A/N: Thanks for continuing to follow along, I always appreciate the reviews. I know this site is having some technical issues. From the very beginning, I was undecided about whether I would crosspost on ao3, but these ongoing issues have convinced me to start (still need an account, but soon). Eventually, I plan to crosspost everything, but I'll start with this story since it's the only thing I'm actively working on. I have no intention of abandoning this platform, so don't worry if you prefer it. I'm just going to use both moving forward.

I had a question from 13AF13 about if Casey knew Chuck's parents were feds after the reveal in the previous chapter. I don't think it's going to come up as part of the story, and I don't see it as a spoiler at this point, so I'll just say it here. No, Casey wasn't aware. When I was outlining this story, I was very close to using a storyline angle where Casey was working with them before they were killed, but ultimately decided not to go that route. Instead, Casey was simply in the dark about his parents being feds just like almost everyone else.

o-o-o-o-o

The hum of the wheels on pavement melded with the rumble of the car, the only sound breaking the oppressive silence inside the vehicle. The sun bore down relentlessly, heat rising from the asphalt in waves, twisting and distorting the view. Inside the car, the air held was a peculiar mix of floral notes, fresh soap, and the unmistakable tang of grease, making every breath a mix of the sweet and the sordid.

The three of them sat quietly, staring straight ahead down the road but their attention entirely fixed on the looming building beside them. Large bold lettering along above the entrances announced their target, 'Central Intelligence Agency'. A warning as much as a name.

Chuck exhaled slowly. "So, it's just the one entrance for vehicles, steel security bollards, two armed guards, and more cameras than I can count."

Carina sucked at her teeth with a hiss. "Yeah, definitely not breaking in through the garage."

Sarah nodded. "We already knew this wasn't going to be straight forward. It's not exactly open to the public."

As the car rolled past the pedestrian entrance, Sarah's sharp gaze darted as she catalogued key details. "Two sets of doors, both locked by keycard, and that's just to get into the lobby."

Carina leaned back in her seat. "If we were going to be able to walk in the front door, then it wouldn't exactly be much of a contract. I'm guessing there's a whole array of security beyond that door?"

Sarah nodded.

Carina smirked through a hopeless laugh. "Well Blondie, you're the one who said she had a plan. Care to enlighten us?"

Sarah took one last look at the building before they turned a corner, obscuring it from view. "Chuck, take us down two more blocks and then park in the parking lot there."

Tension settled in the car like a heavy fog. Chuck drove calmly, but the weight of the job pressed against him. As he pulled into the lot, the signage sent an awareness washing over him.

'Pershing Square Metro'

Sarah unbuckled her seatbelt. "Alright, come on. Both of you. I know you're the driver, Chuck, but more eyes on this plan can't hurt. If something goes wrong, we'll need to adjust the plan on the fly and we might not be able to explain much when it happens."

Sarah stepped out as Carina opened her door. "You don't get to stay in the car on this one, Curls."

Chuck's hands slid across the wheel, grounding himself. The hair on his arms prickled at the thought of leaving the safety of the car. Here he was in his element. Here he had control. But did he ever really?

Sarah and Carina were already walking towards the metro station, unaware of the turmoil inside him. The car was safety, security. Out of the car was chaos, danger. Out of the car was the two women, one of whom was his best friend, and the other something else, something unknown.

Out of the car was the job. The answer to his freedom.

He pulled the handle, opening the door.

Chuck caught up quickly to the women as they slipped under the cover of the main entrance. They wove through the press of metro commuters as they moved to the stairs, descending into the dimly lit depths of the subway.

The station was a labyrinth of shadows and echoes, where the air hung heavy with the scent of damp concrete and stale sweat. The flickering fluorescent lights cast a sickly white glow, serving to highlight the thin veil of grime that clung to every surface. The distant rumble of an approaching train reverberated through the tunnel, a low growl that mingled with the murmur of hushed conversations and the clatter of hurried footsteps.

Sarah led them through the maze without looking back, trusting them to follow. As they moved, her voice dropped to a hush whisper that barely reached their ears. "Everyone knows the files we're after are in that CIA substation. We have one advantage that no one else has right now. The plans we stole indicate that door-" she indicated down the train platform to a grimy door labelled 'maintenance'. "is a security exit from the records storage. If I'm right, our objective is somewhere on the other side. The problem? The alarm on that door connects directly to the security controls for the metro line. The station will lock down and trains will stop arriving until a release signal is sent from the facility."

Chuck's eyes traced through the station as a train pulled up, the doors opening with a pleasant chime announcing the station. Passengers poured off and then a fresh wave funneled into the small tube of steel before it screeched away into the darkness.

"I don't suppose we could time it that we get out when a train arrives?" Carina asked, though her tone betrayed little hope.

Sarah shook her head. "Not likely. The security will trigger as soon as we get that door open. I don't know exactly what their response is going to be, but I'd assume guards on every entrance. We'll be looking for the records while they're clearing people to leave, and by the time we're out this place could be empty. Leaving just us, a bunch of CIA agents... and their guns."

Carina blew out a breath. "So, Blondie, tell me you have a plan."

Sarah scowled. "Not a good one. If we're fast, I think our best option is to run down the tracks to the next station, where Chuck waits with the car. But that assumes we get out of the warehouse before the feds are down here."

"The middle track is electrified." Chuck interjected, his fingers twitching at his side. "Even if you get out before the feds arrive, and assuming they don't locked down the next station with guns on the tracks, you'll be running in the dark, blind and one wrong step from being fried."

Sarah nodded. "Like I said, it's not a good plan. But compared to what's up on the street, I think it's our best option."

Carina glanced down the platform at the door, the maintenance sign rusting with age, the handle thick with grime from disuse. "What if we didn't have to open the door?"

Sarah shot her a look. "Then I'd say we're standing here not doing much of anything."

Carina rolled her eyes. "No, but it's a maintenance room… what if we did maintenance? Open a hole in the wall beside the door instead. You said the alarm's on the door, is the alarm connected through the entire wall?"

Sarah hesitated, considering the option. She pulled out her phone and quickly flicked through the images she had saved of the facility blueprints. "It's an interesting idea. It might be an option to get us to the next room. I think either way we need to assume that at some point we trip the alarm, but that could buy us some time before they start locking down the station."

Chuck, meanwhile, studied the tracks as another train screeched into the station. "You said the alarm stops arrivals, right? What about the trains already through? Will the trains already past the station keep running?"

Sarah shrugged. "They should keep running. The information I saw only indicates it stops arrivals."

"Ok, so what if we took the tracks all the way down to get out?" He asked.

Sarah looked at him quizzically. "I thought we just agreed that running down the tracks wasn't a great idea. They'll realize we must be on them and shut down the stations until they find us. We'd be trapped like rats."

A mischievous smile tugged at Chuck's lips. "Not run. Drive."

Carina arched an eyebrow. "I don't exactly think you're driving down the stairs without anyone noticing, so first you'd have to get the car here."

Chuck shook his head "That's easy Ri, there are service entrances to the subway for maintenance vehicles. We just need to find the closest one to this station."

Carina cocked her head to the side in thought. "Okay, assuming you can get your car into the tunnels, and assuming it fits-"

"It will." Chuck interjected.

Sarah crossed her arms as she continued with her own objections. "Even if it does, you might need to drive for miles before we get to an exit. People are going to notice and it'll get called in."

"We just need to be faster than the response team. At seventy miles per hour we'll be long gone before anyone can coordinate a response team. The CIA won't be working close enough with the police right away so they won't be able to coordinate between the break in and a car on the tracks." His casual response made it seem like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Besides, you're not looking at the difficult part."

Carina sighed heavily. "Which is?"

"I'd need to be between the last train through here and the first train stopped at the last station." He responded. "Which means driving between two running trains, without headlights, and then I'd need you to trip the alarm within a minute of entering the final stretch before this station."

Sarah gave him a flat look. "Oh, is that all?"

Chuck shook his head. "Nope, even if we do all that, the doors won't open, so I'd have to install a sunroof for you to crawl in. I figure that's not too hard though."

Sarah shook her head in resignation. "Ok, so the best plan we have right now, is we break down a wall so we can delay an alarm. Find the files we're looking for in a maze of records. Trip the alarm at the exact right time. All so we can escape by driving down a pitch-black tunnel at breakneck speeds until we get to an exit."

Carina grinned. "Still better than going in the front door."

Sarah looked at her in disbelief. "You sure about that?"

o-o-o-o-o

Despite all of Sarah's efforts to come up with a better plan, Chuck found himself back in his workshop that evening. With his angle grinder in hand, he started to cut an opening in the top of his car for a sunroof. Standing on the door frame, he leaned over the roof, his face set in an intense focus. The high pitched whine of the blade filled the shop as the blade contacted the roof, spitting out sparks as he made the first cuts. His grimy tank top didn't provide protection against the work as sparks landed on his arm, burning in sharp announcement for only a moment before flaking away.

The wide open shop door let in a sliver of night air, cutting the heat of the day and the acrid scent of scorched metal. He was so engrossed in the precision of his work, that the sound of a clearing throat made him jolt.

Chuck's head snapped up, his brow furrowing for a moment at the sight of John Casey in the garage door, framed by the streetlights outside. The detective took a long slow drag on his cigar, the thick smoke obscuring his face.

"What are you working on there, Chuck?" His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp.

Chuck shut off his tool as he stepped down to the cement floor. "Just wanted a little more light, Casey." He said, forcing a relaxed chuckle.

Casey strode into the shop, casually looking around at the empty hoists. "Do much work on your car when business is slow?"

Chuck pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands, keeping his expression neutral. "Gotta stay busy somehow or I'd go crazy. Besides, when a client asks what I can do I can always show them my car and demonstrate all the mods firsthand."

Casey nodded and narrowed his eyes as he started circling the car, gently running his hands over the vehicle. "Good business, that. Not a lot of cars with high performance engines, reinforced suspension, run flats, and custom exhaust to make it all quieter than a baby's fart." His voice was quiet, but the implication was clear. "You get many clients wanting modifications like that?"

Chuck threw down the rag on a table as a chill ran down his spine. "Not really, can't say many want those." He admitted. "But it's just a taste. A lot of my work is on custom utilities trucks, those clients like to know I can handle custom jobs."

Casey stopped his circling and levelled Chuck with a stare. "And the clients that do want those modifications? Do they just prefer to use your car?"

Chuck's breath caught. "Who… who would want to use my car?"

Casey held his cigar in one hand, puffing gently on it as he reached into his coat with the other. Chuck tensed, dread coiling in his gut before a manila envelope peeked out from the detective's lapel. Casey flicked it onto the hood, sliding it to a stop in front of him.

"For the longest time, I had trouble understanding one of my cases." Casey mused, almost to himself. "A driver, small-time jobs. But a real pro. He drove a car a lot like yours. And I couldn't figure out why he would drive something so... ordinary."

Casey took another puff as Chuck dragged the envelope towards himself, opening the flap and pulling out a stack of pictures. The first few splayed out, grainy images from his past jobs. He exhaled slowly. Damn it. So close. It was just one last job and then he'd be out.

Well, he wasn't about to make it easy for Casey.

Chuck met his gaze with a shrug. "Who knows why anyone does anything these days?"

Casey took another long drag and tilted his chin towards the stack of pictures. "Keep going. It gets even more interesting."

Chuck flipped through the photos slowly, fingers moving slower as the stack thinned. Each shot was from a security camera, his car barely visible in the frame, but unmistakable given the sheer volume of photos.

"So like I said, I couldn't figure it out." Casey mused. "The driver kept working these small-time jobs. And that was the strange part to me. It was like he wanted to avoid anything big. Anything that could get him noticed."

Chuck flipped over the last photo. The bank job with the tweakers from just a couple weeks ago.

Chuck glanced at Casey, feigning innocence. "Guess you're just going to have to keep looking."

Casey chuckled, amusement never reaching his eyes. From another pocket, he pulled out a single folded piece of paper. "I thought the same thing." He unfolded the paper, revealing another photo that he tossed towards Chuck, spinning it in the air as it slowly settled onto the hood. Sarah and Carina, taken just days ago.

Chuck barely breathed as he looked at the image. Of course the pick up at the bank had reached the feds after their chase through the city. Chuck swallowed heavily, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Casey's voice cut through his thoughts. "Now it seems this driver is running with some very dangerous people."

Chuck clenched his jaw. "What do you want, Casey?"

Casey took a quick puff as he raised an eyebrow. "As much as I'd love to bust you right now, there's something bigger going on. The feds aren't telling me much, and somehow my informants are worse. Walker is going down, it's just a matter of time. The only question is if you're willing to go down with her."

Chuck swallowed hard. If it wasn't Bryce, it was Casey. If it wasn't Sarah, it was him.

His eyes flicked up. "I'm not looking for a deal, Casey."

Casey's expression darkened. "I'm not offering a deal, Chuck. I'm offering a lifeline. These people killed your parents. They'll kill you just as quickly."

Chuck crossed his arms over his chest. "You're wrong, Casey."

A flicker of something - pity, maybe - crossed Casey's eyes before he exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're going to realize some day that I'm trying to help. Hopefully it's soon."

He narrowed his eyes at Chuck one last time before glancing to the table where his business card lay untouched after their last meeting, a thin layer of dust now coating it. "If you wise up, you have my number. If not…" Casey trailed off, leaving the rest hanging in the air unsaid.

With a final drag on his cigar, Casey turned and strode out the door into the night.

Chuck stared after him, before shutting the door and picking up the grinder, feeling the weight of everything in his hands.

o-o-o-o-o

On the rooftop across from Bartowski Motors, Bryce Larkin leaned back with a pleased smirk on his face. He capped the lens on his large telephoto camera, the click echoing softly in the still night air. The city lights cast a dim glow over the scene, neon signs flickering intermittently as they cast jittery shadows across the rooftop, like ghosts caught in a stutter.

He couldn't have dreamt up a more ideal scenario to come across. The sight of Chuck and Casey together, seemingly conspiring, was a perfect picture of betrayal. He scrolled through the photos on his camera, each one more damning than the last. The way Casey so casually leaned on the car, the photo of Sarah and Carina barely visible between them. Perfect.

He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, imagining the look on Sarah's face when he showed her the evidence. Maybe after this, she would realize they were better off working together again. The thought of Sarah by his side once more, just like old times, brought a genuine smile to his lips. They had been a formidable team, and he was convinced they could be again.

Once he convinced her Chuck was working against her, she would be free to join him. He could already see the doubt forming in her eyes, the questions she would ask, the trust she would lose in Chuck. It was all part of his plan. With Sarah on his side, they could knock off Jack Burton and Daniel Shaw in a single night. Those two had been thorns in his side for far too long, and it was time to remove them from the equation.

Then they'd be the only ones left to finish the Fulcrum contract. The ten million would be enough to flesh out the whole empire, to build something that would last. He could see it all so clearly – the power, the influence, the control. It was within his grasp, and he was determined to seize it.

Bryce stood up, stretching his muscles, feeling the cool night breeze against his skin. He packed up his equipment as he took one last look at Bartowski Motors, illuminating the shop like a beacon. It was almost too easy.

With a final smirk, Bryce turned and made his way to the rooftop exit. The night was still young, and there was much to be done. He descended the stairs, his mind already working on the next steps, the next moves. Nothing was going to stand in his way.