Title: The Choices We Make
Author: Prlrocks
Pairings: Casey/Chuck and Chuck/Sarah
Rating: MA
Word count: 3,700 for this chapter
Warnings: If you don't like angst, run away, this fic isn't for you. It's a bit dark for the Chuck fandom. Includes adult situtions and violence.
Beta: ru_salki99, who I can't thank enough. She's great and has been very kind enough to help me.
Disclaimers: Characters are sadly not mine *sniff*
Feedback: Yes, please. Be honest. If something needs work, let me know. I'm always looking to improve my writing.
Timeline: Early 2010: 2 and a half years after Chuck first became the Intersect.
Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Chuck relizes he has feelings for Casey. It leads to him making a choice he never imagined he'd have to face, Casey or Sarah? Meanwhile, Casey and Sarah make a pact that Chuck survives the day he is no longer the Intersect, no matter what.


As Chuck heard another round of fire go off in the building, he pinned himself against the wall and stared at his handler.

"Casey! What are we going to do?" he shouted over the blaring alarm.

Casey's hard gaze met his. "You aren't going to do anything. You hear me?"

While the gunfire was happening some distance away, they could already hear screaming and running coming their way. Casey's eyes combed over the white hallway before them, before grabbing a shocked Chuck roughly by the collar, dragging him to a nearby door, and throwing him in.

Bending over, he took the gun strapped to his ankle off and tossed it at Chuck, who grimaced and caught it clumsily.

"Stay here," Casey demanded, pointing at Chuck angrily. "I mean it."

Chuck opened his mouth and lifted his hands up to stop him. "But-"

With a final warning glare, Casey shut the door, leaving Chuck in near darkness. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out, slowly and deeply, fighting the impulse to run after Casey.

The mission had gone wrong… horribly and completely wrong. If it had gone right, he wouldn't be scrunched up in a ball, hidden away in a cramped closet as gunfire rang throughout the building, but there he was and it was awful.

It only took a few moments, after Casey darted away, before Chuck heard several 'bad guys' following in close upon his heals. As he saw the men's shadows pass by his door, Chuck gritted his teeth and clenched his hands around the gun.

"Stop or we'll shoot!"

"You there!"

"Stop!"

Chuck's eyes went wide as the yelling stopped and firing began. Shaking, he tucked his head between his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees, gun still in hand. Suddenly, there was a pained scream and the sound of a body thumping to the floor.

Chuck's head flew up, his heart stopping at the dreadful sound. Let him be okay! Please, let him be okay! He begged.

Sitting there, tense, in near darkness, he listened to the pounding of footsteps as they faded away. It was only when it was quiet for a moment, that he relaxed enough to wipe away the tears, which were brimming in his eyes.

The cramped space was now becoming insufferably warm. Nervously, Chuck shifted the gun back and forth between his sweaty palms, his eyes glued to the sliver of light, coming from the crack in the door. He wanted to be on the other side.

Letting out an unsteady breath, Chuck shifted to find a more comfortable position. He wondered if he should go and try to find Casey. What if he needed him? He could be hurt. Chuck stared down, where in the dim light he could just barely make out the shape of the gun. He made his decision.

Sliding up the wall, he took a moment to steady himself. Slowly, creaking open the door, Chuck peeked out. There was no one in sight, but traces of the fight remained. The walls were marred with bullet holes and Chuck could see a few smears of blood on one of them. He diverted his eyes, trying to ignore both facts. Jogging down the hall, Chuck held his gun out awkwardly before him. As he checked around corners and darted through the building, he recalled the games he used to play with Bryce. Playing 'spy' had seemed so much fun then, something it definitely wasn't now, but he had to do it. He had to make sure Casey was okay.

Suddenly, the ringing of the alarm stopped. Somehow, Chuck had blocked out the sound, but now that it was gone, the silence haunting.

"Is it over?

Chuck stilled at the voice, before taking a few more steps and peeking around the next corner. There were two men standing there.

"Yeah, we got him. Damn fool ran out of bullets. He didn't stand a chance."

Chuck's heart stopped as the pain bloomed in his chest. Gone. Casey was gone. He'd never see him again. Shaking, Chuck's lowered his eyes to the gun in his hands. Casey had given him this gun, and than gone to fight. He had run out of bullets. Chuck knew he now owed him. Doing his best to ignore the stinging in his eyes, Chuck bit down on his lip, shifting the pain so he could focus. He tasted the tang of blood gushing into his mouth. Slowly, he peeked around the corner one more time, taking in the targets.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He had to do this. He knew he'd die, but these bullets wouldn't go to waste. These were the bad guys and he'd die taking them down.

Stepping forward, Chuck took a shot at the two shocked faces. He saw one man grab his shoulder, while the other barreled towards him, pulling a gun from his hip. Before he got off a shot, Chuck fired again. In a whirl of movement, he felt his back slam against the wall and something hard smack him across the face. While, still feeling dazed, he struggled, thrashing against the man who was staring at him with cold deadly eyes. Chuck kneed the man, getting him to back off a bit.

"Mother fucker!" the man grunted, before, trembling, Chuck started to shoot again.

The man's eyes went wide. In a tangle of limbs, both Chuck and the man tumbled to the floor, the man falling on top of him. Gazing up, Chuck saw his other assailant above them, still holding his shoulder and fuming.

"They'll make you pay for that," the man hissed.

Not thinking, he grabbed the gun next to him, lifting his hand up and began shooting some more. Only when the other man fell, did he stop.

Pushing the other man off him, he stood up. Glancing down, he saw the two bodies. A pool of red was flowing from them. He could even feel their warmth running down his face. He stared for a moment, wide eyed and not knowing what to do. Unsure, he stared down the hall towards where he imagined Casey's dead body might be, before hearing people heading his way. Turning, he went in the other direction. He went down the hall, down endless flights of stairs and to the car. He ran, telling himself to never to look back.

How he got home, he didn't know, but when he did, he clasped on his bed and let out a sob. It was then he realized something, without Casey, he didn't know what he was going to do.


"Chuck! My god, Chuck!"

Popping his eyes open, Chuck peered up above him. It took a moment to register the fact, but he realized that it was Casey and Sarah currently hovering over him. They both seemed upset.

Sitting up quickly, he gazed at them, a slow smile forming on his face. "You're alive! I can't believe it." He began to laugh, but stopped when he noticed they weren't laughing back. They were both still staring at him, horror written on their faces. Following their eyes, he glanced down at his hands, which he saw were stained with blood. It had happened. They had 'died' and he had killed, but now, they were both standing here, leaning over him.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"We're here to ask you the same thing ourselves," Sarah whispered.

Chuck looked to Casey, whose eyes were burning. "I told you to stay!"

The anger in Casey's voice shocked him back into reality. Chuck threw his hands up in surrender. "But you died! I heard them. They said you ran out of bullets. You died! I felt…" he shook his head not knowing what else to say.

There was a flicker of amazement in Casey's eyes, before they hardened again. "I got captured, you idiot. And why the hell didn't you wait for Walker then?"

"I…" He looked between them both for understanding and found none. "I didn't think. Really, I thought I was alone." It was in this moment that Chuck realized something. Last night, he had forgotten Sarah was even on the mission with them. No… he corrected himself. That wasn't right… He had forgotten about Sarah, completely. How was that possible? After Casey and him had been separated from her, it was like she ceased to even exist. He ran because he thought himself alone. He ran because Casey was gone.

Casey's expression went cold. "You didn't think? That's all?" With that, Casey went to the door, tossed it open and promptly slammed it firmly shut behind him.

Chuck pursed his lips in disappointment. "He's angry."

"Yes! He's angry. I'm angry. We spent half the night tied up and tying to escape and the other half looking for you. And here you are," she said, her voice turning shrill. "Did it ever occur to you we thought you were dead… or worse?"

Not knowing what else to do, Chuck lowered his eyes in shame and shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head in disgust, she turned sharply, threw the door open and walked to the bathroom. Chuck heard the water running for a moment, before she returned with a facecloth in hand. "Here, clean yourself up before your sister sees you." She threw it at him.

Getting himself up, Chuck walked over to his mirror and glanced at his reflection. Blood; he was covered in it; he felt that no facecloth could ever clean this mess up. It was mostly on his hands and shirt, but he was a bit horrified that he could see smears of blood, where, the night before, he had clawed at his face. Determined, Chuck began to wipe the evidence of his pain away.

It took a few moments, but he noticed Sarah glaring at him in the mirror, her arms crossed. "What?" he snapped tiredly as he continued his task.

"You didn't trust me to come get you?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

Chuck tilted his head and gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "It wasn't like that."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What was it like, Chuck?"

Chuck swallowed not knowing what to say. How could he admit to her that he had forgotten she had even been there? He settled on being very sincere. "Look, after I thought Casey was dead, I panicked. I was scared, terrified... I was…." He shook his head again not wanting to think about that confusing ache in his chest. "I ran. I'm sorry."

She sighed and took a few steps closer to him. "You did more then run. You slaughtered those two guys."

Chuck flinched. Slaughtered? Turning around, Chuck's hand had fallen stack by his side, the facecloth loose in his grip. Those were harsh words to use, particularly from Sarah.

She took a step forward and ran her hand down his arm. "Are you all right?"

Chuck stared at the hand on him. "Yeah, I think so." He had done what he had to do. Didn't he? He thought about it a few seconds longer, before adding, "But then maybe not. I really thought Casey was dead. That was…" He shook his head again, feeling sick to his stomach.

"It's his job to protect you, even if it means he doesn't protect himself. It's mine too. We both take it seriously. We just wish you'd take your job more seriously."

"No one has ever accused me of not living up to the Nerd Herders standards before. I took the oath and all," he joked lamely.

Sarah gave him a bittersweet smile. "That's what you do Chuck, but it's not your job. You're job is to stay alive."

Chuck frowned, not sure how he felt about that.

"Give me all your clothing." She beckoned with her hand, all business. "We don't want Ellie finding it."

Chuck went stiff as his shyness struck. Turning his back to her, he took his shirt off and threw it at her.

"The pants too."

For a second, Chuck glared at her over his shoulder, before going to his dresser and retrieving some fresh clothing. Slipping into the bathroom, he did as she asked and though his skin was stained with blood, he slipped on a fresh t-shirt and some sweats. Looking at his watch, he noticed it was smashed so he took it off and threw it in the garbage. He knew Sarah and Casey would get him a replacement. After washing the rest of the blood off his face, he exited and handed the clothing to Sarah.

She balled the clothing up and shoved it into a bag before walking to the door. She sighed. "Oath or not, you should call out from Buy More, today. It was a rough night."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

Sarah bit her lip and looked at Chuck, as if she were considering what to say. "Trust me, next time, Chuck. It's one of the first things I ever asked of you and now, I'm asking you again. Trust me. If one of us falls, the other will do anything to get to you."

With that, Sarah walked out the door, leaving Chuck feeling awkward, ashamed and confused.


Casey was furious, not only with Chuck, but with himself. The mission had been his idea. Chuck hadn't flashed and the CIA and NSA hadn't made a request. Casey, himself, had volunteered them for this one. It should have been a simple mission, one that was catered to Chuck's unique strengths.

The plan had been to retrieve highly desired and highly protected information from a corrupt software company's computers. It was feared that the company was truly a front for cyberterrorists, though their motivations were less political and more profit orianted than what was normally expected from that lot. To him, this made them more dangerous. They were a bunch of immoral tradious leeches, selling their services to the highest bidder regaurdless of the 'buyer's' reason or target. The NSA and CIA wanted a list of who was involved on both ends and what their targets might be and Casey wanted them to be the ones to give it to them.

The company's own security for their systems was supposed to be so impenetrable, that the rest of the defenses were supposed to be lax by comparison. Casey had been as giddy as a Nerd Herder on a sugar rush when he had learned that. It was always the way with this sort, all nerd tech and no muscle. All they needed was one above average brainiac to get by their fancy security measures and they were in. It was also less then a week after the winter holidays. The security would still be relaxed and at ease after a week or so of celebrations. The leeches would never see what was coming for them. Unfortunately, a few unforeseen events had prevented this current wet dream of his from coming true.

Casey had figured that he and Walker would take care of the brunt work, while Chuck did his magic on retrieving the files. Other agents had tried and failed where, Casey believed, Chuck could succeed. Somewhere under the remains of that awkward Stanford reject, Casey knew there was a genius lying and waiting. It was a matter of making others, and more importantly Chuck, see his potential.

And that had been the point. To prove to the higher ups that Chuck was worthy of their attention; that he could be more than an asset or the Intersect, that he could be a capable agent as well, if given some time and training. Chuck needed to learn to take care of himself and even if he ended up behind some desk as an analysis, it would be better than nothing. No matter how many times Casey had pointed this out to them, his recommendation had gone unheeded. He had figured it had been time to push the point home and for all his luck, the mission had been a complete disaster.

Now, sitting on his couch, hard drink in hand, Casey pondered the future. He knew Chuck's time was limited. Bryce Larkin wouldn't always show up with intersect updates in hand and only so many well timed explosions could stop the new one from going up. A time would come when Casey received the order. One which, he now knew, he couldn't carry through on. It had been a harsh realization, one that he was still having trouble processing. All it had taken was one look at the nerd's stupid and incorrigible grin and knew he couldn't be responsible for its destruction. The world needed hopeful schmucks like him.

It was time for Plan B. What Plan B was, he didn't know, but he figured if he got drunk enough, inspiration might hit or at the very least, let him forget how badly Plan A went.

"A little early in the day for that, isn't it?"

Casey dropped his drink and grabbed his gun. Turning, he saw Walker smirking and closing the front door behind her.

"Who told you, you could come in?" Casey muttered, placing his gun back down beside him.

"You did, any time we needed to talk about Chuck, remember?"

Casey rubbed his face and grunted in agreement. It took a few moments for her to go on.

"He's really upset about this one."

"He should be for all the problems he caused," Casey said, glaring down at the spilt drink on his carpet.

"Remember all the panic we went through-"

Casey eyes flashed to hers. "I did not panic."

Walker frowned, tilting her chin up defensively. "Okay, remember all the panic I went though when we didn't know where he was? Well, he was going through the same thing with you. He really thought you were dead."

"It happens."

"Not in his world."

Annoyed, Casey sat up straight in his chair. "Our world is his world now. I wish you people would finally realize that."

"Fine, I agree," she conceded, waving him off, "But what matters is what happened after. You saw that mess. He did that and I don't think he's fully processed that he did. It was slaughter."

"He did what he had to do."

Walker closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and shook her head in frustration. Her emotions on the matter were starting to surface. "One of them wasn't even armed and he used all his bullets, before somehow managing to get his hands on the other guy's gun."

He eyed her apprehensively. "We don't know that."

"Are you saying they shot each other?"

Casey went quiet. He knew Chuck was responsible for the bloodbath they found in that hall. As a man who killed for a living, he had no qualms about taking a life, but this killing was anything but the planned and neat gunfire of an assassin. It was death born out of fear. It was sloppy and brutal in nature.

"He was scared. He thought we were both dead and he was next."

Walker's jaw tightened. "No, he thought you were dead. Me, I don't know." She leaned against the wall and pulled at the roots of her hair. "Do you think it's still safe to let him go on missions after this?"

"This is not a big deal," Casey assured her.

"Yes it is!"

Casey sneered in absolute amazement. "We kill for a living, Walker! How many lives have you taken? Me? Personally, I've lost count."

"This is different."

"No, it's not. They were the bad guys. Chuck did his job, was a man for once, and killed them."

Hell, he figured with yet two more down it made it easier for them to get away, even if one of the guys had been nothing more then a paper pusher.

Walker walked forward, plopped herself down on the footstool in front of him and stared at him, fury written in her eyes. "One, it's not his job. And two, he lost control."

"Is that so? Are you going to report him?" Casey leaned forward and warned darkly, "Because you know what will happen if you do."

Walker's face went blank. "No… I can't." Her body relaxed now, but she looked rather sad.

Casey leaned back, feeling relief wash over him. "Good, because I don't want that blood on my hands."

"Could you… ever report him?"

Casey huffed, feeling astonished she'd even ask him after what he had just said. Still, he knew he couldn't do it either and this fact really bothered him. Rather then admit this, he changed the focus back onto her. "Why can't you?"

With a deep frown, Walker stared hard at her hands for a moment, taking the question very seriously. When she finally spoke, it was slow, analytical and with a hint of pain in her voice. "He was…" She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "In a strange way, he was protecting his own. I believe he did what he would have done had it been Ellie lying out there dead or even Morgan. I saw it in his eyes," she said, meeting Casey's own. "He did this because of you."

Casey chest tightened at her words. He felt unsettled, but he still sneered at her implications. "Don't be ridiculous. He did it to survive. It had nothing to do with me."

Walker stared at him a moment. "Why do you think they'd make you do it?"

Kill Chuck. He wanted to play dumb, but he knew Walker wouldn't buy it. Instead, Casey looked away, shifting in discomfort. "Because they would," he muttered.

"That's not an answer. Why do you think they'd have you kill Chuck, Casey?"

He stubbornly didn't answer.

"Tell me," she demanded.

His eyes shot up in resentment. In that moment, Casey knew she understood completely.

End of chapter 1

Note: This is my first Chuck fic. I'm planning on updating this fic once a week. Also, feedback= love.