Finally, the epilogue. Sorry for the super long delay, but I wanted to lay some groundwork for a possible sequel and hadn't quite figured everything out yet...

This chapter takes place a couple days after Ch.11.

Chuck squinted at the tiny jumper in his hand, trying to seat it correctly on the hard drive. He couldn't help but laugh at the situation. He had tracked Sarah down, lied to the CIA and NSA, outwitted Bryce Larkin, and concocted a plan that had crippled Fulcrum on an international level. And yet here he was, doing the same exact thing as when the whole mess had started.

"How long is this going to take?"

Casey stood right behind Chuck as he worked on the drive. It was a pet peeve of Chuck's, having someone hanging over him watching him work, but he figured he was better off trying to ignore Casey than introducing him to Chuck's likes and dislikes. The jumper snapped into place.

"Done," Chuck said, turning around and smiling triumphantly at Casey.

"What do you want?" Casey sneered. "A medal?"

Chuck's smile disappeared as he turned back to the PC on his desk. "All things considered, I don't think a medal would be out of the question," he said.

"Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up," Casey growled. "The NSA isn't exactly big on pomp and circumstance."

"I don't understand why you need me to do this, anyway," Chuck sighed. "I thought the big government brains already analyzed the data from the facility."

"They did," Casey said, producing a disk. "This is all the email records from the facility computers, including Dillon's. I want you to compare what's on this disk to Dillon's backup drive."

"Why?" Chuck asked.

Casey paused. "Because I want to know if the information on this disk has been tampered with," he answered.

"Tampered? Why would anyone--" Chuck stopped and turned to face Casey again. Anyone who hadn't been associated with the NSA agent for a long as Chuck had would have read Casey's expression as completely neutral. But Chuck saw it - the worry; the suspicion in Casey's eyes.

"We didn't get all of them, did we?" Chuck finally said.

The edge of Casey's mouth twisted up into a sour grin. "We'd be pretty naïve to think we did."

Chuck looked back at the drive on his desk. So much for that medal, he thought.

A moment later he shook himself out of it. "Okay. I've got a data mining program I can run on the drive and the disk. It'll compare any files that are found on both the drive and the disk to see if any of the information has been changed. If it's email correspondence, it'll list the names that show up on the drive that don't show up on the disk. We'll know then if anyone has tampered with the data. Will that work for you?"

"I don't know, I--"

"--stopped listening after 'data mining program,'" Chuck said, nodding. "I know. You need some new material."

Casey snorted, which was about as close as Chuck figured he was going to get to a amicable laugh. "How long is this going to take?"

Chuck shrugged. "Hard to say. Could be a few minutes, could be hours. Depends on how complex the files are."

"Bring anything you find straight over when you're done," Casey said, crossing the bedroom to the window. He paused before climbing through. "Bartowski."

We're back to that, Chuck thought. Great. "Yeah?"

"Thanks," Casey said. Before Chuck could respond, Casey climbed out the window and shut it behind him in one fluid motion. Chuck smiled.

"You're welcome."

Chuck hooked the drive up, inserted the disk into his PC, and ran the mining program. It immediately found corresponding files on the two media and began comparing them. Chuck watched the program working for a few moments before he heard a tapping on the window. He rolled his eyes.

"You've got to learn some patience, big--" Chuck turned to the window and froze in place when he saw Sarah looking through. She smiled timidly and waved at him. Chuck stared at her for a moment before waving back. A huge smile crept onto his face.

Sarah raised her eyebrows and gestured inside.

"Oh," Chuck said, fumbling with the window. "Sorry."

--

Tommy's eyes fluttered open.

He was slumped over in a wooden chair, with his hands tied behind his back and his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. He felt sluggish, but otherwise in good shape. He wondered how long that would last.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and he could see that he was in a small room, no windows, with just a steel door. He could just barely make out some very small vents built into the ceiling, definitely nothing that could be used for escape. He was stuck here for now.

Bryce's voice pierced the silence.

"You're probably wondering why you're not with your colleagues in a holding cell somewhere," he said from a dark corner of the room. Tommy looked in the direction of Bryce's voice and could just make out Bryce's sitting form.

"Save the theatrics, Larkin; I'm not talking."

"Don't need you to talk yet. Just listen," Bryce said, standing up and approaching Tommy. He stopped a few feet in front of Tommy's chair. "Like I was saying, you're here and all your buddies are in an impromptu detention center miles away. Now, why is that?"

Tommy shrugged.

"Well, I'll fill in the blanks, then," Bryce continued. "You see, we've got a lot of you guys in that detention center. A lot of you. But, we don't have all of you; do we? There had to be plenty of agents who were off doing their regular jobs when the raid went down. Plenty of agents tucked away in little satellite bases scattered all around. Plenty of leaders who didn't quite make the cut when the invitations for the assembly got sent."

Bryce stepped close to Tommy. "So, what that tells me, is that there are plenty of you guys running around free. It tells me that some of the very people who are in the process of arresting and convicting your agents could very well be Fulcrum themselves."

Tommy glared at Bryce. He started to realize where this was going.

"So," Bryce continued, "the only things I can be sure about right now is that you are Fulcrum and I am not. Two things. Not a lot to go on, but it's a start. So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay here, nice and hidden, while I work with the analysts and the interrogators on gathering intel from the prisoners in custody. Then, I'm going to bring it back here to you, and you're going to be my own personal spell checker on that data. And together, we're going to separate truth from fiction."

Tommy looked at Bryce. He could see that he was serious. He looked around at his personal prison.

"You can't do that," Tommy said. "You can't hold me without due process."

Bryce looked amused. "You're talking about your rights," he said. You believe that you're entitled to the protection the government grants its citizens."

"I know I am."

"The problem," Bryce continued, "is that you're not a detainee of the government right now. You're in the custody of the United States of Bryce Larkin."

Tommy's heart sank.

"No one on earth knows where you are but me," Bryce said. "I'm the reason you're going to get food and water for the foreseeable future. And I promise you that I'm going to take good care of you for exactly as long as you remain useful to me. The moment you cease to be useful--" Bryce snapped his fingers. "I disappear. And you get to starve to death in this shitty little basement."

Tommy let the reality of his situation sink in. He breathed in deeply, and finally broke the silence.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"That's the spirit," Bryce smiled.

--

Chuck took Sarah's hand and helped her climb in through the window. Once she was through, he kept holding her hand. They stood close to each other as their eyes met.

"Hi," Chuck said.

"Hi," Sarah responded.

Chuck looked down at her, taking her all in. She was so beautiful, radiant in a simple t-shirt and jeans. Even the scrapes and bruises from their adventure couldn't detract from how gorgeous she was. With his free hand, Chuck gently touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes as he ran his fingers down to her chin.

"Listen," Chuck said.

"No, you listen," Sarah interrupted. "I'm crazy about you."

Chuck beamed.

"It's been two days since that little speech of yours, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since," Sarah continued. "I've been walking around in a daze. I can't concentrate on anything, I'm constantly daydreaming, and it's going to be a very long time before I'm able to distinguish passion from post-traumatic stress disorder. And it's taken a whole lot of will to come here and tell you what I have to tell you."

Chuck's smile faltered a bit. This was the part where things usually went badly for him.

Sarah pressed herself against Chuck, grabbed his collar, and pulled him close enough so that their lips were almost touching. Her voice came out low through clenched teeth: "If you ever, ever leave me weak in the knees like that and then walk away without kissing me like it's the end of the world, I'm going to punish you in ways that have never been recorded in human history."

Chuck gasped. He faltered for a moment, then finally stuttered out, "Well, that actually sounds like it could be worth the--" Sarah yanked down on Chuck's collar, crashing her lips into his. Chuck quickly recovered, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her tightly against him. He returned the kiss, running a hand up her back to her neck, grasping a fistful of her hair and pressing her head against his even harder. Sarah moaned, breaking the kiss to move to Chuck's neck. Between frantic kisses on Chuck's neck, Sarah was able to gasp:

"Ellie and Devon?"

"Gone," Chuck responded breathlessly. "No sign of them. I think maybe they've moved out of the country." He pulled Sarah's head back to kiss her chin, moving down her neck.

"Shame," Sarah moaned. "I'll miss them. Although it's probably for the best, I think this may get a bit…" She moved her lips up to Chuck's ear and bit into his lobe. "Loud," she growled right into his ear. Chuck dug his fingers into Sarah's back as he breathed in deeply.

"Oh," Chuck groaned. "Well, in that case, I do think it's for the best that they're nowhere to be found." He grabbed the sleeve of Sarah's t-shirt and pulled it down so that the neck opening slid over her shoulder. He bit her shoulder, as gently as he could stand, and followed it with a kiss. "Casey's bugs?"

Sarah whimpered at the sensation of Chuck's teeth on her skin, then pushed him back against the desk. She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small device. "White noise transmitter," she said, dropping it on the desk and ripping Chuck's shirt open. Buttons flew. "He won't hear a thing."

Sarah kissed Chuck's chest. Chuck moaned and grabbed the hem of Sarah's shirt, slowly lifting it up, feeling the smooth skin underneath. "That may be the sexiest spy gadget I've ever seen you use." Chuck pulled Sarah's shirt up, higher and higher. Sarah straightened up and raised her hands above her head, ready for Chuck pull the shirt off completely.

Chuck's PC chirped an alarm. Chuck froze.

Sarah remained with her arms above her head. "Um… Chuck?"

Chuck turned slowly to look at the computer screen.

--

Tommy looked at the tray of food in Bryce's hands. "That's not… drugged, or anything, is it?"

Bryce cocked his head. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Nowhere."

Bryce set the food down on a small table across the room from Tommy. Tommy stared at the tray. It had been two days since he'd eaten last. He tried not to show how desperate he was for the food, but he knew he couldn't be succeeding. "So, are you going to untie me so I can eat, or…"

"In a minute," Bryce said. "I want you to tell me something first."

Tommy looked at the food again. It looked terrible. He wanted it very badly.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"I want a name. As a show of good faith. Highest ranking government official actually working for Fulcrum. Tell me that, right off the bat, and you can eat."

Tommy looked down at the ground. He was planning on keeping the name in reserve; a bargaining chip for later in the game. It was his greatest asset, and he was going to have to use it for a tray of crappy food.

"I… I don't think I'm going to tell you that now," Tommy said, trying not to look at the food. His stomach growled, as if it were voting on the situation. "I think you need to give me more in return for that information."

Bryce nodded. "If that's the way you want it," he said casually, picking up the tray and opening the door to the basement.

"Wait!" Tommy cried. "I'll tell you."

Bryce turned around in the doorway and faced Tommy, waiting.

"I'll tell you," Tommy repeated. "But you're never going to believe it."

--

"Chuck… are you seriously stopping now?"

Sarah dropped her hands to her sides, grabbing her shirt and pulling it back down.

Chuck's world began to spin around him as he stared at the computer screen, and he felt unsteady on his feet. He looked at the name the data mining software had produced. The name that had been taken out of the analyzed disk given to Casey. The name of the person who had shown up in emails to Leonard Dillon, director of Fulcrum.

BECKMAN, GEN. LOUISA

"Chuck," Sarah whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Don't freak out," Chuck said to himself.

This was a lot of fun to write, and it was especially worth it for the reviews and the feedback. Thanks to all who took the time to read and review.