A/N A moment in the sun for poor Stanley. At least Sarah doesn't hit him this time. Carina does double duty here, not only taking Casey's place as the traitor in Tic Tac, she's also taking Shaw's place as the traitor in the larger arc. Like Bryce, Carina had a preexisting backstory that made her betrayal feel worse than a late-comer like Shaw. Plus I like Carina as a character, but she was kind of boring as the series sexpot, so I'm making her less of a caricature, starting here.

"General, Chuck didn't commit treason!"

"I know he didn't, Agent Bartowski, that's why I had him detained."

Maybe Chuck could have explained the logic to her, but she didn't get it on her own.

"Someone went to a great deal of trouble to make it look like Charles Carmichael's team committed treason last night, and I thought it best to let them think they had succeeded until I knew the facts of the matter."

"You had them all brought in?"

"Colonel Casey, yes. We haven't been able to find Agent Miller."

Dammit, Carina, this is not a good night for your catting about! "Have you checked with Morgan Grimes?"

"It was the second place we looked, since her relationship with him is one of the more stable she's had in recent weeks. We found no sign of her." Beckman sighed. "I'll talk to her former DEA superiors next. If necessary we'll issue a BOLO, but that's a step I'd rather not take."

"I understand."

"If you have any pull with her, Sarah, use it. Bring her in before things get out of hand."

Sarah looked away. If she'd had any pull with Carina this whole thing likely wouldn't have happened. Is that what this was, her inexplicable jealousy? Was Carina trying to strike at her through Chuck?

No. Sarah refused to believe it. Carina was a loose cannon, but not that loose. She wasn't.

She'd better not be.

"Gentlemen, congratulations on a successful mission."

Chuck rattled the cuffs fastening him to the chair. "General, if it's all the same to you, I'd have settled for a bouquet of flowers, maybe a nice card…"

"Mr. Bartowski, do be silent. Thank you. Your attention to detail is admirable, trying to make it look like a real incursion, but that manhole cover has been a known entry point for some time. Still, bonus points to you for thinking of it."

"Were you watching us the whole time?"

"Of course. We pixilate your faces, naturally, but Mr. Fitzroy likes to watch, so he can change the patterns and make it harder for the next team. He was very torn about level fourteen, his inner fanboy came out when it didn't stop you, but I think he was secretly hoping it would. I can think of no agent who could have passed it."

"I'd applaud his effort, it was certainly grade A, but, you know…" Chuck pulled his hands as close as he could to each other against the chains.

"Mr. Bartowski, if you're quite finished? Thank you. Only our best, most trustworthy teams are chosen for this duty, so you can imagine our dismay when the vault sensors reported two boxes opening, not just the one we expected. If either of you gentlemen have anything to say about this, now's the time."

Casey grunted nothing, just turned a fierce scowl on Chuck.

"Mr. Bartowski? Chuck!" He looked up at her. "What happened in the vault?" Beckman remembered the interview Ellie had done. "Now, Chuck!"

Chuck responded to female authority as he always had, always would. "I…I don't want to say this, General, but–"

"Yes?"

"I don't know."

"He doesn't know?"

"That's his claim, Doctor. He remembers penetrating the CIA's toughest security measures and accessing a locked vault as if it was a dream."

"A dream?"

"Is that significant?"

"It's better than a total blackout. And it means that he has at least partial awareness of events. Did he say if he was an agent, in his dream, or just a passenger?"

"So you believe his claim is plausible?"

"It's more plausible than treason, if that's what you mean."

"That's what I mean. Ellie, prepare to join a conference call in fifteen. You, Mr. Fitzroy, the developer of the security measures, and Casey will go over every second of footage until an explanation is found."

"An explanation for what?"

"Agent Carina Miller still has not been located. Sarah is trying to track her down. Agent Miller may not have committed treason last night, but either way we need to know what she did."

First things first. "Morgan, it's Sarah. Is this a good time?"

"Hold on a second, Sarah." Morgan's voice went distant as he put down his phone. "Miss McHugh, your waffles are done. I hope they're the way you like them. Thank you." He came back on line. "What can I do for you, Sarah?"

"I'm looking for Carina. You haven't seen her since last night, have you?"

"No, and that's very strange. I don't know what's going on with that girl."

"What do you mean?"

"She called me, at, like, stupid o'clock in the morning, and asks me if I'm all right. She knows I'm up, why didn't she just come over? I even asked her to come over, but she was all evasive about it. You don't think she's planning to break up with me, do you?"

"No, Morgan, I think it's something much more serious than that–"

"Serious? What does that mean? You're her friend, you should know. You don't mean 'serious' serious, do you?"

"No, Morgan, it's not–look, can you just please be sure to give me a call if she gets in touch with you. It's very important, life and death important."

"Yeah, sure Sarah, when I know, you'll know."

"Thanks, Morgan." She ended the call, placed another. "She called Morgan. After the mission but before we would have checked. No, all he said was that she wanted to make sure he was all right. No, she didn't say why she was worried but I think we can guess. I don't suppose Chuck–no, I guess not. Okay, I'm going down the playlist, and after that I'll play it by ear." She ended the call, decided it was already 'after that', and placed another. "Hi, Hannah, I know it's pretty early where you are but I'm in a bit of a bind. Thanks. You remember Carina, don't you…?"

Ellie realized she'd really gotten spoiled by all the face-to-face meetings she'd participated in lately. Due to security concerns, neither she nor Stanley Fitzroy could be allowed to see each other. Instead she was on the phone with everyone, looking at a screen with the footage from last night's mission. Not that she needed to see the man whose name meant 'son of the king' to know that he was probably short, maybe balding, and really big fan of her brother's alter ego.

"Look at this!" he almost shouted in her ears, "Look at this! Not only does he deduce the dart sequence after only two tosses, he gathers up the coins while defeating it! It's incredible!"

"Yes, Stanley, it's incredible," she agreed yet again. "It's also perfectly normal for Charles Carmichael. Can we move on, please?"

Stanley was more than glad to move on, more than glad to show not only the fruits of his own genius–which, she had to admit, were pretty good–but even more the ease with which the team defeated them. A series of tests designed to exceed the capacities of three agents was defeated almost single-handed.

Suddenly the screen flared.

"What was that?"

"That was level eight," said Stanley, reversing the recording. "Agent Carmichael was juggling explosives–they had to be in contact with human flesh for at least one second in every fifteen– while his team defeated the eyes, but one of his men had taken a hit on the previous level, you can see him sag there. Agent Carmichael lost control of the detonators in his concern, and only his man's lunge–well, fortunately those were nothing but flash-bangs, but even so, Agent Carmichael's hand could have been severely injured."

When the image cleared the hall was empty.

"Where'd they go?"

"Oh, they were in the stairwell at this point," said Stanley casually. "Not even temporary blindness could stop this team! We pick them up again on level nine."

"You have no monitors in the stairwells?"

For once his obnoxious self-assurance wavered. "Yes, of course we do, but those aren't part of the trace-cell monitoring, I didn't get any copies of those recordings."

"Get them, please. Let's continue."

"Level nine." The door opened.

"What's that?"

"What's what? It's just the team."

"No it's not. It's different."

"Ellie, what are you seeing?" asked Casey.

"It's not the same man."

"I thought so."

Stanley was incredulous. "What are you talking about? Of course it's the same man. What did they do, smuggle in a second super-agent?"

"Go back," said Ellie. "I want to see them leaving the door to level eight."

Stanley skipped the recording backward.

"Look at that. You like to look at Agent Carmichael so much, look at the way he's moving now." They watched, not just the motion, but the touching, the casual gestures. "Go back to level seven."

Another skip backward.
"Look at him now." Again they watched him moving unconsciously, his mind focused on the challenge ahead. She wished she could see his face. "Six. Five. Four. Now go to nine."

The difference was stark. The man who came out of door was unconsciously graceful, yes, but his motions were quick, and economical. The extra gestures were gone. He touched no one. "It's still Carmichael, but not the same Carmichael."

"Wow, like he's…concentrated himself!" said Stanley, "That's just…neat! This makes so much sense. I read and file all of Agent Carmichael's reports, you know, and this–"

"Casey, I want a complete report of everything that went on in that stairwell, eyes only to myself and General Beckman."

"Yes ma'am."

"Continue, Mr. Fitzroy."

The show continued, as the team defeated obstacle after obstacle, even more easily, if anything, than before. "Here comes my favorite part," said Stanley.

"Why is that?"

"I created level fourteen specifically for Agent Carmichael. You can't beat this one with skill, or reflexes. Only brains, cleverness, cunning will succeed here."

"Only if you call obscure geek knowledge 'brains'," said Casey. "A pattern so obscure you were sure he'd lose, that a geek like you could beat the great Agent Carmichael."

"You cheated," said Ellie.

"I didn't cheat," said Stanley heatedly, "And besides, the whole point is to come up with a test that no enemy agent can pass. Which I did."

"Which is great, until they start sending in enemy analysts to figure it out as easily as he did."

"Casey, drop it. But make a note of it in your report to the General. What's on level fifteen?"

"Nothing," said Stanley, "Just trivia, a bit of a joke, really."

"Nerd humor," agreed Casey. "And the vault itself."

"Show me that."

They watched as Casey took up his position while Agents Carmichael and Miller went inside. They watched as they came out again a minute later.

"Look at him now," said Casey.

"I see it. Stanley, go back to the beginning, the door to this level."

"Sure." The door to level fifteen opened, and three people came through.

"Interesting."

"Yes. Less than the first, more than the second." Like a man waking from a dream. "Fast forward to them leaving the vault. Yes."

"Look at that," said Casey. "That's me touching my cigar–"

"And Carmichael, touching the pocket with the note–"

"And there's Carina. I wonder what she's touching."

"Mr. Fitzroy, please do an analysis of Agent Miller's pockets, especially that one. Make it your top priority. Forward it to me and the General, eyes only. I also want a copy of the recording for levels eight and fourteen, and that stairwell on eight. Send them to me via the General."

"I will."

"Thank you, gentlemen. I will go now to compose my preliminary report. If I need anything further I will contact you." She disconnected her end of the call. "Manoosh!"

Her assistant stuck his head through the doorway. "What's up, boss?"

"We've got work to do. I need you to do an analysis of the possible effects of bright lights on the Intersect host."

He smiled. "How bright?"

"Several flash-bangs, simultaneous detonation, varying distances. They'll be sending us video."

"On it."

Sarah looked up at the building she thought she left behind. Her father had 'left' her some money, but she'd spent none of her emergency fund on lodging as a trainee. The basic stipend included a room, and a roommate. Who'd sworn she would never return.

Sarah'd begun to doubt Carina's sworn word.

She walked up the stairs rather than trust the rickety elevator, remembering the times they'd played Catch and Release, a slightly more serious version of hide and seek, in these halls. No doubt the step up there still creaked.

When she finally got to the door, it was locked. She picked it. The room beyond looked almost the same as it had when she occupied it, but no one lived there now, the furniture unused and in some cases unusable.

"Don't move, Blondie."

Sarah raised her hands.

"Put your gun and phone on that table."

With no real choice, Sarah obeyed.

"Turn around." When Sarah turned, Carina tossed her a pair of cuffs with the hand that wasn't holding a gun. "Your wrist, that pipe." When Sarah complied, Carina put her gun away.

Sarah watched in dismay as her phone went into Carina's pocket. "You know this won't hold me."

"It's not supposed to. For Charles' sake I'm letting you walk away from this one. Follow me again and I'll drop you."

"Carina–"

"Don't…say that name again, Agent Carmichael. I'm done watching your back. And his."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you I'd take good care of Charles, and I did. Just ask him. But I'm done now." She walked away.

"Yes," said Sarah to no one, "You're done."