A/N: Well! This re-examination of Season 3 reminds me of some classes I've taken in college! Lots of opinions, lots of strong feelings. Apparently quite a polarizing subject. I'm not a Chuck expert, I don't have a degree in Sociology, and I have never taken one class about film or cinema or even drama or acting. I'm just a girl who found Chuck ten years after it went off the air and thought…wow. I'm a black sheep amongst my Harry Potter, Twilight, Anime loving friends. What I did…after I watched Chuck the first time through, I watched it again and took notes. A hundred pages of notes. And then I decided to try my hand at fanfic. And here I am.
A/N: I approached this story from Sarah's point of view. I'm female, and though I'm not an ex-con or ex-CIA or ex-assassin, I can relate to Sarah in a lot of ways. She is a character, but she's a person. Sarah as a person is not omniscient. First person POV is used when you are only focusing on one perspective. The show was sort of third person omniscient from Chuck's point of view, with a few snippets of other points for the sake of a tv show. Sarah only knows the scenes she was in. She doesn't know what happens in any other scene where she is not present. She knows some things because, according to my story, those are the things Chuck told her at some point and she remembers. She is not telepathic, and can't read Chuck's mind. The appeal of the show, part of the mystery, is that we don't know what Sarah is really thinking….practically ever, do we? YS is amazing, and she added nuances that clued us in to her inner state…but examining the show, one scene at a time, without foreknowledge…the viewer is just as clueless, just as skeptical as Chuck. Does she have feelings? Is she just doing her job? It goes back and forth, back and forth…Chuck asks her straight up…and we finally can understand all the time before it, but not before then.
A/N: So the showrunners may have had very specific points and themes they were trying to convey. They gave interviews, talked about plot lines, all there on YouTube to view. But with any really good piece of art, as the beholder, I can interpret it for myself and it gains relevance based on my perspective. Any true artist will never dig so deeply in a discussion about inspiration that they cancel out other means of interpretation. Like Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. It has LSD in the title! But John Lennon swore it was based on a picture that his son Julian drew when he was little about a girl in his class. Who is right? Maybe both. Truth is, it doesn't matter. Me knowing about a crayon picture does nothing to diminish how I feel when I hear the song.
A/N: That being said, for the record, let's clarify. Chuck and Sarah were not perfect. They made mistakes, both of them. They were crap communicators. But they were also soul mates–each made the other the best version of themselves. It's refreshing that two soul mates can be so inept at basic communication, in my opinion. Very real, even if the show has holes and wonky plotlines. Chuck had his own path to walk. Their relationship, had he run with her in Prague, would not have been what it ended up being. There were many reasons why Chuck refused her…the mistake he made was in delivery. Communication. She isn't any better.
A/N: I've said this in the story, but it's worth stating here. Chuck saved Sarah just as much as Sarah saved Chuck. Everything he ever did was for her. Yes, the hero's journey and all of that. He needed to be worthy of her. First step in loving someone else is loving yourself. Chuck, defeated, could not fully love her until he conquered his own demons. Becoming a spy was him doing that. But why that, specifically? Because of her. HE SAYS THIS. Why does he threaten to quit if he has to do it without her? She was the only thing that mattered to him. He didn't take her into his world laden with uncertainty and wondering what she felt. He followed her into her world, which was hell, showed her he wasn't afraid of it, then pulled her out.
A/N: I hated the Shaw arc, I hated Shaw. Lots of people do. My spin on him is a little biased, but explained. There is a lot of talk about sex in this story. Mr. Kama Sutra being dull? No matter what Sarah felt, Shaw was unstable, and he coveted Sarah more than anything else. She was in love with Chuck, so regardless of Shaw's prowess, bad experiences are legit. Emotions play a huge role in arousal for women. Being angry, sad, upset…and the best of intentions can still almost be physically painful.
A/N: That's all. I just wanted to get that out there. If you're still reading this, thanks. I truly appreciate the educated discussion.
A/N: Now for this, all of Tic Tac in one chapter. Not too many wtf's here, believe it or not. Only…how did they know about the laudanol? Was Casey the agent they were going to turn that was mentioned in Beard? Do not underestimate the juxtaposition of Casey holding Keller by the throat with Chuck doing the same to the guy. She forgot about the pill and instead saw her worst nightmare come to life–that Chuck had indeed lost the things that made him great. She didn't recover from that until almost the end of American Hero. Thinking she sees him shoot Perry solidifies it for her. Swim until you can't see land, that's the song. What's the outcome of that phrase in action? Drowning. Shaw was just a life preserver. Two more! Can you taste it? (Chuck reference, get it? lol)
Shaw left for DC the next morning. He called to tell me he was leaving, apologizing for the short notice. He never mentioned what he was doing, why he was leaving. Work related, need to know. Even if we were in a quasi relationship. It felt odd to think that way, because even though I had often referred to Bryce as my boyfriend, I couldn't think of Shaw as my boyfriend. It just didn't seem right. I wondered if even me thinking of Bryce that way had been wrong. Compared to Chuck, no one really fit that title.
Shaw wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't even my lover. We had sex. Just like with Bryce–I told Shaw nothing about me. He knew things, unlike Bryce, because Shaw had studied my entire record and memorized it. But he never got a piece more of me, other than my body. He never said a word to me about anything with himself either. He barely spoke, and never while we were having sex.
After three times that were almost identical, I made a pact with myself that I needed to try to attempt to enjoy it. I knew how to master a situation to ensure my own pleasure. Flipping him onto his back would have been better for me and my overall satisfaction, but like I said, I couldn't do that. There was just something about being…exposed like that, bouncing and vibrating on top of him like that. But I wasn't a cold fish, either. I started to move with him, and that seemed to do the trick of overcoming the uncomfortable feeling of the condom. It stopped burning and my natural moisture increased. If he'd lasted a little longer, I might have even climaxed. I fear I might have thought of Chuck during that, which is horrible to think, but I can't say it wouldn't have happened. I couldn't run from how I felt about Chuck.
It's all variable, of course. Size, stamina, and technique. The first two are hereditary, as far as I'm concerned. Sam had both, and what Bryce lacked in size he made up for with stamina. Bryce never finished before I did. Shaw wasn't as bad as Gilles, as Regina had described him to me, but overall, he didn't have very good control. He wasn't very enthusiastic about foreplay, either. He kissed me, but that was it. I couldn't stop making parallels with Sam, and the impersonal way he was with me, most likely because he didn't want to be reminded of what it had been before. I convinced myself that was why Shaw acted that way. It should have been an omen, a sign, but it never occurred to me then. Shaw had always schooled Chuck about his emotional attachments–and he himself had the same problem. Chuck eventually figured it out…and Shaw was destroyed by them.
We were partners, sort of, only because of the situation. Maybe once this time in Burbank was finished, the CIA would station us together like Bryce and me. The thought bothered me, made me force myself to think only of now. If I spent too much time thinking about Chuck and never seeing him again, I would wither inside.
At the end of that phone call, Shaw told me that although some of the meetings he was in Washington for were private, he wanted me at some of the ones later in the week. They were concerned about the Intersect, he said. Like Beckman, just the Intersect, not Chuck. He hinted that if I came a few days early, we could spend some time together outside of work. I didn't want to go at first, but the thought of getting away from Burbank, just for a short while, was too appealing. I told myself the only way I was going to survive was to just keep going. Being away was practice. I had been around Chuck, every day, for almost three years. I needed more distance in between us to feel better. That's what I told myself.
The morning after Shaw left, Beckman assigned us a trace cell mission, which was testing the CIA's security. I'd done them before when I was with the CATS. I was surprised they were assigning it to us, but I didn't complain.
Beckman made a comment, rather inappropriately I thought, about me meeting Shaw in DC afterward. My leaving to meet him early was his wish, not work related. Why was he telling Beckman that I was going to be late for my date with him, and then she's telling the team?
I felt Chuck's eyes boring into the back of my head when she said that. I tried to be cool and professional, increasing the distance between us every chance that I could. Casey stupidly brought up the fact that it was personal too, which didn't help.
Chuck said something about a secret mission in a mission, which I didn't understand, and then discussion about me and Shaw distracted him from the subject. I redirected his attention to our task at hand about as coldly as I was capable of being. To be honest, I pulled away harder because at this point, Chuck wasn't pulling away from me anymore. He was cautious, of course, but he had already had a revelation, thanks to Morgan, that he was still in love with me. In a way, it was like old Chuck. Only, I wasn't old Sarah anymore.
The parts of me Chuck had thawed were refreezing again, slowly and sporadically.
The mission was set for that evening. Fifteen levels of security for us to bypass. It was grueling, but a part of me liked being on a mission with just the three of us again. I couldn't remember the last time. It took the better part of the night, one obstacle at a time, although most of the heavy lifting was done by the Intersect.
We got to the final level and Casey asked me to stay outside and watch the door. He went inside with Chuck. Several minutes passed, and still I was waiting. I got impatient and opened the door.
The scene inside rattled me. I was definitely coming in at the end of some heated exchange. I told myself I must have imagined it, but I almost thought for a second that Casey was lowering his arm, like he had been holding a gun on Chuck. Chuck, for his part, looked like Casey had just pulled a gun on him. He was pale and his jaw was clenched. It didn't make sense.
I asked if everything was ok. I couldn't really read Casey, but Chuck wasn't being honest with me. I couldn't figure it out, and no one said a word for the rest of the night.
The next morning we had another briefing with Beckman. She said that our mission had come a day too late. There was an experimental drug that had been stolen from the facility, one that was designed to suppress emotion in battlefield soldiers.
I'm pausing here to explain this little bit. That's what she told us, but that wasn't the whole truth, as I would soon find out in Washington. It was designed with the Intersect in mind. The 2.0 never worked the way it was intended, because it was in Chuck. Two fold reason: Chuck was Chuck, his heart pure down to the core of him, and also because Chuck was either the model or the first recipient of the Intersect when he was nine, and though he didn't completely understand it, he had a mastery unparalleled with that program. No program could make him into a ruthless killer against his will. So, they tried to pharmaceutically overcome that little hurdle. It was called laudanol.
A little more on this later, because it was an important aspect that was overlooked in real time as this was all happening.
Beckman's description of the drug's effects piqued Chuck's interest. He seemed to intuit all of that information. It was a way to ensure Chuck was never hindered by his emotions as the Intersect. I was worried, wondering why he thought it was such a good thing, when he wouldn't feel anything. Of anyone I had ever known, he felt the most.
He argued, saying at least he would work. Like it was worth not feeling anything so he could be the spy he wanted to be. That's how I took it, and I won't lie, it scared me. It never occurred to me he would want it because he was hurting.
I mean, seriously. Who wouldn't wish a pill into existence, that if you took it, all your grief and pain and loss would just evaporate? An instant cure for depression. I almost wanted it, in that moment, before I squashed those emotions down.
Once Beckman got specific about what happened, Chuck reacted strangely. He kept saying it was a test, that he had seen Casey take the pill out of the box. I was confused, and I kept looking between Casey and Chuck, as well as Beckman's face. Chuck didn't pick up on any of the cues that the rest of us were giving off, especially Casey, who looked like he was going to kill Chuck right in front of me.
I was in shock, but I couldn't deny what was happening.
Casey stole the laudanol? It would have explained the weird vibe I got inside the room after I'd walked in.
But why? Casey worked for the Ring? How was that possible? My world tipped upside down. I didn't know what to believe, if anything, at that moment. I thought of Bryce and his betrayal, even if it wasn't real. I hadn't suspected a thing, but once I looked back there were tells. In three years I had no reason to believe that Casey was anything but loyal to his country.
It slowly dawned on Chuck that it wasn't a test, that this was dead serious for real. Maybe it was the intensity on Casey's face…or the horror on mine. I was in a total state of shock, denial, but my training kicked in. If Casey had turned, we were like sitting sucks. I had to act fast or both Chuck and I were dead. All the while my brain was screaming, Not Casey. Not Casey.
The gun was on the table in front of me. I moved in slow motion, afraid if I lunged it would set him off. I heard the soft gasp from Chuck as I picked up the gun. Beckman was asking Casey about it…and Chuck jumped to his defense immediately. Chuck didn't have that internal spy sense, that training that told him nothing was as it seemed, even things you took for granted. Chuck just believed in his friend, without any proof that he should or shouldn't. That was Chuck.
Casey pleaded the fifth. I felt Chuck's heart plummet even as I reeled in disbelief.
Beckman asked me to disarm Casey. I had to hold him at gunpoint. He reached for his gun. I was internally begging him not to, telling myself that he couldn't, but, honestly, I was so shaken I didn't know. He was only reaching for it to hand it to me, but I had to motion for him to place it down on the table. If I let him get too close, I could be at risk. As crazy as the whole thing was, I was following procedure.
I had to bring Casey to a detention cell, then override the locking mechanism from the outside, because he was privy to all of the codes. Beckman was revoking his access, but I needed to be sure. She also said she was making arrangements to have him taken into custody.
I asked Casey again what was going on, but he was stony-faced and tight-lipped. That hurt more than I expected it would. My whole world had been slowly unraveling for months. Losing Casey just pulled a few more strings out.
Trusting someone, and then being betrayed, can shake everything you know down to the foundation. Everything was uncertain, unknown, and I felt even more lost.
Chuck was in tears at the conference table, his head in his hands. He reacted quickly when he saw me again, hiding his face and excusing himself. He ran up the stairs before I could even say anything else.
I wasn't sure what was worse–that I didn't know if Chuck was upset about Casey or about his own failure to see what was going on. And it was even worse, because I used to know. I used to be able to read Chuck like a book, but I couldn't anymore.
In the meantime, Beckman was sending a team to Casey's apartment to attempt to recover the laudanol. She sent me to supervise. The NSA didn't mess around, apparently, because in broad daylight, she sent a crew of about ten guys in black suits. They ransacked Casey's place with little regard. They cut open his furniture, knocked over his bonsai trees that I knew he spent so much time nurturing. I warned them to be careful.
This wasn't Ted Roark. This was John Casey. My partner. My ex-partner. I felt a surge of pain as I realized maybe that hadn't been true for a while. But I wanted it to be. Everything was easier then.
Chuck showed up at Casey's while the NSA was still in action. As upset as he was, he didn't just give up. He was trying to figure out what was going on. No matter what his eyes or facts were telling him, he was trusting his heart, believing in Casey despite all that had transpired. That was Chuck, quintessential Chuck. I was so afraid of how Chuck was changing, I was relieved to see that, to know that some of Chuck was still there. The best part, the part that I loved.
Chuck had flashed on Casey's old commander, who was now a member of the Ring. Chuck knew somehow that he was the one who had originally turned Ty Bennett against the US government. Chuck's explanation for Casey's behavior was that Casey didn't know Keller was with the Ring. He wanted to tell Casey right away.
I had to remind Chuck that Casey was being charged with treason. I also told him they were moving Casey to a black site, outside of US torture jurisdiction, which is just as awful as it sounds and a classic move.
Chuck said we should break Casey out before they moved him; then we could help him clear his name. I reminded Chuck that if we got caught, we would be committing treason, and that meant he would lose everything. Everything that he had worked so hard for, to be a spy, would be gone.
All Chuck said: "It's Casey."
A tiny spot of my frozen heart melted when he said that. Plain, simple…something only Chuck would do. His friends and family, people he cared about, top priority. That hadn't changed. I know that I smiled, a real smile, something I hadn't done in so long I couldn't remember the last time.
"I was hoping you would say that." And I was. We left together. Shaw was gone out of my mind, like he didn't exist.
Casey was being held in the facility that we had just run the security check on the day before. Chuck and I went in with the intention of getting him off the 15th floor. I was hoping that the CIA wouldn't have had time to make upgrades, but I was wrong.
Chuck made a comment about Shaw waiting for me in DC. It got under my skin a little, moreso that he reminded me of that when I was there with him.
On the first level, we met resistance. The head of security for the building, someone who was very familiar with our exploits in Team Bartowski I might add, confronted us. I played at deception, and Chuck played right along. A little smooth talking and Mr. Fitzroy showed us everything he had done overnight to secure the facility. He basically escorted us to the 15th floor. I'm sure he got in some significant trouble for all of that, but we were running out of time.
Fitzroy brought up Chuck kissing Casey in that incident with Jill. That was how I knew that happened. If the situation wasn't so dire, I would have asked more questions. But as it turned out, the access was a key card. Fitzroy realized too late why we were there, and threatened to swallow the key card, which was the size of a credit card.
Before we could take it, alarms started blaring. It wasn't us. I knocked Fitzroy out and took the card. Something was happening and we were running out of time.
We found Casey on the monitor, just in time to witness an explosion into his cell. Someone else was breaking him out. We opened the door to see Casey lying in a pile of rubble while Keller stood on the other side of an enormous hole he had blown in the concrete wall.
Chuck told Casey Keller worked for the Ring.
Casey was obviously stunned from the blast, probably partially deaf. He stumbled away from us, towards Keller. He could barely speak, but what he said turned my blood to ice.
"I know."
I watched in horror with Chuck as he walked away from us.
We were in the process of running when Beckman's goons grabbed us once we were outside.
Apparently Beckman had departed DC to come to Burbank once Casey was arrested, because she was there in Castle when we were confronted.
She explained Casey's back story, something I had never heard before. John Casey was a cover. He was born Alexander Coburn. I recognized the name, the name that blew Casey's cover when Chuck was pretending to be Rafe. Casey faked his death and joined NSA black ops in 1989. Keller was his commanding officer.
Beckman spared us from prison, but only because she gave us a mission. We were to find and capture John Casey. Dead or alive.
Chuck and I exchanged looks of horror. It was our worst nightmare come alive. Someone close to us, turned against us, knowing all of our secrets.
We got ready right away, gearing up in Castle.
"Three years…three years of missions, training, I'm his friend. How can all of that have been a lie?" Chuck was struggling with what we knew.
"I don't know. Some people change." That was true, but I would never have believed it about Casey. At least, I wouldn't have believed it before my spy senses took a beating from being in Burbank for three years. "You move forward as a spy, and the line between what's right and wrong becomes more and more gray. You don't know what to believe in…or who to believe in." I wasn't just talking about Casey. Maybe Chuck, but definitely also myself. I'd try to tell Chuck that in Prague, but I felt like he didn't listen then. Was he listening now?
"I thought you had changed." The words were burning inside me, part of a long list of things I held inside when I stopped really talking to him.
He stopped what he was doing and looked at me, his brow creased. "What do you mean?"
We didn't have time for a long conversation. I tried to be concise. "Look, I know that you want to be the perfect spy, and I know what it means to you and what you've sacrificed to get there." I had to look down, afraid he would see something on my face that I couldn't control. There was a pause, and something significant passed between us. I felt it. It scared me a little. But I had to finish.
"But please don't lose that guy that I met three years ago. Don't give up on the things that make you great."
He smiled, and I had to look away. I offered him a firearm, and he refused it. "I'll always be that guy."
That was sincere, from the depth of his soul. I wished I had believed him. I should have believed him. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, not believing him. Everything got worse, when it could have gotten better at this point.
We were silent. He pondered what I said. He was going to say something else, but I cut him off, refocused him on the mission. I was afraid of what he was going to say, or how I would react to it.
I asked him much later and he told me he wanted to tell me about what Morgan had said in the dojo, about what was really important to him. I don't know what would have happened if I had let him speak. My only guess? What happened later would have devastated me even more than it did.
Chuck looked…affected by me, sad, struggling to contain his emotions. Loss perhaps, similar to what I felt.
We surmised that if Keller broke Casey out, he still didn't have the laudanol. So if we found Casey, then we had a chance to find it before it fell into the Ring's hands. We came to the conclusion that Casey would have used Morgan to retrieve it, hopefully undetected.
Chuck went to find Morgan, and sure enough, Morgan had the pill. We planned to go back to Chuck's apartment, where we were assuming Casey had headed to meet Morgan, who was now not planning on showing.
Chuck went in the front and I went around back.
When I approached the doors, I could see Casey holding Chuck at gunpoint. Chuck looked terrified, but he told me not to shoot. Casey thought he was talking to him, completely unaware that I was behind him.
I felt sick, but I know if it came down to it, I would have shot Casey to save Chuck. Casey would have understood that, too. It was the same compartmentalization he was capable of, much later, when he convinced himself he could shoot me to save Ellie.
Two years hence, Chuck knew that, from this incident, which was why he changed the plan. He saved my life by doing that, even when I was trying to kill him. More on that later.
I thought Chuck was crazy, or maybe naive, but he was incredibly brave and strong, standing up to Casey like that. Because he knew there was a reason why Casey would turn, and it had to be significant. Something like that had just never occurred to me. People went bad and there wasn't always a clear cut reason.
"I believed in you. I trusted you."
Chuck stepped forward, into the barrel of Casey's gun in one of the bravest acts I have ever witnessed. He still believed in Casey, he even still trusted him, when I no longer did.
Chuck told him he knew everything, about Alex Coburn, Keller, the laudanol, and the Ring.
"The only thing I don't know is why."
Casey dropped the gun, then he turned to see me standing there. The way Casey looked at me was profound. I can't explain it any other way. He knew the only reason I didn't act was because of Chuck. And I think because of that, he told Chuck the truth.
"Alex Coburn…I had a fiancee. Now she thinks I'm dead. And if I don't turn the laudanol over to the Ring, they're going to kill her."
I was dumbfounded. I mean, everyone has a past, but…it blew me away. I thought of the speech Casey made to me, so long ago, about the choice he made to serve his country. He really did make a choice, didn't he?
Chuck and I sat down and Casey told us the story. Kathleen McHugh. He had pictures of him and her when they were younger. Casey never struck me as the sentimental type, but he was a master at suppressing his emotions. I began to wonder if he wasn't always that way, or if just like the rest of us, something in his past had forced him to change.
I made sure Casey knew we weren't going to let anything happen to Kathleen. Chuck was on his feet, planning.
Casey had to meet Keller, but I suggested Chuck go to Kathleen's, while I went with Casey as back up. Casey balked at the idea.
"I don't care who you were. I know who you are. And you are not in this alone." That was my Chuck. I saw it on Casey's face, how taken aback he was with that kind of dedication, devotion from Chuck, especially after he'd just held a gun against Chuck's heart.
Something shifted in that moment, between the two of them. Casey had never really had a friend before, not like that. Sure, I was his partner, but Chuck was his friend. Casey would later tell me he thought of Chuck like a brother. They're that close. It started here, in this moment, when Chuck taught Casey a little bit of what he had already taught me.
I should have remembered that, later, but what I witnessed shook me to the core and upset all of that.
I went in strapped to the undercarriage of Casey's truck, waiting while he was frisked and taken inside the cabin. Casey lit his cigar and then discarded the matches with some folded up, a way to tell me how many guards there were.
I threw a knife into one of them, then shot another as he bent down to check under the car. I rolled out, gun at the ready, and shot two more before they knew what had happened. I kneed the fifth guy in the face and he went down. The man I had knifed in the leg was up, but after a few punches and kicks, he went down too.
I arrived inside the building in time to watch Casey break Keller's neck, killing him with one hand with very little effort. I'd seen Casey kill before, but somehow the brutality of that stayed with me.
Casey and I were killers. That was something we had always understood, commiserated over. It was what had always separated us from the civilized world, the world where Chuck had lived…until we had started polluting his world with ours.
We had to run, as Casey said Keller's men were already at the house. Chuck was alone with Kathleen and we were over five minutes away.
I told Chuck he needed to flash. He said there were too many of them. He was afraid. Casey told him to take the pill.
We both were shocked, but Casey had put it in Chuck's pocket for safe keeping, or maybe, anticipating a situation like this.
I called Chuck's name, but he wasn't on the line any longer. All I heard were muffled noises, voices, and banging in the background. I told Casey to hurry.
There were five men at Kathleen's house, but all of them were subdued by the time we arrived. Kathleen was on the floor, unconscious, and Casey went to her. I ran into the house looking for Chuck.
I found him, holding one of the men up by his throat with one hand. "Chuck, stop!" I screamed breathlessly. The vision of Casey holding Keller the same way was there, superimposed over what I was seeing. I know it was the pill, not Chuck, but at that moment, all the momentum I felt we had gained, all the human-ness I had seen from Chuck, was canceled out as I watched him almost choke someone to death, knowing he might have, if I hadn't stopped him.
It wasn't any consolation at the time, but it was me that broke through. Even the laudanol couldn't dull what he felt for me. I just had the image of Chuck, staring at his hands in disbelief at what he had almost done. It was another profound moment between us, only it set everything back, reversed it, until I didn't know what to believe any more.
I didn't know what to say, and neither did he. We focused on Kathleen. Casey was there when she woke up, but I had to move him away, just in case there was a chance that she would recognize him. We waited for the police, a guise for the cleaners to remove the bad guys. I don't know what story they told Kathleen, but it was a cover.
Fortunately, Kathleen was dazed, and even though Casey interacted with her, she didn't seem aware enough to notice him in any substantial way.
We were getting ready to leave when a young, dark-haired girl came running into the house, right past us. She called Kathleen 'mom' and Kathleen called her Alex.
Casey's daughter. She was Casey's daughter.
Casey went white as a ghost, but he turned and hustled out of there, saying what's dead was dead. Chuck tried to make him stay, but there was no convincing him.
That was the longest, most silent ride we ever took as we drove back to Castle. We were all lost in our own heads.
The next morning, Beckman called us all to Castle. Even with the back story, Beckman had a job to do. She stripped Casey of his rank and dismissed him from service. Just like that, Casey was gone.
Casey saluted her…and she offered a handshake. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever witnessed. Heartbreak on top of heartbreak, it seemed. She asked Chuck to escort Casey out of the premises.
Once they were gone, Beckman spoke to me. She wanted to commend me for my work with the Intersect. She was glad to see that he needed me less and less.
I wasn't anticipating that to hurt the way it did. I stumbled over my words, trying to keep my own emotions in check. Then she reminded me of the reassignment I had asked for after that debacle with Carina earlier in the year. She invited me to take the flight back to DC with her, so she could discuss my potential new assignment.
She was building a Ring task force in DC, of which Shaw was to be the head. She told me he had requested me to partner with him to lead up to it. Once the Intersect had completed spy training, he was going to be reassigned in Europe, and we would track global progress from a central location.
I listened without saying much, thinking about Shaw and what I would tell him when I saw him again. Casey was removed from service. I kept thinking how…upset I was…about all of that. But, talking to him about any of it…what was the point? He was mission focused, practicality focused, my emotions not important. Think like a spy, that was his credo. I swear, he even silently thought that way about us having sex.
Eventually, I told myself I was trying to hold on to so much, so many things that were already gone, and had been gone for a very long time. I just couldn't accept it. Maybe a new location, away from Burbank, was the answer. I'd tried everything else.
And as I sat in the back of a cab that was taking me to see Shaw, all I could think of was that, for sure, I had done a fantastic job of destroying the most beautiful thing I would ever hope to come across in this life.
The ground was approaching fast, in this neverending freefall, and I was relishing it. Anything to stop it from hurting the way it did.
