A/N: Ownership of Chuck is maintained by a small cabal of reclusive investors established on a Caribbean island so small it has no name. Ok, not really.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, for no particular reason and somewhat unusually for her, Sarah was the first member of Team B up and showered. With the rest of her team just beginning to move around the suite, she gave Chuck a quick kiss and went out to the bakery she had seen a few doors down from the hotel. They had certainly gotten lucky with the weather, she thought as she walked through the streets of Interlaken. Although cold, the day was bright and clear, the sky a fresh shade of blue. She was able to greet the scattering of other early morning pedestrians with a cheery 'guten morgen.' The bakery was located in a touristy Swiss chalet style building, but it had always seemed crowded when they passed it, so Sarah was hoping for the best. She bought a bag of chocolate croissants to take back to the room for all four of them. Notwithstanding her proficiency with German, she had to admit that what people said about Swiss German was accurate, even fluent German speakers could find it pretty hard to follow.

On her way back through the hotel's lobby, she paused to watch as the hotel staff set up one of the banquet rooms for that afternoon's wedding of the Russian arms dealer and the French spy.

The night before, Casey had shared what he had learned about the DGSE seduction mission against Federov. Both she and Amy had shuddered at the idea of an eighteen month long seduction, but accepted it as a legitimate explanation. The woman's job with DGSE also explained Ilsa's...Lt. Colonel Fabron's, prior cover when she knew Casey. The position as an AP photographer was ideal to send her out into the world's hot spots on behalf of French intelligence. But to include a wedding...a marriage... on this current assignment...uggghhhh. Sarah felt tremendous sympathy for the French spy.

She also found herself uncomfortable with the very idea of what the woman planned to do that afternoon and wasn't too sure why. If the spy could go through with a marriage merely as part of the charade of seduction, the institution itself couldn't be a very important one at all, at least not to her. As she thought about it, it seemed to be the implied dismissal of the seriousness of marriage itself that bothered her. Her own thoughts and feelings surprised her. She didn't know why she felt that way.

She watched the hotel's personnel swathing furniture with white cloth. A wedding. She had never been a girl to dream about a wedding. Playing dress up with a dishtowel as a veil. Dragoon the boy next door to act as the groom. Nope. As she got older the idea of a wedding...of marriage, just didn't enter her mind. If she had thought about it at all, it would have been some hypothetical thing that happens to other people... maybe happens to other people...like retirement. It just wasn't part of her world view or a part of the way she thought about herself. She didn't even have any married friends and had never been in a wedding party.

Certainly, she didn't have any decent role models in her life that she could look to for a testament to the institution of marriage. Her parent's marriage had been nothing but disastrous until her father had up and left with her to travel the country committing crimes. Even before that, while they were still together her mom and dad were constantly either fighting or nursing their grievances and anger in stony sullen silence. As an adult, she blamed her father for it entirely. If her mother deserved any blame at all, it was merely for her deliberate blindness to her father's character.

The problem with her father was very deep seated. It wasn't as simple as the fact that he could not commit to one person for the rest of his life. That he found the banns of marriage to be unacceptable chains, tying him down to a life he didn't feel suited for. That he simply could not imagine that his decision, any decision really, was forever. None of those. The real problem was that he didn't love anyone much at all, much less with all his heart and soul. She didn't really know why not. Was he too self-centered? Too cynical? Too damaged somehow? She didn't know. But she did know that his inability to truly love her mother had doomed his marriage.

Suddenly, Sarah smiled broadly to herself while watching the wedding preparations. That was it. Now she understood. That was why she was uncomfortable with the Frenchwoman's implied dismissal of marriage. Unlike her father, she understood perfectly that the love for one other person could define you, who you were as a person. That you could need someone else just as much as you needed air to breath. That you could unhesitatingly commit yourself and your life to your partner forever with nothing but joy in your heart. She understood it. Perfectly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Federov sat on Boris Smirnov's bed, his head in his hands, and said, his words muffled by his hands, "Play it again."

With a small sigh, Oblonsky did so. It was the fourth time Federov had listened to it. With each time, he seemed to shrink in on himself a little bit. Smirnov had been banished to the suite's bathroom so that the two men could sit alone. Oblonsky had called Federov immediately after listening to the conversation between the hotel's valet and the man he now knew as Casey, between the DGSE agent and the NSA agent.

Now Oblonsky sat together with Federov in Smirnov's freezing room while he watched his best friend die inside. He put his hand on his friend's back, just to let him know that he was there. A small gesture of comfort, he hoped.

"I didn't see it, Feliks. I was ...I was blind to it. You saw it, though. You saw it all along..."

"No, I didn't, Victor. If I had, I'd have done something about it."

"You're just being kind to me. You never trusted her. You said so again and again and I never listened to you, old friend. I should have listened."

"No, Victor. I asked questions, that's all. Just questions. I never knew anything. And certainly never suspected anything like...well, like this. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Federov started to cry. Oblonsky just sat silently, his hand on the other man's back as it shook with his sobs, supporting his friend as best he could just with his presence and his touch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chuck and Sarah were up in the room with some last minute preparations to go skiing for the morning. Casey had bitched about the delay, but sort of half-heartedly. Amy took the opportunity to go to the ladies' room. As a result, Casey was standing by himself near the back entrance to the hotel, waiting for the other members of his team to join him for a day of skiing near Russians on the slopes outside Interlaken.

Through the glass door he saw Ilsa (no, he corrected himself, Fabron) standing near a car with two of Federov's Russians. Federov himself was not among them. Still as beautiful as ever, but he tried very hard not to think of her that way anymore. Now that he understood her job, he wanted to look at their prior relationship professionally. He couldn't help but think back to those days. Was he being worked by her? Had she thought that he might be a good source? God knows the French were enthusiastic about economic espionage as part of their normal espionage portfolio. Just how much of their relationship was real? With an element of black humor, he reminded himself that he had been lying to her just as she had been lying to him. So, he really didn't want to watch her with her fiancee's goons and think about their days together. Although he didn't love her, those thoughts still made him very uncomfortable, maybe a little sad.

But now that he knew she was a spy and knew what to watch out for, he could see the signs in her eyes. The way they constantly roved the area, taking in everything. The same kind of situational awareness that all spies have. The instinctive way she placed her feet and her center of balance; she was ready to fight at any moment.

He considered an eighteen month long undercover job without a break, and a seduction job at that. She must be losing her mind. The stress of working undercover for extended periods was crippling. And to be in such constant close proximity to the target, she could never let down her guard, even for an instant. If she didn't have ulcers at the end of this mission she was made of steel.

As he watched, one of the Russians received a cell phone call. He immediately looked at Ilsa with disbelief which quickly morphed to narrowed, angry eyes. He ended the call and turned to her, gesturing to the car. His partner looked up, startled, and was spoken to in a couple of curt words.

Ilsa balked. She was giving them an argument. She didn't want to get in the car. She started to turn away. The Russians were having none of it. One of the men grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. Angrily, she shook off his hand and took out her cell phone, speaking to them angrily and rapid fire. The Russian who had gotten the call grabbed the phone and twisted it out of her hand. She punched him in the throat and spun towards the other man. Before she could complete the spin, he had hit her with a powerful right cross to the side of her face. She crumpled to the ground, out cold. Both men bent to lift her limp body into the back seat of the car.

Without conscious thought, Casey left the hotel. Ilsa was blown and he thought it almost certain that the Russians were going to kill her. Casey attacked immediately. He didn't call for back up. He didn't warn these men. He didn't seek explanations. He didn't say a word. He just attacked. He kicked the first Russian in the stomach, sending the man reeling back into the car. The second man, the recipient of the throat punch, swung at Casey. Casey leaned backwards, allowing the punch to pass harmlessly in front of him. He countered with a right-left combination that knocked the man back.

He began to reach for his weapon when, without any warning, he was hit from behind and his world went black.

XXXXXXXXX

Sarah and Chuck, dressed for skiing, came across the lobby looking for Casey and Amy. Chuck said, pointing, "There's Amy."

Amy said, "Have you seen Casey? I left him here."

"I'm sure he's around," said Chuck. "Probably just gone to the head."

A waiter hurried towards them across the lobby. Chuck recognized him as Claude, the French spy. A colleague of Fabron, Casey's ex.

As he arrived, Chuck was about to give him a friendly greeting when he caught sight of the expression the man wore. "What's wrong, Claude?" Chuck asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Come with me," the man said.

Sarah said, "We're waiting for someone."

"No," said Claude, the not-waiter. "Come with me," he repeated. They did. He led them around to the side of the lobby. As they went, at a hurried pace, Chuck murmured to Sarah and Amy, "DGSE. One of the men I met with Casey in the server room. Name's Claude."

Led by Claude, they entered an office off the lobby already occupied by two other men. Despite the early hour, the room smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. Claude said, "Voici les Américains. L'équipe de Carmichael." [Here are the Americans. Carmichael's team.]

Both men stood. One of the men said, "Nous avons un problème." [We have a problem.]

"Speak English," said Sarah.

The man said, with French accented English, "I said we have a problem." He was a short ugly man with a barrel chest and a bullet head. "I am Jean-Luc Bressard, second in command of this Federov operation for DGSE. Marie was taken by Federov's men. Your man Casey attempted to help her and was taken as well."

"Marie is Colonel Fabron?" asked Amy.

"What do you mean 'taken'?" asked Sarah.

Bressard said, "Yes, Marie is Colonel Fabron. Marie Fabron. Here, look," he said, gesturing to the computer monitor. The surveillance tape replayed on the monitor, showing the events out the back door of the hotel.

"Shit," said Chuck. "Where'd that last guy come from? Shit."

"Yes," said Bressard. "This is David Stressor, Swiss DAP. And you've already met Claude." Stressor was a medium sized man with light brown hair and round wire frame glasses. He looked completely unremarkable, which was probably useful for a spy.

"I'm Sarah Walker and this is Amy Turner. And you've already met Carmichael."

Chuck said, "We can track Casey. As long as they don't separate Casey and Fabron we will be able to find her too." As he spoke, he was taking out his phone and pulling up the app. Hitting a few buttons, he found Casey. He was moving on a mountain road. He handed the phone to Sarah, so she could show the two Frenchmen and the Swiss spy. Meanwhile, Chuck sat at the computer and pulled up a map of the area. It didn't take him long to point at a road. "He's here, moving southwest." Chuck pointed to the computer screen. There was no icon marking Casey's movement as this computer wasn't synced with his phone and didn't have access to the program or the receiver information.

Stressor, the Swiss spy, said, "That's a dead end. Look." He pointed to the road Chuck had indicated and ran his finger down the line on the map to the end. "What's at the end?"

Bressard said, "It's halfway up a mountain and there's only a single narrow road. My guess is it's a maintenance shed or garage. Something with snowplows or similar equipment. Easy for them to defend if we were to try storm in there. There's no way to encircle it. Nothing but mountain slope behind it."

Chuck switched screens and went deeper into the hotel's computer while the others talked about the tactical situation to rescue Fabron and Casey from the isolated building.

"Do we know what Federov and his men have in mind? How did Fabron get blown?" asked Sarah.

Bressard gave a shrug, "No idea. But, based on the violence to Marie, I'm certain that she is blown. No way in the world that his men would touch her before today. No way. Federov would feed them to the sharks bit by bit if anyone touched her. And if she's blown ...well, a quick death would be a mercy."

"We'll have to get to them. Stressor, if we need DAP re-enforcements are they available?" asked Amy, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yes, but all the re-enforcements in the world won't do any good with that location. I could get you the whole Swiss Army and they could still kill your agents before we could get halfway up the road. You'd need paratroopers to get behind them," said Stressor.

"We can do that," said Claude, as if startled by the idea. "We have a helicopter at the airport. We could land, or at least drop off, behind."

"No good. They'd hear you," said Bressard.

"How about at the top of the mountain? A couple of us could ski down and approach the building from the back. If it's quiet, we can call the others in a couple of cars to come up the road," suggested Sarah.

The agents were quiet for a few moments contemplating Sarah's strategy. Chuck checked his phone for Casey's location. "Guys, he's stopped. Looks like they've arrived at the building at the end of that road."

Bressard moved over to a different computer and typed a few buttons and checked the screen. "We have a tracker on Oblonsky's car. It's heading up the same road. Fair bet that Federov and Oblonsky are heading to meet his men there. Interrogate Marie and Casey most likely."

Claude said, "I think Walker's idea is a good one. Drop a few skiers at the top of the mountain and have them ski down to recon the building. If it's quiet the rest of us can come up by car."

"Alright," said Bressard. "I'll go get some ski gear on..."

"Bressard," said Sarah, "Come on. Turner and I are already geared up. If you can give us long guns we'll be ready to go. The distances may be too far for our sidearms."

The short Frenchman nodded. "Yes. You are right. That will save time. We have a couple FAMAS in the car. Claude can fly you up to the top," he said, referring to the assault rifle issued to the French army, a short bullpup design weapon with the magazine behind the pistol grip.

Amy nodded and said, "That will work."

"Alright. David are you good with this? We are visitors in your country after all," asked Bressard.

"Yes, Jean-Luc. I don't want any killing going on if we can help it. The paperwork alone will take me a month." Chuck thought the man was probably exaggerating, but this was Switzerland, after all, so maybe not.

"Then let's go," said Claude. "Let's get our people back."

Chuck, still sitting at the computer, said, "Guys, I've got some stuff I can do here. Ok if I sit this one out? I'm not much good in a gunfight anyway."

"What's going on, Chuck?" asked Sarah.

"Yesterday, I put a program into the hotel's computer to direct a dupe of the hotel's surveillance footage to my computer. I discovered just now...with access through this hotel terminal, that my program is not the only program that was installed to do the same thing...well, sort of the same thing. Someone installed a program a couple of days ago to send the same video to room 712 by the phone lines. I know that's one of Federov's rooms, but Casey and I couldn't get into it yesterday. It was occupied when we tried. Whoever is in there is watching the same video we are. I just checked the room service deliveries to that room and there's only one person...or only one meal at a time, anyway. If that's where Federov has his tech guy stashed, maybe I can get in, trank him and get a look at their computers. If they have something in mind for Casey and Fabron, maybe I can help figure it out while you guys fly in helicopters and ski down mountains."

"We have not been able to crack into his computer system," said Bressard. "Not for two years. Even if you can get to the machines themselves, why do you think you can get past his security?"

"If the stuff in the hotel room is connected to his main system, then I can get in," replied Chuck with a shrug. As arrogant as the statement could be, with Chuck it just seemed to be calm self-confidence.

Bressard looked at him for a moment and said, "Not maybe? Not probably? Not likely? Just yes, you can get in?"

"Yes," said Chuck calmly. Sarah was smiling slightly to herself, but Bressard looked a little dubious.

There was a quick exchange in French between Bressard and Claude in which the name Carmichael was mentioned a couple of times. Bressard looked at Chuck a little differently after hearing what Claude had to say.

He laid a hand on Chuck's shoulder and said, "With Marie blown, this operation...two years of work and untold sacrifice...was done...a failure. If you can do what you say you can do, you will have saved it. Good luck to you, Carmichael."

Chuck nodded and said, "Good luck to you all." Sarah leaned forward and gave him a kiss. It was obvious to the two Frenchmen and the Swiss agent that Chuck was clearly Sarah Walker's man. Bressard's opinion of Chuck rose a great deal with that understanding.

"Be safe, sweetie. Bring back Case," said Chuck, squeezing her arm.

"Yeah. You too. Be safe," said Sarah.

"Be safe, Amy," said Chuck.

"You too, Chuck. Take good care of Federov's geek," said Amy.

"Nerd," said Chuck and Sarah at the same time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N2: When I was last in Interlaken I was with one of my buddies who is fluent in German. When I told him, just the other day, that I was writing this story about our friends visiting Interlaken, he said, "Jeez, I speak German and I still couldn't figure out what those Swiss guys were saying. Remember?" So, yeah, Swiss German is a tough dialect.

A/N3: As usual, love to hear from any of you so inclined to drop a review. Those of you who are guests, please consider signing up here. It lets us authors respond to your reviews with PMs and gives you the added pleasure of ignoring us. Oh, and there's a Facebook page run by David Carner all about Chuck fanfiction. It's a lot of fun there, so please consider dropping by. See you all next week.