A/N: Okay, I've decided to try something new, a complete AU of the Chuckverse, where Chuck's a doctor, working with Ellie and Devon, and the Buymorons are part of his entourage. I'll try to keep them in character, e.g. Jeffster still being total pervs, Shaw's still pining over Eve, Casey's still his badass self. But I'm relying on the reviews to tell me if this is worth continuing, so please leave some feedback if you can! Reviews are like a chicken soup for the soul. Thanks :D Anna's in this story, because I love her.

Oh and this story wasn't possible without my dearest beta, theprincess1511, who may start dabbling into the Chuck fandom soon! I can't wait!

Based loosely on The Antler's "Kettering", but I have no intention of giving Sarah cancer and/or letting her die. Don't worry.

Disclaimers - Don't own Chuck.

West Side Hospital
08:19AM

"Dr. Bartowski!"

The two doctors, with arms looped around the other's backs, jumped away in an instant, as they turned to face the direction of the call. Looking expectantly at the nurse, the male doctor raised his eyebrows with a smile.

"Which Bartowski, Anna?"

She hesitated, eyes panning over the pair of siblings and their sensually-shaped mouths, before returning back to the clipboard in her hand. "Chuck," she pointed to the towering chocolate-eyed male.

"Sorry, sis, duty calls. I'll take a rain check on that coffee!"

He offered an apologetic smile and a salute of respect as he followed hurriedly after the petite Asian, keeping to her pace with long, confident strides. He clutched the clipboard in his hands, eyeing his unusually sparse schedule for the day.

"Wow, I've never had such an empty schedule before…" He smiled at his assistant. "That's good, right?"

"Yes, Chuckles, that's a good thing." He passed the clipboard back to her.

"Alright, lay it on me, Anna. What's on the agenda for today?" He tucked his hands into his coat pockets, pausing for a second to offer a pack of gummy bears to a few of the children in the Pediatricians' ward, on their way toward his department.

"You've got one surgery scheduled for today –"

"Paul Hawkins, bone marrow transplant. I remember."

"Yep, and some of the patients are due for another session of chemotherapy."

He squinted his eyes, thinking aloud as he rested his hands in his pockets, not once breaking his brisk stride. "Ray Richards, Patricia McKinley and –"

"And little Quinny…"

"Yeah, little Quinny," he sighed solemnly, in remembrance of the little six-year-old girl whose brain tumour had relinquished her of a normal childhood. He had spent two of those six years constantly treating her for relapse after relapse – if she was never going to give up, then neither would he.

"Other than that, you're free for the rest of the day, but you'll probably be the on-call doctor for the day."

"That's fine by me," he smiled, clasping his hands together. "I wanted to help Ellie with the emergency room anyway. Oh, by the way, I'd like Jeff and Lester to scrub in for the transplant today."

He had never seen Anna's eyebrows rise to such heights before. "Are you serious? You want those two losers to scrub for you?"

"Oh come on now, they're the most experienced surgical interns here…"

"That's because they can't be bothered to go any higher! They've been medical interns since you joined them four years ago. And for the record, Dr Beckman should've fired them by now, or at least give them their residencies."

"Fine, fine, but they're good at what they do. Who else would scrub for me anyway? John Casey?"

He chuckled at the mention of West Side's notorious janitor and part-time security guard, recalling the episode in which the burly, gruff man had nearly ripped out his throat for mentioning the mysterious lady whom he had been spotted with. But they were buddies – at least, he was, to Chuck – and they constantly met for lunch in the break room.

"No, but how about Skip Johnson or… Morgan?"

"Your boyfriend isn't a surgical intern – he's a nurse, like you. And, about Skip, I've told him thousands of times to get that mane tamed, but he can't bear to part with his 'fro."

"But what does that have to do with scrubbing in?"

He grinned as they rounded the corner, walking past the sign on the wall that pointed toward the Radiology department and struggling, albeit unsuccessfully, to stifle a chuckle. "It won't fit into the scrub cap…"

18:48PM

With swift, steady hands, he places the hypodermic needle directly atop of the man's pelvis, the overhead light pinpointing the exact spot where he was to insert it. As the anaesthesia kicked in, it would take a few more minutes for the patient to pass out completely.

And with a nod from the anaesthetist, he inserted the needle deftly into the patient's flesh, penetrating through the bone, where the marrow was located. He frowned as he felt a shudder under his fingertips while he steadied the needle with his gloved fingers.

"Dr Bartowski, his heart rate just spiked significantly."

"Lester, check his pupils. Jeff, grab a tissue and dab that sweat off, he's practically drowning in his own perspiration."

"Pupils are dilated, Chuck, and a little too misty, if you ask me…"

"Blood pressure's high and rising, doctor. Looks like he's going into shock."

"Heart rate's still climbing, we're losing him!"

"He's aware, and I'm pretty sure he's in a monumental amount of pain right now." Chuck calmly extracted the needle from the flesh, handing the blood-filled syringe to one of the surgical scrubs. "Give him the sedative."

"I'm on it," Anna smiled, injecting the fluid into the tubing that connected with the patient's hand.

"Daniel, how much anaesthesia did you give him?"

"Enough. With regard to his medical history, Mr Hawkins –"

Chuck sighed, resisting the urge to press his fingers to his forehead. "You gave him a Stage 2, didn't you?"

"Well, I… He was… Yes. Yes, I did."

"And pray tell, why did you do that?"

"Because I figured that he was less resistant –"

"You can't make assumptions like that, Daniel! You almost killed a man today, based on second guessing and presumption! You, of all people, would know that a Stage 2 dose barely numbs the patient at all."

"Dr Bartowski, my wife died five years ago… Evelyn Shaw died of an overdose of anaesthesia, because the doctor that operated on her decided that she deserved a little more than the normal dose of surgical anaesthesia."

"Look, I'm… I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Shaw. But I think you missed out the part where Ihad never instructed you to give Paul Hawkins an extra dose in the first place! And don't think I'm not reporting this to Dr Beckman." He turned away despondently, disappointed in his colleague.

He placed a cotton bandage over the temporary wound on the man's waist and watched the black monitor by the side, indicating with its steady beeping, that Paul's heart beat had returned to normal. Smiling now, he nodded toward each of his colleagues with pride in his eyes, missing only Shaw.

After sterilizing and disposing of his surgical scrubs, he exited the theatre, surprised to see his sister waiting for him in the observation room.

"That was pretty impressive, Dr Bartowski."

"Thank you, Dr Bartowski," he chuckled, hugging her with a tight squeeze. "What're you doing here?"

"Meh, Devon's in surgery now. My schedule's pretty clear, what do you say about heading out for that coffee?"

"I've got a session with Quinn Matthews in a few minutes and that's pretty much the last thing on my schedule for the day… Mind waiting for a bit?"

"Oh, it's no problem at all! In fact, you mind if I sit in with her session? I haven't seen her for ages, and I wonder why…" Chuck grinned sheepishly, looping his arm through hers. "You'd better ring me up the next time you're treating that little angel!" She prodded his chest, emphasizing her words with force.

"Yeah, yeah… She's been asking about you too."

"Really?"

"Yep. She keeps asking when Dr Ellie's coming back. I think you just stole a patient from me."

"It wouldn't be the first… It's no secret that everyone thinks I'm the sweeter Bartowski!"

He sputtered for a second, eyes widening in utter disbelief. "Now, that – that is a blatant lie!"

"Face it, Chuck," she patted his cheek with her hand, beaming as he began to pout. "You can't outdo your big sis."

Arm in arm, they frolicked toward the wards, coming to a stop outside one of the private rooms. He smirked, catching his sister's eye. "Watch this…"

Using his fingertips, he began to tap out an intricate beat, humming the easy tune of the "Spongebob Squarepants" theme song. After he was rewarded with a shrill cry of excitement and laughter, he opened the door slightly, pushing his head through the narrow doorframe.

"Hmmm… Where has little Quinny escaped to?" He called out, already detecting the quivering, giggling lump underneath the blankets. Peals of laughter resonated through the room, and he couldn't help but smile.

Giving his sister a wink, he spoke again. "Dr Ellie! I think I'll need some help finding the lost little Princess!" Another giggle escapes into the room, contrasting against the incessant beeping of the various machines surrounding the bed.

"Oh no, Dr Chuck, it seems that Princess Quinn's been captured by the evil Blanket Man! What ever shall we do?!"

"Have no fear, my lovely sidekick! I know just the thing!" He swore he heard a hitch in the little girl's breathing for a second, before he pounced, tickling her sides mercilessly with a predatory gleam in his eye.

She laughed and giggled – almost hysterically – as he pulled the blanket off her head and draped it neatly over her frail body. He exclaimed in total triumph, pumping his fists excitedly. "And the great Dr Chuck saves the day, yet again!"

She flashed him a toothy grin, and treated Ellie with one of the most enthusiastic waves she had ever given. His face melted into an easy smile. "Hey, Princess! How are you feeling today?"

"I feel good, Dr Chuck!"

"Really? You feel good, huh?"

"Uh huh!" She nodded her head with infectious gusto and he felt his head begin to bob in sync.

"That's great! That means you're ready for another round of chemo–"

He was interrupted by a whimper of terror, noticing that her quiver of excitement had turned to fear. And her eyes – shining with a fresh glaze of tears – pleaded with him, begged him. Then she was lost, buried beneath the blankets, as though it were a fort that could keep all the cancer and chemotherapy in the world at bay.

He smiled dejectedly, once again removing the blanket and placing it over her body. Brushing a hand across her scalp, his face fell, remembering that, once upon a time, she had possessed a head full of golden locks. "What's wrong, Princess?"

The volume at which she had voiced her reply couldn't even have counted as a whisper. "It hurts."

He caught his sister's eye as she stood to the side of the door – hers too, were filled with unshed tears. "Don't worry, Quinny. I'll make sure that if it hurts, you'll get some painkillers, alright?"

She was silent, and he leaned in closely to whisper into her ear. "I'll even make sure you'll get some ice-cream afterward? How about it, Princess?"

As she began to nod with renewed vigor, he matched it with his trademarked, heart-stopping grin, holding out a hand that she took excitedly.

West Side Hospital - Parking Lot
22:17PM

In the darkness of the cool, chilly night, he walked – coffee in hand – through the near-empty parking lot of the hospital. As he plopped himself onto a nearby bench, shutting his eyes in the lull of the moment, he took in the fresh, breezy air with a deep breath. The bench creaked as his sister took a seat beside him, sipping her piping hot coffee with glee.

"That went surprisingly well, wouldn't you say so?"

"Yes, it did…" She smiles toothily, although all he sees are the faint imprint of stars, meshing with the night sky like polka dots on a dark backdrop. "I'm really proud of you, Chuck. I mean, what you did for Quinn… It just made me realize how much you've grown up – how far you've come from your Stanford days."

She takes a breather, pausing for a second to study her little brother. "Aces, Charles… You're aces."

His eyes immediately break from their mesmerized view to glance back at his sister, an awed twinkle shining in his chocolate orbs. "A Dad quote! I'm the one who's impressed now." He places a warm hand over hers. "Thanks, Elle."

"For the record, you'd make a great dad. So when are you gonna work on your love life? You do know that nearly half the hospital is pining for you, right?"

"When I get over Jill– Wait, they are?"

"Chuck…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean, I don't normally realize it, but I did notice that someone always sets a cup of coffee on my table every morning… along with the lot of anonymous love post-its placed strategically around the hospital."

"The coffee would be Morgan, considering the fact that he brings the coffee to you after I reject it every morning."

"Oh… Okay, but what about the post-its? They're sweet and all, but it's crazy!" He leaned in, whispering as though someone were eavesdropping on them. "I found one of them in one of the toilet cubicles before. It said, 'I heart you, Chuck Bartowski! Marry me!' I've never been so traumatized in my life!"

"That would probably be Morgan too."

"Ellie!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding… Hmmm, maybe we should have a stake-out night. Just to see who brings the post-it the next morning."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it's one of the eighty nurses that we've got on our staff. No big deal…"

He looked up in puzzlement as she fell silent, her eyes darting around the quiet parking lot. "Did you hear that?"

"Wha-what? Hear what?"

"Shhh!"

Then he heard it – the soft agonizing moans that drifted from the nearby clump of bushes. His eyes widened in horror as he grabbed his sister by the arm, causing her to yell out in surprise. Only one thing registered in his mind: Zombie apocalypse.

"They're coming! Oh god, I knew this would happen! I don't play Call of Duty for nothing! Nazi zombies, my ass! Elle, we have to go, we have to barricade, leave the hospital. I've stocked up for this, I know what to do – I've read Max Brook's Zombie Survival Guide."

"Don't be silly. It's not a zombie attack…"

As though the universe felt the need to prove his point, another guttural moan emanated from the bushes. "It's a freaking zombie attack!"

"Chuck, shut up! I think someone's in the bushes."

"It's not someone, it's something."

"Will you please just shut up about your zombie theory?! I'm going to go check it out."

"No, Ellie!" He hissed as she stood from the bench, whispering her name fiercely as she walked steadily closer toward the unusual sound. Muttering a silent prayer, he mustered up the courage to follow, though staying a generous distance away from her.

He watched as she furrowed her brow in confusion, sharp eyes scanning the shrubbery with expertise. "There's no one here."

As the shivers ran up his spine, he feigned a shrug. "Maybe it was an animal or something?"

"No, it couldn't have been. It was definitely human."

Then he saw her. And all he could think to do was wrench the car door open, unbuckle her seatbelt, and carry her into the safety of the hospital – graciously ignoring the blood that stained his coat and buttoned down shirt that leaked from the gunshot wounds in her abdomen.

He could hardly feel her weight in his arms as he ran into the emergency room, with Ellie hot on his heels. He could hardly hear her shallow breathing over his whispered pleads for her to hold on; to not give up. He whispered softly into the crumpled form in his arms, her blonde hair cascading over his arm like a waterfall, stained red with her own blood.

The tears in her cobalt eyes propelled him forward, and he placed her gently onto a stretcher, wheeling her hurriedly into the operating theatre. He held her hand in a tight grip.

"Hold on, ma'am. Just hold on, don't let go. I'm right here. Hold on."

He felt her hand enclose tighter around his.