Carmichael

AU. The CIA recruits Chuck for the Omaha Project despite Bryce's attempt to protect him from the government.

Note: I do not own Chuck no matter how much I wish I did.

Chuck Versus The Stanford Debacle

Spring 2003

4:30 PM

Stanford University

Stanford, California

When Bryce Larkin had heard of Professor Flemming's intention to recruit Chuck for the CIA's Omaha Project the year after he himself was recruited, he was more than determined to prevent it. It was not due to some petty feeling of rivalry with Chuck; it was more of this overwhelming feeling to protect his best friend. The only best friend he's ever had. The spy life was not for one Charles Irving Bartowski. It would destroy him.

His plan to frame Chuck of cheating on one of Flemming's tests had gone without a hitch. It pained him to sacrifice Chuck's friendship, but he kept up his unsympathetic appearance as he watched Chuck dejectedly shuffle out of their fraternity house with his things. It's for your own good, Chuck.

Why would Bryce do this? The thought kept repeating in his head with every step he took away from the fraternity house that once held great memories now overshadowed by this one debacle. It was obvious that Bryce had framed him for cheating, Chuck could not think of any reason as to why he would. I thought we were friends.

The whole ordeal had happened so fast that Chuck realized he wasn't able to tell his sister, Ellie. He slumped his shoulders even more. What am I going to say? Hey, El. How am I? I'm fantastic. Bryce got me kicked out of Stanford for cheating, which I know you'll believe me when I say I didn't. I might crash over at your place for a while if that's okay. Possibly get a job at the Buymore where Morgan works while I revise my five year plan.

He didn't notice that he had walked a good few blocks or so away from the ongoing parties that accumulated in the area around the sororities and frat houses until he realized how deafening his thoughts were in the silence while he walked along the empty street. Dropping his possessions beside him as he took a seat on the edge of the sidewalk, he drew in a slow, deep breath. It did not at all calm him when the enormity of it all began to hit him.

He really did have no other alternative than to get a job at the Burbank Buymore. No other choice but to mooch of Ellie whom he knew would be more than willingly take care of him even with her med school loans to pay off. No, no, no, no…. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, wishing he could just forget it all.

"Charles Bartowski?" Chuck looked up to a dark-skinned man with an incredibly stern face, waiting for a response after what seemed to be a prolonged ten seconds.

"Yes?" Chuck's eyebrow slightly rose along with his reply. He noticed the man's erect posture which was the complete opposite of his slouched form.

"I am here to give you an offer. It would mean a great deal to your country if you accepted." Whilst he spoke, he compared the file he had received of a Charles Irving Bartowski with the lanky young man in front of him.

It was hard to believe that Bartowski would cheat from what he had read; it would conflict the kid's lifelong meek, yet honest demeanor. Included with how well he scored on Flemming's test, he needed to see for himself if it was too good to be true.

Receiving the all clear in his earpiece, the man continued to address Chuck. "My name is Langston Graham. I am part of the CIA. I am certain you have heard of us."

"Wait, whoa. This is a joke, right?" Chuck looked at Graham then around them to see if there were any possibly hidden cameras to document the horrible day he's been having. "I'm not being filmed right? No hidden cameras? Because if this is some sick joke, I –"

"I assure you, Mr. Bartowski. This is far from a joke." Graham bluntly stated, hoping Bartowski would listen to him long enough before rambling again. "I am here to extend you an offer to join the agency."

It was to Graham's surprise that Chuck actually remained silent, contemplating on what had just been said to him. Slowly, he nodded. "Can I sleep on it?"

"Don't sleep on it for too long." Extending out his card, Graham observed while Chuck briefly hesitated before taking it. "Contact me when you have an answer."

The Next Day

8:42 PM

Casa de Bartowski

Echo Park, Los Angeles, California

"Chuck!" The door opened right away as Chuck had raised his hand to knock. He smiled weakly, feeling his sister greet him in the form of a tight squeeze. "I listened to the message you left me earlier today. How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sis, I – I'm fine." He looked down at his sister who finally relinquished him from her hug. She was searching his face for the truth, her brown eyes filled with worry and concern. Softly sighing at how he knew that Eleanor Faye Bartowski would not let him go until he fully confided everything to her, Chuck kissed her forehead and made his way into her abode. "I'm bushed. I mean I spent about half a day's worth traveling via the ole' reliable public transit and I have a lot to think about so mind if I crash in the guest room?"

Ellie nodded in consent. "Fine, Chuck. But we will talk in the morning." A faint smile appeared on her face as she watched her little brother carry the Tron poster their father gave him when he was younger along with him. Only he would bring that poster all the way back here. She shook her head and sighed. Why would anyone do this to my brother?

He immediately sunk facedown into the guest room's queen sized bed. The sheets smelled as if they were fresh from the wash. Ugh. So comfortable. It was a complete contrast to the dingy motel room he spent in the previous night in order to get some rest before utilizing his bus pass for the day ahead.

Graham! Chuck thought, rolling over and digging into his pockets in search of the card that held the contact information of the man recruiting him into the CIA. Pulling out his phone as well, he dialed the number he was given.

"Graham secure." An austere voice responded the exact moment the first ring had ended.

"Uh, hey. This is Chuck from the other –"

"Are you secure or not?" Graham interrupted him before he could finish.

"I'm secure. Er, Bartowski, secure, sir." Chuck quickly replied, hoping to pacify the other line's demand. "I'm in."

Graham smiled. Well, inwardly. He had been in an absurdly arduous meeting with an irritating redhead from the NSA, but Bartowski's answer, though anticipated, was going to be his source of satisfaction for the rest of the day. Or at least until the end of the meeting.

"Good to hear. I'll contact you after the necessary preparations have been made. I believe it will be all done by tomorrow in 1200 hours; your time, of course."

The call ended as promptly as it had started. Chuck stared at the ceiling, contemplating what he had gotten himself into. CIA, huh? I wonder if they can hook me up with an Aston Martin. The name's Bartowski. Charles Bartowski. He chuckled as his eyelids started becoming heavier. Yawning, sleep gradually began to overcome him.

Oh my g- What is that amazing smell? Chuck slowly inhaled again the mouthwatering scent that he knew was emanating from the kitchen. He jumped off the bed, wide awake now, and made way towards the source.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Ellie greeted as she effortlessly flipped the pancake onto its other side without any help from a spatula. "Up for some chocolate chip pancakes?" She prepared two for Chuck and poured a generous amount of syrup onto it before holding it out to her brother.

"Of course!" Chuck gratefully took the plate from his sister and went to eat at the rectangular long dining table on the other side of the kitchen's window partition.

Grabbing her cup of tea, Ellie joined him at the table; he noticed that she was allowing him to get a few bites of the pancake before questioning him. "Do you want to tell me what happened now?"

He looked up from his plate, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Finally, he responded. "Sure."

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