Chapter 40: Larger Than Real Life

A thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes. – Mark Twain

Larger Than Real Life

14 DECEMBER 2007
SMITHSONIAN NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM
21:46 EST

Sarah slammed the palm of her left hand into the space between Chuck's shoulder blades, giving him no choice but to go forward like an actor taking a bow. The room blurred. He let out a whoosh of breath in surprise. He felt the puff of air as Sarah swung the hand holding the tranq gun she'd taken from Chuck's waistband around, intending to take out Zarnow.

She never got the chance. At least, Chuck never heard the thwpp of the tranq gun going off.

He did, however, hear something hit the ground heavily, followed by the distinct thunk of something hitting skull. And even as he marveled at the strange turns his life had made that he would recognize a noise like that, he also heard the staggered thump of an unconscious body hitting the floor.

He nearly froze, but instinct made him look up. Collapsed on the ground was Dr. Jonas Zarnow.
And standing over the body, dressed in all black and smirking, was Bryce Larkin.

Chuck blinked.

Bryce Larkin did not disappear, which meant that he was not a hallucination. Chuck took a step back, only to bump into Sarah. She yanked him to the side. As one, they gaped at Bryce, who was rubbing the butt of the gun he'd used to pistol-whip Zarnow with an honest-to-God handkerchief.

Where the hell had he come from?

"Hey, guys," Bryce said, the grin broadening. He looked directly at Sarah. "Got your message. Did you miss me?"

Sarah, without missing a beat, shifted her aim a fraction and pulled the trigger. Twice.

In some distant part of his brain, Chuck entertained the thought that if he'd had a camera right then, pictures of Bryce's shocked face would be circulating Facebook soon. The other spy looked down at the orange-fletched darts protruding from his chest, blinked, and said, "Huh, I'm still gonna take that as a yes," before he collapsed into a boneless pile beside Dr. Zarnow.

For a full moment, stunned silence reigned. Finally, Sarah broke it. "Bastard," she said.

Chuck looked at the two unconscious bodies on the ground, still dazed. What had just happened? "Which one?"

Sarah shot him a look: does it matter?

Chuck supposed it didn't. "Where did he come from?"

Sarah glanced up. They were still standing by the water fountains, over which there was a sign protruding from the wall, large enough for a man to stand on. After a second of squinting, Chuck could see where it was possible to get onto it from the second floor, if one didn't mind a bit of jumping atop actual exhibits from the Smithsonian on the way to get there.

He felt a vicious stab of anger. Sarah hadn't used enough tranq darts. What the hell, Bryce?

Sarah knelt by Zarnow and checked for a pulse. Whatever she found seemed to make sense to her, given that she nodded. "I did not see that one coming," she said, nodding at the inert scientist. She did not check Bryce for a pulse.

Chuck ignored the need to point out that Dr. Zarnow could easily play a shady KGB agent without even having to act much. "He was selling secrets to North Korea," he said, and went to retrieve Sarah's kicked gun.

She rose as he handed the gun over. "You flashed on him?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't blurt it out?"

"Seemed prudent not to accuse the guy holding a gun at my head of selling state secrets," Chuck pointed out. He winced when Sarah turned the tranq gun toward Zarnow's prone form and fired once. But at least they no longer had to worry about him waking up and causing trouble. He took the tranq gun from Sarah and put it in its normal spot. "I figured out he didn't know I was Patient X, so I decided to just keep my mouth shut, miracle of miracles."

"Hm. Well, I'm grateful for that. Quick thinking." Sarah scowled and tilted her head to the ceiling, resting it on the back of her neck. She heaved a groan while Chuck blinked at her in surprise. "He couldn't have done this tomorrow? Damn it. I'd better call this in. Stand guard, okay? And give Casey a call. He'll already be halfway here by this point, no doubt."

"No doubt," Chuck said.

"And don't think we won't be talking about this little stunt," Sarah said, and slapped something against his chest as she stalked by, already pulling out her phone to make the necessary calls.

Chuck barely caught his wristwatch in time to keep it from clattering to the tiles. He thought he heard Sarah mutter something about teaching him to pickpocket being the death of her, but he wasn't sure.
Right now, he figured the best thing to do was what he was told so he dialed Casey's number. Like Sarah, he did not look at Bryce's unconscious body. "Hey, Casey."

"Bartowski, what the hell is going on?"

"Uh, we're still at the Smithsonian and everything's okay." Chuck looked around. The half-lit spaceships and airplanes had looked so cool a few minutes before, but now there was too much to think about to properly marvel. "I'm fine, Sarah's fine. Dr. Zarnow of Intersect Project fame is apparently a traitor, given that he came by to try and kidnap Sarah."

"What? He kidnapped Walker?"

"Didn't I just say that—no, he didn't. He's unconscious now."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Chuck could hear traffic noise and wondered just how badly Casey was breaking the speed limit. Finally, the NSA agent spoke. "Should've let him get away with the blonde."

Chuck sputtered. "I happen to be fond of the blonde!"

"That makes one of us. Walk me through what happened."

"I'm not sure of the whole story, but Zarnow held me at gunpoint. He was planning to take Sarah and get the identity of Patient X. Oh, did I mention that he's selling state secrets to North Korea and has been for years? Yeah, he's got a nice, juicy file in the Intersect. Luckily, he didn't realize Patient X was me. He almost had us, but Bryce knocked him out and—"

"Whoa," Casey said. "Back that trolley right up, Bartowski. Did you say Larkin knocked Zarnow out?"

"Yeah, he just magically showed up. And he jumped off a few priceless artifacts to do so." Chuck glanced down at the form of Bryce Larkin, super-spy, once-suspected traitor, and his college best friend. Oh, and he remembered, maybe the ex to the woman he was dating right now. As if things weren't complicated enough. "But don't worry, Sarah tranqed him."

There was a bark of laughter over the phone line. "Nice one, Walker."

"Yeah, she's calling in scene clean-up right now."

"All right. My ETA is twenty minutes, stay put and listen to Walker." As usual, Casey didn't say good-bye before he hung up.

Chuck shrugged to himself and tucked the phone in his pocket just as Sarah came striding back. She still looked annoyed. "Casey's about twenty minutes out," he said. "I forget. Does the Crown Vic in DC have Nitrous Oxide or not?"

"I think that's just the L.A. model," Sarah said without looking at him. She was frowning down at Bryce and Zarnow. "Why did Bryce come here? How long was he following us?"

"Not too long, I hope." Chuck attempted a weak smile, though his head was spinning and there was far too much space inside the Smithsonian, and he was standing over two unconscious people. "I distinctly recall nerding out over a cosmonaut landing capsule for a good ten minutes, and I'm not sure I can live that down."

Sarah waved a hand absently at that. "I thought it was cute."

"Cute," Chuck echoed without enthusiasm. "Great."

Sarah looked up to squint at him. "Are you okay? I hit you kind of hard."

"It's really okay, a bruised spinal column is nothing compared to my usual amount of injury whenever gunplay is involved." Chuck made a deliberate point of shrugging, though he could still feel a dull ache where Sarah had hit him. "It's fine, I promise. No permanent damage."

"Good." Worry immediately vanished from Sarah's face. Chuck heard a distinct voice in the back of his head say, Uh-oh. "Let's talk about the watch."

He winced. "Do we have to?"

"That watch," Sarah said, her voice even and measured, "is there to protect you, not me. It stays on your wrist at all times. What part of that wasn't clear?"

He normally would have apologized at this point, Chuck thought. But right now, he could feel annoyance beginning to heat up. He straightened his shoulders. "Zarnow was going to take you, not me. And for all intents and purposes, it looked like you were going to let him, ergo you needed the homing beacon more than I did. I made an executive decision."

"I had the situation under control," Sarah said through what sounded like clenched teeth.

"It didn't look under control."

"Well, it was!"

"What if he'd taken you and you didn't have the watch? We'd never have found you, Sarah. You'd be dead." The thought terrified him. Or maybe he was coming down from the adrenaline. Either way, Chuck's knees went a little watery, but he didn't back down. "And it's not like I was going anywhere, so the watch didn't really matter for me. I mean, until fifteen minutes ago, war planes and missiles and bomb casings aside, the Smithsonian was one of the safest places on the planet. You, on the other hand, were going to let yourself be taken by a B-movie mad scientist, which is, for the record, not anywhere near as safe as the Smithsonian!"

Sarah glared. "You don't get to make those decisions, Chuck. You're the Intersect, your safety is top priority, not mine."

"Sarah, please." Chuck shoved his hands into his pockets and gave Sarah a "get real" look. "How has it not occurred to you that you are part of my safety? If you're not safe, I'm not safe. Seriously. If something happens to you, my brain will literally stop working and the government will have lost not only one of their best agents but their precious Intersect as well." He scowled. He really did want to kick something, but it seemed unfair to Bryce or Zarnow, even if one had potentially damaged priceless aeronautical artifacts and the other had tried to shoot him and his date. "Not that that was why I gave you the freaking watch. I just wanted you safe, okay? And gah, I'm done talking about this. I have the watch back, the bad guy is now drooling on the floor, it's over and done with." He glanced over at the sound of the doors to the museum opening. "And it looks like the clean-up crew in DC is scarily fast."

When he looked back, Sarah no longer seemed furious. Instead, she had an inscrutable look on her face, and she was studying him intently, her brows drawn together. Finally, she let out a sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. She looked a little overwhelmed. "Maybe I need a watch."

"What?"

Sarah gestured down at the floor. "This sort of thing is going to keep happening to us, isn't it, after all? We seriously have the worst luck on the planet."

"Maybe we should just look at it as being unique. How many people do you know that can claim their first date was interrupted by a mad scientist and a…" Chuck looked down at his old best friend. "Whatever Bryce is."

"Very true." Something flickered across Sarah's face. "I'm only going to say this once: you may not like it, but your safety matters more than mine." She held up a finger when he opened his mouth to protest. "But even so, I think I should have a watch like yours. So that tonight doesn't happen again."

"And Casey?" Chuck asked.

Sarah smiled and shrugged. "And Casey, too."

"Done." It was, Chuck thought, as much of an apology as he was going to get, and he was fine with that. He answered Sarah's smile. "Do you want me around for the clean-up?"

"Probably best if you're not here."

"All right, I'll be waiting for you up by Kermit." At Sarah's skeptical look, Chuck shrugged. "What? Frogs need love, too."

14 DECEMBER 2007
SMITHSONIAN NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM
22:58 EST

The problem with waiting for Casey and Sarah was that it gave Chuck time to think. Far, far too much time to think. He wandered, as there were solar system galleries upstairs, but as it became more obvious that Casey might look for him, Chuck planted himself in front of the display of Kermit and decided to wait. And with nothing to keep his thoughts occupied, they whirled a million miles a minute.

Overruling almost everything was aggravation very similar to Sarah's. He'd agreed wholeheartedly with her annoyed, "They couldn't have done this tomorrow? Damn it." The date had been going much better than any Chuck Bartowski date ever. He'd relaxed enough that most of the edginess driving his past two weeks had vanished, he was at the Smithsonian, and he was there with Sarah Walker. The date had been fun in a way that made him feel faintly ridiculous, like a contact high. He had no idea if things had been leading anywhere—Sarah was still a little hard to read, and even now he could feels the nerves gnawing at him—but damn it, Zarnow.

And Bryce. Bryce freaking Larkin.

Got your message.

Chuck should have been happy to see his friend. After all, Bryce wasn't a traitor; he was unorthodox and a bit of what the agency called a grandstanding cowboy, but he hadn't committed treason. He hadn't given the Intersect to Fulcrum. He'd given it to Chuck. He'd driven Sarah Walker back into Chuck's life and pulled Chuck from the bunker. Even if the Intersect put Chuck in constant danger, he should at least be grateful for that much, right?

But Chuck could only think about the argument and talk in the park nearly two months before, when he had asked Sarah exactly what happened between the partners, and he had officially met Sarah the Ice Queen. And it was stupid to think about that when there were important matters of national security being handled downstairs, but he couldn't help but wonder. Had Sarah and Bryce been a thing? What did that mean, now that Bryce was back? Logically, in his head, he knew that Sarah was furious at Bryce, and that she had made it clear time and again she liked Chuck, but…

He was freaking Bryce Larkin.

Bryce didn't pause instinctively in doorways and check empty rooms for danger out of thin air. He didn't need to be coaxed or coerced into going outside, or to be constantly watched for fear of all hell breaking loose. Bryce could do things like take Sarah dancing and he had always been the one with the devastatingly good looks, who always got the pretty girls over Chuck until Jill had come along.

What happened once Sarah got over her fury? Or Bryce gave her the come-hither look that had felled entire legions of Stanford coeds? Or—could you get any more pathetic, Bartowski? Casey's voice sounded in Chuck's brain. You were just held at gunpoint by a mad scientist who was going to kidnap your date in order to find you, and you're worrying about something Sarah might or might not feel for Pretty Boy Larkin.

As if Casey had the ability to read minds, the man himself appeared around the corner, wearing the casual Casey look of a polo shirt with creases sharp enough to cut and dark jeans. He grunted when he spotted Chuck. "Couldn't even make it through one date without there being a national emergency?"

Chuck climbed to his feet. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Casey's glare was more of the grumpy than angry variety. "It was my night off."

"I tried to keep it that way, I really did, but then I remembered your threat about what happens if I don't push the panic button." Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled at the ground. "Something about how even if my fingers are bloody nubs, I'm still supposed to push the button with my nose? Ringing any bells?"

"Heh, glad to see Walker's not the only cranky one," Casey said. He paused as he looked over at Kermit. "I expected him to be bigger."

"He looks bigger on TV," Chuck agreed.

Casey made a "hmm" noise. "Good work alerting me," he said. "Starting to use your brain for something besides a database for useless geek information."

"And the Intersect, of course," Chuck said, and almost flinched when Casey turned a bland stare his way. He cleared his throat. "What's happening?"

"They're taking Zarnow into custody, and in a couple of days, somebody will stumble over the information that he's been selling secrets to the North Koreans."

"Why a couple of days?"

"Don't want him realizing you're Patient X, do we?"

"Yeah, I guess not." Chuck didn't look away from Kermit. "And Bryce?"

"Larkin will be out for a few hours, thanks to Walker. They're putting him in the same happy hotel they billeted you and Walker in back in October."

Federal detention, Chuck realized. He frowned.

"Just for the record, one of the clean-up crew recognized Walker, and they're downstairs laying bets on her mystery date." Casey sounded almost gleeful. "So when we leave, I'd stand up straighter, if I were you. Try not to make everybody think Walker's a lesbian."

"You're an asshole," Chuck told him.

Casey's replying grunt: you got that right. "Ready to go?"

Chuck cast one last regretful look around the Smithsonian. He would come back someday with at least six or seven hours to explore, he decided. "Yeah," he said, turning away from Kermit. His scowl deepened when Casey snickered at him for straightening up, but the men didn't say anything else as they headed for the stairs. They met Sarah on the landing halfway down, and Chuck nearly jumped. Great, he thought. He was back to being edgy around Sarah.

She didn't acknowledge the reaction. Instead, she just glanced at Chuck swiftly, her expression hard to decipher, and turned to Casey. "Could you give us a minute?"

"I'll meet you at the entrance," Casey told Chuck, and left without a word to Sarah.

"Such a happy man," Chuck said once he had left. He swiveled to face Sarah, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. "What's up?"

"Let's, ah, walk and talk. The sooner we clear out of here, the better." Sarah surprised Chuck by looping her arm through his. It was a favorite move of hers, but for some reason, it made him jolt. Sarah gave him a strange look. "Are you okay? Is the space getting to you?"

Chuck nearly lied, but caught the look on Sarah's face. "A little," he confessed. "But it's not a big deal. I'm sorry about the date."

"Not your fault. Possibly mine, though. I should have noticed a tail." Sarah sighed as they reached the base of the stairs. "I think Zarnow may have been watching my apartment."

"Clearly he has a rocking social life if he's staking out an apartment on a Friday night," Chuck said. "Even so, I'm more concerned that you've been working with this man for two weeks and you never once looked at him and thought, 'Wow, you would make a great cohort to Snidely Whiplash.'"

"A," Sarah said, "that's stereotyping and b, cohort? Really?"

"It's a word that doesn't get enough use, I think." They cut across the main bay, where there were several men in ubiquitous black suits carefully sweeping the Smithsonian for prints. Chuck wanted to warn them to be careful, to not hurt any of the artifacts, but it looked like they knew what they were doing. Still, it was a bit odd, considering that Chuck didn't think they had actually touched anything. Better safe than sorry, he figured. He imagined Beckman and Graham would be less than thrilled if the national news flashed his mug shot for breaking into the Smithsonian. And Sarah's career as an undercover agent would definitely be over with that sort of media attention. "Besides, we've been watching for Fulcrum so much, how were we supposed to know that one of the top scientific minds in the NSA is apparently a major traitor? That's, like, way outside of our wheelhouse."

Sarah made a grumbling noise under her breath. "Our wheelhouse just seems to be Murphy's Law in general."

"Well, I can't argue with that."

Sarah rubbed her free hand over her forehead and down her face. "I have a favor to ask you."

"Sure, name it."

Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. "Take my car back? I've got to go into the office and sort out everything that happened with Zarnow, and I want to ride over in the car with Bryce in case he wakes up."

"Oh," Chuck said. "Bryce."

Sarah winced. "Which is something we need to talk about, but unfortunately, now's really not the time."

"It's okay," Chuck heard himself say. "I understand." He thought for a second and the nature of Sarah's favor caught up to him. "Whoa, whoa, wait a second."

"What?" Sarah glanced around, alarmed and ready for danger.

"Did you say you wanted me to take your car?"

"Yes, why? What's wrong with that?"

"This is not just any car we're talking about here. It's a Porsche. What happens if I mess it up?"

"Chuck?" Sarah actually stopped and turned him to face her, putting her hands just above his elbows like she often did. "You'll be fine. Just don't scratch it, and I won't have to kill you and hide your body in a quarry, okay?"

Chuck gave her a sour look. "You're a big help."

"I'm joking." Sarah hit him lightly above the elbow. "You're a great driver, you'll be fine, and if you scratch it, I have insurance. Seriously, don't worry. Though, actually, try not to crash it. The car's replaceable, you're not."

"Okay." Chuck drew in a deep breath as he took the keys from her.

"Good. Thank you. You'd better go." Sarah squeezed his arms once before she let go and stepped back, looking regretful. "Don't want Casey to get too impatient."

"Right." Chuck cleared his throat. He'd had awkward good-byes on first dates before—wasn't that half the point of high school?—but this took the cake. He would see Sarah in the morning, she was his partner, they hadn't really discussed what dating actually meant, there were government types wandering around that could turn the corner and find them any minute. Did they hug? Was this a hand-shake good-bye sort of thing? Did people actually shake hands when they'd known each other this long? He had no clue what to do now.

In the end, he just cleared his throat and took a step back, away from Sarah. "Right," he said again. "I'll go do that now. I'll see you back at the house?"

"Probably not. I'll just crash at headquarters. Dave keeps a few spare cots in the Den." Sarah pushed her hands through her hair—which she had left down for the date so that it fell around her face in sunny ringlets—and shook her head yet again. "I'd better go before the car leaves without me. Good-night, Chuck."

And that solved the problem of how to end the date, Chuck supposed. "Good-night," he said, and turned to head toward Casey. He tried not to let his shoulders droop with disappointment. What the hell had he been expecting? Their date had ended at gunpoint, and not only was Sarah's maybe-ex back in their lives, but Sarah had to go to work.

What on earth has misguided you so badly that you believe you'll ever be cursed with normality? Ellie's words nearly made him smile, even if there wasn't much humor in the expression.

He was about to round the corner to head toward the entrance where Casey no doubt awaited him when he heard running footsteps behind him, and Sarah's voice. "Chuck!"

Chuck turned, half reaching for the tranq gun in case zombies had overtaken the Smithsonian. "What? What is it?" he asked as Sarah skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Nothing." She seemed oddly breathless. "I just forgot something."

"What—" Chuck started to ask before Sarah startled him by leaning forward and kissing him.

He froze for either a split second or an eternity. He'd made jokes about Sarah shutting down his brain before, but never like this. All thought just stopped in its tracks, except for one concrete, terrifying, thrilling thought: Sarah Walker was kissing him. And holy hell was it better than any single one of his fantasies. There wasn't anything inherently dirty about the kiss like in his daydreams; it was sweet and almost breezy. His hands lifted, but he had no idea where was considered "safe," so he just let them fall to his side, and all brain function ceased.

Sarah broke the kiss first, leaning back. As Chuck blinked rather stupidly at her, her smile blossomed. "Despite everything, I had a good time tonight," she told him.

Chuck wasn't sure brain activity would return for hours, let alone the ability to speak, so he just nodded. For some reason, this made Sarah's smile widen before she took off toward the crime scene, jogging a bit. She looked back to flash another grin at him before she rounded the corner.

Chuck stayed exactly where he was until rational thought returned. Only then did the grin start to bloom. By the time he had reached Casey at the entrance a couple of minutes later, he was smiling widely enough that the NSA agent rolled his eyes. "What're you so happy about?"

Though he was tempted to tell the truth, Chuck held up the car keys. "She let me drive."

15 DECEMBER 2007
THE DAVE CAVE
10:48 EST

"Okay," Chuck said, fighting back a yawn. "I understand why I'm at work on a Saturday, as I've got no choice since both of my handlers—currently absent or not—are here, but what I don't get is why you  are. And maybe I should have mentioned this earlier."

Digital Dave didn't look up from the blueprints spread across the guts of ten other electronic devices on his side of the Cave. "Josie took the girls to Connecticut this weekend, and the house was too quiet." He scowled. "Why the hell are you yawning so much? You're making me yawn."

"Sorry," Chuck said and yawned again, wincing when Dave mock-scowled at him. "Sorry! Really, I didn't sleep much last night. I'm sorry."

And that was the honest truth. The kiss from Sarah had been enough to make him float home, but over the drive between the Smithsonian and the Davenports', the two percent of his brain that hadn't been focused on getting Sarah's car back in one piece had started in with doubts and fears and just wondering what the hell kind of move Bryce was trying to pull.

Why had he come back? He'd made it obvious that he hadn't trusted Sarah or Casey, so why on earth would he reveal himself to Chuck and Sarah on the date? Of course, that may have been because of him, Chuck realized. They had been in danger and Bryce Larkin was blessed with a hero gene that required him to save the day in grandiose fashion every once in awhile. Maybe he'd thought the situation with Zarnow was too dire to stay hidden over, though it made Chuck a bit nauseated to think that Bryce might have been tailing them for the entire date. And vaguely violated, now that he thought about it.

And it was foolish but his traitorous brain couldn't help but wonder exactly what Bryce had been to Sarah, which hadn't exactly led to much sleep on his part. Around three o'clock, he'd hopped on X-Box Live with Morgan and had spent a couple of hours fragging noobs. It had helped him feel better. Somewhat.

Now, Dave gave him another annoyed look as he yawned again. "Pass me that, would you?" He pointed at the tiny screwdriver that had rolled onto Chuck's side of the worktable. Chuck obligingly rolled it back.

It had been an education to work in the den. He'd made friends among the engineers and tech-nerds once they'd stopped treating him like, in their words, "the reincarnation of MacGyver," so he was actually rather comfortable there now. Sure, it had taken a couple of days to clear a space where he could work in peace and half of the Dave Cave still looked like the result of an unfortunate explosion, but the other half was neat, tidy, dust-free. There was a rolling chair in the corner that neither nerd used. It was reserved for Casey or Sarah, whichever agent was assigned to hang around Chuck that day.

Today, however, the chair was empty.

"Worked out that bug in the Fulcruminator last night," Dave said as he fiddled a new piece onto the transponder he was fussing with.

Chuck looked up from his laptop. "Oh yeah?"

"I tested it this morning. It didn't set off the system, but it did alter the code enough that…"

"Still could be a problem?"

"Once in a bajillion, maybe," Dave said. "I know, I know. Still not worth the risk. I think, once we get past that glitch, though, it'll be ready to be field-tested."

"Be nice if we had an actual facility to field-test it on," Chuck grumbled. They had searched high and low for any sign of Krolik Enterprises in security systems across the country, but Fulcrum proved better at hiding it than they had suspected. Dave, combing the patents system, had found a cell phone prototype that looked like it might share properties with the Fulcrum system they had hacked, so they had assembled a phone from the plans and had tested various versions of the Fulcruminator on it, but Chuck didn't want to give the device to his team until he was absolutely sure it was perfect.

"From the sound of it, if we wanted to actually field test it, we could just spin you in a circle and have you point somewhere on a map," Dave offered, smiling.

"Or just send me to a random address," Chuck agreed. "It would be some kind of secret Fulcrum base, with my luck."

"No, with your luck, the Fulcruminator would only not work, but it would do the opposite and alert everybody in the Fulcrum network that you're onto them."

Chuck had to laugh. "I should take it to my high school reunion or something. I can guarantee half of the people I went to high school with read the Evil Overlord list."

"Get a lot of swirlies in your day?" Dave asked. They looked over at the sound of high heels clicking on the tile heading toward the Dave Cave. "Yours or mine?" Dave asked.

"Mine," Chuck sighed. After two weeks, he would recognize Vespa Weier's quickstep anywhere. "Hello, Vespa Weier. How can we help you today?"

"Agent Lynch," Vespa Weier stressed, even though every single member of Dave's department knew him as Chuck, "you can just call me Agent Weier. I'm here to escort you to a meeting. Agent Lynch and Major Lynch are already there."

"Guess that's my cue." Chuck bade farewell to Dave, picked up his suit jacket, and followed the diminutive assistant out of the lab, walking the by-now familiar path to the conference room where they met with Graham and Beckman. He and Casey had been summoned to the CIA headquarters just after eight that morning, and Casey had been in the meeting ever since. Chuck had no idea what they were talking about and why they didn't want him there, but he had kept himself occupied in the Dave Cave, trying not to think about it.

"Any idea what they want to see me for?" he asked Vespa Weier.

She shot him a disapproving look. "That's not my job to know, Agent Lynch."

Chuck entertained the thought once again that Sarah wouldn't be the only one glad to see Vespa Weier gone.

Graham's secretary, another unfortunate soul stuck working on a Saturday, waved Chuck through without looking up from her magazine. Chuck knocked hesitantly on the door, took a deep breath, and entered.

The first thing he saw was Sarah. He figured it would always be that way: something about the hair, and the face, and the fact that it was Sarah. She'd found a change of clothes at some point since the night before, for she wore a gray business suit and skirt now, and her hair was pulled back. She looked over from her seat at the table to give him a brief, businesslike smile.

Before he could return the smile, Chuck faltered. Sitting a couple of chairs away from Sarah at the conference table was Bryce.

Casey cleared his throat, and Chuck jolted. The other man stood just inside the doorway, arms folded over his chest. "Catching flies, Bartowski?"

"Uh, no. No, I'm not." Chuck stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Neither Graham nor Beckman was present, Chuck saw now. It was only the Prometheus team…and Bryce.

Chuck's ex-best friend turned in his chair and faced him. Unlike Sarah, he was still wearing the same clothing from the night before, all black. His hair looked finger-combed at best, and there were circles under his eyes. Still, his smile seemed genuine. "Hey, Chuck."

"Uh, hey Bryce." Chuck wanted to clear his throat, but he didn't dare. It might have been foolish to feel nervous—this was his ex-best friend, after all—but in all honesty, he'd stopped knowing Bryce's game-plan the minute he'd opened the Intersect email. Chuck warily took a seat and asked, "How's your head?"

"My head?"

"Yeah, you hit it pretty hard when Sarah…shot you…" Chuck trailed off, glancing at Sarah and trying to figure out if this was a taboo subject or not, but she was paging through a folder in front of him, and didn't look up. Dread began to eat through his stomach. He attempted to fight it with humor. "It made quite a hollow thud."

Bryce laughed. It sounded forced. "Yeah, I'm sure it did."

"Where are—where are the General and the Director?" Chuck swiveled his chair around, as if expecting them to appear in the corners of the room.

"They had to take a call." Sarah glanced swiftly at Chuck, and he had a hard time reading her expression. "How's Dave?"

"He's good." Chuck stopped before he could update Casey and Sarah on the latest Fulcruminator news. He had no idea what he could and couldn't say in front of Bryce. He had no idea why Bryce was even in the room with them. Hadn't Casey said something about throwing him in a detention cell? But Bryce wasn't even wearing handcuffs. Not that Chuck trusted him to get far or try anything in the same room with Sarah and Casey, but it was a bit strange.

He stole a glance at Sarah, who was once again focusing on the folder. Was that really the same woman that had kissed him the night before? She seemed so reserved. It made him want to scoot his chair around Bryce and read over her shoulder until she swatted at him for it. Anything to break the ice.

But he didn't. He said nothing, Bryce said nothing, Sarah said nothing. Casey stood by the door and smirked at all of them, possibly and probably enjoying their discomfort a little too much.

When the door opened to admit General Beckman and Director Graham, Chuck imagined he wasn't the only one that let out a sigh of relief. Like the others, he rose to his feet. It wasn't precisely his old, almost-forgotten Army training. It was simply that the two of them, even with their absurd height difference, held enough authority to demand it, possibly because even though it was the weekend, they were each as starched and pressed as ever. Graham waved at them to be seated. Casey took the chair to Chuck's right, the farthest chair from Bryce. Chuck could almost hear him growl at the CIA agent as he sat down.

It made him feel both better, and petty for feeling better.

"Agent Bartowski, we apologize for the inconvenience of you needing to come in on a Saturday," Graham said in such a droll tone that Chuck almost believed him. "You have Agent Larkin to thank for that."

Bryce's smirk looked tired. "Hey, sometimes we all need reminders that the world exists outside of nine to five, Monday to Friday."

Beckman killed all attempt at humor with a less-than-impressed expression. "We thank you for that, Agent Larkin."

"Yes, ma'am," Bryce said. He didn't shrink down in his seat like Chuck would have. Chuck wanted to scowl.

"That little attempt at levity aside, we have a very important matter to discuss today." Graham's gaze swept over the four of them gathered opposite the conference table from him. "The future of Prometheus."

It had to be something about his deep voice that made everything sound more dramatic, Chuck figured idly in the back of his mind, even while the rest of him sat up to listen. After two and a half weeks of being in limbo, he was eager and dreading any and all information the bosses could give them.

"There has been no activity on any of the identities, real or implied, of the Prometheus team or your residences in Burbank. Agent Larkin has likewise confirmed that he has not heard any suspicious chatter involving Prometheus. It's likely you three will be able to return to your base very soon once a couple more things check out."

Chuck nearly sagged back in his seat with relief. The team was going back to Burbank. He almost wanted to get up and dance.

"Your mission objectives will not change," Beckman said, taking up the thread of the briefing with ease. "Your primary objective will be uncovering and eradicating the threat that Fulcrum poses to national security, as well as continuing to utilize the Intersect to detect other threats.

"Only now you will have an extra team member."

Chuck felt twin stabs of hope and disappointment. Bryce was going to be stationed in Burbank with them? It would be awesome having his best friend around again, but…

He didn't look at Sarah.

"After speaking with Agent Larkin this morning, we've determined that his actions in regards to Operation Sand Wall in no way indicate treason." Beckman looked almost displeased at that. "As of right now, he will be joining Operation Prometheus and aiding in its quest to destroy the Fulcrum threat."

Casey grunted. If Chuck hand-waved it hard enough, he could translate the noise as "Welcome to the team," but he doubted it.

"What will Bry—Agent Larkin's role on the team be?" Chuck asked, surprising himself.

"I'm the bait," Bryce said, smiling a little. "I'm going to make everybody think I'm the Intersect."

Chuck gaped. Graham cleared his throat. "Agent Larkin will go deep undercover in hopes of drawing out the Fulcrum threat. He'll rendezvous with our Fulcrum asset prior to that. Only General Beckman, the three of you, and myself will have a way to contact Agent Larkin."

The Fulcrum asset, Chuck realized. They meant Jill.

Bryce swung his chair around toward Sarah, facing away from Chuck as he did so. "Last chance to come with me," he said, and Chuck imagined a cocky look on his face.

Chuck's hand, thankfully hidden under the table, tightened into a fist.

But Sarah just gave Bryce a cool look. "I'm good, thanks." Her tone made Siberia seem warm.

"Agent Walker will remain with Major Casey and Agent Bartowski where she's assigned, Agent Larkin," Graham said.

It was probably Chuck's imagination, but Bryce straightened his shoulders just a hair. "Yes, sir."

"We expect to see you here Monday at oh eight hundred for a final team briefing, but until then, the Director and I are satisfied with what has been discussed today." Now it was Beckman's turn to give each of the team members a steely, assessing look. The only one unperturbed seemed to be Casey. "It's the weekend, and I expect you'll act accordingly. If you'll wait behind a moment, Agent Larkin? We would like to speak to you alone before we arrange transportation to your hotel."

"Certainly, General." Bryce glanced at his new teammates. "See you Monday?"

Sarah and Casey gave him nods. Chuck waved, and the three made their good-byes to the bosses before they headed out.

Casey waited until they were out of earshot before he glanced at his partners. Whatever he saw on Sarah's face made him sigh. "I guess I'll go warm up the car."

"Thank you, Major," Sarah told him. Casey gave a wordless grumble and left. Sarah turned to Chuck. "I'm sorry, if I'd been able to text you, I would have warned you. I had no idea the bosses were going to add Bryce to the team like that."

Chuck forced himself to shrug, and the move almost came off as natural. He hoped. "It's not a big deal. It makes sense. I mean, Bryce was in the Intersect room right before it blew up. If there's anybody that makes sense to be the Intersect, it would be that guy."

"Yes, because life makes sense," Sarah said dryly.

"Where'd you get the change of clothes?" Chuck eyed the hem of her skirt.

"My locker."

"Oh."

Sarah finally let loose the yawn Chuck had seen her suppress three times in the meeting as she pulled on her overcoat and scarf. "You look like you got less sleep than I did," she said as they hit the front door.

Chuck waggled a hand as he tugged on his gloves. "Had a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, I get that. Listen, about last night…"

Chuck felt a bubble of nerves rise. "Please," he said before he could stop himself, "please don't apologize for kissing me, whatever you do. Because even if you regret it, I really enjoyed it, so please let me have that."

"Chuck, I wasn't going to apologize for kissing you." Sarah sounded half baffled and half amused. "I wasgoing to apologize for running off like that."

"Oh. You don't have to apologize: you had to go to work. There's really no reason to apologize for that, ever." Now it wasn't nerves but rather humiliation that made Chuck want to shrink inside his coat. Also, the cold. He may have spent years in Siberia, but that didn't mean he actually liked the gorram cold. If what Beckman and Graham had said was true, they would be back in Burbank soon, and he couldn't wait.

"I felt bad. And you weren't the only one who enjoyed it, for the record," Sarah said.

Chuck flushed. "Oh."

Sarah's smile flashed for a brief second before she sobered again. She looked at him with the expression she only used when about to deliver big news. "But that's kind of what we need to talk about."

Chuck glanced behind him, where the entrance to Langley loomed over them. "Here?"

"No, not here." Sarah turned, and Chuck could see the Crown Vic pull out of its spot across the parking lot and start rumbling toward them. "And not in front of Casey, either."

"When we get back to the Davenports'?" Chuck asked.

"It's a date," Sarah said.

Chuck marveled that those words seemed to have an entirely different meaning than they had the night before. Still, all he said was, "Can't wait." He almost meant it.

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