Hi there, and happy holidays! It's me, the long-lost CJ.

This little bit of goofiness started out as a sequel to Sarah vs. Fulcrum's Transdimensional Killer Cold. It still is, but thanks to the wonderful, awful idea of my beta, aardvark7734, it's now a Christmas sequel. Sort of. You'll see. :)

I guess you don't have to be familiar with SvFTKC to read this, but it sure would help. It's a quick read. I left the congested speech out of this one for simplicity's sake.

Anyhoo, this little story assumes that Chuck's apartment is still bugged on Beckman's orders, so that Casey can keep an eye on Chuck when Sarah isn't around or is out of commission. It takes place in late S3, and it helps if you remember a little Morgan/Sarah chat from "First Fight."

I don't own Chuck or the Grinch. Not making any money here, just having a little fun. Enjoy!


Return of the Transdimensional Killer Cold, or You're a Mean One, Mr. Casey

Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot...
But the Grinch who lived just North of Who-ville did NOT!

The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

Casey stared at the TV screen, his face fixed in a malevolent frown. Football players ran across the screen, trying to win the Chiquita Banana Bowl or the Maytag Washer Bowl or whatever the hell bowl it was, but Casey couldn't concentrate. On college football, he couldn't concentrate. Dammit.

It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.

It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

But, whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes,
He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos...

They were sick again. It was bad enough being their neighbor, given everything he had to put up with. Thankfully there was no mic in the bedroom – Walker had drawn the line at that, and Chuck had been too shocked at the idea to even speak - and Casey hadn't pushed in the slightest. But the moron was still the Intersect, so the rest of their apartment was still wired, and that meant that whenever Walker was out of action or not around, Casey still suffered. It meant that he knew when the new Batman graphic novel would hit the stores, why the latest film adaptation of a Frank Miller comic sucked (not to mention knowing who the hell Frank Miller was in the first place), and when Frightened Rabbit was coming to LA. It meant that he still sat through COD marathons and sandwich discussions. It meant that he knew about things with names like Whedon and Glau and Firefly (okay, that last one was actually pretty good). He thought life would get better when Walker moved in, but her wholehearted embrace of all things nerd had actually made things worse, especially since Chuck made it his personal mission to get her "up to speed."

Casey spent a lot of his days wanting to shoot things.

Staring down from his cave with a sour, Grinchy frown
At the warm lighted windows below in their town,

For he knew every Who down in Whoville beneath
Was busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath.

"And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!"

The last time the nerd got the sniffles, Walker went over to his apartment and "took care" of him. Naturally, that meant that she got sick too, and she wound up spending two entire days in the moron's room. They watched movies and ate Ellie's chicken soup and blew their widdle nosies, but mostly they cooed and fussed over each other. He'd had to "lose" the surveillance tapes to protect his idiot partner (which did no good, since that evil midget Beckman apparently had duplicate surveillance on the nerd the whole time), and the sugary sweetness of it all had made him wretch. Now it was all happening again, but since they were an official couple this time around, the cooing and fussing was even worse.

It was enough to make him gorram sick. Stupid nerd.

Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,
"I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming!

For, tomorrow, he knew...all the Who girls and boys

Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

They'd been at it for twenty four hours now. Twenty four solid, mother humping hours of sniffling and coughing and chicken-soup-swilling and "Bless you, sweetie!" Casey was at his wits' end. Even worse, they had decided to spend large chunks of time watching the very same insipid Christmas specials that Casey had successfully managed to avoid for the better part of two decades. Singing puppets. Flying reindeer, with and without radioactive noses. Ghosts of Christmases past and present and singing goddamn snowmen. But the worst, the absolute worst, was some terrible movie made up entirely of "meet cutes" set in England. If he heard Walker and Bartowski "awww" and snuggle even one more time he'd… he'd…

Just then, he heard Bartowski over the mic feed. "Hey, Sarah, wanna watch 'Love Actually' again?"

A low growl resonated in his throat. That. Was. IT.

"And they'll sing! And they'll sing! And they'll SING! SING! SING! SING!"
And the more the Grinch thought of this Who Christmas Sing,
The more the Grinch thought, "I must stop this whole thing!

Casey stalked over to his weapons locker and angrily punched in the code. It opened with a hiss, and he allowed himself the smallest of smirks as his eyes found the item he needed. The irony made everything just perfect.

"Why for fifty three years, I've put up with it now!

I MUST stop this Christmas from coming...but HOW?

Then he got an idea. An awful idea!

The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea!

Casey stalked across the courtyard, formulating his plan as he went. He was winging this, and Casey hated winging things. He much preferred thorough planning and shooting to kill. But there was just no time. Something had to be done and, if this worked, he would finally have some peace. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Two cute, congested little voices, in perfectly disgusting harmony.

Casey fought back a grimace as he opened the door. Walker and Bartowski were still cuddled up on the couch together. Casey wondered if they had sores on their asses from all of the not moving. "It's Santa Claus, here with presents for sick little spies."

Casey was struck by the difference in their expressions as they looked over at him. Bartowski smiled, happy to see him. Walker, on the other hand, looked suspicious. Huh. Not hard to tell which one of them is the career spy, Casey thought. Gotta take care of her first.

"Casey, you shouldn't be here! We're sick!" The nerd was almost as much of a mother hen as his sister, but without the attractiveness to make up for it.

"Your concern is very touching, Bartowski, but I think I'll be fine."

"Why are you here, Casey?" Walker was looking more suspicious by the second. Gotta get this over with, and fast.

"I have something for you. Both of you, actually. Old NSA cold remedy."

Bartowski's face lit up like the Christmas tree in the corner. "Really? Because that would be awesome! Is it fast-acting?"

Casey grinned evilly as he reached behind his back. "Oh, yeah."


A few seconds and a whiff of CO2 later, it was all over. Chuck and Sarah had slumped over, Twilight Tranq darts sticking out of their necks. They fell together like puppets whose strings had been cut.

Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
"Now," grinned the Grinch, "I will stuff up the tree!"

And the Grinch grabbed the tree, and he started to shove,

When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!

Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.

The Grinch had been caught by this tiny Who daughter

Who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. She stared at the Grinch and said, "Santy Claus, why,
Why are you taking our Christmas tree? WHY?"

The beautiful, beautiful stillness was broken by the most annoying of voices coming from the hallway behind him. "Chuck? I thought I heard something..."

Grimes. Oh, goddammit all.

Morgan's eyes went back and forth from Casey, to Chuck and Sarah, to Casey's gun hand, to the darts in Chuck and Sarah's necks. Casey could see in Morgan's expression the exact moment that the furry little goblin figured out what had happened. It took much longer than it should have. The NSA agent closed his eyes and sighed in disgust.

Never thought Grimes would catch me before I got out. Damn, I'm slipping.

"Casey? What did you do?"

Casey winced; he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He could feel the red creeping back into his brain, feel the low growl building in his throat. He felt Grimes move past him towards the couch, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw the bearded gnome bending over Chuck and Sarah, checking for pulses in the wrong spots and muttering vaguely about disappointment in a father figure. After a moment, Morgan stood up and wheeled on the NSA agent. "You tranqued them, man! Why did you tranq them? I can't believe this. Jeez, you think you know a guy! Alex and I were just talking about how much more of a sensitive yet still scary dude you were becoming, and then you go and do this! I didn't know you had it in you. Well, that's not true. I knew you had it in you, but I didn't think you'd ever actually d-"


Morgan's eyes popped wide open for just a second before, dart in neck, he fell face first on top of Chuck. Casey almost laughed. Almost.


His work done (and then some), Casey started to leave. He had every intention of leaving them as they fell, just to make a point. But as he stared at the three unconscious people lying haphazardly on the sofa, two solid years' worth of annoyance flashed through his brain. And he got another idea. Another wonderful, awful idea.

This time, he did laugh.

It was quarter past dawn. All the Whos still a-bed,
All the Whos still a-snooze, when he packed up his sled,

Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings!
The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!

Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mount Crumpit,
He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it!

There was an art to arranging a scene, Casey thought. Some agents never mastered it. A successful staging was all in the details; bodies lying naturally, no odd angles or unnatural positions. These three had to look like they'd just fallen asleep or it wouldn't work, and this just HAD to work. Chuck and Sarah were already sickeningly intertwined, so they didn't need to be moved very much. But Morgan...Morgan was the key...everything had to be just so...a little higher with the hand, and...perfect. Casey grunted happily. Now he just had to find some of the old video surveillance gear...

A few minutes and a quick-and-dirty camera install later, Casey stood back to admire his handiwork.

"There. And I even have time for a catnap and a sandwich before the show."

"Pooh-pooh to the Whos!" he was grinch-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now that no Christmas is coming!

They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!
Their mouths will hang open a minute or two
Then the Whos down in Who-ville will all cry BOO-HOO!"

"That's a noise," grinned the Grinch, "that I simply must hear!"
So he paused. And the Grinch put his hand to his ear.

Casey grabbed his Chuck (he'd never admit it out loud, but the moron's namesake sandwich was damned tasty) and hurried into his living room. Like a good dogfight, the coming show would be both spectacular and over in no time flat, so he'd already routed the camera feed to his TV. He had just enough time to pour himself some good Scotch and grab a Cuban cigar before settling into his recliner.

Chuck came around first. Casey took a bite of his sandwich.

"Muuhhh. Huhwahh. S-Sarah?" There was more groaning. "Saaaaarah? Whuuh...why does my mouth taste like...feet?"

Casey grinned.

Walker slowly shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "Huh? Chuck? Whahappun? How did we...?" She paused, closed her eyes again. She sighed as she said, "Chuck, your hand."

"Uh, what about it?"

Casey's grin got even wider. It hurt a little.

The blonde smiled groggily and closed her eyes. "Your hands are roaming again," she mock scolded.

Chuck blinked at Walker. The nerd slowly raised both his hands to his face and looked at them owlishly, as if trying to figure out just what they'd been up to while he was asleep. "My hands went somewhere? They didn't tell me..."

Casey almost choked on his Scotch when Walker's eyes flew wide open. He bit back a laugh as he watched her gaze fall slowly downward.

"Wha? M-M-Morgan? When did you...y-your hand is...MORGAN! I told you not to touch my chest! NEVER, EVER TOUCH MY CHEST!"

Grimes was just starting to come out of it. Casey was so happy, he actually allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips.

"Huuuhh? Saruhh?" He blinked several times, finally following Walker's eyes towards his hand. "Oh. Ohhhhh, God. Sarah, I-I dunno how...I mean, I would never..."

Casey grunted happily at Morgan's flustered pleading. He popped the last bite of grilled egg bread into his mouth.

"Sarah, I swear, I..."


And what happened then...?

Well, in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch's small heart

Grew three sizes that day!

Casey downed the last swallow of his Johnnie Walker Blue just as Morgan's backside hit the floor with a resounding thump. He knew that Walker would find the camera and figure it out. He also knew that he'd get an earful from his daughter once the news made its way to her. But as he lit his Cohiba and relaxed back into his recliner, he couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences. He'd managed to get two years' worth of payback in one fell swoop, and that was something even Colonel John Casey could be proud of. Flipping back over to the satellite feed, he surfed until he came upon his very favorite Christmas special of all time, one he actually kinda liked. It was almost over, but catching the last bit was the perfect end to a surprisingly good day. "Heh. Merry Christmas to me."

Welcome Christmas. Bring your cheer,

Cheer to all Whos, far and near.

Christmas Day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp.

Christmas Day will always be
Just as long as we have we.

Welcome Christmas while we stand
Heart to heart and hand in hand.


Thanks for reading, and the very merriest of Christmases to you and yours!