But it's always too late when you've got nothing

So you say

And you should never let the sun set on tomorrow

Before the sun rises today

If I am another waste of everything you dreamed of

I will let you down

If I am only here to watch you as you suffer

I will let you down

"If I Am"

Nine Days

December 10, 2012

Washington, D.C.

General Beckman's keen attention on the report in front of her was broken as the door to her office creaked open.

"There had better be a nuke headed straight for the Pentagon, Agnes!"

Beckman had shut off the intercom with her secretary once Dr. Woodcomb had left to go back to her hotel room. A gentle snow had started falling outside and the doctor had been concerned that her flight back to California could be delayed or canceled. She left in time to make it to the airport.

Beckman had assured Ellie that she was profoundly grateful for the assistance offered, her continued diligence, and her dedication to finding all the missing pieces in this puzzle.

Of course, the young woman had stated she was only there because her family needed her. She had changed her name when she wed, but Ellie was still a Bartowski.

Her secretary was in the process of creeping into Beckman's office, which was unheard of.

"I'm terribly, terribly sorry, General, but there's an urgent call for you."

Urgent, Beckman knew, was in the hands of the bespeaker. She was sure whomever was calling believed the subject matter was urgent. Whether or not it was urgent in Beckman's eyes had yet to be known.

"From whom?" Beckman sighed.

"Dr. Woodcomb."

Beckman sighed in frustration, closing her eyes before she lost her temper. "Dr. Woodcomb isn't out of the building yet and–"

"No, ma'am," Agnes interrupted, wincing at her need to correct Beckman. "Dr. Devon Woodcomb."

Beckman looked up sharply. Agnes sighed, a bit relieved. "He's been trying to contact his wife for the past three hours, but I informed him she was within the communication restricted zone."

Beckman opened her mouth, reddening in anger. Her husband called my secretary because he couldn't check in with his wife?

"He needs to speak to you, ma'am."

Wary, Beckman made a minute motion with her index finger, indicating Agnes should put the call through to her video monitor.

"What is it, Dr. Woodcomb?" she asked impatiently, before the screen filled with his image.

She was expecting the Woodcomb home, perhaps their young baby, to be in the background. Devon looked animated, but also worried. Behind him, Beckman saw he was on an airplane, a small, private plane, based on the arrangement of the seats and his relative seclusion. The only other people in the backdrop were army green fatigue-donned men, some with machine guns in holsters.

"What am I looking at?" Beckman explained.

"General, is Ellie still there?"

She wasn't used to her questions being disregarded, and she had to shake her head to clear the reprimand she almost uttered. "She just left for the airport, not an hour ago. Where are you? What in the world is going on?"

The blond-haired, blue-eyed doctor sighed. "It's a long story, General. I'll tell you what I can. But…someone needs to tell Ellie she needs to take a different flight."

Beckman stayed quiet to keep from sputtering. She wanted straight answers.

The red light on her monitor started blinking, indicating another incoming call. So much for screening, she thought. She added the call to the screen.

"Oh good Lord!" Beckman exclaimed when she saw the face of the second caller.

"Yeah…you could say that," Devon grumbled in response.

"Is that Dr. Devon Woodcomb I hear?" the man on the other side of the screen asked in his heavy accent.

Beckman's patience was at an end. "Would you two care to tell me what the hell is going on?"

December 10, 2012

Nuremberg, Germany

Casey and Morgan had encountered little resistance inside the castle. Less than half the amount of manpower they had engaged outside was positioned on the inside. All of the resistance the duo had met had been easily subdued with tranquilizer darts. The success of the operation so far, ironically, left Casey feeling uneasy.

There were no adversaries left in this fortification, he was sure of it. Andros had found Mary through the network, but his intelligence, as he had admitted, was dated. Perhaps Quinn had been here, but Casey knew he wouldn't still be here. Whatever was left of Mary no longer needed guarding. Quinn's skeleton crew was left here, to ward off questions and challenges by local authorities.

Andros had no knowledge of the internal layout of the castle, only a general sense based on historic records before the inside was modernized by the current owner. What that left Casey and Morgan to do was sweep the building, front to back, one level at a time, while ensuring they had a viable route of retreat at the same time.

The lowest level was now clear and Casey motioned to Morgan, over his shoulder, to ascend the stairs behind him. Casey stopped halfway, getting the first glimpse of the corridor beyond. Two guards stationed outside the first door was a positive indicator that perhaps Mary was in the room.

Still alive, Casey breathed, daring to hope. They wouldn't be guarding her corpse. Casey considered himself a realist, dealing in the pragmatic and practical. He had always relied on his strength and his sense of duty. Hoping was an act of futility. He was always the master of his own destiny, for good or bad. But recent events had shown Casey how powerful hope could be, most importantly in the face of abject despair.

At the top of the stairs, Casey held up a hand, a silent signal for Morgan to stop and wait. Casey pointed to his own eyes, then motioned farther down the corridor. The younger man got the idea, to ensure they would not be surprised or interrupted.

Casey leaned around the corner and quickly dispatched the two guards, one after the other, before either one had an opportunity to react. Morgan moved deftly behind him to cover the hallway. The door to the cell was obviously not updated when the castle was modernized, Casey noticed, dismayed, as he saw the cast iron latch. There was no electronic way to open the lock. He needed brute force, which also would make noise.

Now or never, he thought fatalistically. He reared back, lifted his booted foot, and rammed it into the door with all his might. He felt the shock jar his bones and joints, but the door didn't give. He tried again, fearing he might injure himself so badly he would hamper his ability to rescue Mary. He summoned all of his anger, all of his indignation, the pictures in his memory of what Sarah had gone through while they all believed she was dead, every wrong that had been done to them, and channeled it to a fine point. He rammed his foot into the lock with all his might, grunting in anger.

He heard the metal screech as the lock gave way, snapping out of its housing while the heavy wooden door banged open.

Morgan returned, slightly out of breath. "Coast is clear, Casey," he said softly.

Casey peered inside the dark room. There was no light and no window, but some of the light from the hallway spilling inside outlined shapes. In the center of the room was an empty chair, chains pooled in a heap at the base. He searched but found no more edges; no other objects or furniture were in the room. He walked cautiously into the room, an internal clock ticking in his head as he knew the racket he had created opening the door would draw company.

He stopped walking when his foot brushed something on the stone floor. He heard a soft, breathy moan. The air around him reeked of sweat and vomit.

He crouched down and moved to his right to allow more light into the room. He reached out his hand and touched warm flesh.

"Mary?" Casey asked sharply. Morgan was suddenly behind him with a small flashlight.

Casey gritted his teeth against the horror he felt. If he hadn't already known Mary Bartowski was being held here, he wouldn't have recognized her now. Her long brown hair was gone, replaced by patches of short hair and bald, injured scalp. Her face was so swollen her features were almost indistinguishable, covered in blood and sweat and grime. He scanned down her body, seeing only cuts, bruises and burns on the exposed skin. He pressed his hand to her neck, praying to feel a pulse.

She was most certainly still alive. Her pulse was weak, but she was alive. In probably so much pain, she wished she wasn't, Casey thought as he swallowed down his sickness.

"Oh…God…Casey…" Morgan whispered, overwhelmed, but he pulled himself together admirably and in a hurry. "We have to get her out of here."

"It's going to be difficult, Morgan. I could do more damage by moving her."

Footfalls in the distance became audible. Company was coming. He didn't have a choice.

"...Sarah…"

Oh God, she was conscious? It boggled his mind how that could be.

"Mary, we have to go. Now. This will hurt. I'm sorry."

"...Sarah…" she choked again, her voice barely audible and scratchy.

"Sarah's alive and she's with Chuck," Morgan said as he moved to the door to examine the corridor for approaching guards.

Casey hoisted Mary, gingerly laying her body over his shoulder. She felt skeletally thin and he feared for a moment that she could have broken bones that had healed in a warped way after such a long time in captivity. She was weak, but amazingly, he felt her slight resistance.

"Leave…me…"

"Not a chance. Remember, rescuing Bartowskis is what we do best."

"Move, Casey! Let's go!" Morgan shouted as he fired his tranq pistol into the corridor.

"Cover me, Grimes," Casey said through gritted teeth as he started hustling into the corridor.

If someone would have told me five years ago, I would unhesitatingly trust Morgan Grimes with my life, I would have punched them in the face.

So much for first impressions.

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

Ciel had to stop running once she had cleared the marketplace area. She was winded and tired, but Hammersmith couldn't keep pace. He was, after all, she reckoned, old enough to be her father.

She turned to see him bent at the waist, huffing, puffing and red-faced.

Wasting no time, Ciel stepped into the street and hailed a taxi. Fortunately the busy Christmas market had increased the number of circulating rides.

Had Vivian and or Riley jumped in one as well?

"Where to?" Ciel asked Hammersmith urgently.

"The Castle," Hammersmith wheezed.

Ciel communicated the address to the driver in German.

Once the vehicle was moving, she waited for Hammersmith to catch his breath. "Why the castle?" she asked, trying to understand his reasoning.

"Riley is working with Quinn if he's hunting Vivian. It may be pure money—bounty on her head or whatever. Vivian came back after transporting the baby to find Mary. But Riley infiltrated the network. I'm betting everything on the fact that my daughter's headed there. Riley is following."

"Chuck and his team are already there, Hugh."

He held her gaze intently, until she had to look away. Ciel had never called him by his first name, but it flowed. It was natural, something she had done without thinking.

She had absolved him, and in so doing, found absolution for herself as well. If she could forgive him for his actions, she was no longer hopeless, living in her self-imposed purgatory.

"I would trust those people with my life many times over. Which is good…because right now, that's what we're doing." He leaned forward, taking a deep breath. "I would never ask that of you, Ciel. I—"

"I'm here. I'm here because I wanted to help. I still do. I'm with you."

His blue eyes sparkled and his lips twitched, betraying a hint of a smile. "David will have my ass for this, you know."

Ciel blushed, her eyelids fluttering as she gazed down. "You really think so?"

"Never doubt the strength of a man in love," Hammersmith said with a wink.

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

Sarah pulled the binoculars down, hoping Chuck didn't notice her hands trembling. "They're coming. Route of egress is clear." Her spy training again, kicking in when she didn't have the words to explain what she'd seen.

Mary was alive; Casey wouldn't have been carrying her the way he was if he had only been able to retrieve her body. But…my God…Sarah had no idea how the woman could be…

"Sarah…" She heard Chuck swallow as his voice shook. "Is she…can you…"

"It's bad, Chuck," Sarah said gently. "But she's alive." She turned and touched his cheek.

He was drawing from a wellspring of strength deep inside himself, one Sarah knew was there in the past, from the time she only partially recalled. His tender and gentle demeanor remained exposed to the world…and it was his internal steel that kept him erect under the weight of all the misery. Sarah didn't need any other reason to love him, and yet, knowing all of that about him swelled her heart inside her.

The plan was to get back to Andros and his vehicle and get Mary back to Ciel as soon as possible. The hospital was a last resort, although Sarah believed, based on her cursory examination, that was the most probable next step.

After another few seconds, Morgan and Casey, with Mary in his arms, moved into visual range. Chuck gasped quietly, but aside from that, he gave no outward sign of his dismay. Mercifully, Sarah noted, Casey was consciously directing everyone to keep Chuck in front, away from too much exposure to the gruesome condition of his mother.

Chuck was on Sarah's right and Morgan and Casey were behind as they approached the getaway vehicle. She saw Andros' blond-white hair in the interior of the van. The closer the quartet moved to the van, the less of the surroundings were visible. Chuck moved closer to the hood and Casey reached for the door.

"Get down!"

Sarah moved first, thought second. She dove for the ground, shielding Chuck with her body at the same time Casey flung the door open and dived inside. Morgan's feet bumped against Sarah's as he dove for cover near the rear wheel well.

The voice was female. British. Vivian.

In the same split second Sarah realized who had shouted, she heard gunfire. Bullets pinged against the side of the car. Sarah moved to check on Chuck, but he was already moving towards the other side of the van, in the direction of the shots. Sarah crept behind Chuck until they were side by side. They took turns standing with the idea of providing cover fire. Someone was firing at them, but also away; Sarah could hear the different sounds of bullets pinging near and far.

Sarah peered over the hood of the van with her gun hand outstretched. Vivian was about 20 feet away with a gun in her hand, shooting in a diagonal line across the space separating them. Who was she firing at? Sarah couldn't see from her vantage point.

Sarah turned her head back to Chuck, only to see him sprint forward, headed for Vivian's position, crouched behind another parked vehicle. Sarah took a deep breath and followed her husband.

"You're bleeding…" Sarah heard Chuck say as he crouched beside her.

"Charles, it's Riley," Vivian gasped. The way Vivian said it, it was clear that the woman was certain Chuck would know who she was talking about. The name meant nothing to Sarah.

"I watched Sarah shoot him about three seconds before he would have shot me. How is that possible?" Chuck asked in between shots.

"I ran…I just assumed…but…Mary said she didn't check his pulse and she left before the authorities in Moscow arrived." Vivian fired. "Mary's here, isn't she?"

"Casey rescued her. But…she needs help," Sarah offered urgently. Sarah fired one more time, and realized her gun was out of bullets. Chuck and Vivian had one shot each. Riley's shots got gradually louder.

"Don't worry," Vivian said confidently, tossing her gun aside. "Stay here and hold your fire."

Vivian stood and ran out into the open. She tossed her gun to the ground and raised both hands.

"What is she doing?" Chuck hissed at Sarah. She held her finger to her lips, asking him to have patience.

"You kill me, you will never find what you're looking for. What Quinn is willing to pay you for."

Riley moved to stand in front of her, his gun outstretched and pointed at her. He moved closer, until the barrel of the gun was inches from her chest. "You told Lisbon you have it. The last piece of the key. Give it to me and I'll let you go."

"You always thought I was so stupid, didn't you? You preyed on me. You tried to turn me into my father…when you knew who my father really was."

"You were better off believing your father was Alexei Volkoff, a strong leader, than a dithering old fool like Hartley Winterbottom. You had a choice…and you chose weakness."

Sarah could discern from context the gist of the exchange, based on what she already knew. What was Vivian trying to accomplish with this stunt? Or, Sarah thought, what information did Vivian have that she hadn't shared with them?

Vivian reached inside her blouse, pulled out a small plastic cylinder, and tossed it through the air. Riley caught it in his left hand.

Chuck lurched, but Sarah grabbed his arm. It was a gut instinct of Chuck's, but Sarah already believed there was more here than she understood. Truthfully, she trusted Vivian. There was a haunting echo in her head, the reason Chuck had been leery of mentioning Vivian's involvement at the beginning, but at the same time, Sarah had a different experience as well. Vivian had risked her life to save their infant daughter. Vivian had risked her life in Quinn's base to rescue Sarah as well.

"Where is the baby?" Riley asked calmly.

Vivian jutted her chin out defiantly and said nothing.

A second later, a yellow blur moving at high speed barreled in front of them. Vivian jumped out of the way just in time. Chuck, Sarah, and Vivian watched as Riley's body bounced onto the hood of the oncoming taxi cab. Bones crunched and the body thudded to the ground. Sarah could see the impact had killed him, his neck now twisted at an angle not compatible with life.

Sarah watched, speechless, as Hammersmith emerged from behind the wheel of the taxi. His face was set like stone and his body tensed with rage. He pulled himself together quickly and ran to his daughter, who grabbed him and held him tightly.

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

Chuck was razor focused, running for Ciel the moment she stepped out of the taxi. Chuck could hear Vivan and Sarah talking with Hammersmith, talking about the taxi driver and their request to borrow his vehicle.

"Ciel, my mother is in the van." His voice was trembling, but he was otherwise in control of himself, preparing himself for what he would see in the van with Casey and Morgan. The doctor just ran, full speed, leaving Chuck trailing behind her.

Ciel pushed her way through to sit at Mary's side, murmuring in French as she went. Casey was seated back on his haunches, his clothing smeared with blood. Both he and Morgan were pale and grim-faced. Chuck's sight of his mother, bloodied and battered and missing most of her hair left him gut-punched, gasping for air as his eyes teared.

Ciel worked furiously, her skilled hands making assessments as quickly as her movements. "Ein Krankenwagon," Ciel exclaimed, forgetting herself and reverting to German. "Ambulance," she repeated in English.

Chuck ignored the flurry of activity around him and focused only on his mother and Ciel. "She doesn't appear to have any internal bleeding. But she's severely dehydrated, with traumatic blood loss, infected wounds and burns…she needs more than I can do here." Chuck reached forward and touched Ciel's shoulder, thanking her silently for her effort. "Her pulse is weak. I don't know if she's going to survive."

"Chuck…" A ghostly, scratchy whisper.

"Mom, it's ok. It's ok." Ciel leaned back to give him room. He sank down onto his knees and grabbed his mother's hand. She was frighteningly cold and weak. "I'm here. We all are."

"Sarah…"

Chuck swallowed down a sob, summoning all that was left of his strength for her. "Mom, she's safe. I know what you did…for her and our daughter."

He felt Sarah's hand on his shoulder, overcome by the sensation that her love was flowing from her hand straight into his body, fortifying him.

A distant echo of the emergency vehicle intermingled with murmured conversations. Vivan and Hartley, talking about the team he had called, similar to the cleaners the CIA had often utilized in situations like this.

Hartley's anguished cry at the sight of his mother startled Chuck. Chuck's emotions were already close to the surface, but the unexpected depth of emotion on display was astounding. Ciel pulled Chuck away, to make room at his mother's side.

"Mary," Hartley sobbed, gently taking her hand as Chuck moved away. Hartley held her hand in both of his, choking on his tears. Ciel had figured it out, but Chuck had remained oblivious to the man's obvious feelings for his mother.

Chuck's vision blurred, tears filling his eyes, when he saw his mother struggle to tilt her head, resting her forehead against Hartley's knee. Proof of something else Chuck had never expected to see.

As worried as he was about his mother, he suddenly felt voyeurish, intruding on a private moment. He shifted backwards, and with Sarah, exited the van to stand with Vivian.

"Riley may be dead, but Quinn is still out there, Charles. My last contact has him at the airport, chartering a private plane. I think he's headed to America. I couldn't pursue, not on my own, with a bullet hole in my arm."

Urgency was suddenly necessary again, nagging at Chuck, telling him they needed to go…but he couldn't just leave, not yet. He felt like he could hear the clock ticking inside his head, time moving both too slowly and too quickly at the same time.

"What did you give to Riley?" Sarah asked.

"A decoy. General Beckman had the third piece but she gave it to one of her operatives to get it out of Washington. I don't have any more information than that. And if Riley didn't know, then neither does Quinn. He's still looking for the key and your daughter."

As if waking from a dream, Sarah lunged forward. "Vivian, oh my God, where is she?"

Vivian sighed. "I…tried to pass the code. Didn't my father see it?" she asked.

"Madthens, right? Hartley didn't know what that meant." Chuck waited with anticipation.

"It's a combination of two operatives. Madrid and–"

"Athens," Sarah finished as it finally made sense. "But where…I mean who…"

Andros, leaning against the vehicle, chimed in. "Athens is in Costa Gravas. Who is Madrid? That city isn't on the list."

"Costa Gravas?" Chuck exclaimed, his eyes agog. "Athens…Alejandro Goya…or–"

"The Generalissimo," Andros finished.

Sarah clamped her hands over her mouth as tears streamed from her eyes. Chuck grabbed her, pulled her close, relief coursing through his body. The baby was safe.

From inside the van, Chuck heard Hartley, his tone aggravated, edged with tears. "Madrid is my bloody mother, pig-headed as ever!"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "My grandmother's name is Mildred. She's not really an official operative, but don't let her hear you say so. She drives my father crazy." She touched Chuck and Sarah's joined hands. "She's there taking care of your baby in the Premier's palace. The Generalissimo is an old friend of my father's, or…well, sort of."

"Ours too," Chuck sighed. He turned to Sarah. "We have to stop Quinn."

"My father will stay with your mother, Charles. He needs to be here to explain to his cleaners and the medical staff that work for him."

"Stay here and let Ciel take care of you," Sarah told Vivian. "Casey and Morgan are with us."

Before Chuck could call for them, he watched Sarah grab Vivian in a hug. "I can't thank you enough. You saved our daughter…and me. I would have died in Japan without you. Both of us."

Vivian was shocked, but she relaxed into the embrace. "I owed you, Sarah, even if you don't remember it. Your forgiveness is more than enough."

"Thank you, Victoria." Sarah's voice was firm, deliberate. She deserved her fresh start, her new life.

So do we, Chuck thought. He only had one more loose end that needed tying before he and Sarah could claim it.