Hello Thar! This is my first Chuck fic! It's also my first real H/C fic that's not all fluff, so go easy on me. I was kind of tired while writing this, so if there are any mistakes, I'll fix them later. Until, then, I hope you enjoy. This can be placed at any point in season 2. Oh and I don't own anything, except for Briskey and the thugs. =)

One thing I didn't notice until I checked this story out later, but apparently I automatically changed tenses when I switched over to Chuck's point of view. Maybe it's because I find the different tenses easier to write for the different characters. Just think of it as a sort of... Difference in thinking between the two of them.

"This wasn't supposed to happen." John says harshly, but he doesn't think Chuck can hear him. The kid is looking up at him with those big brown eyes, watery with confusion, and foggy with second-rate drugs. He has a bandage over his midsection, and it's spotting red already, but again, Chuck is a bit too loopy to notice.

"M'sorry?" Chuck half-slurs, blinking slowly and deliberately. His eyes aren't quite focused on Casey, but he's making a monumental effort to look him in the eye. "S'wrong Casey? I'm totally...Totally fine."

"You're an idiot." He snaps back, and he didn't quite manage to keep the anger out of his voice. He flexes his wrists, but the cuffs are just as tight as before, too tight for his broken thumb trick to work. His hands are starting to feel numb, they've attached him rather uncomfortably to the wall, but he doesn't really care. Chuck frowns at him from his position on the floor.

"Awh. That's mean."

"Shut up." He snarls, and Chuck does, but he flinches slightly, his eyes getting wide again, and damn him for making John feel bad about it. "Because of what you did...Walker's going to kill me. Beckman's going to burn my remains, and Ellie, Awesome, and the Bearded Troll, are all going to cook the ashes into a pie, and eat it."

"Pecan pie." Chuck comments absently. "That's Ellie's favorite."

"Bartowski! I thought I told you to stay in the car!"

"You always tell me to stay in the car! I'm surprised you still think I'll listen to you!"

"You'll listen to me because I'll pound you if you don't!"

"I just saved you! You were surrounded, and I managed to distract them."

"Yeah, by screaming like a little girl."

"Yeah well...It worked didn't it?"

"Shut up and follow me. Stay close, and don't do anything stupid."

Chuck is more alert now, which means the drugs are wearing off, but that means he's starting to feel the pain now.

"Where's Sarah?" Chuck asks, and his voice is sort of thin and reedy, which isn't a good sign. Casey wishes he could just grunt like he usually does, but he could tell Chuck was panicking a little, so he relented.

"For the fourth time Bartowski, she managed to escape. We're waiting for extraction, and you'd better stay alive until then Chuck, cause I'd rather not be baked into a pastry."

Chuck seems to mellow out a little bit, and his pallor improves slightly. But he has a perturbed look on his face, and his voice is soft as he turns his head to look at Casey.

"Did I really ask you three other times?" He asks, and his face is blank, but Casey can see his hands shaking where they're tied in front of him.

John feels cold.

"So what's the deal with this guy? He does torture or something?"

"Nah. Human experiments. He uses live test subjects to figure out medical ways to improve his agents. Tests out energy boosting drugs, things like improving the mental processes."

"That... That doesn't sound too bad."

"Well, word on the wire says, none of his subjects have survived so far. He's a total nut job, doesn't know anything about medical science, just deadly potions."

"Oh... Well that's not good."

"Good deduction work Scooby Doo."

"Ro probrem Raggy."

After three hours, the doctor wannabe walks in, and Casey bristles at the way the man looks at Chuck. He's used to enemies looking at prisoners like they're slabs of meat with faces stapled on, or even like someone who murdered their mother. Hell, he's even used to the occasional lustful look, depending on the agent.

This man came in, and he looked at Chuck like he was hungry. Like he'd been stranded in the desert, dehydrated, and starving, and chuck was a three course meal with all the fixings. He didn't hesitate, just walked up to Bartowski and grabbed his shoulders, hauling him up to his feet.

Chuck is in no condition to be moving, let alone standing, and he gasps in pain and scrabbles to get his feet under him, swaying like a boat at sea, even with the Doctor holding him steady. Chuck looks up at the doctor, scared, then his eyes go out of focus and he tenses up, lashes fluttering slightly as his eyes flicker. Casey recognized a flash when he sees one.

Doctor Hank Briskey was remarkably intelligent, according to the files Casey had read. Tall, pug-faced, and balding, he was just brilliant enough, that the CIA had catered to most of his whims. But when they'd refused to allow human testing, he'd raged, claiming he'd go over to fulcrum, and get his tests done there. Apparently he'd done just that.

"You are just perfect." Briskey breathes, leaning in close to Chuck's face, causing him to squirm, and try to back away. But he's weak from drugs and blood loss, and the doctor easily overpowers him. "You're a bit damaged," He continued, glancing at Chucks reddened bandages, "but this is still better than I'd hoped."

Chuck whimpers softly, but looks Briskey in the eye. John is sort of proud, a little bit.

"Look, I think you've got me wrong. I'm not perfect! Ask Casey, I eat nothing but junk food, and I stay inside all day playing video games." Chuck babbles, but the doctor ignores him, and someone from outside the room fetches a chair. Chuck is pushed roughly into it, and they don't bother trying to strap him down. Two burly men stand on either side of him, so his chances of getting away are pretty impossible.

The doctor pulls out a syringe, and Chuck makes a choking sound and tries to stand up, being thwarted as his legs give out, and the men grab his shoulders, and force him back in his seat. He gasps, and leans back, his breathing heavy, and his hands are fisted tightly. Casey remembers that Bartowski doesn't like needles, and curses under his breath.

The doctor calmly flicks the needle, stepping slowly towards his captive. "I've been tasked with extracting information from you using my... Unique style." He grins lazily. "I used to think the other agents were crude with their use of torture, like a child breaking it's toys, but I can see the appeal now. It can be an art form, using your wits to form an outcome, using a medium that affects whatever you choose to be your canvas. And you, mister agent," he looks at Chuck now, looming over him, "will be my masterpiece."

"Casey! Watch ou--!!"

"Bartowski! What the hell are you... Man down! Damn it, Walker, we're surrounded! Get out of here and get reinforcements!"

"But...!"

"Now!"

"I told you... My name, is Charmichael... Chu... Charles... Charles Charmichael."

"Mr Chuck, the sooner you tell me the truth, the sooner this game can end." Briskey told Chuck, shaking his head in mock sadness. "You are no spy, and Charles Charmichael is noted for being a highly competent special agent."

"The one time my reputation... Comes to bite me... In the ass." Chuck panted. He wasn't being held down now. He was slumped in his chair, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his pupils the size of quarters. "Kind of... Like... the story of... my life... Eh Casey?" He swung his head in Casey's' general direction, getting a grunt in response. "See... Casey gets me... Like a big... Dog... Only a dog... Talks more... Which is interesting... Because... I'm the... tall lanky one... But I'm... Scooby instead... You know--" He was suddenly cut off as his body seized, and the thugs grabbed him, keeping him still. He clenched his eyes shut, and breathed heavily through his teeth, every muscle in his body burning, he let out a coughing yell, trying to keep it in and failing. His arms and legs twitched feebly, and he wished he could curl up, and ease the pain. Casey watched with a tense angry silence.

This lasted about five minutes before he finally relaxed, going limp in his chair and leaning his head back, staring woozily at the ceiling. Briskey tsked, smiling like he was correcting a child about a mistake he'd made.

"That was the fifth one so far. It lasted twice as long as the last one, and they'll only get worse."

Chuck wanted to come up with a witty comeback, but his mouth didn't want to move. Instead, he was surprised to hear Casey talk.

"He won't tell you anything. You really think Mad Dog Charmichael would give in to Fulcrum? This is a piss party if you ask me."

Chuck couldn't help but smile. Casey was defending his honor, which was actually rather nice, for him. Casey rarely said anything nice about his nerdy asset, though Chuck supposed this was a special occasion.

Briskey was not so pleased. "Oh don't worry." he sneered. "You'll be next, so no need to get anxious. If he won't talk, then I'll just have to raise the stakes." His lips turned up in a smug grin, "It's double or nothing."

Chuck really wished this guy would stop talking.

"What the hell did you think you were doing!? You idiot!!"

"I... I'm pretty sure...I was saving your life... Your welcome, by the way..."

"It's my job to protect you, dumbass!! You're not supposed to just jump in front of bullets all willy-nilly!!"

"Hmm... Guess I forgot..."

"The first injection causes the body to seizure repeatedly, increasing the magnitude until the body gives out. The second injection induces a state of paralytic shock, which is permanent. You won't even be able to blink, trapped forever in your own prison of a body, unable to communicate in any way. There are no known cures." The doctor listed these facts as he prepped a second needle, his calm clinical tone wreaking havoc with Chucks nerves. "Tell me everything you know, or I will reduce you to a state worse than death."

Chuck could feel himself trembling. Even drugged and weak, he was wracked with a surge of adrenalin. His body was preparing for fight or flight, and he wished, so much, that he could do just that.

"I... I..." He was panicking, he knew. He'd never dealt with this sort of thing. Seeing Cole get tortured for him had been hard enough, but now he was facing a truly horrible fate, and he knew he couldn't tell them what he was. If they knew he was the human intersect, then he would end up even worse, and the CIA and NSA would lose to FULCRUM. "Ch... Charles..." He choked out, shaking violently as Briskey leaned in closer with the needle, "My name... Is Charles Charmichael... And I am never... going to tell you... anything." He was almost sobbing with fear, but as he looked over at Casey he saw pride in his eyes, and that helped him a little bit, because at least he wasn't making a mistake. He was being strong, just like he'd always hoped he would be in a situation like this. Like a real spy.

And that helped him work up enough courage to look straight at Dr Briskey as he leaned foreward to inject the poison, a severe frown marring the doctor's face.

Then the world exploded in Chuck's face.

"So they were able to find the antidote?"

"Yeah, Doctor Briskey kept a labeled cabinet in one of his offices. Is he...?"

"They said he should wake up soon, now that they've cut back his drug dosage."

Chuck was pretty sure he didn't understand what the voices floating around his head were talking about, but they were familiar, and comforting, so he let himself drift in their embrace. He felt a warm hand in his own, and he squeezed it, wondering whose it was.

"Chuck? Come on, open your eyes, We've been waiting for days, just a few blinks is all we need."

Chuck heartily disagreed, seeing as his eyelids were far to heavy to lift, and possibly glued together. But the voice kept insisting, so he mumbled something even he couldn't understand, and tried to wake up. It took a moment, but the blurry blobs inhabiting the room eventually coalesced into Sarah and Casey, one smiling, the other scowling slightly less than usual.

"Oh... Hi guys." Chuck said stupidly, blinking repeatedly at them. "Um... I sort of thought I'd wake up dead, or a close approximation. Unless this is heaven, cause, so far it's not so bad. I could do without Casey though." Sarah's smile lit up the room, and Casey's growl sort of... complimented it...Yeah. "Um, does my sister...?"

Sarah rubbed her fingers over Chucks knuckles as she reassured him. "We told her it was an accident. You went to a shooting range with Casey and some friends, but a new member forgot to put their safety on. It went off and you were shot in the side, just below your ribs. Through and through. You were lucky that it didn't hit anything vital, but you did lose a lot of blood before Casey managed to get you to the hospital." She told him that what had really happened, is that Sarah had gotten Beckman to send her an extraction team, and they'd blown a hole through the wall of the facility, retrieving Chuck and Casey,.

It was all rehearsed, planned out. Ellie couldn't know that he'd been shot protecting Casey, so they had to lie to her.

Speaking of Casey, the man seemed to be more silent and broody than usual. Chuck supposed he was still mad, his big macho image tarnished now that he'd been saved by the person he was protecting.

"I'm sorry Casey." He said, and John's head snapped up and his eyebrows furrowed unhappily. "I mean, I'm not sorry about saving you, but I'm sorry that it bugged you so much."

Chuck's never before seen the emotion currently on Casey's face, so he can't quite guess what it is. He doesn't really seem angry, and he sort of takes a moment to pick out his words. "Chuck, you could have died pulling that stunt. And I can't allow that, not just because you're the intersect, not even just because I'm you're handler, I..." And he and Sarah both looked immensely uncomfortable, "I made a vow to protect you, and if you go off trying to take bullets for me, and you die, then I'll have broken my vow." He gave Chuck a steely glare, silently daring him to say something snarky, or sentimental, "Don't make me break my vow Bartowski." He said seriously, and Chuck couldn't find it in him to tell a joke. He just nodded, and Casey seemed to visibly relax. Sarah sighed in silent relief, and continued to rub Chuck's hand soothingly.

"You should get some rest." she said softly, "You need to rest up for when Ellie comes back in the morning."

Chuck wanted to tell her he wasn't tired, but just the thought of sleep made his eyes droop, and he yawned so hard his jaw cracked. "If you insist." he mumbled, and slowly drifted off.

Sarah moved to brush some hair out of his eyes, smiling. And while she was distracted, for just a moment, Casey smiled too.