she trailed off, thinking of what nationality both she and Chuck could pass as. "Russian passports."

"Names?"

"Adrian and Natasha Ivanov."

"I assume you two are going to be siblings?" asked Stanley, sounding hopeful.

"It would be better if we were a married couple," she said. "I have to keep a close eye on him at all times, so…"

"Oh, right." He sounded slightly stung. "Then you're going to need a ring and some wedding bands."

Sarah didn't say anything. God, first, she forced Chuck to be in a fake relationship with her, and now, she was forcing him to be in a fake marriage as well? She frowned. It wouldn't be so bad. At the least, she thought he had feelings for her. Even a woman like herself, who most likely had the emotional stability of a seventeen-year-old girl, would be able to pick up on the signals that Chuck had sent her. Suddenly, she wanted to listen to the CD that Chuck had made her again.

"Okay, so we've got a small motor home which I will personally place at a campground on Mt. Poconos, ten sets of outfits, passports, ID's, wedding rings…anything else?"

Sarah thought for a moment. She and Chuck were going to need money, but she had money stowed away. The problem was, what were they going to do once that money was gone? Chuck definitely had money, but what if Mary's group was powerful enough to freeze his accounts? Perhaps he had an untraceable account? She sighed. They were going to have to worry about that later.

"That's it," she said. "Remember, you have to keep all of this off the books. I don't want you getting in trouble for being involved in this."

Stanley breathed in a shaky breath. He was obviously touched that Sarah was concerned for him. She was. Though, it was mainly for selfish reasons. She always hated manipulating people. "I appreciate your concern, Agent Walker. I can have all of this ready for you within the next two weeks."

Just as Sarah was about to thank Stanley, and flirt a bit more to increase his self-confidence, there was a light knock on her door. A second later, the door opened, revealing Chuck holding a travel suit bag and grinning. She smiled back and held up a finger, mouthing, "One second."

Chuck nodded and shut the door while Sarah spoke into the phone once more. "Thank you so much, Stanley! You're a life saver! When all this is said and done, we should go out to dinner sometime."

She could swear that she heard a muffled squeal of excitement before Stanley answered, quite coolly, "Yes, that would be nice."

Sarah giggled, while Chuck's grin slowly evaporated from his face. "Well, I have to get back to work, but we'll talk later, okay? Thanks again!" She hung up the phone before Stanley could respond, about to offer an explanation to Chuck. "That was just a colleague of mine. He's doing a couple favors for me."

She noticed that Chuck was attempting to smile, but it was more of a grimace. Was it a bit harsh that she was enjoying seeing him jealous? To be fair, whenever she saw Chuck with Carina, it made her feel uncomfortable. She was just giving Chuck a taste of his own medicine. It was childish, but in a way, it was fun.

"That's nice," said Chuck. He held up his travel bag. "You sure you don't want to go to Chicago with me?"

He was going to a tech convention to promote the release of his phone, and afterward, he would be having dinner with some of his colleagues. Sarah knew that as Chuck's girlfriend, she should go. But something in her gut told her that Osiris would be striking Castle soon, and she needed to set up some extra security measures. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I have a lot of things to do."

Chuck's face fell. "I see how it is," he pouted playfully. "Well, at least I won't be going stag."

It was now Sarah's face that was falling. "Carina's going to go with you?"

He shook his head. "Casey's going. Since you said you couldn't go, I decided to let him. He hasn't been doing much except for hanging around my house. I feel kind of bad for the guy." He rested his chin in his palms and sighed happily. "Now I know what it feels like to be a prom queen. Everyone at the convention is going to be so jealous!"

Sarah chuckled.

"But anyway…" Chuck trailed off, his grin fading a bit. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a hot date lined up." He gestured to the phone.

Befuddled, Sarah raised an eyebrow. It hit her after a brief moment. Chuck was talking about Stanley. "Uh-oh, sounds like someone's jealous," she said teasingly, unable to resist herself.

"How could I not be?" he blurted out.

Chuck's cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet and so did Sarah's. An uncomfortable silence began to fill the room while the two of them seemed to do whatever it took to keep from meeting each other's gazes. This was ridiculous, she knew.

"Uh…does my hair look okay?" he finally asked, breaking the silence, and running a hand through his hair. It had grown a bit in the last couple of weeks.

"I like it," she replied, glancing at the slight curls at the end of his hair.

"Okay, cool."

"It seems like you really want to impress Casey," she said jokingly.

Chuck laughed. "No, it's just that I have to go out to dinner with a few colleagues of mine. Rich, conservative types are extremely judgmental. Especially when it comes to appearances."

November 16, 2007
Seasons Restaurant—Four Seasons Hotel
Chicago, IL
6:15 PM CST

"Good God, Charles! Where did you get that suit? Macy's?"

The men around the table roared with laughter at Ted Roark's quip. From his earwig, Chuck could hear Casey, who was most likely in a storage closet somewhere in the hotel, listening in on Chuck to make sure he was safe, laughing along with the men. It wasn't even that funny of a joke, he thought, looking down at his Armani business suit. Because of his young age, whenever Chuck got together with his colleagues from different companies, they always picked on him. The last time he had met up with Roark, the old man had made quite the funny when he said, "What do you use to comb your hair, Charles, a chicken bone?"

Roark could be quite the comedian if he wanted to.

Chuck, along with three other men, had just finished his meal. Dan Gore, CEO of Gore Techtronics, a computer processor company, sat beside him on his right side. Across the table was Roark, CEO of Roark Industries. Burt Hasley, President of RI was seated next to Roark. And seated next to Chuck was Wally, which was quite uncomfortable in more ways than one. First, while Wally was tearing apart his steak during the meal, his elbow kept bumping into Chuck's ribs. They were seated about a foot and a half apart, which, in Chuck's opinion, was saying something. Second, while Chuck was watching Wally eat, he wondered how Sarah could ever date a man like him. The big brute didn't even seem to enjoy chewing. Thirdly, weeks ago, Wally had kicked Chuck's ass pretty bad because he was a part of Omega. The bruises had finally faded.

"Actually," said Chuck once the laughter died down, deciding to just go along with Roark's terrible joke. "I got this suit at Men's Wearhouse!"

Dead silence. How was that not as funny as Roark's lame joke?

"Nice try, Bartowski," Casey muttered.

"That's from a guy that everyone's predicting will bankrupt my company," mused Roark, chuckling.

"Aw, Ted, you know I wouldn't do that to you," said Chuck, swallowing his third glass of wine.

"Why not? If I were you, I'd do it."

Chuck tried to come up with a retort, but his mind focused on something else. Beside him, Wally was reading a text message from his phone. Chuck could make out the word "Architect" before Wally slammed his phone shut.

Wally looked up at everyone around the table. "Excuse me for a minute. I'm going to go out for some fresh air."

As Wally left the restaurant, Chuck made a show of looking at his watch. He was supposed to give Casey a heads up as to when he was ready to leave the restaurant, but he needed to follow Wally. Maybe he was meeting with the Architect? If he was, then Chuck could ID him, and put an end to Omega.

"Well, gentlemen," Chuck announced loudly. "I've got a plane to catch."

"Leaving already?" asked Roark, looking at his watch.

"Busy day—busy week, actually. You know how it is, gentlemen," said Chuck. "I mean, bankrupting RI is tough work!" The men around the table laughed as Chuck stood and extended his hand out to Roark. "Ted, as always, it's been a pleasure." He then shook Gore's hand. "Dan."

Chuck left the restaurant in time to see Wally turning left at the end of the lobby into the main hallway where all the ballrooms were. Quickly following Wally's footsteps, he heard Casey's voice ringing in his ear. "Christ, Bartowski, you were supposed to give me a five minute heads-up before you left."

"Gotta pee," said Chuck. "I'll be out in front. Just give me a couple of minutes."

Casey grunted as Chuck turned into the hallway. Although the convention was done, the hallways were still crowded with people. Chuck craned his neck to look for Wally. The bastard was gone. With determination, Chuck continued walking down the hall, observing his surroundings for any sign of the roided out man.

Finally, Chuck spotted Wally about thirty yards down the hall, stepping into an elevator. Ready to sprint after him, Chuck stopped before he could take a step when someone grabbed onto his arm. He turned to see an excited, round, and bald, middle-aged man grinning at him.

"Sasha? Is that you, my sweet Sasha?" The man had a thick, Eastern European accent. "Sasha!"

"What?" All thoughts about finding out what Wally was up to vanished, and were replaced by confusion and uneasiness.

The man had surprising strength, Chuck realized as he was pulled into the small ballroom. Loud music that reminded him of something from the Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack played, but it was drowned out by the happy chatter of the countless people in the room. "Everybody meet fourth cousin on Mother's side!"

"I think you have the wrong person—"

Cut off by the man's arms wrapping around his body, Chuck tried to gasp for air. "Bartowski, what the hell is going on?"

"Sasha want to dance!"

Suddenly a group of people surrounded Chuck, all bouncing around him. Not knowing exactly what to do, he bounced and danced along with them as he brought his watch up to his mouth. "I don't know! Code…whatever the color is for being mistaken for some Russian guy's cousin!"

"Where are you?"

"No, no thank you!" Chuck cried as another man tried to force a shot of vodka down his throat. "Ballroom…" he looked frantically around the room. "Ballroom D."

"On my way."

The group of men and women continued to dance around him while the man who had given Chuck the shot of vodka forced another shot down. With his mouth full of the burning liquid, he looked around the room. All of a sudden, his head began to feel extremely heavy when he saw a tall, younger man with a shaved head.

Tiger Tank
Dmitry Siljik
Black Market Arms Dealer
Tiger Tank

When that flash cleared, another one quickly followed when he made eye contact with a woman in her mid-thirties with brown hair and pale blue eyes.

Scattered Papers
Ilsa Trinchina
Missing AP Photographer; Presumed Dead
Rumored lover of undercover NSA agent, whereabouts unknown, Sugar Bear
A quick flash of Casey
Scattered Papers

Chuck snorted, which caused the vodka to spew from his nose, which, in turn, caused his nostrils to burn. Ignoring the pain and tears that were streaming down his face, he chuckled to himself. Hard-ass, NSA Agent John Casey had a lover? Oh, that was priceless! Chuck had always assumed that Casey was built like a Ken doll down there. Oh, Casey, you sly dog, you…

For a moment, Chuck stopped dancing in time to see Casey rushing in through the entrance. In his mind, Chuck navigated the path that Casey was walking to see that he would be running into his old flame. He couldn't help but grin in amusement just by the anticipation of it. Excitement over love was one of many Bartowski traits. In Chuck's opinion, Ellie had it worse than he did.

Gradually, his amusement began to dissipate when Casey finally saw Ilsa. Instead of seeing a grinning Sugar Bear, Chuck saw a baffled, wounded man. Slipping out of the crowd so that he could get closer to them, he decided that he would play Casey's wingman although he had no idea whether Casey wanted to reconnect with Ilsa or not.

Chuck was finally close enough so that he could hear Casey's voice. "How are you alive? No one could have survived that blast!"

Blast? Chuck smelled trouble, and trouble smelled like some fancy flower perfume worn by Ilsa. As the woman began to tell Casey about how she lost her memory yet she never forgot Casey's face (really? This lady should write a young adult romance novel about a vampire or a centaur), Chuck wondered whether he should help Casey out or just let it simmer.

High-pitch feedback sounded from the PA system by the bar, once again, distracting Chuck. Looking across the room, Chuck saw a short man with gray, slicked back, greasy hair, and the facial expression of someone biting into a sour lemon standing on top of the bar.

"How everybody doing, huh?" The man held up his shot glass while the people in the room began to cheer.

For what felt like the fiftieth time of the night, Chuck felt a flash coming.

An Oak Tree
Victor Federov
Russian Oligarch
Mob, Parliament
An Oak Tree

Well, that would partially explain why there were so many people with ties to the Russian mob.

"First, I would like to introduce you to a woman who make me happiest man by becoming my wife," said Federov, "Ilsa Trinchina!"

Ilsa beamed and turned away from Casey and without a second glance, she stalked over to the bar. His mouth hanging open, Chuck turned to Casey, who appeared to be just as shocked as he was. However, unlike Chuck, mixed in with the look of shock, Casey appeared to be heartbroken.

November 16, 2007
Castle aka Langman Electronic Security
7:30 PM PST

"Here's what's going to happen," Sarah announced loudly to the room filled with analysts and guards. "We're vaulting off this room. The analysts are going to be working from the cubicles upstairs. Guards, you guys are going to spread throughout the building. Five guards on each floor. Ten guarding the doors outside this basement. No one enters the basement without Agent Casey's, Agent Hansen's, or my permission."

A scrawny analyst with short, mousy-brown hair raised his hand. Sarah nodded in his direction. "Yeah?"

The analyst cleared his throat. "Exactly why won't we be working in the basement anymore? It sort of defeats the purpose of having a base of operations if we can't even use the DU-97 supercomputer."

"Because Osiris is eventually going to try to break in," she replied. "The less people that know the access codes to this base, the less likely it will be for him to get in here."

From the corner of her eyes, Sarah saw Carina rolling her own. "So take only what you need. I want this station cleared out by morning. The only thing that stays are the database drives. Also, if you receive any new intel, hang onto it. As of right now, I'm the only person here with access to the database." Sarah looked around at all of the blank faces. "Okay, let's move!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

At once, there was a chattering of groans, a chorus of "Yes, ma'ams," and shuffling. Sarah turned to head to her office, and Carina followed after her.

"Do you really think these new security measures are going to keep Osiris out?" Carina asked.

"I don't want to keep him out; I want to keep him in." Sitting behind her desk, Sarah booted up her computer. She wanted Osiris to get into Castle. The second he tried to access the data drives, the whole building would go into lockdown. Then, she could transport him to Mary. "According to the engineers, even the best hacker in the world couldn't break through the new firewalls they installed in less than five minutes. That'll give me enough time to corner him."

Carina shrugged and sat across from her, crossing her arms. "Hey, what do you know about Sydney Prince?"

Suspicion was evident in Carina's tone, and Sarah couldn't understand why. Who the hell was Sydney Prince? The name sounded familiar, but Sarah was unable to a put a face to the name. "Who's that?"

"You're the one that hired her. You tell me."

Hired her? Her brows furrowed, Sarah thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I remember her," she said when she remembered giving Sydney a job interview. "She's a recent divorcee, and she wanted to start fresh." The redhead gave her a suspicious look. "Why do you ask?"

Carina shrugged. "I had to sit in a meeting for Chuck a few days ago, and I thought she was pretty hot."

Figures, Sarah thought, rolling her eyes.

"Do you know anything else about her?" asked Carina.

"I told you everything I know." She couldn't figure out why the redhead kept staring at her, and she couldn't help but feel like she was being accused of something. "And no, I didn't sleep with her," Sarah added.

"Of course you didn't." Carina leaned back in her chair. "You're too much of a spinster to do that."

"What can I say? These legs are only open to special customers."

"Hmm, is it safe to assume that you're wearing panties that say 'Out of business' on them?" She laughed at her own joke. "I mean, Chuck's too much of a gentleman, whatever that means, to say anything, but judging by the fact that you're always here every night, I'm going to guess that you guys have yet to plow."

On top of everything that was currently going on in her mind, the very last thing Sarah needed was to be reminded of the fact that she and Chuck hadn't slept together yet. Sarah glared at the redhead and let out a huff of air. "What goes on with Chuck and me is none of your business."

Carina's responding laugh was laced with glee. "You probably know, but it's rare for me to wear panties. If I did, though, they'd say, 'Open for business, especially for Chucky.'"

Determined to keep her cool, Sarah rolled her eyes. "See? That's your problem right there. Aside from being the world's biggest bitch seventy-five percent of the time, Chuck would never think about touching you. Want to know why? He's afraid of diseases."

"He's going to crack eventually. You're always cooped up here. The only time you spend with Chuck is for your little lunch dates. Meanwhile, Chuck and I are hanging out and getting to know each other." Carina's grin began to slowly disappear. "And since you're my partner, and partners are supposed to be honest with each other, I'm just going to say it. I want Chuck, and not only so he can fuck my brains out. But when we do get together, there's going to be plenty of that going on as well."

Despite wanting to unsheathe her knife from her ankle holster and throwing it at Carina's chest, Sarah did the thing she knew would irritate the redhead the most. She laughed. As if on cue, Carina's face turned scarlet.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you really think Chuck would ever think about dating either of us?" asked Sarah. She meant to say, "you," instead of, "us," but it just slipped out. As the words settled between them, realization dawned over her. Neither she nor Carina were good enough for a man like Chuck. They had both spent the last five years of their lives lying about who they were. Before she came here, Sarah had forgotten who she was. And right when she figured it all out, her life as a spy had come back to bite her on the ass multiple times.

Carina still sat across from Sarah, and after years of being partners, Sarah knew that Carina would decipher what she was thinking through her expression—a look of sad realization that neither of them were good enough for Chuck. The redhead let out a huff and rose to her feet.

"I need to go pick up Casey and Chuck from the airport," she said, straightening her blouse.

"Right." Sarah let out a sigh of her own and turned to her computer to make sure everyone at Castle was following the orders she had given them earlier. She didn't need to look up to know that Carina had silently left her office.

November 16, 2007
Chuck's Private Jet
5:30 PM PST

When Chuck was at Stanford, one of his fraternity brothers was called Dirty Sanchez. The reason why he was called Dirty Sanchez was because, as Bryce once put it, "He looked like someone just smeared poo beneath his nose." To put it more delicately, Dirty Sanchez was constantly scowling. Chuck remembered the day he told Dirty Sanchez that a hardware company wanted to use LEOS as their primary operating system. He was so excited, but Dirty Sanchez's response was to scowl, mutter "Cool," and then grunt.

Somewhere between Chicago and Los Angeles, Chuck sat in a cushioned seat of his private jet. Across the aisle sat a regular Dirty Sanchez in the form of John Casey. Casey's scowl was fixed straight ahead, his eyes unblinking, as he held a bottle of Johnnie Walker in one hand, and a glass in the other. Music blared loudly from his large, late 1980s headphones, which, in turn, were connected to an old tape player that was also from the late 1980's. Even through the gentle hum of the engines, Chuck could still hear Neil Diamond's Love on the Rocks clearly, as though the headphones were clinging to his own ears.

Someone really needed to tell Casey that the 80s were over, Chuck thought. His eyebrows scrunched together. He'd seen enough movies to know that whenever a man was clutching onto a bottle of scotch as Casey was currently doing, there were two reasons. The first reason was because of unemployment. Since Casey still had his badge in his pocket, that certainly wasn't the case. The second, and the most common reason, was because of a woman.

Normally, Chuck would have let Casey drink in silence, but he just couldn't let the man drown alone in his sorrows.

He walked over to the bar to grab a glass. After dropping a few ice cubes into the glass, he made his way to the empty seat across from Casey and sat down. Gesturing a hand over to the bottle, Chuck flashed a tight-lipped smile at Casey.

Casey's scowl furrowed deeper as he pulled his headphones off his head. "What?"

"That's the only scotch on the plane. You mind?"

Rolling his eyes, Casey handed Chuck the bottle.

"Ah," said Chuck, pouring a bit of amber liquid into the glass, "a lot of scotch and a little Neal, huh?"

To Chuck's surprise, Casey smiled drunkenly back. "Just enjoying myself with a little R&R."

"No judgment from me, big guy." He took a small sip, feeling the soothing warmth of the liquid sliding down his throat. "So you wanna talk about it?"

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"You know, that Ilsa lady? The one that survived that blast, that, apparently, no one could've survived, and said she 'nebbuh fo-got yo face?'" His Russian accent needed a bit of work. "The lady that's getting married to a guy that constantly looks like he just bit into a sour grapefruit?"

"Thanks for reminding me." Casey held up his glass. "Here's to the happy, terrorist couple. Shit," he added. Apparently, Chuck wasn't supposed to know that Fedorov was a terrorist. Well, technically, he was like the leader of the Russian mob, but all the same. Mobsters, terrorists, they were all bad people. "Pretend you didn't hear that."

"Didn't hear a thing," said Chuck, with a grin.

Casey grunted and studied Chuck, making him feel extremely uncomfortable, as though he was about to get interrogated. After a few minutes of awkward silence, and an impromptu staring contest, Casey looked away. Chuck couldn't revel in his victory because Casey began to speak. "I was engaged once."

"Twist," breathed Chuck in surprise. Although Casey had implied that he wanted to live a typical, American life, Chuck couldn't imagine a man as gruff as Casey was to live that particular lifestyle. "You were engaged to that Ilsa lady?"

Casey shook his head and waved his hand. "Naw, I was engaged to someone else almost twenty years ago."

What a stud, Chuck thought. "What happened?"

"I made a choice," replied Casey. He took another drink of whiskey and Chuck mimicked him. "It felt right at the time. Not everyone gets a chance to serve their country like people like me do. It was a great honor."

"Well, how does it feel now?"

Casey shrugged. "I'm not as young as I used to be. I'm getting at that age where I'm starting to regret…" he trailed off and shook his head. "I love my job. Always have. But…how much do I have in the tank? I know I've got a good five years left, and what happens after that? I can't see myself behind a desk, pushing pencils. And I definitely can't be out there in the shit when I'm an old bag of bones. What else is left for a guy like me after all this is over?"

Not knowing exactly what to say, Chuck poured Casey and himself some more whiskey. The two men sat in silence, tipping back their glasses, as the minutes went by.

He placed his glass on the table. "What was your fiancée like?"

Chuck almost misinterpreted Casey's chuckle for a grunt. Smiling to himself, Casey replied, "She was the toughest woman I've ever met, Bartowski. Not only that, but she was soft too. Made me feel comfortable in my own shoes, you know? The woman was one of a kind."

It seemed that Casey had a heart after all. Chuck nodded and smiled sympathetically at Casey. He felt bad for him. Chuck could only guess as to how Casey felt. He had to have been twenty-four years old at most when he made the decision to become a spy. When Chuck was twenty-four, the biggest decision he had probably made was choosing which cereal he should eat for breakfast. He guessed that Casey, while he didn't admit to it, made a rash decision without thinking of the repercussions, and he was now regretting it.

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

Casey nodded and took a drink. "She certainly was."

One Hour Later

After the equivalent of about eight shots of whiskey, along with the wine from dinner and the shots of vodka from the Russian douche-bag convention, it was safe to say that Chuck was quite drunk and giggly. Casey, who had had more whiskey than Chuck was intoxicated as well.

Sometime in the last hour, Chuck and Casey began to argue over which country revolutionized music more, the United States or Great Britain.

"Lynyrd Skynyrd was not better than Zeppelin!" Chuck argued. "Yeah, they had a bunch of awesome songs; Tuesday's Gone is one of the best songs ever, in my opinion. But come on! Zeppelin had like three great songs to every good Skynyrd song!"

"One word, Bartowski," said Casey. "Freebird."

Chuck laughed. "Seriously? Freebird? Even though I wasn't alive at the time, I'm pretty sure that when people first heard Stairway when it first came out, they had an out of body experience."

"Yeah, and the radio overplayed that damn song."

"The same could be said for Freebird." Chuck took a small sip from his glass. "I still can't believe you like Skynyrd. Haven't you ever heard Saturday Night Special? That's like the anti-handgun anthem!"

"They were on drugs," said Casey while shaking his head. "They didn't know what they were talking about."

"Don't you like Achilles' Last Stand?" asked Chuck. "That song is so bad ass that it hurts my feelings!"

"Zeppelin is overplayed and overrated."

"They're overrated because they're awesome." He tipped his cup to his mouth and chewed on an ice cube. If Ellie saw him doing that, she would kill him. "I'm just saying, if The Beatles never came along, mainstream rock would be so different today. Also, if it weren't for Black Sabbath and Judas Priest, we probably wouldn't have bands like Metallica or Guns and Roses."

"Fine," said Casey, defeated. "But you're forgetting about the second British Invasion. Does Boy George ring a bell?"

Chuck grimaced. "I cannot stand New Wave music."

"That's right." Casey grinned menacingly. "Bands like Culture Club ruined music in the 80s."

"I'm not saying that every British band is great," said Chuck, while he frowned. "But speaking of the 80s, you know what's still a great movie, but one song makes it seem dated?"

Casey shrugged. "Breakfast Club?"

Chuck shook his head. "That wasn't what I was thinking of, but that was an awesome movie too. I was thinking about Say Anything."

"I remember seeing that."

"Yeah, but In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel made it seem dated, you know?"

"Well, it did come out in the 80s, so…"

"Yeah, I'm just nitpicking," said Chuck. He remembered something. "That was one of Sarah's favorite movies when we were kids."

"Walker liked Say Anything?"

"It's a good movie," he insisted. "But we were probably eleven when we saw that. I remember thinking it was boring. Sarah liked it, though."

Casey grunted. "Good for her. I always knew she was smarter than you."

Chuck ignored him as, suddenly, an idea formed in his head. "You know what I should do? I should go to Sarah's later and Say Anything her!"

"You and Walker had sex to that Peter Gabriel song?" asked Casey, frowning.

"What? No! We never—I wouldn't play Peter Gabriel." He would have played Oasis. "I mean, what girl that loves Say Anything wouldn't want a guy to stand outside their window with a boom-box, playing a special song?"

"There would be a lot of girls that wouldn't want that. That's a restraining order waiting to happen."

Chuck crossed his arms and pouted. His feelings were hurt. His hopes were shattered. How would Sarah react if he held a boom-box over his head outside of her window? Did he even want to find out?

Two Hours Later

Chuck could not remember the last time he had drank so much in one sitting. The bottle of whiskey was half empty. He and Casey still sat across from each other. The two men drank in silence, only speaking when they needed a refill. There was also a moment where Casey insisted that he needed to clean his Sig Sauer, which resulted in a good twenty minute argument where Chuck pleaded with the bigger man to give him the magazine.

Alcohol did strange things to people, Chuck knew. It was quite possibly the most unpredictable thing in the world. Sometimes, alcohol would make Chuck turn into a giddy teenager. Other times, alcohol would make Chuck silent, leaving him lost in his own thoughts. Tonight, it was the latter.

Casey had had two chances to be with the women he loved, but in both of those situations, he had the same problem. He couldn't tell either of them that he was a spy. When Chuck heard that, the wheels began turning in his head. All this time, he had had the chance to tell Sarah about the other him—about Osiris. But he didn't. It wasn't until Chuck heard Casey's stories about his fiancée and Ilsa that he realized that he could end up the same way.

For as long as he could remember, he had had feelings for Sarah. When they were children, neither he nor she would keep secrets from each other. And although he knew that it was different now that they had grown up (whatever that means, he thought, with a roll of his eyes), a secret like being Osiris shouldn't be kept from a woman like Sarah. She was a good person, doing great things in order to protect his country. He was doing the same, so why hadn't he told her earlier?

Carina finding out about him had been a fluke. By a stroke of bad luck, and due to his carelessness, she had stumbled upon his vigilante gear. Chuck let out a breath. He needed to tell Sarah before it was too late. He needed to tell her everything before she got reassigned, which was inevitable, since there was going to be no way that he was going to let the CIA keep him in custody. There was going to be no way that he would let himself end up like Casey, either.

He looked at the larger man, nursing his glass. "Did you ever think of telling Ilsa about what you do?"

Casey took another drink and placed his glass down. "Yeah, but before I could, she blew up. I'm certain that that bomb was meant for me." For a long moment, the larger man stared off into space, possibly thinking about the moment he had decided to tell her.

Chuck didn't know what to say to that, so instead, he pushed on. "So she never knew you were a spy, right?" Casey nodded. "Well, after you saw her tonight, did you ever stop to think that maybe she doesn't know that she's engaged to a Russian oligarch?"

Casey's hard expression softened to a look of shock.

"Think about it, big guy," Chuck continued. "Ilsa's a pretty lady, and maybe she was…I don't know, shopping one day, and that bad guy just happened to be shopping too. Maybe he saw her and was like, 'Wow, she's pretty, but she also seems nice. She doesn't look like the type of girl that would date a guy like me.' So he made up some story, and he won her over, and now they're getting married with Ilsa still not knowing who he really is!"

"God damn it, Bartowski, you may be right," said Casey.

"Yeah, probably!" Or he was probably just really drunk. "You know what you should do? You should go back to Chicago tomorrow, when they're getting married, right? And right when the pastor asks if anyone objects, you kick open the church doors, and be like, 'I have to see about a girl!' That would be so bad-ass!"

Casey threw his glass back, downed the rest of the whiskey, and slammed the glass down on the table. "I'm turning this son of a bitch around."

"What?"

Wobbling to his feet, Casey began to walk down the aisle. "I'm flying this thing back to Chicago!"

"Dude, you're drunk! I'm pretty sure drinking and flying is a hundred times worse than drinking and driving!"

"So? Commercial airline pilots fly planes while they're drunk all the time," Casey retorted. "Read a paper."

Chuck stood as well, making him wish that he hadn't stood up as fast, as the cabin seemed to be spinning. He tried to focus on the floor as he spoke. "Casey, I'm going to have to put my foot down. You're not flying my plane."

"Damn it, Bartowski, I've flown F-15s for the love of God!"

"Yeah, I don't care. We've got like…" he looked at his watch. "Whoa! We're going to be landing in like ten minutes. If you really want to stop that wedding, then I will gladly let you fly back to Chicago under the condition that you use the pilots. I'll gladly pay them too."

Casey narrowed his eyes, and growled. Chuck noted that this particular growl sounded very much like a bull mastiff's growl…maybe more like a bull mastiff that climbed up a very high, spiraling staircase. But he waited. He was sure that Casey could fly the plane. However, while he could afford to get a new plane, Chuck had grown very fond of this one; what with the built-in plasma screen, wireless internet, and an X-box to go along with said wireless internet so that he could frag his other fellow nerds in some good ol' Call of Duty.

"Fine," Casey finally agreed. "After I see that you get picked up by either Hansen or Walker, your pilots can fly me back to Chicago."

"You're sure you want to go back to Chicago? You've had a lot to drink."

Casey smirked. "Like you said, Bartowski, I gotta see about a girl."

Chuck nodded, and together, he and Casey waited. Fifteen minutes went by, and Chuck, still feeling the effects of the alcohol, was amazed by how quickly Casey was able to sober up. The big guy sat back down in his seat, dismantling his pistol and putting it back together repeatedly. Chuck guessed that that exercise calmed him down. Feeling grateful that he had confiscated the magazine earlier, he sat back down in his usual seat and stared out the window.

Whether it was because of the alcohol, or if it was because he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in regret like Casey, Chuck decided that he needed to tell Sarah everything. He no longer wanted to keep her in the dark. There was a high, shrill voice telling him that it would be a mistake to tell her. She could arrest him, and everything that his father worked for, everything that Bryce had given up, would be put to a halt indefinitely until Stephen could find a new candidate to replace him. And by doing so, it would be because of Chuck that another life would be put in danger, and may very well suffer the same fate (or worse) that Bryce had.

A stronger voice argued that Sarah was Chuck's life-long friend. She would never arrest him, not when he had so much evidence against Omega. She would offer to help him. While he didn't want to put her in danger, the voice argued that Sarah could take care of herself. She was always the stronger of the two. Whenever some jock wanted to shove him in a locker while they were in middle school, no matter how big the brute was, Sarah would always stand up for Chuck. It wasn't until she left that he was once again being shoved into lockers.

"You need her, Chuck," the voice said. "She'll be there for you. She'll keep you grounded—focused. With her help, you can take down Omega and get back to your life."

"But what life?" he wondered. Sarah would one day leave again. It could be tomorrow, it could be a week, a month, a year, two years, Sarah would eventually have to leave.

He pushed the thoughts away, as he and Casey made their way off the plane. The two men walked in silence into the terminal where he saw Carina sitting next to the Arrivals monitors with her arms crossed. Chuck turned to Casey.

"So you're really going back?"

Casey nodded.

Chuck held out his hand. It was a crazy idea, but what wasn't crazy when it came to love? "Good luck, then, big guy."

Casey stared at Chuck's hand for a moment, a reluctant look on his face. Finally, he let out a breath and took Chuck's hand. "Thanks, Bartowski." With that, the bigger man turned and stalked back out to the tarmac.

As Chuck began to walk over to Carina, she stood up with a confused look. "Where the hell is he going?" she asked.

"He's off to see about a girl," replied Chuck, shrugging. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later." They began to make their way to the parking lot, but he had a hard time walking. The effects of the whiskey caused him to stumble a few times.

Carina sniffed and shuddered. "You reek of alcohol. How much did you have to drink?"

About seven double-shot glasses, he thought. "Not much."

"You're such a liar." Carina chuckled when he stumbled into a metal rail.

Chuck ignored her. He had more pressing issues at the moment, that he was ninety-eight percent sure weren't because of the alcohol. He needed to talk to Sarah.

"Here, I'll take your bag," said Carina, stripping Chuck's small duffle bag off his shoulder. "So how was your trip?"

Chuck shrugged again for what seemed like the hundredth time. When they got to Carina's car, she plopped his bag into the backseat while he tumbled into the passenger seat. He told her about what had happened with Casey and Ilsa, and that was why Casey was going back to Chicago. After laughing, Carina drove on in silence. He desperately wanted to shut his eyes and let sleep overtake him, but even in his drunken stupor, he could see that there was something bothering the redhead.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Carina just glanced over at him. In the darkness, he could barely see her eyes. He couldn't tell whether she was really upset or if she was just tired. He waited for her to speak, and eventually, she did. "How come you haven't made a move on me?"

It took a moment for him to process her question, and when he did, he burst out laughing. "Is that a serious question?"

"Yeah, asshole, it's a serious question," she shot back defensively.

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"What's obvious?"

Chuck straightened up in his seat and cracked his neck. "You're with Bryce again."

"Yeah, and your point is?" Carina didn't take her eyes off the road.

"Bryce is one of my best friends! I couldn't do anything like that to him! The poor guy's been through enough."

"So if Bryce wasn't a factor, would you have made a move on me?"

"Probably not," he blurted out a little too quickly.

Carina made a 'tchuh' noise. After a quick, disappointed glance at him, she turned her attention back to the road. "Why not?"

Chuck let out a sigh and rubbed his eyebrows. It truly had been a long night. "I don't know. I'm tired, Carina. Can we talk about this later?"

She ignored him, and pressed on. "Am I not your type?"

"Why do you even care?"

"I just do," she said, turning the steering wheel to the left. The car screeched to a halt on the side of the freeway. He tried to ask her what she was doing when she turned to face him. Expecting a look of annoyed curiosity, he was surprised to see a sad face staring back at him. "I don't know why you just can't answer the damn question."

"Uh…um…" he hummed, confused, and wishing that he was sober so that maybe he could comprehend what was going on. "Are you okay?"

She bit her bottom lip and turned away, leaning an arm against the steering wheel and resting her head on her palm. "Walker said something to me before I left to pick you up."

"What'd she say?"

"It doesn't matter."

He frowned. "Well, obviously whatever she said is bothering you."

Carina sighed. "She said a guy like you was too good for girls like us."

Chuck gulped. Was that really what Sarah thought? That he was too good for her? She couldn't be farther from the truth!

"That's not true," he said quietly, all of a sudden feeling sober. He placed a hand on Carina's shoulder and gave her an understanding smile. "You know something? You spies are really pessimistic and have massive inferiority complexes—thinking you're all damaged and stuff. I mean, first, there was Sarah being all mean to me. Then, there was Casey telling me that he pretty much left his fiancée because he was a spy. Now, there's you, being all upset over something that really doesn't matter. I get it, sometimes being a spy sucks. You have to do things that you never thought you would have to do. You've been through things that not too many people have been through, but guess what? Everyone is damaged. And just because you think there's no coming back from it, doesn't mean you're going to be damaged forever. There are ways to fix things that you feel can't be fixed."

She glanced up and gave him a sad, small smile.

Chuck gave her shoulder a tight, affectionate squeeze. "Seriously, Carina, I'm not going to sugarcoat it, you're hot. That was the first thing I thought when I met you, 'Whoa! She's hot!'" The redhead let out a giggle. "Not only that, but you're funny in a way that sets you apart from other women, you know? You say and think things that no one else in the world would think or say, and quite frankly, I think it's hilarious. Like when we went to Virginia, and you snuck into my room for toothpaste in your underwear? It wasn't funny at the time. On the contrary, it was quite scary, since I thought you were going to kill me, but now that it's said and done, I think it was cute. That right there says a lot about who you are. And I don't mean that you're a slut, or anything bad like that, I mean that you're comfortable with yourself. I don't know what happened to make Sarah say something like that to you, but don't bank too much on it. She's been known to say some mean things when she's provoked."

Carina smiled again, and reached up to her shoulder and squeezed Chuck's hand. "Thanks for saying that, Chuck."

"No problem," he said. "Another reason I haven't made a move on you is because…you know…Sarah. I'm in…I like her a lot, you know?"

Releasing his hand, she nodded. Then, she looked over her shoulder and merged back onto the freeway. For awhile, they drove in silence. He wanted to turn on the radio, but decided that that took too much energy. Spies, he decided, had some serious self-esteem issues.

Eventually, curiosity struck him. He turned to Carina. "How come Sarah said that to you?"

"I'm under orders not to tell you."

He rolled his eyes. "Secrets, secrets are no fun…" he sang.

"I was just being a bitch to her," she said. "That's it."

"Well, why were you being a B-word to her?" he asked, chuckling.

She didn't answer right away, and by the hard, unreadable look on her face, it seemed as though she would never answer. And so Chuck did the only thing he knew he could do to make someone talk.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" he screeched.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" he continued.

"Shut up!"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" he screeched even louder this time.

"Fine!" she yelled, as he smiled victoriously. "I was a bitch to Walker, because…"

"Because?"

"After you left for the airport earlier, I went back to the Den to interrogate Prince some more," she said. "I asked her why she was here and why she was planted at Legend. She said that Walker's Omega."

And the world around him crashed down.

November 16, 2007
Castle
10:59 PM PST

Sarah was sick of guarding Castle. It made her feel trapped, staying in her office all night, wishing something would happen. But nothing ever happened. She turned her computer monitor off and stretched back in her chair. It was the same, night after night. She spent four hours in her office, watching the security feeds, and then she spent about thirty minutes outside pacing in front of the building.

She left her office, walked up the stairs, through the lobby, and stepped outside. The air felt cool around her skin as she walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk. And she paced.

With each step that she took, she tried to block out what she had thought about earlier during the conversation with Carina. Instead, she kept her focus on hoping that she could capture Osiris before December came. She made it easier for him to get in. She spaced the guards out so that he would have enough time to get past most of them undetected. Once Osiris was trapped in the basement, all Sarah had to do was to give Beckman a call and have her men take Osiris away. But the only problem that she had was that she didn't know when he would break in.

"Sarah," a voice called from behind.

Startled, Sarah reached behind her waistband for her gun, but as she turned around, she saw Mary standing about ten yards away. She released her grip on the gun as Mary stepped forward with three other men following closely behind.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I just got a report from Beckman about your new security measures," said Mary. "Smart thinking."

Sarah eyed the three men behind her, and recognized two of them from the diner where she and Mary talked. The third man, she couldn't recognize. She turned her attention back to Mary. "So you came here to compliment me?"

Mary shook her head. "Well, that, and there's something else. One of my people was captured. We think it's Osiris."

"When did that happen?"

"Yesterday, and it happened in Los Angeles," replied Mary. "You know what that means?"

"Osiris is here."

Mary nodded. "I came here to let you know that we've tapped into Castle's security feed. These three agents—" Mary gestured to the men. "Are going to be stationed a block away at the Sheraton. Once you capture Osiris, Beckman is going to order you to escort him away. When she does, just bring him to my men."

"Right," said Sarah. She reminded herself that she needed to aid and abet this group in order to keep Chuck safe. "Well, I should get back inside. It's a bit chilly out here."

"Have a good evening, then," said Mary. "Just remember, Castle is being monitored by us."

Without bidding Mary farewell, Sarah turned on her heels and walked back into the lobby.

November 17, 2007
Legend Enterprises
12:15 PM PST

"Chuck," Carina called from his door, knocking on the doorframe. "There's a Kevin Flynn here to see you. He says it's urgent."

Chuck nodded. He knew that it was his father coming in to see him, and because Carina didn't know who Orion really was, he went with a cover name that only Chuck, and others who had seen Tron, would be able to recognize. "Let him in, then."

The redhead led Stephen, wearing a gray wig and a very convincing beard, into Chuck's office and offered him a drink. He declined. Chuck looked up at Carina. "Thanks," he said.

"Let me know if you need anything, boss," she said, winking at the two of them.

He waited until Carina walked away before he turned to his father, who was fumbling around with his watch. After a few quick turns and adjustments, he looked up. "White noise generator," said Stephen, holding his watch up. "In case the room is bugged."

"It is. So why are you here?"

"Carina told you about Walker being in Omega?"

"Yeah, and I heard it from Sydney last night, but I'm not buying it." It just didn't make sense to him. There was no reason for Sarah to work for Omega. "Do you buy it?"

"It makes a lot of sense," replied Stephen. "I've been thinking, and her running into you at the Buy More, figuring out that Jill was Fulcrum, and being planted inside your company? That can't be coincidence. She's also leading the search for Osiris, and I can guarantee that getting rid of Osiris and your company is at the top of Omega's list."

"Did it ever occur to you that it was all a big coincidence, and that Sydney was smart enough to know that, so she lied to us to keep us distracted from all of the other things Omega might be trying to pull off?"

"It's too big of a gamble to believe that." Stephen glanced up at Charles and shook his head. "Carina told me that you wanted to tell Sarah that you're Osiris last night."

"I was drunk." He still had the hangover to prove it.

"That would have been a huge mistake, Charles."

"I don't want to keep her in the dark," said Chuck, taking a bottle of aspirin from a desk drawer, and popping two pills in his mouth.

"She could be Omega, Charles," said Stephen. "And if she is, and you tell her who you are, everything we've worked for—"

"Remember that time when I was…ten, I think, and I came home from school crying because someone in class said that the reason why Mom left was because I was clumsy?" Chuck interrupted, "Mom was gone, Ellie was at her friend, Julie's house, and you were the only one home. Do you remember how I was banging on your office door, and you just kept shouting out that you were busy?"

Stephen furrowed his brows. "I don't…remember that."

"Figures." Chuck rolled his eyes. "Not too long after that, Sarah came over, and she asked me what was wrong, told me that everything was okay, and that it wasn't my fault, all stuff that I needed hear. The next day at school, Sarah yelled at the kid. She made him cry and everything. You know what's strange about that?"

Stephen shifted in his seat. "What's strange?"

"Usually, it's the parents' job to comfort their kids, and if they're having a hard time at school, they usually call up the principal and make a complaint. Or maybe they call the kid's parents and tell them what happened. But you never did that. Sarah was the one that comforted me. She was the one that confronted that kid." Chuck folded his hands on his desk. "So what I'm saying is that I know that Sarah cares about me. That's not something that I'm going to take for granted. Every day that I keep her in the dark, I'm insulting her."

"What if Sarah doesn't feel the same way about you anymore?" Stephen challenged. "What if everything that Sarah is doing right now is an act, and she's currently placing more Omega agents into your company? What if that's the case, Charles?"

"Then, I won't stop you from rubbing it in my face every chance you get."

"So you're willing to throw everything we've done in the last couple of years away?"

Chuck looked at the picture of him and Sarah from Halloween. "For Sarah? Yes."

Stephen sighed. "Charles, think about what you're doing! When you get taken into custody, it's not only our work that's destroyed! Think about your company! You've got thousands of employees, and I can assure you that the Architect will appoint one of his agents to run your company to the ground! You're putting thousands of peoples' lives at stake!"

Chuck swallowed. He hadn't even thought that far ahead, but he recovered quickly. "I could give all of my shares to Ellie. She'll be the lead shareholder—51% of the votes. I'll tell her about Bryce, and she could appoint him to run the company if I get arrested. As for you, Dad…" Chuck hesitated a moment before speaking, afraid that it would be a cold thing to say. But he thought, to hell with it. "You've always been pretty good at running and hiding. You can get another team started in no time."

Stephen looked taken aback—hurt by what Chuck had said. Even Chuck was surprised at himself. The elder Bartowski cleared his throat. "So you're going to tell Sarah no matter what?"

Chuck nodded. "I have to." Even if Sarah turned him in, he knew he wouldn't regret it.

Stephen groaned in defeat and sunk back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and then looked at Chuck. He looked tired and disappointed. "Before you tell her, I need the intel at Castle."

Chuck sighed. He didn't want to break into Castle, but he figured that if he was going to spend the rest of his life in a holding cell, or an underground bunker, he may as well get the intel for his father. At least then he'd still have a chance to fight Omega. "Fine. Carina and I will need a few days to plan everything out. I heard Sarah put some new security measures inside Castle, so…"

Stephen nodded. "So just…hold off on telling Sarah for awhile, please. I have to get…some things in order in case…"

"I will."

"Thank you, son," said Stephen, getting up from the chair. He began to walk out of Chuck's office, but then he stopped. "Listen, I want you to know that I'm truly sorry for what I put you and Eleanor through. Also…I'm proud of both of you."

As Chuck opened his mouth to bid goodbye to his father, Sarah walked into his office. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was time for their daily lunch date. When he looked up, his father was gone.

Sarah looked behind her. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" she asked. "I think Carina went to the bathroom, so I just came in."

"Naw, it's fine," said Chuck, waving a hand. He forced a smile. "So I was thinking we could go out for some Italian today. How does that sound?"

November 19, 2007
Legend Enterprises
12:20 PM PST

Chuck walked into his office to grab his coat from the hanger behind his desk so that he could go out to lunch with Sarah. He was halfway there when, all of a sudden, he heard his door slam. Before he could turn around, there was a tremendous force pushing him forward, causing his knees to crash against his large, oak desk. He was doubled over across the desk. It all happened so fast. Something pulled him, turning him on his back, and the next thing he knew, a wave of pain surged from his elbows.

"You're still not checking behind open doors, Chucky," said Carina, grinning down at him. She was crouched over him, her knees planted firmly onto his elbows. He would have rolled his eyes at his own stupidity (since Carina had been hiding behind doors, even his bathroom door, and sneak attacking Chuck ever since they got back from Virginia) if it weren't for the great deal of pain in his arms. Her knees, very bony knees, dug into his elbows, which in turn were digging painfully into his desk "For that, you must be punished."

"You driving my elbows into my desk isn't punishment enough?" he asked, groaning as he struggled to get Carina off of him.

"Nope." She reached down and flicked him on the nose with her fingers.

He tried to roll his shoulder over, but it didn't work. "Get off me!" he cried.

She flicked his nose again. "How many times have I told you to check behind doors, Chuck?"

"Dude, your crotch is like five inches away from my face!" He looked up to see that she was wearing flesh-colored under—okay, she wasn't wearing any underwear. He slammed his eyelids shut, but that didn't stop his heart from beating a million miles per hour. "Why aren't you wearing panties?"

"It's Commando Monday!" she exclaimed gleefully, flicking his nose again. Chuck repressed the urge to sneeze. "I'm going to ask you again, how many times have I told you to check behind—"

She broke off when they had both heard the doorknob clicking. Chuck's eyes snapped open, and he did his best to peek around Carina so that he couldn't see her business. What he saw next was enough to stop his heart from beating. It was Sarah, pushing the door open and walking into his office. She stopped in mid-step when she saw that Carina was crouched over him. A look of shock, confusion, and possibly repulsion was drawn across her face.

The shock from seeing Sarah must have given him a newfound strength since he was able to straighten up with ease, causing Carina to let out a surprised yelp and fall to the ground.

"Ow! That hurt, you dick!" Carina cried from the ground.

Chuck paid her no attention. He looked wide-eyed at Sarah, pointing down to Carina. "That wasn't what it looked like. It's not what you think!"

Sarah's eyes narrowed into one of the most frightening glares that he had ever seen in his life. The temperature in the room must have dropped about thirty degrees. Or so it seemed. "Oh, really? And what was I thinking, Chuck?" Her voice was surprisingly calm.

Chuck cowered as she crossed her arms in front of her, still glaring. How can someone so beautiful be so scary? "Uh…I-I don't know."

"Well, what it looked like to me was that Carina was sitting on your face—pull down your fucking skirt!" she yelled at Carina. Chuck quickly glanced away when he saw Carina's rear-end as she was straightening up. Sarah exhaled slowly. "Okay, what it looked like to me was that Carina was sitting on your face with no underwear on."

"She wasn't sitting on my face!" he said quickly.

"What if someone other than me walked in? Hmm?"

"I don't—"

"What would have happened if they had decided that they wanted to make a couple extra dollars, and told the gossip mags and sites that you've been cheating on me? That wouldn't do well for our cover, Chuck."

The fear from before was now replaced by frustration. He thought it was over; her whole spy-mode game that she had been playing. But now, it came back. Only this time, instead of hurting him, it had frustrated him. "Carina, can you step out of my office, please? Sarah and I need to have a private word."

The redhead rolled her eyes and walked swiftly toward the door. There was something of a murderous flash in Sarah's eyes as they followed Carina, but Chuck felt relieved when she chose not to do anything. When Carina left his office, he imagined that she was inserting the earplug that was connected to the bug planted in his office.

"You want to sit?" he asked, gesturing to the sofas. She shook her head. "Fine. What just happened with Carina wasn't anything. I know what it must have looked like, but I swear to you that nothing happened. Carina's been teaching me some spy tricks in case something goes on." It wasn't the full truth, but it was still the truth, he thought. If he had checked behind the door like she had been trying to drill into him, then this wouldn't have happened.

"Oh, really?" Sarah laughed humorlessly. "Then how come when Carina was given a choice to leave and go off on any assignment that she wanted, she chose to stay here?"

"Excuse me?" Had Carina lied to him before? She told him that Graham didn't want her to get reassigned. "She told me that your boss wanted her to stay here."

She shook her head.

"Why would she stay?" he wondered aloud.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Chuck let out an exasperated sigh. If he knew, then why would he ask the freaking question out loud? "How the hell would I know?"

"You really need me to spell it out for you? She wants you, Chuck," she insisted.

"Carina's with Bryce…" His voice trailed off. And she said Bryce was boring, he realized. Everything began to click into place; her need to know that if circumstances were different, would he ever consider being in a relationship with her. Oh, God, Carina liked him! How could he not have seen that? "Oh my God…" He felt like such an idiot.

He looked back up at Sarah who gave him a "what did I tell you" kind of look. Why on Earth would Carina have feelings for him? Oh, if this wasn't awkward before, it sure as hell was awkward now.

"I had no idea," he said breathlessly. "I just thought…I don't know. But Sarah, I assure you, I don't have feelings for her. I have feelings for you!"

Sarah looked taken aback, and even Chuck was shocked. He didn't mean to say that. Well, not yet, anyway. He didn't know much about women, but he was sure that telling a woman that may have feelings for him that he had feelings for her after she suspected that something was going on with him and another woman wasn't exactly the best time to let them know. And now, it was out in the open. There was no turning back.

"What?" she asked softly.

He let out a breath and met her eyes. "I have feelings for you. To be more specific, the feelings I have for you are much stronger than friendship."

The look of bewilderment was still there on her face.

"And I know this isn't the best time to tell you this, believe me, I do." He looked away for a brief moment and ran a hand through his hair before he faced her once more. "I'm in love with you. I always have been. You have…you have no idea how pathetic I felt. How pathetic I feel, actually. It's like I've been in love with you since we were kids, and you left, and I still felt it. I missed you so much while you were gone. Then, I saw you again in San Francisco, and we spent those five days together. You want to know something? Those five days were the happiest I have ever been. Starting this company and having it turn out to be a success doesn't even compare."

He gestured around him while Sarah continued to be in shock. "Chuck, you don't know what you're saying."

He shook his head. "The years went by, and I still found myself missing you. And just over a month ago, we met up again, and…I don't even know. At first, I was hesitant. We hadn't seen each other in almost ten years, and I thought that you would have changed. And you did. There were times when I saw your spy-side or whatever, and it hurt. Then, lately, you've been…warm. The more time we spent together, the more I would…fall for you. It's those moments, when I'm with you, I'm right where I want to be. I could die right there, and I would die a happy man. If that's not love, then I don't know what is."

Tears were brimming in Sarah's eyes, and she let out a quiet sob. Not realizing that he had barely taken any breaths in a while, Chuck could have sworn that he inhaled, but he didn't feel any oxygen entering his lungs. She shut her eyes and brushed the tears away. "Chuck…if I was somebody else, then…"

"Don't," he pleaded.

"Please, Chuck," she said, holding up a shaky finger. "If I was somebody else, then we could be together. But I'm not anyone else. I'm a spy. It was a mistake for my bosses to put us in this fake relationship—wait," she added when Chuck tried to protest. "That's not to say that I didn't enjoy any of it. I did, Chuck. I really did. But it's because of me that there are people out there that want to hurt you."

"I don't care about that," he said. He could care less whether the Ring was trying to infiltrate his company. Hell, he was sure that there were a couple of civilians out there that wanted to hurt him just as much.

"I do. I don't want to see you get hurt." He could see her bottom lip beginning to quiver. "Casey told me awhile back that I could quit being a spy, and it's something that I want to do, but…I can't. Even if I quit, there are going to be people out there who could recognize me. What if they hurt you because they want to get to me? I can't let that happen. It's happening right now, and I'm scared everyday for you. Once I take care of them, I'm going to leave. At least…" her voice began to strain, and she quickly cleared her throat. "At least, when that time comes, we'll be able to say goodbye." She began to turn the doorknob to leave his office.

"Wait!" Chuck swallowed the lump in his throat. He had his proof that Sarah wasn't Omega, and even if she was, she cared about him. That was all he needed to know. "I can take care of myself." He cleared his throat, still trying to get past the lump. "There's something I need to tell you."

She was already out the door. Chuck chased after her, maneuvering around Carina who looked as though she was about to go back into his office. She called after him, but he ignored her. Sarah was already in the elevator.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he cried, reaching the door before it closed. He held the door open. "Just let me say one last thing, Sarah. Please."

"This is hard for me too, Chuck." Sarah placed her hand over his.

"I know it is, but—"

"We can talk later. I promise we will," she said quickly, peeking behind him. "Your office is bugged, and Carina's standing right behind you."

Chuck looked behind him to see the redhead swiftly looking away from him to avoid eye contact. He felt a guilty tug at his chest at the sight of her, but he turned his face to look at Sarah again. "I really need to tell you something. It's important."

She stared at him, but he couldn't read her expression. So he took a deep breath. It was now or never, he thought.

"The man that you're looking for, the reason why you're here right now," he began, "I'm that man. I'm Osiris."

Sarah's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"And I know kung fu."

---

A/N: I couldn't resist putting in that line. Thank you for reading!