A/N: Hello all! This is my second attempt at writing fanfiction. Spoilers for season 4 up ahead!

This story grew from a few small ideas and one big one I had a while ago. Then I decided, what the hell, why not combine them all? Then "First Fight" aired and Chuck lost the Intersect, then "Fear of Death" came :-/ and he got kidnapped, and then "Phase Three" aired :D and Sonya Blade, er, I mean Sarah Walker and all of her epic badassery saved him (and this episode catapulted to the top of everyone's list of favorite Chuck episodes, including mine). I got really excited at the end of that episode cos the General still considered him valuable. I thought "Oooh, Chuck is still going to be part of the team! We're going to get to see some Season 1 & 2 dynamics going on! Yay!" Well…*sigh* then "Leftovers" aired :P and all I got to see was Chuck in the background not really playing a role before he got re-Intersected. That's when I decided to throw an Intersect-less Chuck into my story. Here's to hoping it all works out! Imagine this story picks up in the second half or last quarter of a regular 'Chuck' episode – you know? Where everything miraculously gets resolved in the last 15 minutes? I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. This story will only be a few chapters long.

Special thanks to my sister who encouraged *cough*nagged*cough* me into writing my idea down. I'm still quite nervous about posting it and suffered from writer's block/holiday laziness, as I had intended for this whole story to be posted before Chuck returned from hiatus, and she yelled at me – via all forms of communication – to get it done. So thanks, Sis! A HUGE thank you to retropanda37. She's beta'ing this story for me. She's awesome y'all. Please go check out her fics. If you feel like reading some heartwarming, "aww" inducing stories, go read hers. Or if you just feel like reading a good fic – go check them out!

Disclaimer – I don't own Chuck or any of its characters. Please don't sue!


Chuck blindly pointed his gun over his shoulder toward the sky and winced as he squeezed the trigger.

He hoped it would slow down his pursuers and cause them to take cover behind one of the many structures lining either side of the cobblestone street he was currently sprinting down. It had been ten minutes since they had gotten split up. In the back of his mind he knew that by continuing to be a part of the team without the aid of the Intersect, his current situation was a possibility. Just because he knew it was possible didn't stop him from freaking out.

The U.S. will deny any and all involvement. You're on your own on this one.

Those words echoed in his head louder than the blood pounding in his ears. He was happy to be able to take part in a mission as a member of the team even without a functioning Intersect. But he knew something was going to go wrong as soon as he heard the General say those words to the team. It was imminent – an omen.

And now he found himself grateful, as he bolted down a street, for the numerous times it was repeated during mission planning to go to the rendezvous should the team by any chance get split up. Of course his knowledge of that contingency didn't stop Sarah and Casey from yelling at him to do so just as they were forced to go their separate ways.

Thankful that the only occupants of the street were him and those after him, he felt less guilty about firing the warning shot – though he was sure the people who ambled in this side of town were fairly used to chases on public streets resulting in occasional gunfire.

His earpiece made a crackling noise that startled him into faltering a couple of steps before quickly righting himself back into his run.

He pressed his comm link. "Sarah? Sarah, where are you?" he asked in between breaths.

"Chuck! Are you okay?"

"Well, yeah…for now" he said gasping. He ducked into a narrow side street just as a bullet pierced the brick of the building he turned against, barely missing his head. The past three and half years of being shot at couldn't stop the yelp the near-hit drew from him or the jerk his body made. "Okay, well honestly, I could be better. I have two guys after me but I'm pretty sure I can lose them. Are - are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Casey and I ended up crossing paths." There was a pause. "Chuck, please be careful."

"Yeah, I will. I'll see you at the rendezvous." His earpiece then went silent.

Relieved that neither Sarah nor Casey had been captured, he concentrated again on eluding those after him. Suddenly feeling wistful for the days of staying in the car, he winced as the rapid movement of his swinging arms and deep intakes of breaths aggravated the flesh wound that stretched across his chest. He really shouldn't have tried to take that shortcut across the multiple backyards and hurdle over the many cinderblock partitions separating each house. Heh. He scoffed to himself. Backyard was a generous term. They were more like uncovered forty-by-forty foot concrete patios with blades of grass and dirt sprinkled over them.

All the "shortcut" did was slow him down as he forgot that the majority of the people in this country actually hung their clothes outside to dry, at least the part of the country he was barreling through. Even without the Intersect working, never in his life did he think he would ever be so oblivious to his surroundings to actually be clotheslined, let alone by an actual clothesline. Casey's voice sounded in his head: Moron. And now traces of blood were seeping into his pastel blue linen shirt he had buttoned up to hide the slice through his skin. He didn't want to draw any attention to himself once he was in the clear. The tear in his skin wasn't too deep but his sweat sure was making it sting.

He turned left back onto one of the wider streets from his alleyway and from the corner of his eye saw one of his pursuers spot him, shout something, and pick up speed from the end of the narrow pathway he just finished running down.

Oh, God.

Chuck pushed his legs even harder and began to feel his lungs burn as every breath he took felt like sandpaper scraping against his throat. He knew he hadn't been on missions in quite some time but he thought he had more in the tank than this. He hadn't even heard Sarah gasping on the comm. link when they briefly spoke. How did she and Casey do this all the time? There was no way he'd be able to keep this speed up much longer and his chasers certainly weren't slowing down. Needing to do something to stop them so as to not bring them directly to the rendezvous, his gun suddenly felt a bit heavier than it did just moments ago. He knew what he had to do. He was still technically a spy, right? This is what spies do. Still, just because it was inevitable didn't mean he had to like it.

Don't think – just do it. It's just like little league, just like little league, he coaxed himself.

Okay, maybe a little Daniel Craig, too.

Here goes nothing. He gritted his teeth, tightened his grip around his Sig and skidded to a halt, simultaneously leaning back and using his hand as an anchor to slide on his leg. He quickly spun around on his knee just as the faster one of his two pursuers came around the corner. He couldn't help hoping the move looked as cool as he thought it did.

He nervously took aim and fired.

The shot hit its intended target as the echo from the blast still sounded in the air. The man skipped on one leg before dropping to the ground, howling in pain as he clutched his knee. Thank God for Duck Hunt. His victim was spitting out curse words in Spanish that Chuck was familiar with given that he lived in southern California. He waited a couple beats and heard fast approaching footsteps coming from the direction where his fallen target laid. The footsteps slowed down and his other pursuer came around the corner. He took aim again and fired, hitting him in the same spot as he did his friend. The man fell over as well as and Chuck felt relief course through him at seeing them both on the ground, no longer able to follow him.

He found himself emitting a satisfied grunt – did he just grunt? It seemed like the only fitting release, though he was sure Sarah wouldn't be too happy with him taking a risk and stopping his escape to fire off a couple of shots at some assassins. He shrugged. Nothing could be done about that now. He jumped to his feet and took off again down the street, satisfied at the distance he created by incapacitating his chasers. Pulling up the mental map he studiously memorized in his preparation for the mission, he turned right, down another side street. The cries of pain were much farther away now.

Noticing the change in terrain under his sandals, and grateful he chose to wear a pair that strapped to his feet and not flip-flops, he felt the smoother road beneath him and began to slow down. He still silently cursed himself for wanting to blend in and therefore deciding to forgo his customary all-stars. What the hell was he thinking? Blending in was uncomfortable. And sandals didn't make for practical mission footwear. The bells of the cathedral he had been running toward suddenly clanged and he quickly looked up.

He was close now.

Slowing his pace until he was able to forcibly steady his breaths, Chuck fell into normal, leisurely strides. The rendezvous he, Sarah, and Casey were supposed to meet Morgan at was three blocks away from the church. He tucked his gun into the small of his back, covered it with his shirt, and coolly walked out onto the street. Well, he hoped it looked cool and collected instead of belying his racing thoughts and jumping nerves. Spotting a small kiosk in front of one of the many small stores lining the roadway, he bought a pair of cheap metal sunglasses, slid them on and grabbed a tourist brochure, feeling slightly more secure with the addition of the impromptu disguise.

The area wasn't too heavily populated but had steady foot traffic. While pretending to read the brochure, he furtively glanced above the rim of his sunglasses at the rendezvous point he was nonchalantly walking toward and spotted Morgan. He was wearing linen pants, a shirt similar to his own, and was doing a terrible job at looking casual. Chuck rolled his eyes as he watched his friend indecisively switch from leaning his shoulder on the store window pane to shuffling a couple of steps over to prop one leg against the building, all the while folding and refolding his arms across his chest and turning his head from side to side to check his surroundings, in what Chuck was positive Morgan considered a discreet manner.

Chuck surreptitiously pushed the communication link from his earpiece. "You gotta do a better job than that, buddy."

Immediately, Morgan jumped and even more indiscreetly than before, looked around the street and spotted Chuck.

"Morgan!" Chuck said in a harsh whisper. "What'd I just say?"

"Sorry," Morgan hissed.

"Look, calm down and stop fumbling with your arms…just stick your hands in your pockets and walk inside the store. I'll be over in a minute."

"Got it. Cobra out."

Chuck simply rolled his eyes again and idly made his way across the street, checking for any sign of Sarah and Casey, but didn't see them.

As he stepped inside the little shop Morgan was in, he took off his sunglasses, rolled up the brochure, and gave a nod to the attendant behind the counter. The store was full of racks and shelves with various shirts, towels, and knickknacks that bore either the Venezuelan flag, the country name, a picture of the actual country, or indigenous people native to the country. As he scanned the store his eyes rested on his bearded friend standing by a rotating rack of key chains. Nearing him, he found Morgan diligently searching and spinning the rack, the crease in his forehead deepening with each spin. Not taking his eyes off the key chains he grumbled, "Man, I can't find her name anywhere."

"Alex?"

"Yeah." Frustrated, he asked, "I mean it's a fairly common name, right?"

"Well, we are in Venezuela. Your best bet is probably 'Alejandra.'"

Morgan snapped his fingers. "You're right! Hmm, let's see…" he said, running his fingers over one particular column. "Ah, found it. I guess 'Alejandra' is a common name here, too," he said, grinning and dangling the key chain to show Chuck before he placed it back on the rack. He leaned around Chuck's body to glance at the man behind the counter, then turned more serious and asked "So, what happened, man? I had no visual. Do you know how scary it is to hear you all shouting at each other to head over here and you yelling at me through the comms 'abandon post!' and to meet you at the rendezvous? I'm telling you buddy, my heart was pounding. Oh yeah…do you have the drive?"

Chuck took a deep breath and patted his right pocket, making sure he felt the object. "Yeah, yeah I got it," he said as he reached and pulled out the flash drive. "But it all hit the fan during the retrieval at the meeting between the diplomats before I got the chance to run the programs to verify the intel. Beckman didn't want a repeat of the Milan mission, so before we came back she wanted us to be positive the intel was accurate. Looks like that won't happen, though."

"Well, hey, at least you got out."

"Yeah, but I'm getting worried. Sarah and Casey still aren't here," Chuck said as he crossed the store and leaned out the entrance. He pushed the comm. link to contact his partners. "Sarah?"

Silence.

"Sarah?"

He stepped out of the store and looked down both sides of the street, Morgan following on his heels.

"Casey?" he tried again.

Chuck and Morgan both shared worried glances.

"They're probably still on their way, Chuck."

Chuck looked at Morgan but didn't say anything, his mind jumping through the different possibilities for Sarah and Casey not making it to the rendezvous, but always landing on the worst scenario – they had been captured. He shook his head hoping those thoughts would disappear.

"Okay…uh, let's search this side of the street for any sign of them," Chuck said, indicating to their left. "...shouts, footsteps, gunshots – anything, then we'll head back down this way."

At the mention of gunshots Morgan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline before he forcefully swallowed and nodded his head. Chuck slid on his sunglasses once again and made his way down the street with Morgan at his side. They were both glancing around taking in every detail of the street, looking for any flash of blonde hair, shouts in Spanish beyond those already present, echoes of gunfire, even noises resembling growls and grunts.

Suddenly, Morgan spoke. "So what's on the flash drive?"

"Supposedly some hardcore intel. The Venezuelans and Iranians are exchanging some kind of information…something big. Something that we're not supposed to know. Beckman seemed pretty on edge about it. I think that's probably the main reason she agreed to let you come along. She's desperate - "

"Desperate? Chuck, man, c'mon I think I can be plenty of help on missions, even Casey is trusting me more."

Chuck smiled. "I was going to say desperate for all of the skills she can get to complete this mission," he said as he turned to look pointedly at Morgan. "No matter how unconventional. Add that to the fact that you begged and begged to come along on a mission this covert that could possibly end badly…which I gotta say, I don't understand."

According to the escape routes they had mapped out while planning the mission, they'd reached the farthest point down the street where Sarah and Casey might emerge, so they turned around and made their way toward the other end of the street.

"But don't worry buddy, I believe in you. You and I both have other talents to bring to this team. I'll definitely have to start relying on them more now that the Intersect isn't working for me," Chuck said.

A silence fell between them as they made their way down the street, keeping their eyes and ears open for Sarah and Casey. He was becoming more and more worried with every step, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. His thoughts of Sarah and Casey captured now returned and wouldn't go away. He ran a hand down his face, stopping to scratch the five-day old facial hair Sarah had told him to grow out in another effort to blend in and hopefully change his appearance some. All it did was make his face itchy and had the annoying ability of somehow making him sweat more. He glanced at Morgan intending to ask him later how his friend tolerated a beard.

As they reached the end of the street and prepared to turn back around toward the shop they started their search from, Morgan threw him another worried glance, but didn't say anything. Chuck didn't know what was going on. Why weren't Sarah and Casey at the rendezvous? His only comfort was in knowing at least they were together. Still, that knowledge didn't quell his nerves. Just a few paces short of the rendezvous his earpiece crackled. He made his way toward an alleyway with Morgan in tow and pushed his comm. link.

"Sarah? Sarah, are you okay?"

He glanced at his friend who had his head down and a finger pushed in the ear without the earpiece, attempting to block out any surrounding noise. Chuck found himself holding his breath while waiting for a response.

"So that's her name," spoke an accented male voice from the other end.

Shit.

Morgan's head snapped up to face him, his eyes wide. Chuck felt his stomach drop and face drain of color as he heard the unfamiliar voice. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a fistful before angrily releasing it. He put a finger to his mouth, signaling Morgan to keep quiet. He gathered himself as best he could before he clenched his jaw and spoke as Charles Carmichael.

"Who is this?" Chuck asked in a voice holding barely restrained anger.

"I want the drive back," the man evenly responded, ignoring Chuck's question.

Chuck tried to calm himself so as to not bark at the man holding Sarah captive. He wasn't in any position to make threats considering he didn't have the Intersect skills to follow through on any of them, nor did he feel like bluffing with Sarah's life on the line. He just wanted Sarah and Casey back. Now.

"Okay. Fine. Where do you want the exchange to happen?" Chuck asked, quickly realizing he probably shouldn't have sounded so eager to get them back. His anxiousness was likely to be more telling than any of his words.

Chuck heard a muffled yell come from Casey in the background, in what sounded like protest, before abruptly cutting off. Casey was probably upset, Chuck thought, knowing he wouldn't think twice about returning the intel if it meant Casey and Sarah were safe.

"Casey?"

"Your friend needs to know when not to talk. Unfortunately for him, he now has a nice little bump on his head."

He grimaced. Chuck couldn't help but think, though, that the man was rather fluent in English meaning he must have been one of the politicos attending the meeting.

"Look, when and where do you want the exchange to happen?" Chuck asked again, growing impatient. He didn't care if he came off as eager now. He just wanted this to happen quickly. The longer he waited, the more time they had to hurt Sarah.

"I never said anything about an exchange," the voice answered. Chuck felt his insides crawl. At that moment Chuck knew not to trust a single word that was about to leave this man's mouth – as if holding his girlfriend and partner captive and cold-cocking said partner wasn't enough of a reason. "You know two American agents are quite valuable Mr…" he trailed off, looking for Chuck to answer.

"Carmichael," Chuck provided through gritted teeth. He didn't like the direction this conversation suddenly took. He looked at Morgan and saw him wearing a distressed expression. He could only imagine the look his face displayed.

"Well, Mr. Carmichael..." he said. There was a pause from the man that made Chuck's mind reel. He needed to start formulating a plan because he knew this wasn't going to end well. "You will come to us. You will bring me the drive. You know why?"

Because you're a jackass.

"Because what kind of agent would so quickly be willing to give up the kind of precious information currently in your possession?" Chuck slowly closed his eyes knowing he had slipped up earlier when he seemed too eager. "Probably one whose partner holds some special meaning to him, no? I get the feeling it's not the big one." The man paused again. What was it with bad guys always having to pause so dramatically? It took them forever just to make a threat. Sadly, the break in conversation still had the desired effect of making Chuck nervous. The man finally spoke again. "So perhaps…the woman?"

Chuck yanked the sunglasses off of his face as his eyes snapped open. He could hear the smirk in the man's voice and that irritated him to no end. Showing the restraint he was currently exhibiting was no small feat. The only thing keeping him from making any snide remarks or threats to this man was the thought of Sarah. He needed to do everything in his power to ensure this man didn't harm her.

A soft, arrogant laugh journeyed its way into Chuck's earpiece and Chuck felt a bout of pure fury course through him. If this conversation didn't end soon, he was sure his teeth were going to crack given how hard he was grinding them. His jaw was already aching.

"Your silence is my answer. I suggest you bring me the drive. Tomorrow. Sundown."

"Where?" was all Chuck managed to say in a voice shaking with poorly restrained rage.

"It shouldn't be too hard, Carmichael. You are an agent after all. Find us."

With that, the earpiece went dead.


I know – Chuck shooting someone? Eh, I wanted to give him a bit of a spine. He's a spy, right?

If you haven't seen 4.11, stop reading now!

I realize nobody cares for my thoughts about 'Chuck' but I must ask this: Doesn't it seem like there have been quite a few instances this season in which the show seems to have gotten some ideas from the stories on this site? I can't be the only one to have taken notice. I'm looking forward to seeing how this double agent story arc plays out, but Sarah better not have an alias that begins with the name Emma, or I might just lose it. On another note: Tide-To-Go sticks really are amazing, aren't they? They're almost like magic. Anyway, let me know what you think of my fic so far!