A/N The best parts of Phase Three were the bar scene and the pit fight. I really didn't want to remake either of those scenes, just maybe reference them somehow, but the story had other ideas.

"Are you in Moscow, Mr. Riley?"

"Asia."

"I feel your pain, truly I do."

"What's happening?"

Two days ago…

Vivian Volkoff stood outside her father's office door for the very first time.

Supercalifragilisticexpialadoscious.

It didn't help.

Today…

The room was too small for pacing. The phone was too small for proper dialing. Ellie hadn't gotten to where she was by letting little things like that stop her. "Devon, they've got Chuck."

"Who's got Chuck, babe?"

His warm baritone ran right over the dry earth of her soul and didn't soak in very much at all. "You know I can't tell you that," said Ellie, yet another annoyance on top of this whole bad situation. "A bad guy with a code name and a very bad reputation, and no one here is going to do anything to save him."

"Whoa, why not?" asked Devon, correctly interpreting that last 'him' to mean Chuck, and not some bad man with a bad reputation.

"Because they let Sarah out of here when I told them not to, and she's gone and done something incredibly stupid and dangerous. They're talking 'international incident'-level dangerous."

"Sounds like Sarah," said Devon. "Just like you, only with the experience and the contacts to make it happen. So what are you going to do?"

She stopped her frantic back-and-forth. "What do you mean, 'what am I going to do'? What do you think I can do?"

"I think," said Devon, "That you can call your husband, in search of some measure of solace and comfort. If that doesn't work, I think you'll be after his support and understanding as you go off into some undisclosed war zone to rescue your brother."

"You think so?"

"I know so, I can't love you as much as I do and not know that." She could hear him smile. "Go get him, El."

That barrier fell, and the force of her determination exploded in that direction. "I love you."

"I love you."

Casey stood outside the door, listening to the half of the conversation available to him. Devon was a born doctor, with an endless ability to suck up other people's pain while keeping a smile on his face. Ellie would need that.

She had to talk to somebody, and Ellie had never been much for talking to him. The General had done a great job over the years, but writing off Chuck the way she did pretty much set her relationship with Ellie back to square one there. Or maybe not, Ellie might be more forgiving that he ever would be.

"We've got a hit!"

Stepping very lightly for someone his size, Casey went over to the door to the main room and scowled fiercely at Carina. "Keep it down, will ya? Ellie's falling apart in there."

Carina frowned at him. "Beckman's right, you really aren't fit for duty, are you? Since when did you get so sensitive to lady feelings?"

"Since I met a genuine lady," said Casey, closing the door behind him as he came into the room.

"What do we got?"

Carina put up the coordinates on the screen. An image of globe spun, the spot highlighted. She overlay it with a political map. "Northern Thailand, near the Burmese border."

The satellite showed green. "Trees and more trees," muttered Casey. "A river. That could be our way in." If we can go in. He hit the button to contact the General. The screen showed her in conference. Great.

A minute or two later the screen cleared. "What is it, Colonel?"

"We've got a location on Bartowski, General. Northern Thailand."

"I was afraid of that. There's an aide for that region's affairs, a Mr. Chanarong, but I haven't been able to contact him all day."

Carina made a rude noise.

Casey grunted. The main goal of a diplomat was not to solve problems. If they solved problems there'd be no need for diplomats. Instead they spent their time handling problems that just never seemed to go away. And that was assuming he was a good one. If not–"Probably bought and paid for by the Belgian, and half a dozen other warlords in the area. He'd stall our diplomatic efforts until it's too late."

Beckman nodded. She'd been around that block all too often. "Quite likely, Colonel, but without proof, there's nothing we can do. Even if we had it, getting a suitable replacement would take time." Time Chuck didn't have. She glanced to one side, multi-tasking. "I've arranged a return flight for Ellie. Colonel, your job is to make sure she's on it."

Carina rolled her eyes. "Good luck with that."

Casey ignored her, just like he ignored the buzz of his phone as travel instructions arrived. "Begging the General's pardon, but a solo invasion of Afghanistan would have greater odds of success."

"Understood, but you're a Marine, while she's an untrained civilian. I expect you'll just have to make do." A touch of sadness leaked into her voice. "If things go south, she'll need to be around family."

"Want to borrow my tranq gun, Casey?"

The door behind them slammed open. Ellie stood there, dressed in travelling clothes, a large bag slung over her shoulder. Her gaze swept the room, taking in all the conspirators. "I'm doing this under protest, General."

"As long as you do it, Ellie," said Beckman. "It's for your own good."

"That's what Devon said."

"You should listen to your husband, Ellie. Colonel?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Casey, glad it was under her orders. He opened the door for her. "Let's go, Ellie." With a final glare at the screen, Ellie turned and walked out the door, and Casey closed it behind them.

Carina let out an exaggerated breath.

Beckman shifted her attention. "Agent Miller, while Colonel Casey is otherwise occupied, you'll have to undertake planning for a rescue mission, if there should happen to be one."

Carina paled. Any mistakes, anything that happened to Chuck at all, and Sarah would blame her. Again. "Can I take Afghanistan?"

Beckman's image winked out.

Kissing.

His wife, in his bed, in his arms. "I love you."

She rolled up on top and straddled him, smiling. "I love you, too, Agent Charles."

Huh? "But…I'm not Agent Charles, you are."

Her smile faded. "I've told you not to do that, Agent Charles. Hearing you talk like your cover in our bed is just too creepy."

His cover? "No!" he said, gesturing to his own chest. "This is me, your Chuck."

She scowled down at him. "I didn't marry Chuck, I married Agent Charles." She got off of him, out of the bed, and rolled him over. Her fingers ran up and down his spine, under his hair. "Where is it?" She rolled him back over, stared into his eyes. "What have you done with my husband?"

"I am your husband."

She backed away from the bed, an expression of growing horror on her face. She turned and opened the closet door. Hanging inside was his tuxedo, the hood hanging down. She gripped the hood by the hair and lifted it up. Under the mop of curly hair was his face, blank and empty. She turned the suit around, and saw the zipper running up the length of its spine, the slider buried under the hair.

She turned to glare at him, furious. "You lied to me!" She grabbed the hanger and threw the Agent Charles suit onto the bed next to the nerd she'd married.

"I never lied to you," said Chuck. "I've never been an agent, I've always been Chuck."

The door opened behind her, and his wife drifted backwards through to the other side. "That's too bad, Chuck. We could have had such wonderful missions together."

The door closed with a boom, and his wife was gone. Chuck leapt from his bed and opened it. The hall was long and empty and his wife was already far away. With every step he took toward her, the farther away she got.

"Sarah!"

She opened another door at the far end. "Hello, Alexei. My name is Sarah." In spite of the incredible distance between them, Chuck could hear every word.

A man's hand reached out from the darkness and took hers, leading her away, into the darkness with him. "Hello Sarah. Welcome to Volkoff Industries."

The door slammed shut behind her with the sound of doom. The hallway shrank and Chuck pulled at the knob, but there was only more wall on the other side.

"Too little, too late, Chuck."

He turned, but the only door in the hall was this one. He grabbed the knob and pulled again, opening the door onto his bedroom. The Agent Charles suit lay on the bed. "What are you?"

The eyes opened. The suit looked at him. "Who, me? I've been hanging in your closet for years. Come on in, Chuck."

The door moved around him and suddenly he was inside. The door slammed shut behind him with the sound of doom, and everything went black.

In Castle…

Carina sat at the table, as she had since everyone had left. She'd only managed to get one set of redundancy plans for her redundancy plans, and that was just for the six most likely contingencies on her logic tree. Winging it was so much easier. You just grabbed a poisonous snake and threw it.

Oh, God. Poisonous snakes! She pulled out another index card and started writing.

Beckman's image winked in. "Agent Miller."

"Whaaa!" shrieked Carina, papers flying everywhere as she exploded, tension releasing in every direction at once. A tranq dart bounced off the screen.

"Good shooting," said Beckman.

"Thank you, General," said Carina, rubbing her bottom where it had impacted the floor. Whoever thought putting wheels on chairs was a good idea?

"How's the planning coming?"

Loose index cards cascaded on her head. "Poisonous snakes, ma'am." She scooped them all up and stood, dropping them all on the table.

"Using them or avoiding them?"

Carina bent down for another batch. "Either. Both."

"Very thorough." Beckman sniffed. "I take it that Colonel Casey hasn't come back yet?"

One doesn't say 'duh' to Generals. "No, ma'am." She checked a screen, noticed the time. "Wait a minute…"

"Exactly. Go and do a sweep. He could have driven her back here by this time."

Carina hit the boards, checking the internal screens first. "What is that?"

"What is what?" asked Beckman peevishly.

Something moved in one of the cells, and they didn't have any prisoners right now, not even unofficially. Rather than spend time bringing up the cell monitor, Carina swooped the window over to the main screen so Beckman could watch as she left the room and walked down the security corridor. Unfortunately this meant she also couldn't stand right outside the door to cell three and gloat for a few precious minutes. Beckman was watching, so she hit the door control right away, pushing down the block before she stepped inside herself. A few seconds later she came out again, stabilizing Casey as they walked slowly back to the main screen.

"What happened, Colonel?" asked Beckman the second they entered the room. "How did you end up in a cell?"

"I have no idea, General," said Casey. "The last thing I remember is Ellie saying 'I insist'."

Carina dumped him in a chair. "About what?"

Casey set his elbows on the table, braced his head in his hands. "She said she knew where she needed to be, and she could get there by herself, I should stay here and rest. I said I had orders to get her on her way."

Carina snickered. "Let me guess, she was walking behind you? And you trusted her because she's such a lady." She jabbed a thumb against his neck.

He slapped her hand away. "Yeah." He looked up at the screen. "I apologize, General. I have no excuse."

"Don't be silly, Colonel, you have plenty of excuse. You're recuperating from being poisoned. You trusted your doctor, and I agree with you she's every inch a lady, but those two qualities make her more dangerous, not less. Agent Miller, looks like you'd better put on some coffee."

Oh, no. Playing nursemaid is for playing, not for nursing. "Let me get him an epi-pen from Medical, General. Chuck and Sarah used one on me the last time I was tranqed. I can't say it's pleasant, but it is effective."

"Good idea, Agent Miller. Do it. We need Casey in as top a form as he can muster."

Now Casey began to get suspicious. "Why is that, General?"

"Ellie's plane is not where it's supposed to be."

In the Belgian's compound in Thailand…

Dr. Mueller growled, annoyed and exasperated. He turned from his readouts to Chuck himself, and his machines.

"What is happening now?" said De Smet. "Have you finally managed to succeed."

"Something is wrong," said Mueller. "He is reacting as he should right up to the end, but every time he's ready to take that last step something shuts him down. Something is blocking me."

"If I lose my investment you will lose considerably more than that, Doctor, and frankly, you are boring me. Try harder."

"I am stimulating his hippocampus as much as I dare. If he becomes aware that he is dreaming it is all over."

"Then he must not become aware, Doctor."

"Phase Three?" said Mueller. "Lobotomize him? That is very risky. We could lose the baby with the bathwater."

"Can you do it?"

The guards worked for De Smet, not himself. There was only one answer Mueller could give, and survive. "Yes, I can do it."

"Fine," said the Belgian. "Do it."

Carina came back quickly. "I found the pen, General. I also found this." She held up an envelope.

"Is it sealed?"

Carina handed the pen to Casey, and flipped the envelope over. "Yes."

"Don't open it."

"Wasn't planning to."

"Good." The General gave the matter some thought as Casey jabbed himself in the leg. "Put it in the safe, hopefully we won't need it."

"What is it?"

"It's plausible deniability, Agent Miller."

"Oh, crap," said Casey. "She's on her way to Thailand, isn't she?"

"It would appear so, Colonel. They're maintaining radio silence but they had to refuel, and we're tracking them now. Agent Miller, get your notes together, you'll be needing them. I'm arranging transportation now. She has a head start, but you'll be faster."

Faster and dirtier, just the way she liked it. "We're going after Chuck?"

"Of course not, our hands are still tied on that front," said Beckman. "But we have either an asset on the ground in need of extraction, or a private citizen in possession of top secret materials in a war zone. Either way you two have to get to Ellie as soon as may be."

Somewhere in Thailand…

The crowd cheered. Money changed hands and liquor flowed. The big man in the big chair watched from on high as minions scurried and profit was made, unaware of the danger he was in.

The blonde bitch in the pit was giving his customers the best show they'd seen in months, and all for nothing. He'd have gladly revealed the Belgian's location just to get rid of him, but the blonde hadn't even tried to bargain. She must really want this man back. Or she just wanted to kill someone.

Or both.

Sarah hit, and hit again, the cords on her fingers taking the pain for her. Her opponent went down under her fists, and some ancient notion of fair play held her back from finishing him for a crucial second. He came up, tossing a handful of sand in her face.

"Ah!" she yelled, blinded, and he kicked her away. He stood as she fell, and one of the big man's minions tossed him a knife.

Sarah flailed about desperately, expecting to die. She would die and Chuck would die. Somewhere on her left she heard the sound of death approaching, as her enemy slashed the air with his knife. She rolled away from the sound, her hand coming down on something cold and alive. She grabbed the snake and threw it.

Frost watched as Sarah distracted the other fighter, still unable to see. Well if they could cheat, she could cheat. "Sarah," she called, and her son's wife came to the sound of her voice. She turned to the man next to her. "May I borrow this?" she asked, indicating his canteen.

"Why, certainly," he said, handing it over.

"Thank you very much," she replied with a smile. Unscrewing the cap, she splashed water in Sarah's face, clearing her eyes. "Finish him," she said as Sarah blinked. "I'd hate to have to kill all these nice people but we've wasted enough time on this foolishness."

Doctor Eleanor Faye Bartowski-Woodcombe walked into the first bar she saw. Somewhere during her flight she'd lost the make-up, and ditched her civilian gear. She was everything her mother had ever forced her to be, and she looked it. "I need a boat. Who do I talk to?"

Fortunately this bar wasn't full of mercenaries. Those were upriver, waiting for the next little war to break out. "You can talk to me," said a man at the bar, not bothering to look at her.

No one was foolish enough to get in her way. "I need to get upriver, and I need to get there now."

The boatman glanced up, his lecherous gaze taking in everything Ellie had dressed to hide. "Sit down," he said. "Have a drink."

Ellie wouldn't use that stuff to sterilize a wound. "I'm sorry," she said calmly, "But what part of 'now' did you miss?"

"Now that's just rude," said the boatman. "Upriver, now, and rude, that's gonna cost you." He put his hand on hers. "Let's talk price."

"Yes, let's," said Ellie, sitting down next to him. She brought her face in close to his, their lips almost touching before she slammed the syringe in her other hand against his thigh. "Shhh, shhh," she whispered against his mouth, before he could cry out. She whispered in his ear, "Your heart is racing, you can't catch your breath." She breathed a laugh into his ear. "I recognize the symptoms. The antidote is my price. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, unable to catch his breath.

"Good." She pulled her hand out his grasp. "Your hands are shaking, that's how it begins…"

A/N2 A little darker Ellie than usual, but she's done playing around. The 'Mama Bear' Ellie was never played as much as she should have been. I actually had a line based on the episode in mind ("I only have one way to kill you, but it's a doozy…"), but that was a little too dark, and I really couldn't figure out how to work it in.