For notes and disclaimer, please see part one. Additionally, borrowing the title for this chapter from a wonderful song by Old 97s. No copyright infringement intended there either.

Surprise! Laundry, not just for Sundays... ~K

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot: Casey confesses to Ellie that the reason he showed up the week before bruised and battered was because he was protecting Chuck.

Murder (Or a Heart Attack)

Casey frowned when he spotted Chuck heading straight towards him. The kid had a look of deep concern etched into his features for a Tuesday. And, it was supposed to be the Intersect's day off from the Buy More. "Bartowski," Casey said.

"I'm kinda at my wits' end here, Casey, so, whatever you do, don't grunt or grumble or threaten me, 'cause I really don't think I can take it at the moment."

Casey narrowed his eyes. "What's going on?"

Chuck took a slow breath. "Ellie is freaking out. You think I freak out? She's beyond freaked out. And she's saying stuff that Awesome and I can't really decode, so I thought maybe, possibly, you might've picked something up on one of your routine audio scans that might explain why she's scouring the apartment complex for lost fabric softener."

"Downy?"

Chuck nodded.

Casey sprinted past him, out the front door and across the parking lot.

"Hey, big guy, wait!" Chuck called back to no avail.

Devon watched as his wife frantically continued her search. He didn't understand why she was in near hysterics, muttering about why she hadn't taken a photo before. And something about the collar. For the life of him, he didn't have any idea what she was talking about. He'd seen her get annoyed at the dry cleaners before, when they'd nearly ruined one of her dresses on accident. But, even that incident hadn't been anywhere near this bad.

"I'll buy you a new shirt, sweetheart, if that's all it is..." Devon pleaded.

Ellie's Tasmanian devil-inspired whirlwind died suddenly, stopping eerily on a dime to look back at her husband. "It's not about clothes, Devon!"

"I get it, it's about the Snuggle, but, what about this," he said, looking at the bottle of generic fabric softener in his hands. "Won't this do till we go back to the store? Or, you could take it and I'll run get the right kind right now."

Before she had an opportunity to respond, she saw a late-model black Ford Crown Victoria pull into its parking spot. Casey would understand. She rushed towards the car. As she reached the sidewalk, he emerged, holding a familiar puffball of fur in his hands. "Oh, John..."

Casey held the cat out to her, and she gratefully accepted it, closing her eyes.

"Thank you. Where on Earth did you find her?"

"Not far," he said truthfully. He just really hoped she didn't ask him how he'd found her. That would be another question that would have a lie for an answer, and he hated lying to her. It would seem strange if he'd told her the truth. Because, why would a random guy from the Buy More install a GPS device in their kitten's collar?

She closed her eyes. "Scared me to death, Downy," she murmured.

"What happened?" Casey asked, hoping to head her questions off at the pass.

She took a slow breath, letting her fingers get lost in Downy's soft fur. "I went to feed her, but the door to the laundromat was wide open and she was nowhere."

"She's all right," Casey assured her. He leaned in and quietly added: "So are you."

She smiled up at him a little.

"El? Hey, Casey," Devon said, finally catching up to them.

Casey nodded to him. "Woodcomb."

"Whoa," Devon said, surprised to see the creature in his wife's arms. "Who's this?"

"This is Downy," Ellie told him, turning the cat around to take a look at her husband.

Casey wasn't sure why there was a twinge of jealousy as Devon reached out and patted the top of Downy's head, but there was.

"That would explain why you weren't interested in this at all," he commented, looking at the bottle of fabric softener he still held.

Casey cleared his throat. "I have to get back." He fought a grumble as he admitted: "Shift's not over yet."

"Thank you, John," Ellie said again, reaching out and touching his arm lightly.

Casey nodded.

He wasn't surprised where he found Ellie later that night. She was sitting on one of those uncomfortable folding chairs, dancing a long piece of bright red yarn in front of Downy, who chased after it happily, occasionally pouncing on the fraying end. Knowing they were both safe, he decided to quietly head back to his apartment and call it a night, except he heard a voice call out to him.

"John? Is that you?"

Quietly, he pushed the door open and leaned against the jamb.

Downy, hearing movement behind her, abandoned her string for the newcomer, meowing softly as she tried to play with his shoelaces.

Casey scooped the cat up, whispering to her. "You're not supposed to scare your mom like that," he murmured. Of course, the kitten had no interest in what he was saying at all, deciding to attack the collar of his green polo instead. Casey eased his chin out of the way as she played.

Ellie watched as Casey sat down beside her. "I probably greatly overreacted today," she commented.

"You were worried. It's understandable."

"I really appreciate you taking time out of your work day to find her."

He smiled a little at her. "How often do you get to save the day?" He added in his head: and let someone know that it was you who did it.

Stay tuned...