To say that the ride back to the Buy More was awkward would be like saying that Chuck was kind of a nerd. A massive understatement. From the moment they got in the car, Bryce made a point of ignoring the NSA Major, turning the volume up on the Oasis CD every time Casey looked like he was about to speak. Normally, Chuck would have turned the volume back down and listened to his other handler, but today he wasn't really feeling it. He didn't need to hear whatever unsettling and vaguely horrifying things Casey might say (the being locked underground until he forgot fresh air was quite enough for 2008). To say nothing of the fact that Bryce was clearly in no mood to talk. Neither was Chuck, for that matter. He much preferred to navigate LA traffic while working their way through What's The Story Morning Glory and pretending that this was just another college era road trip.

But, as with all road trips, it had to end. Chuck pulled the car into the Buy More parking lot, letting the opening notes of his and Bryce's favourite Oasis song abruptly give way to silence. Bryce tilted his head slightly, a wordless question hiding in the slightly wistful smile on his lips. Chuck nodded back. Getting information out of Jeff and Lester would be annoying but it was nothing compared to, say, having a gun held on him, or running through Stanford being chased by a crossbow wielding psychopath.

"Come on, ladies," Casey called, smirking as he got out of the car. "Your time is wasting."

And that was the exact reason Bryce hadn't let Casey speak. Having emotional awareness and empathy for situations really wasn't in Casey's skill set. Shooting things and offering occasional quips, sure. Just not reassurance or ignoring the elephants in the room.

"You're just racking up reasons I'm gonna shoot you one day, Casey," Chuck heard Bryce announce, his best friend coming around to open Chuck's door for him.

"No shooting Casey," Chuck sighed, offering the words by rote. Bryce just smiled at him, beaming that megawatt Hollywood smile as if he would never do such a thing. "Come on, let's go get that marlin."

.

Inside the Buy More, things were business as usual. Jeff and Lester were at the centre of a crowd, money being exchanged and calls ringing out. Chuck ran into the store behind Bryce (ever the track star), Casey hot on their heels.

"Jeff! Lester!" Chuck called, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "We need to talk. It's important."

Neither Jeff nor Lester deigned to glance up from their thumb war. "Yeah, see, Charlie," Lester replied, distracted. "This is your problem. Why is your time more valuable than mine?"

Well, fine. If that was the way Lester wanted to play it, Chuck would oblige. He nodded to Casey, stepping back as the major shouldered through the crowd and dragged both nerd herders away.

Bryce hummed thoughtfully, regarding Casey with a furrowed brow. "He does have some uses."

"One or two," Chuck allowed, following Casey into the Home Theatre Room.

"Where's the fish?" Casey demanded, getting straight to the point.

"Fish?" Jeff asked, playing dumb. "What fish?"

Casey did not look amused. Chuck wasn't amused either, but he couldn't channel the same raw, murderous intent that Casey was.

"Okay, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Chuck leaned on the wall beside a far too casual Bryce, both watching that manic light enter Casey's eyes. The one that promised an imminent ass kicking.

"Easy way is I shove his foot," Casey glanced at Lester. "Up your ass."

Jeff blinked, leaning a little towards Casey. "What's the hard way?"

Casey actually smiled. "I use my foot."

Chuck decided to step in before Casey actually followed through with his threats. "Listen, guys, we've seen the surveillance footage. We know you were here last night."

Lester scoffed; "Yeah, right."

"Yeah, no." Casey adopted his arms crossed so I don't preemptively strangle you for moronicness pose. "You two geniuses thought you were turning the cameras off, but instead you turned 'em back on."

Jeff and Lester shared wide-eyed looks of oh shit.

"We won't tell Big Mike," Chuck cajoled, looking from one idiot to the other. "I promise."

Neither of them found it within themselves to tell the truth.

Bryce waved an imperious hand from his position leaning against the wall. "Just get with the ass-kicking, Casey."

Casey smirked, crossing to the windows to pull the curtains on.

"What's happening?" Lester asked, looking from Chuck to Casey and back again.

Casey turned back from the curtains, smiling almost pleasantly. "Charles, would you give us the room, please?"

Chuck stared Lester dead in the eye, miming washing his hands of the matter. He turned to Bryce, raising a single eyebrow.

"Oh, you go on, buddy," Bryce smirked, looking for all the world as if there was no place he'd rather be.

"Chuck?" Lester called plaintively.

"It was his idea!" Jeff blurted, unsettled by the pure homicidal promise hiding under pleasantness in two pairs of blue eyes.

"What?!" Lester snapped his head to Jeff. "The whole reason we snuck in was to get your alcoholic ass another drink! You were getting the shakes."

"Not cool," Jeff protested. "It's a disease."

"You're a disease!" Lester snapped, sounding slightly hysterical now. "And you've diseased us all. Me, Chuck, Chuck's boyfriend, this guy."

"Calm down," Chuck bade, sensing rather than seeing the laughter in Bryce's eyes. "Calm down. It's okay. Look, Jeff," Chuck turned to him. "I totally understand your plight. We sympathise with you, okay? And we don't judge. Just tell us, what exactly happened?"

Jeff nodded, beginning an ambling tale of alcohol and woe. "We were across the street at Bennigan's and I got cut off again-"

"Jeff," Lester cut in, shaking his head. "If you're gonna tell the story, please don't butcher it." Lester turned to his audience, back in performance mode. "We were at Benni's, enjoying the deep fried sampler, and we decided to come back to the store for a nightcap in boss man's private stash."

Chuck listened in growing bemusement as Lester enumerated the tale of drunken idiocy and the decision to steal the marlin as retribution for Big Mike not having any alcohol left in his stash.

"And where is the marlin now?" Chuck asked, glancing between the two idiots.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna need a little compensation," Lester smirked, ever the opportunist.

Before Casey could inflict bodily harm, Bryce pushed off the wall and prowled towards Chuck's fellow nerds. "I don't think you understand the nature of your predicament," Bryce said softly. There was a hint of cold danger in his voice that Chuck wasn't entirely sure Jeff or Lester picked up on. "Now, Chuck has asked you very nicely where the Marlin is. And I think you'll find it in your best interests to tell him."

"Or what?"

Bryce sighed in disappointment. "Casey?"

Casey reached out, grabbing Lester's ear and twisting.

"Crude but effective," Bryce praised, returning to leaning casually against the wall.

Lester cried out, struggling against Casey's hold. "It's at Chuck's pad!"

"At my place?" Chuck repeated, glancing at Casey. With all his bugs around, how could he have missed that? "Why?"

"We didn't want to get busted with Big Mike's fish," Jeff explained as if it was obvious.

Motion out of the corner of his eye caught Chuck's attention. Bryce had his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right," he said softly. "We will be having words about your choice of Chuck as the scapegoat later. But now, you will tell no one what you told us. If you do, what Casey just did to you will fell like a nice hug. Are we understood?"

This time the undercurrent of danger in Bryce's voice did not go unnoticed.

Jeff leaned in closer to Jeff, whispering loudly; "He's scary for an accountant."

"I hate my job," Bryce informed them brightly. "Just give me a reason."

Chuck stepped a little behind Bryce, shaking his head pointedly at his fellow nerds.

Bryce turned and caught him, his smile twinkling in his eyes. "Let's go, buddy."

.

In very short time - too short for abiding to California state traffic laws - Chuck found himself searching his apartment for a four foot Marlin. He looked under his bed, searched his closet, wrenched the cushions off the couch. No dice. No marlin either. Casey clattered about in the kitchen, searching the oven by the sound of it. He came out of the kitchen with a knife, apparently seriously going to guy the couch.

"Stop," Chuck cried, holding his hands up. "I seriously doubt that these geniuses had the time to reupholster the couch."

Casey inclined his head. "Well, it has to be here somewhere." Casey lifted the couch with one hand, Chuck ducking under to check it out.

And that was when the front door opened.

"Chuck?" Ellie called, confusion plain in her voice.

Chuck ducked out from under the couch, offering his sister a smile. "Hey sis."

"John," Ellie added, unblinking in the face of Casey's smile. Her eyes darted towards the bedrooms. "Bryce."

"Hi, Ellie," Bryce called, as if this was the kind of thing that happened all the time.

"What's, uh, what's going on?" Ellie asked. "What's with the apartment?"

Chuck did not have the time to explain, nor did he have a suitable explanation yet. "I'll clean it up later," he promised, ducking back under the couch. "Right now we're looking for something."

Ellie, quite reasonably, asked; "What is it?"

"Look, I promise you, whatever you want to ask is not as important as what we're looking for right now," Chuck said, watching Ellie's eyes widen in dubious agreement.

"Okay," she replied, letting him have this one as she often did. "What are you looking for?"

Chuck glanced at Casey. Casey stared back at Chuck.

Bryce chuckled, footfalls soft as he came closer. "A four foot stuffed fish."

"A fish?" Ellie repeated, staring at Bryce as if he was pranking her.

"Marlin, actually," Casey unhelpfully clarified. "Got a spear like nose. And a mouth. Yeah."

"Okay, Chuck, I get it," Ellie dismissed, walking towards the kitchen. "Besides, if anything really important were going on, you have plenty of people in your life you can talk to about it."

That did not sound good. It sounded pointed and hurt, and Chuck did not like his sister sounding like that. Not if this might be the last chance he ever really had at seeing her.

"Hey, Ellie, wait." He wrapped her in a tight hug. "I love you," he said, memorising the way his big sister gave the best hugs. "Just in case."

Ellie frowned at him, dark eyes finding a place over Chuck's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"We really need to find that fish," Bryce replied, smile soft and apologetic.

"Talk to Morgan," Ellie offered, turning away with her shopping. "He left here last night with a four foot marlin."

Casey's eyes lit up. "He's mine."

Volumes of disbelief were conveyed in a minute raising of Bryce's right eyebrow. "Oh, no, no," he demurred, smirk almost gleeful. "I've put up with Grimes since 1999. He's mine."

"Buddy," Chuck began, not liking that light in his best friend's eyes at all. "Maybe you should both let me talk to Morgan."

"He's been giving me hell since freshman year," Bryce reminded him, as if Chuck wasn't aware of that. "He thinks I'm an accountant. It would blow his mind to know I'm a spy. And I can't tell him."

Bryce sounded so put out, Chuck couldn't help but pat his back sympathetically. "You know you're my best friend though, right?"

Bryce tilted his head, a gentler sparkle taking up residence in his eyes. "Keep talking."

.

.

Morgan was leaving Big Mike's office as Chuck, Casey and Bryce walked back in. Big Mike summoned Chuck immediately, Casey calling dibs on the "scraggly troll" while Bryce took up position as close to the office as he could get.

Chuck sat in the only chair, a lone desk lamp shining into his face. Big Mike and Detective Conway stood, looming above him; staring as if they expected him to crack and confess.

"I- I didn't rob the store."

"Did I ask you that?" Big Mike retorted, as if he could have a bigger concern. "Already he's talking about stolen goods. You might as well come out and admit you did it."

"Please," Conway cut in, narrowing his eyes at Big Mike. "Let me handle the investigation. Now, Mr Bartowski, we believe this was an inside job."

"None of these other imbeciles could even tie their shoelaces without Bartowski's say-so," Big Mike cried. "If there's a ringleader, you're looking at him. Where's my fish, Bartowski?!"

"I don't know where the fish is," Chuck stated honestly. Time for the old fallback; babbling. It had never let him down. "I wasn't even here when the store was robbed. I went home after work last night, with Bryce, and we had to hit the shops so he could make this chicken pasta thing that tastes really great, by the way. He's got this trick with the pasta but he won't tell me what it is because of one little fire back in sophomore year - as if I haven't learned to cook since then. Which is just rude because I know he can't get enough of my chicken soup, asks for it every time he's got so much as a sniffle. And, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Dinner. We had dinner with my sister and her boyfriend. And then we watched all four Batman movies - even the last one, which I wish I'd slept through. And then we went to bed. Seriously. I was nowhere near the store. I didn't take your fish."

Big Mike blinked at him, Conway stepping out to take a call. His manager turned up the heating, following Conway with a nefarious chuckle.

Bryce let himself in afterwards, perching in the desk with an easy smile. "The babbling, again?" There was a wordless really, buddy? tacked on the end that Chuck picked up on.

"It works," Chuck defended himself. "And I really was offended that you wouldn't tell me the pasta trick."

Bryce raised an eyebrow. "Why would I tell you the trick when I can just make it for you and save innocent kitchen appliances?"

Chuck paced to the window, turning and wagging a severe finger at his friend. "Don't give me your superspy logic," he chided, fighting back a grin. "If I end up in a dark hole somewhere, you'll regret not telling me."

"If the worst really happens, buddy," Bryce began, all traces of teasing gone. "I will regret not telling you a great many things. My pasta trick will not be one of them."

Back in the main store, Jeff and Lester's lunch arrived, Chuck hearing a faint female voice mention twenty nine deliveries. That was too much of a coincidence for Chuck.

"Twenty nine deliveries," he mused, turning to stare at the Pita Palace delivery girl. "Twenty nine bugs." Chuck looked up at the ceiling, feeling his resolve set in. "Come on, Bryce."

Bryce didn't so much as question it, following Chuck's lead as effortlessly as he always had.

.

They climbed through the ceiling, dropping down just outside Bryce's closet turned office space. There was a small vent not far down the corridor, a disc with the word boobies written on it hidden inside. And then, Bryce boosted Chuck back into the ceiling, nimbly vaulting up after him. They didn't have much time, but there was just enough to pull up the footage and send it to Sarah's email address. He probably should have sent it to Bryce and let him deal with it, but his friend had that stubborn look that said he wasn't leaving Chuck's side. And that was just the way Chuck wanted it.

Conway and Big Mike came back in, apparently not noticing Bryce propping up the opposite wall.

"So," Conway called. "You ready to tell us what happened last night?"

"He did," Bryce offered, nodding a greeting at the duo. "We were at my place. Eating pasta and watching Batman. I've had Kiss From A Rose stuck in my head all day because of that."

"You insisted."

"Really?" Bryce threw his hands in the air. "You're the one who said if we were going to marathon Batman, we might as well do it properly."

"Well, buddy, you were the one-"

Big Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. "Out!"

Bryce strolled from the office at Chuck's side, a grin bright on his lips. "No one appreciates the high level of our discourse."

"It's a crying shame," Chuck agreed, catching sight of Morgan as Casey was called in for his turn. "Remember, be nice, Bryce."

"I'm a delight," Bryce gasped, rocking back as if mortally wounded. "You should read my performance reviews sometime."

"The original ones or the ones you hacked and changed?"

Bryce glanced over his shoulder, laughter dancing in his eyes. "I'm sensing a lot of meanness, buddy," he grinned. "I want you to know, I probably deserve it."

"Oh, you definitely deserve it," Chuck agreed, smiling probably a little goofily back at him. "Now, let me handle Morgan. Just stand there and look menacing."

.

"We need to talk, man," Chuck announced, striding over to what once was the customer service desk. "It's important."

"Hey. Hey," Morgan whisper-cried, hurrying in his wake. "Chuck, Chuck. It's okay, man, I know about you and Sarah. And how she's more than just your girlfriend."

Chuck had no idea what Morgan was talking about. Sarah wasn't more than his girlfriend. She wasn't even his girlfriend.

"Just, man, promise me the Accountant didn't know first," Morgan continued, eyes deep and pleading.

Chuck glanced across at Bryce, broadcasting his confusion on all frequencies. "Buddy?"

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Bryce said honestly. "A fact of which I am eternally grateful."

Chuck nodded, looking back to Morgan to request elaboration. Only Awesome chose that moment to ring.

"After careful consideration of all potential proposals, I have made a decision," Devon announced, his words calm and certain. A complete counterpoint to Chuck's quiet breakdown. Because, the ring. He still didn't have the ring.

"Oh, let me guess," Chuck quipped, trying for a levity his hysteria didn't quite let him reach. "Naked 2k run?"

"Dinner, Chuck," Devon replied. "Romantic, candlelit dinner. Just the two of us."

Well, that actually sounded nice. Ellie would definitely love that.

"Wow," Chuck breathed. "Great."

"The coup de grace," Devon continued, smile plain in his voice. "Molten lava cake with two-carat diamond ring filling."

"Ellie will really love that," Chuck agreed, heart sinking in his chest. "Look, Devon, just promise me that you'll take care of my sister if anything were to happen."

"What's going to happen?" Devon waited a moment but Chuck couldn't find the words. "Oh. Hey. Cake hits the oven in two hours. Don't be late."

Two hours. A time that Chuck was almost certain he was not going to make. He turned slowly back around, ignoring Morgan in favour of the steady reassurance of Bryce's presence.

"What am I going to do?"

"Nothing, man," Morgan cut in. "You haven't even given Sarah the ring yet. Dude, there's plenty of time to call this whole thing off."

Chuck felt his eyes widen, reading the same realisation in Bryce's gaze. "Sarah, ring?"

"Yeah, the ring you got Sarah," Morgan reminded him, as if Chuck were the one spouting nonsense. "The one I took out of your locker."

Chuck whirled around, relief burning bright in his heart. "You mean the ring that Awesome got for Ellie."

"Oh thank God man," Morgan breathed, slumping in mirrored relief. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Morgan," Chuck cut over him. "Where. Is. The. Ring?"

"It's kind of complicated, but-"

Chuck slapped him lightly. It was not his finest moment and he would regret it soon, but it had to be done.

"It's in the freezer at the Wienerlicous. I put it in Big Mike's marlin-"

And whatever Morgan said after that was lost. Chuck and Bryce were out the door like someone had fired a starter's pistol.

.

By the time they got to the store, it was too late. The marlin was in two pieces and there was no receiver and no ring box to be found. Sarah distantly called for help, banging on the door of the freezer.

Bryce glanced at the floor, pulled out his phone and cursed quietly. "Okay, buddy. I need you to go to Sarah, I'm gonna see if I can find this Lizzie."

Before Chuck could protest, his best friend pushed him towards the back, offered a soft "be careful" and darted out the doors like the superspy he was.

Sarah banged on the locked freezer, eyes lighting up in relief when she saw Chuck.

"Oh, God," Chuck said, staring at the locked door as the image of his impending future slammed into him like a pair of foton torpedoes. "It's over Sarah. They're going to stick me in some tiny cell with no windows."

"Okay, Chuck," Sarah called, rubbing at the skin of her arms. "I need you to focus. We can still get Lizzie if you can get me out of here."

"How?"

Sarah pointed over to the right of Chuck. "I keep a backup piece in the jar of horseradish sauce."

"Horseradish?" Chuck repeated, disgusted. "Who puts horseradish on hotdogs?"

"Chuck!"

Right. Okay. Chuck upended the horseradish, gingerly picking up the gun between two fingers.

"Shoot the lock, Chuck," Sarah called, staring at him with all the belief that he could do it.

Chuck could not do that. And he didn't even have the chance to. Detective Conway came bursting in, taking the gun from Chuck and hauling him away in cuffs.

.

.

Bryce returned to the Wienerlicious, headache pulsing from chasing several deadends thanks to a little hacked camera footage. Casey and Sarah were standing in front of the hidden computers, postures tense.

"Where's Chuck?" Bryce asked, scanning the store in the highly unlikely event he'd missed his best friend's lanky frame.

"A detective took him," Sarah replied, tone far too gentle.

Bryce only paid peripheral notice to things like Sarah's tone and Casey's everything. Chuck was gone. Bryce had left him and Chuck had been taken. Chuck was stuck in some dingy cell somewhere, alone, and Bryce had promised him. He'd promised him that he'd be okay, that they'd find a way out of this.

The Wienerlicious was too small, the walls closing in, but Bryce paced it anyway. He just had to think of a plan. Otherwise, he'd be explaining his failures again to the only people he held himself accountable to.

Dimly, he heard Casey and Sarah giving a briefing. He paid it no attention. He had bigger problems than dealing with his boss's bureaucracy.

"...The Intersect is no longer your concern, Agent Walker."

Bryce paused mid turn. She said what now? He vaulted back over the counter, glaring into the screen. "Where is Chuck?"

"Chuck is on his way to the extraction point right now," Graham explained. "We decided to transfer him to lockdown immediately." Graham peered critically at them. "Is there a problem?"

Graham bet his bald head that there was a damn problem. Fortunately (for the career that Bryce was finding increasingly little worth in), Bryce was too much of a good spy to let that show. He amused himself with imagining exactly how he would infiltrate Graham's office and deal with the situation should anything actually happen to Chuck.

He stood there, calm and blank faced, letting Beckman order them to focus on finding the Fulcrum agent.

Casey terminated the connection, glancing past Sarah to Bryce. "We'll take care of Lizzie. You go get Chuck."

Bryce stared at Casey, almost certain he was having some sort of stress related hallucination. That was almost human of Casey.

"Don't make me change my mind," Casey smirked, rolling his eyes.

Bryce nodded once, checking the clip on his gun. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Casey dismissed. "This doesn't mean I like you."

"Right back atcha," Bryce smirked, nodding at Sarah as he left.

.

.

While Bryce and Casey were having their snowflakes are now falling in hell conversation, Chuck was stuck in the back of a CIA agent's car, staring down the barrel of an unpromising future.

"So," he began, forcing as much cheer into his voice as he could. "This is it, huh? Going to get my own padded cell."

Room for one. No watching Ellie's smile as she tells him she's engaged; no playing the latest Call of Duty with Morgan; no dinners and movie nights and crashing at Bryce's. Forever.

"Do I get a bed, or is my whole room kind of like a bed?"

Conway glanced over his shoulder, almost looking reassuring. Well, sorry pal, you're the wrong spy to reassure me. "It's not as bad as it sounds. The underground complex where you will be living has state-of-the-art security and amenities. You'll even be allowed outside to visit controlled locations."

Well, that just made it all better, didn't it?

Nice as the CIA might make it, it still wouldn't be home. It wouldn't feel like home.

"I can't leave without telling Ellie something, a reason for going," Chuck cried, looking to Conway hopefully. "What should I say?"

"Nothing," Conway replied. "It's safer for them if you just... Disappear."

No. It wasn't safer. Not for Ellie. He couldn't do that. Not just disappear. Not like Mom did. Not like their father had. It wasn't the way they did things.

He'd really hoped that if he had to be in this situation, Bryce would be the one taking him in. Although, he had a sneaking suspicion that if Bryce were in the front seat right now, they'd be making for the border to Mexico and giving the CIA the bird.

Unfortunately, the only CIA-related bird in Chuck's future was apparently going to be the helicopter sent to extract him.

.

Chuck stood on top of a rain wet helipad, cuffs biting into his wrists, Conway's hand gripping tight at his arm. He could feel it in his stomach - a heavy, sinking feeling. This was it. The end. No more fresh air. No more freedom.

"Long Shore!"

Bryce ran up the stairs to join them, not even out of breath. His eyes fell on Chuck, a quick flicker of a gaze, making sure he was okay. Chuck nodded slightly, wary of the CIA agent beside him.

"Is there a problem, Agent Larkin?"

"Bryce," Chuck called, pulling his arm out of Conway's hold. "I don't want to go yet. I-"

"It's okay, buddy," Bryce smiled, soft and easy. "You're not going anywhere." Bryce's smile fell, expression turning cold and calm as he turned to Conway. "Agents Casey and Walker are tracking the Fulcrum mole. They should have her in custody soon. So, we're holding off on extracting Chuck."

"If there was a change in the operation, I would have been contacted," Conway scoffed, Chuck beginning to slowly sidle away from him. "I have my orders, Agent Larkin."

"Well, so do I," Bryce replied, taking a minute step closer to Chuck. "This is my operation. Fulcrum, Chuck, all of it. It's mine. Chuck is mine. Just, please, give us some time."

"Please," Chuck echoed, pouring his desperation to stay into the plea.

"You've got one minute," Conway sighed. "One." He walked to the other end of the helipad, giving them their privacy.

"I'm sorry," Bryce whispered, coming to a stop just in front of him. "If I hadn't sent you in alone-"

"There would've been nothing you could have done," Chuck replied, shaking his head. "But, buddy, I'm not ready. I'm not ready to disappear."

"I know," Bryce uttered, quiet and devastated. "I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Chuck shook his head quickly. They were not spending their last moments like this. "I need you to do something for me," he said instead, getting straight to it. "I need you to talk to Ellie and to Morgan and the others, and tell them- Tell them." Chuck trailed off. "I don't know. If I'm supposed to be dead, tell them something that might make it feel okay. Just, make sure they know how much I love them."

"I'll tell them," Bryce promised, blinking as if it masked the sheen in his eyes. "I won't leave them with no answers, I promise."

"And hey, Bryce, there's a silver lining." Chuck tried to grin so hard it came out like a grimace. "At least you won't have to be an accountant any more."

Bryce chuckled, and it sounded like it hurt. "Chuck, I'd be an accountant for the rest of my god-damned life if it meant you spent it free."

Chuck's eyes burned; the force of Bryce's statement burrowing into all the places that ached. "Come on, Bryce, don't make me cry."

"Yeah, it's not a pretty sight," Bryce quipped, smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.

"And, y'know, it's not goodbye for us, right?" Chuck continued, clutching onto that thought like the lifeline it was. "You'll come round to the padded cell so often it'll be like you're a resident too, right?"

"You can count on it," Bryce promised, something like his old cocky smirk lighting his eyes. "I'll be the guy in the black tactical gear blowing up the wall and busting you out."

Now that definitely sounded more like Bryce Larkin, superspy.

"Tell me when and I'll cook something, create a distraction."

That, finally, drew a laugh from Bryce's lips. It was wet and quiet, but it was real.

"I don't think the situation is quite that dire, there, buddy," he teased, patting his arm.

"Time's up," Conway called, summoning Chuck forward.

Chuck turned, insides twisting at the helplessness Bryce couldn't hide. "I'll see you around, Bryce."

Bryce nodded, tight and brief. "Take care of yourself, buddy."

Chuck smiled, drinking in his last moments of true freedom; the crisp night air, the sounds of Los Angeles below them, the sight of Bryce standing there on a wet helipad.

.

There was the muffled pop of a silenced gunshot, Conway toppling to the ground. Bryce was at Chuck's side in an instant, gun shot out of his hand by the approaching Fulcrum agent.

They ran down the stairs, Lizzie taking potshots at them as they went. Bryce pushed Chuck behind a metal shelving unit, whispering for him to stay quiet.

"I listened to the receiver," Lizzie called, footsteps prowling closer. "Do you know how many agents are looking for Bryce Larkin?"

Bryce shrugged, offering a cocky smirk that Chuck felt he probably deserved. He nodded at Chuck, leading him quietly through the building.

"And all the time, the Intersect was here," Lizzie continued, shooting where they'd just been. "Wait until my superiors find out."

Chuck found himself crouched beside a chain link fence, watching Bryce analyse their options. "What if I surrender?"

"What if Casey comes into work wearing fairy wings and a bright pink tutu?" Bryce retorted, raising his eyebrows. "Neither of those things are going to happen."

"I have only one question, Chuck," Lizzie called. "Who's the ring for?"

"She has Ellie's ring," Chuck whispered, Bryce nodding.

"I hate this," he murmured, deftly unpicking the lock on Chuck's cuffs. "Try to distract her." Bryce paused, coming back to him. "And don't get yourself hurt."

"Don't get shot," Chuck muttered back, rewarded with a bright flash of Bryce's grin as the spy went off to be a superspy.

.

Lizzie chased Chuck back onto the helipad, shouting that she was not going to go away. Chuck got that, stubbornness did seem to be a trait Fulcrum looked for in the nut jobs they recruited.

"You really want to take me in?" Chuck called, walking backwards up the stairs and onto the helipad. "You're going to have to sweeten the deal a little bit for me. The CIA, they're offering me a padded cell. Real cush. Can you beat that?" Chuck stared down two guns, wondering at the irony that he might get shot with his best friend's gun. Again. "I'm a guy who enjoys a good steam. Can you- can you do a good steam room?"

"I don't really think you're in a position to bargain, Chuck," Lizzie smirked. "I have two guns. What do you have?"

"Me," Bryce announced, tackling Lizzie to the ground.

"Yeah, I've got Bryce," Chuck agreed, wincing at the kick Bryce took to his ribs. "Don't break the agent!" Bryce retaliated with a brutal martial arts combo that sent Lizzie stumbling. "Or the ring! Buddy, don't hurt the ring!"

"Little busy right now," Bryce called, stepping in close to take the power and range out of Lizzie's attacks.

Casey and Sarah came running on to the helipad, guns drawn. But there was nothing they could do. Lizzie used Bryce's momentum, pitching them both off the roof.

Chuck went cold all over, his muscles locking into place. His heart was beating so fast he ought to be hearing nothing but his pulse in his ears, but there was only the surprised gasp Bryce made, ringing endlessly.

"Bryce!" Sarah cried, her panic propelling Chuck forward.

"Bryce!" Chuck yelled, stumbling towards the edge. He looked down through the links in the mesh that supported him, staring down at what he knew was going to be his best friend's body splayed on the concrete.

Bryce was stumbling to his feet in a rubbish skip, slamming Lizzie's head into the side to knock her unconscious.

"Not bad, Larkin," Casey mused, nodding his approval.

Chuck just laughed, sheer beautiful relief bursting through him, bright and giddy like champagne. "I'm gonna," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

.

"That was fun," Bryce grinned, vaulting out of the dumpster with all the grace born of his gymnastics training.

"You are insane," Chuck announced, shaking his head helplessly. He stepped in, ignoring the faint scent of garbage, and hugged his friend tight. "So certifiable. But I'm so glad you're okay."

Bryce squeezed a little tighter, patted his back twice and stepped away. "I'm indestructible, you know that," he grinned, tapping the gunshot scar near his heart. "And, is that really any way to speak to your best friend in the world? The guy who's got your sister's engagement ring?"

Bryce waggled his left hand, the diamond glittering from his pinkie.

Chuck grabbed his hand, staring at the diamond ring in disbelief. Bryce had fallen from a helipad into a dumpster and still remembered to grab Ellie's ring. And, to top it off, he had the nerve to stand there like it was completely normal. Just the way he ended every mission. Like this wasn't one of the biggest things that was going to happen in Chuck's family. Like this whole day hadn't been a disaster that Chuck couldn't believe they'd walked away from.

"You are unbelievable," Chuck informed him, idly noting that the diamond was sparkling like Bryce's eyes tended to do.

Bryce frowned, tilting his head teasingly. "Is that a thank you?"

"You know it is," Chuck grumbled, pulling him into another hug. He didn't know what his face was showing and he didn't care. They had Ellie's ring and the Fulcrum agent had been neutralised, and Chuck wasn't in an underground bunker and Bryce wasn't dead.

Bryce rubbed his back slowly, breaths a little shorter in Chuck's ears. "It's going to be okay now, buddy," he promised, leaning a little into Chuck. "Hey, Sarah. Casey. Lizzie's knocked out in there. She's got the receiver. Chuck's gonna drive us-"

"To the hospital," Chuck blurted, feeling the tense way Bryce was breathing. "I think he's broken some ribs."

"Bruised," Bryce retorted, then winced as if realising that wasn't the brightest thing to admit to around Chuck. "And it's fine. We've gotta get the ring to Awesome."

Chuck shook his head, towing Bryce by the wrist to the car. "He's waited this long, he'll understand waiting a little longer."

"I hate hospitals," Bryce muttered, but he didn't stop moving after Chuck.

Chuck nodded sympathetically. "I know. You hate being an accountant too, but you keep doing that for me."

Bryce's frown faded into a softer smile. "Yeah, I do."

.

.

It was a little after dawn by the time they were driving away from the hospital. The ER wait had been endless and annoying, but Bryce had been in and out, diagnosed with a couple of broken ribs and enough bruising coming to make his body a Jackson Pollock. But, he'd let one of Ellie's colleagues bind his ribs and write out a prescription Chuck knew he'd conveniently forget to fill, and now they were on their way home.

Normally, after nights like that, Chuck would have entered through the Morgan door. But, Bryce's ribs were in no state to allow that, so they quietly slipped in through the front door.

Devon was sitting on the couch, Ellie asleep with her head on his lap. He saw them standing there, exhausted as they could only be after hours in the ER, and spread his hands.

"I'm so sorry," Chuck said, quietly as he could. "Minor medical emergency. But," he pulled the ring from his pocket. "Sorry it's so late."

"Thank you," Devon smiled, catching the ring. "I always knew I could trust you with my family jewels. So to speak."

Ellie stirred, shifting about on the couch.

"Good luck," Chuck whispered, nudging Bryce towards his bedroom. He didn't know about Bryce, but collapsing fully clothed and passing out was sounding pretty good right about now.

"Mission accomplished," Bryce murmured, leaning against Chuck's closed bedroom door.

"It'd make one hell of a story at their wedding," Chuck agreed, slumping onto his chair. "Not that we can actually tell it, but y'know."

"You know what we can do?" Bryce asked, pushing off the door with a well concealed wince. He nodded to the Morgan door then towards the living room.

"Spy? On my sister's proposal?" Chuck knew it was a bad idea, but he followed Bryce out the window, keeping a hand on his back to make sure his friend didn't overdo it.

They made it in time to watch Devon go down on one knee, Ellie throwing her arms around him as she obviously said yes.

"She looks so happy," Chuck breathed, watching joy suffuse her face. The ring glittered on her finger, looking right. Looking like it belonged.

"She is," Bryce agreed, weight leaning a little more against him. "It's all going to be okay, Chuck. You're not leaving them."

Chuck believed him, he did. It was just... "But Fulcrum keep getting closer."

"I'm not going to let that happen," Bryce promised, quiet and sure. "You're staying right here and Fulcrum aren't going to touch us. Now," Bryce nudged him with his elbow, offering a teasing grin. "Go congratulate your sister."

"You're coming with me," Chuck grinned, pushing the heavy thoughts away.

"It's a family thing," Bryce demurred, moving to move away.

Chuck rolled his eyes, grabbing his wrist. "You're family, Bryce."

.

Chuck opened the door, hoping Awesome would be too preoccupied to notice they'd come back in again. Ellie made the happiest noise he'd ever heard, throwing her arms around him.

"Congratulations, sis," Chuck beamed, grinning so wide his cheeks were going to hurt. "I'm so happy for you."

Ellie thanked him in a quiet breath, stepping away so Devon could hug him too. Chuck offered his congratulations to Devon too, soaking in the happiness of his family.

Bryce clapped Devon on the shoulder, smile a little tighter from pain but no less joyful because of it.

Ellie hugged Chuck again, so happy Chuck felt he could burst.

Maybe things weren't perfect, and Fulcrum were still out there. But, right now, none of that mattered. There was just this moment; his sister's happiness filling all the voids in his heart, his family growing bigger. Let Fulcrum, the CIA, the NSA make their plans, nothing could touch this moment. Right now, everything was just the way it was supposed to be.