A TALE OF TWO BROTHERS

Chapter III

It was very late, in the wee hours of the morning, and Colonel Dave Dixon had been unable to sleep. So, in place of sleep, he had gone down to Medical, to keep watch over his long-lost twin brother, Major John Casey. Dragging a chair up close to Casey's bed, he settled down to spend the rest of the night by Casey's side.

John Casey-Johnny Dixon-was still alive; the heart monitor still beeping, however unsteadily, the mechanical ventilator steadily pumping oxygen into his lungs.

Dixon stared at his brother's face; what he could see of it through all the tubes, and tape, and all he could do was remember…

Johnny was always the reckless one, the one to go out on a limb…

He leaned over, touched Casey's right cheek, seeing the faint outline of a scar there.

We were three years old, and Johnny thought he could sled down the stairs in Mom's laundry basket.

Well… that had ended in tears and stitches too. But Johnny had grown up with a penchant for living dangerously. Of the two, he was always the one to leap into action without thought for the consequences, unlike Dave, who was always the more sedate of the two. There had been a bit of a rough patch when the boys had reached their teens

If it hadn't been for their Uncle John, a cop, Johnny might've ended up in real trouble.

Uncle John was always taking Johnny out for rides in his Crown Vic. Uncle John took it hard when they told us Johnny was dead. We all did…

Dixon sighed sadly, patting Casey's shoulder.

"Why did they lie to us, Johnny?" he muttered. "Why did you fake your death like that?"

…..

Twenty years ago…

It was supposed to be the best time of Dave Dixon's life. In one of life's little clichés, he had married his high school sweetheart, and also received a promotion to Lieutenant. The months leading up to the wedding had been hectic ones, full of party-type events, including the Wedding shower, and the inevitable Stag Party, the last of which having been orchestrated with typical aplomb by Johnny Dixon.

Dave's Best Man, Johnny had been the one to keep Dave on an even keel on the Wedding Day. He got Dave up in the morning, made him eat breakfast, laid out the tuxedos, and gotten him to the church on time…

When Dave Dixon and his wife arrived from the honeymoon vacation in Hawaii two weeks later, Johnny was long gone, back to his base, where he had acquired a considerable reputation as a test-pilot, and Dave received a summons from his Commanding Officer, Colonel Hansen…

So, there he was, presenting himself at the Colonel's office.

"Lieutenant Dixon to see Colonel Hansen," he told the Corporal manning the office.

"Ah…Dave," Colonel Hansen stood in the doorway to his private office. "Come in."

Dixon entered, saluted smartly

"At ease," Hansen murmured. Then, seeing Dixon's idea of at ease, he added. "No son. When I say at ease, I mean relax. Better yet, sit."

He pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

"I've got some bad news, Lieutenant, about your brother…"

Dixon felt his heart skip a beat at that. Johnny was still a bit of a hot-head at times. The Colonel continued…

"Test-pilots are a brave bunch; there's no denying that. Lieutenant John Dixon was…out doing what test-pilots do. There was some sort of malfunction, and…son, he was unable to eject."

Hansen's voice…faded from Dixon's awareness, along with everything else. Then, Dixon found himself sitting in the chair, with no clear memory of how he had gotten there. Hansen was bending over him, holding a tumbler-glass half-full of something golden-amber.

Mutely, he offered it to Dixon; the young Lieutenant accepted it with shaking hands

It was whiskey, and it went down warm and smooth, pooling hot in his belly, clearing his head. Finally, he could trust his voice to speak…

"J-johnny?" he couldn't stop the quaver in his voice. Hansen looked back at him with sad eyes.

"The jet exploded, Dave," he said. "There wasn't even enough to bring home in a body bag. I'm sorry, son…"

So, just scant weeks after his wedding, Lieutenant Dave Dixon found himself attending his twin brother's closed-casket funeral service. Colonel Hansen also attended the service; along with another Colonelthat Dixon had never met before. This one was a woman, but there was something about Colonel Louisa Beckman which suggested she might be a tougher, harder personality, than Colonel Hansen.

She was perfunctorily polite to Mrs. Katherine Dixon, the mother of Dave and John Dixon. Then, respects paid, she had left; but not before giving Dave a cool appraising stare that was, somehow, quite terrifying…

Kate Dixon had been hit very hard by Johnny's death and Dixon worried about her. She was all alone now, her husband, Dave Senior, had died some years back; a sudden heart attack.

He had her move in with him and his wife, so someone would be around to take care of her. But not even the announcement of impending grandchildren stopped her slow decline. Kate Dixon died in her sleep eight months later, and there was yet another funeral service to attend.

The saddest thing, for Dave Dixon, was that his kids would never know their Grandma Kate, or their Uncle Johnny…

…..

Chuck Bartowski opened his eyes, looked around. He was all tucked up in a warm bed, and there was the sound of soft snoring off to his right. Turning his head, he saw Sarah Walker curled up in a chair. For a brief moment, he had no idea where he was. Then, it all came back. They were in Boulder, Colorado, deep underground, in Stargate HQ.

And John Casey was dying…

I have to see him…

He got out of bed quietly, so as not to awaken Walker. He brought the blanket over, and began to drape it over her, but her hand caught his wrist.

"Chuck?" Sarah's voice was groggy.

"Its okay, Sarah," he ruffled her hair. "I'm just going to check on Casey, okay?"

"I should get up…"

"No," Chuck pressed her back. "Go back to sleep. Better yet, use the bed. Your back will thank you. Come on, get into bed. We're all safe here."

Sarah allowed him to guide her back to the bed he had just vacated. He waited until he was sure she was asleep. Then, he headed off to the ICU…

Colonel Dixon was already there, legs sprawled out; chin resting on his chest; deep rumbling snores filling the room.

Casey was still alive; eyelids taped shut, the ventilator breathing for him. Chuck stood there, grieving, trying to sniffle the tears back. Dixon awoke with a start, staring blankly up at Chuck.

""Uh…hey, Colonel," Chuck waved nervously. Dixon rubbed his face wearily, not totally awake just yet.

"Chuck Bartowski?"

"Yeah, that's me," Chuck nodded. "I'd say I was glad to meet you, but…"

He fell silent, not sure what to say. The heart monitor's beeping, and the sighing sound of the mechanical ventilator filled up the silence.

"Yeah," Dixon got to his feet, stretching. "I know what you mean."

He worked the kinks out of his back and neck, looked back down at Casey.

"He was with you," he asked. "Protecting you?"

"For the past year," Chuck wiped the tears away. "He was…"

Bartowski's voice trailed off as he realized there was very little of Casey he could tell the man that wasn't classified in one way or another; except for this…

"He was a friend."

That was true, Chuck realized. Casey, intractable, stubborn, and temperamental as he was, had become a friend of Chuck's over this past year. And now, he was dying…

He heard the sound of someone clearing his throat behind him, turned to see four people. Instantly, he was inundated by a Flash…

Lt. Colonels Samantha Carter and Cameron Mitchell, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and…Teal'c…

"Jaffa!" Bartowski smacked his forehead. "I forgot to tell Casey about the Jaffa!"

…..

Colonel Carter ignored the geek. Colonel Dixon looked like death warmed over, and the reason was lying, dying, in that bed over there. Everyone on the SG teams knew Dixon had a twin brother who had died years ago; one of those open secrets everyone knows, but never talks about…

But, apparently rumors of that brother's demise had been greatly exaggerated.

Until now, it seemed…

What a way to find out your brother had been alive all along…

"You okay, Dave?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dixon replied, although everyone could tell he wasn't…

"We were told upon arrival," Teal'c, as usual, spoke gravely. "If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask."

And, still, the geek was babbling about Jaffa and Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes…

"You're Teal'c," Bartowski was looking at him with excited eyes. "You're one of the Jaffa!"

"I am," Teal'c turned to regard him. "And you are?"

"Oh, uh…" the geek self-consciously held out a hand. "I'm Chuck Bartowski. Is it true you can use Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes to save lives?"

"It has been done before," the Jaffa raised an eyebrow at the geek's question. Carter nodded at that.

"Where did we park our brains?" she asked no one in particular. Mitchell opened his mouth to speak anyway. But Daniel Jackson got there first.

"I don't think we really need an answer to that particular question," he said, smiling brightly. "Let's just go to Dakara and see if we can score a symbiote."

Carter saw Dixon close his eyes in mute gratitude.

"Why didn't you ask, Dave?" she said.

"I was afraid the answer would be no," he admitted, looking at the floor, as if ashamed.

"Don't worry, Dave," Carter reassured him. "We'll bring a symbiote back for your brother."

"And when were you going to tell me about your plans?" Dr. Janet Fraiser strode into the ICU, followed by General O'Neill.

"Hey, we just decided," Mitchell protested. "We were going to tell you."

"Janet," Carter spoke up. "What are Major Casey's chances right now? Slim to virtually nil?"

"So you want to go to Dakara, get a Symbiote, and implant it in my patient?"

"Yes," Carter nodded. "After all the years of dedicated service Colonel Dixon has given the SG Program, surely he deserves-"

"Absolutely not!" Fraiser over-rode her. "In his present condition, Major Casey would never survive the procedure."

"He's gonna die anyway," Dixon finally spoke up. "You told me that last night. Look, Johnny's always been a fighter. He's never given anything up without a damn good fight. He's fighting right now. Please, give him a fighting chance…"

Dixon's voice broke, and he angrily scrubbed the tears away,

"I'm begging you, Janet," he continued. "Give Johnny a fighting chance."

Fraiser closed her eyes for a second. Then she sighed.

"If he lives," she warned Dixon. "There will be repercussions for his immune system."

"What kind of repercussions?" Bartowski asked.

"Nothing a sarcophagus couldn't cure," General O'Neill said; and Carter knew that if anyone knew about that, it would be General O'Neill…

"A…sarcophagus..?" Bartowski was clearly creeped out by the idea.

"It'll repair the immune system damage," O'Neill explained patiently. "I thought you got everything with those Flashes of yours'."

"Uh, just the high points, mostly."

"Um… Flashes…sir?"

"Never mind, Colonel Carter; you have a mission to Dakara." O'Neill reminded her.

"Oh, yes," Samantha Carter clapped her hands briskly. "Ready to go, guys?"

"Uh," Chuck raised a hand. "Can I go with you guys when you get the Symbiote? "

"I think it would be best if you helped Dave watch over John Casey," O'Neill said. "Don't you?"

"Uh…okay," Chuck nodded.

The team SG-1 turned to leave. Dixon stopped them at the door.

"Thanks, guys, I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it, Dave" Carter smiled. "We'll be back in no time."

…..

Sarah Walker awakened around seven hours later, feeling more alert than she had before. Chuck wasn't there, but Walker knew where he would be found. So she walked down to the ICU. Chuck was there, but the bed he was sitting next to was empty.

"Oh, god…" she stared at the empty bed, tears welling in her eyes.

"No, Sarah…" Chuck got to his feet, took her hands. "He's in surgery now. They're implanting an Immature Goa'uld Symbiote into him. Hopefully, it'll save his life. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said, relief flooding her, now she knew Casey wasn't dead yet. "What's this about Immature Goa'uld Symbiotes?"

"The Jaffa use them, but they're immature so they don't take people over. What they do is nice stuff like accelerate healing; which is something Casey can really use right about now."

"Will they bring him back here if he survives the surgery?"

"No. They'll have to put him in an Isolation Ward because the one downside to the Symbiote is that it does damage the immune system."

"But…"

"Don't worry, Sarah," Chuck reassured her. "General O'Neill got into contact with Colonel Carter's Dad. He's with the Tok'ra now, and they're going to bring something they call a sarcophagus, although it's not, really. It'll repair the immune system damage, and Casey will be good as new."

The sound of footsteps brought them around to see Teal'c, and Colonel Dixon enter the room. Sarah was fascinated by Teal'c. If she hadn't read the report, signed by several generals associated with the Stargate program, some of whom she knew personally, and trusted, she would never have believed that he literally came from another world. He looked utterly human; with the possible exception of the tattoo on his forehead. But Walker had seen stranger things as an Agent for the CIA…

Dave Dixon also merited some careful study. With the exception of the scar on the right cheek that Casey had, Dixon was a complete physical duplicate of Casey. It was in the area of mind and soul that the differences manifested themselves.

Dave Dixon was calmer than John, a more serene presence. It apparently took a lot to light his fuse, unlike John Casey, who seemed to be permanently angry at the world in general…

Married, with four children, he was also a dedicated family man. Sarah wondered if John Casey would ever settle down, or if he would live, and die, the Perpetual Bachelor…

"Hey, guys," Bartowski asked. "How did it go?"

"He's still hanging in there," Dixon replied.

"Indeed," Teal'c nodded. "His strength, and will to live, is most impressive."

""I told you Johnny was a fighter," there was a distinct note of pride in the Colonel's voice.

"How are you holding up, Colonel?" Walker asked him. "It must have been a terrible shock for you."

"It was," Dixon admitted. "I just can't figure out why he felt he had to fake his death like that."

"To protect you," Walker said.

"Huh?" Dixon was flummoxed. "I'm a big boy, Ms. Walker. I can take care of myself."

"Your wife and kids can't," Walker looked up at him steadily. "Agents like Casey and me…we can't afford families. The people we fight, terrorist, drug dealers, that sort of person, would think nothing of killing women or children. That's what John was protecting you from."

"Did you know he was my brother?"

"No, Colonel. But all of us in this business have left our families behind. It's the only way we can keep them safe from what we do."

Of course, some agents had less choice in the matter than others. But Walker didn't want to bring up the vagaries of her own familial situation. It was enough to let Colonel Dixon know that Casey's apparent abandonment of his family had been born of the very highest motives; to protect those he loved.

"He's in the Isolation Ward now?" Chuck asked Teal'c.

"Yes," the Jaffa nodded. "Recovery will be fast, and Dr. Fraiser will want to take the Symbiote out, and place him in the sarcophagus, as quickly as possible."

"Especially since Johnny was never what you would call a good patient," Dixon observed.

"Gee," Bartowski grinned. "Ya think?"

"You know him well, it seems," Teal'c said.

"Well," Bartowski shrugged. "He's been a regular presence in my life-whether I want him or not-for about a year now, and patience was never a forte of his."

Dixon laughed out loud.

"You do know him well," the Colonel said. "Look, there's a cafeteria here, and I bet you haven't even had Breakfast today, let alone Lunch. Let's get some food. It might be a long wait."

…..

Consciousness returned slowly, creeping in on the tattered edges of dreams. John Casey opened his eyes. Last he remembered, he had been talking to Chuck about the Geek's Flashes; about Goa'uld Slugs, and various and assorted ETs. Now, he was here, in a plain white room, lying on a plain white bed, and then and now just would not connect. His chest hurt, and he could feel oxygen cannulae in his nose. An IV tube snaked its way down from a stand, connecting at his left wrist.

What the hell happened?

Casey looked down at himself. He was wearing what looked like pajama bottoms, and a large square of gauze and tape covered his chest.

Must've gotten shot… Bartowski…Where is he? Where am I?

He sat up slowly, testing his limits. His chest twinged, but everything seemed fine thus far.

Gotta find Bartowski…

Casey pulled the cannulae out of his nose, got carefully to his feet. The answers he needed lay on the other side of the door. He took a step forward; his legs just…gave out beneath him, and he fell, bringing the IV stand down as well. The resulting clatter brought several people into the room; each one clad in what looked like HAZMAT suits.

That sent a pang of fear up Casey's spine, and he grabbed the IV stand, ready to do battle if necessary, although he wasn't sure how much of a fight he could put up, given his current condition. One of the strangers looked down at him, hands on hips.

"Jesus, Johnny," instantly, Casey recognized the voice that issued from a speaker attached to the suit. That voice, so like his own, filled him with grief, and shame…

"You trying to kill yourself again?"

Casey crouched there, the IV stand clutched in his hands.

"Dave?"

"Yeah," the other man moved forward. ""Put that IV stand down. It's not a weapon, and I'm not an enemy."

As another person, faceless in that suit, righted the IV stand, Dave Dixon hauled his brother back up, setting him back on the bed. Casey saw Dixon's face through the face-plate, and all he felt was guilt…

"You were shot, Johnny," Dixon explained. "We saved your life using an experimental medical treatment. The downside is that your immune system was compromised."

"AIDS?' Casey felt pure horror course through his veins.

"No," Dixon's gloved hands were on his shoulders; a reassuring weight. "We have a treatment that will reverse all of that. You'll need to be sedated for that, but it will all be fine. Chuck Bartowski's fine too, and you're both back on Earth."

Dixon's gloved hands picked up the oxygen cannulae, and Casey growled deep in the back of his throat when he saw it.

"Come on, Johnny," Dixon pleaded. "The sooner you co-operate, the faster it will go."

Grumbling, Casey slipped the thing back into his nose, looking like a rebellious child. Dixon shook his head, chuckling.

"You really haven't changed at all. Have you, Johnny?"

Casey's throat tightened at the pure affection in Dixon's voice, sudden tears pricking his eyes.

"'Dave…" he began. "I'm…I just…"

"Its okay, Johnny," Dixon's arms enveloped him in a hug. "I was angry; but not anymore."

"It was the safest way," Casey continued. "I've made lots of enemies, and I didn't want you guys dragged into it. Sometimes, I have to do things you might call evil…"

"Is protecting a guy like Chuck Bartowski evil?"

"Bartowski's case is unique," suddenly Casey felt bone-weary. "And I don't often get to be the Guard Dog."

Indeed, he knew he had been sent there because he could be counted upon to kill the geek when the Beta Intersect came online. The thing was, Casey wasn't so sure, now, that he would be able to do the deed when the time came…

"Look, Johnny, you need rest. We'll talk later. I think they're ready to give you the sedative right now."

"What for?"

Casey heard Dixon's snort.

"So they can treat your immune system, Mr. Paranoid. When you wake up, everything will be fine, and we'll be able to talk face-to-face, instead of me having to wear this damn space-suit. That okay with you?"

Casey watched as another person injected the sedative into his bloodstream. Dixon helped settle him back into bed, fluffing pillows, and drawing the blankets up to his shoulders.

"If you kiss me goodnight, I swear I'll kill you," Casey warned.

"Just get some sleep, jackass," Dixon stood. "I promise you, I'll be here when you wake up."

Darkness slowly descended. The last thing Casey felt was a gloved hand patting his shoulder.

…..

All in all, Chuck Bartowski decided that sarcophaguses-sarcophagi?-were as creepy as hell, in spite of their beneficent effect. He watched through a Plexiglas window as Tok'ra attendants lifted the heavily sedated John Casey, and gently placed him inside that thing. Bartowski shivered as the lid was closed. That had seemed so final…

"How long do you think it will take?" he asked

"Not long, Dr. Fraiser said as she monitored the activity going on inside the sarcophagus. "The damage to Major Casey's immune system was minimal; so maybe a day, or two."

Another thought, a terrifying one, occurred to him.

"He won't wake up in there, will he?"

"No," Fraiser shook her head. "He'll remain unconscious until he is brought out."

Bartowski nodded in relief, turned to see Sarah Walker putting her cell phone away.

"I just called Ellie," she explained. "I told her you're fine, and Casey's got hurt, but it looks like he'll be fine too."

"You didn't let me talk to her?" Chuck's face fell.

"We need to set our cover," Sarah spoke solemnly. "All Ellie, Awesome, and Morgan know is that you and Casey were kidnapped during a botched mugging attempt. You were taken to Boulder, Colorado, which is where you were rescued by local authorities; but not before John got himself shot-"

"Please don't make it sound like he did something dumb, Sarah. He almost died keeping me safe."

"I know, Chuck. I suggested that much to Ellie, and I'm sure she will make her appreciation of John Casey known."

"I'm just amazed we actually survived it," Chuck felt Sarah put her arms around him. "I mean, I was so sure we were both going to die; then Casey got shot…"

"Everything's all right now," Sarah soothed him. "In a few weeks, we'll all be able to go home."

Yes, everything was all right; for now…

It had been hard enough when it had been the various assorted baddies that Chuck Flashed on and FULCRUM…

But he had been on his way to getting a handle on that, at least. So it really made sense-in a Murphy's Law sort of way-that a new complication should come along right about now.

Why did it have to be an extraterrestrial who wants me? What could they possibly want me for?

And he couldn't let himself forget.

They killed Bryce Larkin…

…..

That buzzing sound was as irritating as hell, sort of like and idling engine, and John Casey wanted to smack the hell out of it. His hand reached under the pillow, and the lack of a gun, or a knife, was what brought him fully awake, panic tingling along arms and legs.

"Casey!" Chuck Bartowski was bending over him, wearing regular clothes. Had the immune system damage been fixed?

"Bartowski…" his voice sounded rough and scratchy to his ears. "Did they…"

"Relax Casey," the geek said. "Your immune system is fine. You're fine."

That buzzing sound was still there; even more irritating than before.

"What the hell is that noise?" Casey grumbled

Bartowski merely pointed to the wall on Casey's right. There' sprawled out in a chair, head tilted back, was Colonel Dave Dixon.

"Dave said he'd be there when you woke up," the geek explained. "But, ever since he found us, he's been running up short in the sleep department. How do you feel, Casey?"

"I'm fine," a slight spasm of pain worked its way through his chest. That, of course, prompted Bartowski to go into fussbudget mode, dithering over whether to get a doctor.

"Can it, Bartowski," Casey was strongly tempted to smack the geek upside the head.

"Yeah," Bartowski mumbled. Then, more loudly; "I saw you get shot, Casey. You almost died. If it hadn't been for the Jaffa, you would've died."

"Jaffa?"

Bartowski smacked himself on the forehead.

"I really shouldn't have said that," he muttered.

For a moment, Dixon's snoring was the only sound in the room.

"What are the Jaffa, Bartowski? More people with slugs inside?"

"Uh, yeah… But they only use immature slugs, so they're too young to take anyone over; and they do good things like accelerate healing."

Casey grabbed Chuck's wrist, a sudden fear rising within him.

"You didn't…they didn't..?"

"It was only in you for a short while, not even two days," Chuck hastened to reassure him. "And you don't have it now. They took it out when your body was strong enough to continue healing on its own. But it saved your life. You would've died without it."

That was when Colonel Dixon came awake with a snort, jerking upright in the chair.

"Whoa!" Chuck laughed. "You sounded exactly like Casey there!"

"I've got news for you, Bartowski," Casey was still a little frightened that one of those Goa'uld slug-things had been inside him, even if only for a little while. "We're twins, so we're gonna sound alike. Could you leave us alone for a while, Chuck?"

"You guys sure you won't need a mediator?"

"Chuck," Casey closed his eyes, counted to ten. "Just go…please."

"Okay," the geek left the room, and Dixon dragged his chair closer to Casey's bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"You didn't put a Goa'uld slug into me, did you?"

Dixon sighed.

"I'm gonna kill that geek," he muttered.

"Welcome to my world," Casey spoke dryly. "Did you?"

"Only for a while, Johnny. You would've died without it."

"So Bartowski said. Any possible side-effects I should know about?"

"Only the immune system thing, and that's been fixed. Relax, Johnny, you're fine. I'm gonna get Dr. Fraiser, let her know you're awake."

"Wait, Johnny," Casey's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. Dixon sat back down.

"What is it, Johnny?"

"I need to tell you why I did what I did."

"General Beckman told me some of it; as did Agent Walker."

"Yeah," Casey nodded. "The kind of people Walker and I put away make the mafia look like choirboys. I was just trying to protect you, your wife and kids, and Mom too. I just didn't expect her too…"

His voice broke then, and he felt Dixon's hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Johnny."

"The hell it wasn't!" Casey looked up at his brother. "The reports all said she just withered away."

"What's done is done," the Colonel said. "We don't get do-overs in this life."

"I know," Casey nodded, in control of himself once more. "I never meant to hurt anyone. But faking my death, changing my name, was the only way I could do my job and keep you guys safe."

"But you missed so much!" Dixon pulled out his wallet. He brought out a photo, handed it to Casey.

"It was taken six months ago," Dixon said. "Just before your namesake joined the Marines."

The Dixon genes had bred true; all four of the kids-two boys, two girls-took more after their father then their mother. But the resemblance between young John Dixon, and his father was absolutely uncanny; the same blue eyes, exceptionally strong jaw-line, the pointed chin, and that typically Irish nose…

"He looks exactly like we did when we were that age," he handed the photo back.

"Keep it, "Dixon said. "They're your nieces and nephews, and I've got plenty more pictures."

Casey sighed.

"I can't, Johnny. Photos can be traces, and they would find you guys."

"They?" Dixon's brow furrowed. "Oh… the guys you put away."

Now, he sighed.

"It must be a lonely life you're leading. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Casey shrugged uncomfortably. It was a lonely life; but he could accept loneliness, and so much more besides, if it meant his brother's family was kept safe from harm.

"As long as I can protect my country," he said. "It's a price I'm willing to pay."

"Get some sleep, Johnny," Dixon stood. "We'll talk later."

"Yeah, goodnight, Dave" Alone, Casey closed his eyes, fighting back the tears…

…..

LA Two Weeks Later…

Ellie Bartowski, Devon Woodcomb, and Morgan Grimes were waiting, not-so-patiently, for Sarah Walker to bring Chuck Bartowski, and John Casey, home after their unexpected adventure. Ellie shivered.

A mugging gone bad. How did they end up all the way in Boulder Colorado?

During the rescue operation, one of the muggers had apparently tried to kill Chuck; but John Casey had apparently taken the bullet instead.

How do you thank a man for almost dying, saving your baby brother's life?

There the black van was; heading into the apartment complex's parking lot. Ellie ran up to the van, just as Chuck was getting out.

"Oof!" he grunted as she threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. "I'm fine Ellie! Really, I am."

"I know," Ellie stepped back to wipe her eyes. "All because of John's bravery."

Speaking of which…

John Casey was getting out of the van slowly, a cane in one hand. The doctor in Ellie noted the pallor of his skin, and the little twitches that ghosted over his features. He was still in pain.

Feeling very shy, she hugged him gently, with a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for protecting Chuck," she said.

Casey shrugged awkwardly, not really sure how to react to that.

"Okay," Ellie, the Caregiver, took over, clapping her hands briskly. "You're going to stay with us for a while, John; until you're fully recovered."

Casey opened his mouth to speak, but Devon over-rode him.

"Don't fight it, bro," he said. "You took care of Chuck. Not, it's our turn to take care of you."

"Yeah," Morgan Grimes affirmed. "I could almost hug you for keeping Chuck safe."

"Just one word, Grimes," Casey growled. "Don't."

"Dude, I said almost; okay?"

…..

Buy More, Six Months Later…

John Casey was busy, selling a Beastmaster Grill to a very interested young couple. It never ceased to amaze him that people made livings doing this.

He had chosen his own career path-the Marines, and then the NSA-out of two main drives. He had always firmly believed in protecting his country. Honor and Duty were more than mere buzz-words for him. He had also come to realize that part of what he did was rooted in a deep desire for action.

But no one had ever told him about the intense satisfaction to be gained simply by making a sale.

Not that I'm going soft, or anything…

The sale clinched, he heard Chuck Bartowski's voice over the store intercom.

John Casey, please report to the Nerd-Herder Station…

The geek had probably Flashed…

There goes my quiet afternoon…

But Bartowski was fine. He was deep in conversation with a woman. Her back was turned, so Casey couldn't see who it was. Except that it wasn't Sarah Walker…

"Casey," Chuck gestured at the woman as she turned. "You have a visitor."

It was Dr. Janet Fraiser.

"Hello John," she said. "I was in the area, and General Beckman said I could visit you at the Buy More."

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"Just a quick physical exam," she replied. "I like to make sure all my patients are fine."

"Use the Employee Break Room," Bartowski advised. As Casey bristles, he added. "Look, buddy, the quicker you do this, the quicker it'll be done."

True…

Casey sighed as he led Dr. Fraiser to the Employee break Room.

"What do I need to do?" he asked once they were there. "Bend over and say ahh?"

A snort escaped Fraiser's lips.

"Taking your shirt off should be sufficient, Major."

"How's everyone…back there?" he asked as he pulled his shirt off.

"Colonel Dixon is fine," Fraiser took his pulse, listened to his heart and breathing. "He sends his regards."

"Uh…tell him I…uh…"

He shrugged awkwardly.

"Why is it always so hard?" he muttered.

"Because you're a man," Fraiser spoke crisply. "And heaven forbid a man should admit to feeling love."

Casey winced at that all-too-accurate assessment of his character. Only a very few days ago, Chuck Bartowski had used Casey's problem with expressing…Lady Feelings…to devastating effect.

More and more, he was beginning to realize that he was coming to care for the Intersect and Sarah Walker too, as if he had found a new brother and sister…

He remembered when he had received the order to kill the Intersect. He had been about to, when Sarah had arrived, with news of Director Graham's death, and Casey had fled back to his apartment. Once there, he had just sat there, shaking like a leaf.

Why don't I tell General Beckman I've been compromised?

I can't afford to feel love…

"You can put your shirt on, Major Casey," Fraiser was finished. "You're fine."

After Casey had pulled on his green Buy More polo, she handed him a letter; from Dave Dixon.

Johnny,

I hope you're well. Johnny Junior is doing well at Boot Camp. He says he's having the time of his life. Adam's itching to join up too, but he's got to wait a few years. I wish I could send you some pictures, but General Beckman apparently agrees with you about the security of my family. I hate that, but what else can I do?

If you ever decide to retire, please let me know. I would love to stage a resurrection…

Love,

Dave

John Casey crumpled the letter, a cold kind of grief settling within him. He couldn't meet Fraiser's compassion-filled gaze.

"Thank you, Dr. Fraiser," he said.

""Be well, Major," she left the room.

Alone, Casey straightened the crumpled letter, and then folded it carefully before putting it into his wallet.

"Casey?" Bartowski's voice pulled him out of long-ago memories.

"Yeah," Casey shook himself. "What do you want, Bartowski?"

"I Flashed on this guy," the geek looked rattled. "He came in to have his phone repaired."

"Did you call Walker?"

"Hey…it's me. Of course I called Sarah!"

"So, what about the guy you Flashed on?"

"He's got his fingers into drugs, and weapon smuggling."

"So, let's find Sarah, and go get him, Chuck."

And, once more, John Casey found himself keeping a watchful eye on Chuck as they prepared to save the world. One more time…

fin