A/N: Thank you to Zettel for pre-reading.

But when your education x-ray cannot see under my skin

I won't tell you a damn thing that I could not tell my friends

Been roaming through this darkness

I'm alive but I'm alone

And part of me is fighting this

But part of me is gone

So hold me when I'm here, right me when I'm wrong

Hold me when I'm scared and love me when I'm gone

"When I'm Gone"

3 Doors Down

November 26, 2012

Los Angeles, California

"Good evening, Colonel." Beckman folded her hands in front of her as she approached Casey. Her face was perpetually grim since Sarah's death, but somehow, it was grimmer today. "I'm sorry to bother you, but something has come up."

Casey didn't think she was truly sorry, but he still appreciated her politeness. She had called him to meet face-to-face in the abandoned parking garage where she had met with Chuck on a few previous occasions. For the past month, she had been working exclusively from Los Angeles, although the need for a secure, in-person meet was curious.

"Go ahead, General." Casey sucked in his breath and stood up straighter, bracing himself for more trouble, more bad news.

Casey had known her long enough to know that she was using all her restraint to sound measured and controlled while she was ready to explode.

"Last evening, someone broke through the DNI's firewall and hacked into the new Intersect computer."

"New Intersect?" Casey stepped back in astonishment. "What the hell does that mean? New? Why on God's green earth would you be building another Intersect? The old one wasn't cursed enough?"

Beckman stood ramrod straight; her eyes flashed. "It wasn't me, Colonel. It was the CIA. Jane Bentley, to be exact, but that's neither here nor there." Her eyes darkened and shifted down and Casey watched as her fingers twitched even in their tightly folded position. "I'm just going to say this. You are not obliged to confirm or deny. Just listen." She took a deep breath. "A cyber criminal known as The Piranha is to blame. He… left a conspicuous calling card."

Casey had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm and stoic in the face of almost anything. His years spent working with Chuck, as well as his resulting friendship with the man, had made his hard exterior permeable. Beckman's words reached into him, shocked him; he prayed that the momentary loss of control went unnoticed.

Beckman continued. "Colonel, Piranha has been known to the DNI since 1997. Primarily because of the unusual nature of the known incursions. Never a dime demanded, no data ever held for ransom. Sometimes he would even leave tips for how to improve security to prevent a subsequent incursion…and often he would even come back and check to see if his tips had been followed."

Casey felt like he knew what Beckman was about to say, why she had requested the private, in-person meet in a place where she was assured there would be no surveillance.

"No one, and I mean no one, ever suspected in 1997 that the Piranha was a 16-year-old boy." She pursed her lips and clenched her teeth before she continued. "Probably because no one knew that Orion had a son."

Casey's eyes widened only slightly. He felt his heart start to pound, but he intentionally forced his breathing to slow, to disguise his turmoil. She was allowing for plausible deniability, he told himself. She hadn't asked him a thing; she was merely stating facts.

"Orion was the only person known to the DNI more dangerous, more capable than the Piranha. That would make sense if part of what the Piranha learned, he learned from his father. I admit, I had a nagging suspicion once I knew Chuck was Orion's son. I let it be, of course. Sometimes I could even talk myself out of that conclusion. At least, until that business with the Omen virus." She lifted her chin, pulling her shoulders back as if to add to her short stature. "It was only then that I was sure. Decker knew all along, of course. Something he shared only with his inner circle." She clicked her tongue with disdain at the mention of the deceased deputy.

Casey said nothing, waiting.

"That being said…you can see what my problem is, Colonel. The Piranha went from nipping at trimmed chicken carcasses to chomping on the jugular of the Directorate of National Intelligence. I don't know what he thinks he's doing, but he crossed the line. And there is only so much protection, so much…interference…I am willing to perform. Able to perform."

Casey chose his next words carefully. "So in theory, historically speaking, the Piranha was untraceable, which was why he was deemed so dangerous. Also why he was never apprehended. So what's the problem now, General?"

"The problem, Colonel, is that discretion and benign infiltration are no longer his end goals. He's reckless and savage, for all the reasons we could imagine. And I'm not sure he would be prepared for all of the weight of the U.S. government to crash down on his head…if my hand is forced. Do you understand what I'm saying, Colonel?"

Casey grunted affirmatively.

"I don't know what he hopes to accomplish with this stunt–"

"He's hunting Quinn," Casey interjected. "Quinn knew about the Intersect computer, General."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said gravely. Beckman's gaze shifted downward again. "Do you think you have any chance of talking him down? Of reasoning with him at all? Reaching him?"

Normally, Casey wouldn't have hesitated, sure of his friend. But Chuck had changed, turned into someone Casey barely recognized. Ellie still had faith, but Casey no longer did. He was never prone to bouts of wishful thinking. For someone whose life had been as hard as Casey knew Ellie's had been, she was remarkably optimistic when it came to most things. Buoyant. Casey wasn't, despite wanting the best for his friend.

Chuck had been buoyant too…until his life had been emptied of meaning..

Now anything was possible. If Sarah is dead, anything is permitted.

"I'm not certain, General," Casey said softly, exhaling as he spoke, filled with dread.

"If you can, at least try," Beckman asked, with an undercurrent of pleading that surprised him.

Casey shifted on his feet, his nonverbal cue that he was done speaking, but Beckman raised her hand to stop him. "There's more, John."

John. Her use of his first name was unusual, instantly filling him with more dread. More bad news, of that he was certain.

"The unidentified DNA we recovered from the lab in Japan has now been partially identified. We're certain it belongs to the child Sarah gave birth to. Her daughter." She closed her eyes, and kept them closed as she continued as if she could no longer stand even the dim light of the abandoned deck. "Nicholas Quinn is not the child's father." Her voice was a fierce whisper, as if she hated herself for entertaining the possibility if only to negate it.

"General–" Casey's stomach spun in protest of what she had said, what he knew she was about to say.

"We had to be certain," she insisted. "She was his captive for too long for that to have been impossible."

The sickness in Casey's stomach mixed with rage he could barely contain. The deck seemed to turn red.

"Neither the CIA nor the NSA have Mr. Bartowski's DNA on file, which was an oversight, but then overlooked once you all parted ways with the company. We need his DNA to continue testing. Is there a possibility that somehow Sarah was already pregnant when Quinn kidnapped her?"

Casey knew some, more than he wished. Perhaps more than he should have shared with Beckman. But under the circumstances, he shared it anyway. "At the beginning of January, I know for a short time, Sarah thought there was a possibility that she was pregnant, but she confirmed later that she was not. I don't know what that means, what they were planning or hoping for in the bigger picture. But I know there's a chance she could have gotten pregnant on the train." He tried to say it as diplomatically as he could, repeating information Chuck had shared in a guilt-ridden tirade Casey had listened to once they were back from Japan in January.

"Do you think you could obtain a hair or skin sample from Chuck without him questioning you?"

Casey grunted again. "I can try."

"I'm hoping it stops there, Casey, but…" She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "There were several others involved, not all of whom were known by name to us." She lowered her voice, oddly conspiratorial, though they were alone. "Our analysts have found evidence in some sketchy corners of the internet, where we ask them to monitor…Evidence, some…live footage…" She opened her eyes wider, lifting her eyebrows high. "...that is…highly disturbing. In a disturbingly familiar location."

A low, angry rumble started in Casey's chest and spread to fill the air between them. His fists flexed; he wanted someone to punch, desperately. But he quickly followed Beckman's reasoning. "You think Chuck…saw…that footage?" His horror could not be masked.

"I'm almost certain he did." Her green eyes pierced him. "Sarah wasn't identified in anything the analysts have viewed to date. But…"

The unspoken words filled Casey's heart with angst, his stomach with acid. Chuck had done nothing but work on the computer for the past month. The thought of Chuck, rogue, unmoored, searching for his wife's killer with all of his skills and none of his normal moral inhibitions, frightened Casey. The last thing Chuck needed was gasoline poured on the roaring funeral pyre of his former life.

"Do you think the baby is alive?" Casey asked quietly, appealing to her softer side, hoping for an answer.

Beckman lifted her chin to meet Casey's eyes. "All of the blood sampled belonged to Sarah. I mean…yes, it's possible. But where the baby is, who has her, who's caring for her, if anyone, a newborn without her mother…the water's muddy."

"Understood," Casey said in a clipped tone, standing straight again and ignoring the burning of his heart. "I'll get you that DNA."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"John, oh, thank God," Ellie breathed frantically as she flung her apartment door wide, before he was at the door or able to knock. He marveled briefly at her power of anticipation before he remembered Ellie was part spy herself. Ellie's hair was twisted into a messy bun, stray hairs askew. She was flushed with anxiety.

Casey had rushed here after receiving Ellie's call. She had called him first, after she had gone to check on her brother and found him gone.

"I called Morgan too. I thought at first that maybe Chuck went there…but I found this." Ellie's hand shook as she passed Casey a folded piece of paper.

Casey stepped inside her apartment and shut the door. "Where is Devon?"

"Looking for Chuck," she sighed with exasperation. "I thought it was pointless, but…he had to do something." She stifled a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. "Just read it, John."

Slowly, Casey unfolded the paper. What struck him first was the state of Chuck's handwriting. Recognizable but altered, like the man himself. Chuck's usually neat block letters were now slanted scribbles, off-center. It was brief but to the point. It wasn't addressed to anyone, just a statement, a directive for all who would see it.

The finality of it was troubling.

I can't stay here. Please understand. There is only one thing I need and I need to leave here to get it.

I love you, Ellie. Never forget that. You were always there when I needed you. Please try to understand why I'm doing this. You know me better than anyone, so I have faith that you can.

I love you, too, Morgan. I don't know if I ever said it like that, but I do. Like a brother. I was never alone because you were my friend. You will always be my friend. Please understand why I left without saying goodbye.

Devon, please take care of my sister. I was honored to call you my brother-in-law. You were the best thing that happened to my sister and I was so thankful for that.

Casey, I'm sorry. You know where I went. All I ask is that you promise me you will never let anyone hurt my family. I know that request is almost redundant because you would do it anyway, but it's more important now than ever before.

Goodbye,

Chuck

Ellie paced while Casey read. "What is that supposed to mean? What is he doing?"

"Chuck's off the deep end, Ellie. He's hunting Quinn. Beckman called me because it seems Chuck already started."

"By himself?" Ellie shouted. "He's going to get himself killed!"

Casey's voice rumbled low in his throat when he replied, forcing them both to understand by saying it aloud. "I have a strong suspicion that's Chuck's endgame."

Ellie hugged herself tightly, bending forward, squeezing her eyes closed, tears on her cheeks. "John, please. We have to find him before it's too late."

Beckman's request had become more complicated. His clandestine task must now be conspicuous.

"I'll get Beckman back on the horn, Ellie. But I have a strange request…and some…strange news." He couldn't say 'bad,' considering everything about it was mysterious.

"What, Casey?"

"I need a sample of Chuck's DNA." He paused, watching her brow furrow, her mind working. He went on, "Ellie, Sarah had a baby in Japan."

November 27, 2012

Los Angeles, California

Chuck stood behind his captive as he yanked the hood from the man's head. The chair rocked slightly as the man tugged at the ropes that bound his hands to the arms of the chair.

Why did people always struggle or plead in situations like this? As if there were something good to appeal to from a villain…What kind of villain am I?

The thought chilled him, but he barely felt it.

They were in a dark warehouse, the former headquarters of a hacking conglomerate known as The Collective. Chuck, Sarah, and Gertrude Verbanski had infiltrated this location at the beginning of December last year, on a doomed mission, one of the last attempts Clyde Decker had made to destroy him. Team Bartowski had been successful, stealing the distribution program they needed, but because the mission wasn't truly sanctioned by the CIA, the criminals they had encountered during the mission had all escaped and disappeared, including Colin Davis.

The man Chuck had been seated next to during his 'hack off,' Timur's head of security, a man named Freddie, sat before him now, bound to his chair.

"Remember me?" Chuck asked as he walked to stand in his captive's line of sight.

Freddie's eyes, darting nervously, widened in recognition. "What do you want?" He sounded bothered only, slightly irritated, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Information." The less Chuck said, the better. He needed fear to get the man to talk; the threat of physical harm was impotent where Chuck was involved, but Freddie didn't need to know that. The real threat, what Chuck could issue forth from the depths of hell with his computer, was for later.

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"Because you still work for Timur," Chuck told him. "The Collective is gone…but you still do what you've always done. And if you'd like to continue doing what you've always done, you will tell me what I want to know."

Chuck shifted, making sure Freddie saw the gun tucked in his belt. A real gun, something he wasn't used to carrying, but facing all of his tasks alone, he convinced himself to carry one, even if he had no intention of using it.

"If you know who I am, then you know what I can do. And I promise you, I can keep you so far from what you've continued to do, you'll be lucky to access Yahoo to check your email." Chuck lifted his chin, raising an eyebrow, resisting the urge to wink at the man to prove his point. "But all I want is information. You give it to me, and you go free, no harm, no foul."

Chuck leaned into Freddie's face. "Tsetse." Chuck let the name register. "Someone you know?" Chuck saw the telltale tick in the man's jaw. "He buys and then sells footage. Torture, murder, rape…ring a bell?"

"He never worked for the Collective," Freddie said quickly. "Timur thought he was too small, too insignificant." His eyes narrowed. "Why do you need me? You can find him faster than me, faster than anyone I know."

Chuck pulled the gun from his belt and cocked it. "I said information. Not once did I mention needing you to find him for me. Pay attention, Freddie."

The gun frightened Freddie. "Alright, alright," he stammered. "What else? What do you need to know?"

"Tell me everything you know. Right now. I hope I hear what I'm wanting to hear."

It was as if Chuck had injected the man with truth serum. Freddie talked, quite freely, about his knowledge of and interactions with the hacker who called himself Tsetse.

What was it with hackers and invoking deadly spirit animals?

Chuck's mind was wandering as he listened, not paying so close attention to the facts that he already knew or superfluous information that didn't matter to him. Eventually, Freddie delved into his interactions with the man. A career criminal with rudimentary computer skills, who'd started his business during a bout of incarceration. Entirely criminal, but only criminal.

Quinn had no idea that any footage from Japan had been copied and sold for entertainment. That was all that Chuck needed to know.

Freddie was still rambling when Chuck pulled his second gun, his tranq pistol, from his belt and fired in one quick, fluid motion. Chuck saw the terror on the man's face the moment before he lost consciousness, terror caused by his inability to discern the nature of the weapon because Chuck moved so fast.

In the past, Chuck would have warned the man, and told him what he was doing and what to expect afterward.

Now, he didn't flinch, his mind already working on solving the next problem, unconcerned with the fear and pain of another.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Morgan jumped up from the sofa at the noise of the pounding on his front door.

"That sounds like my dad. Why is he knocking on his door?" Alex asked him as he walked away.

Morgan opened the door without answering his girlfriend to find she was correct.

"Casey, why are you knocking?" Morgan asked.

"I was being polite, numb nuts," Casey grumbled. "But this is important." Casey pulled out a small leather folio and handed it to Morgan. "It's official. Beckman reinstated us but for the NSA. That's her only jurisdiction."

Morgan took it hesitantly. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. I thought we were…done, not doing that anymore." He felt Alex move to stand beside him, taking his hand. "What about Chuck?"

"Chuck's rogue," Casey said flatly. "And Beckman's sending us to find him."