AN: So I posted this first chapter before, but didn't get much response, which kinda confirmed my feelings that I wasn't happy with it as a one-shot. I've revamped this chapter a bit and turned it into a longer story.

Chapter 1

Gateways Hospital and Mental Health Center

Los Angeles, California

February 2009

"Tell me again about these dreams you've been having," said a rather scholarly looking fellow.

"Let me out of this contraption first," another man said, struggling against the synthetic white cloth of his straight jacket. While his arms were confined by material, his ankles were secured with medical restraints to the legs of a stark, metal chair.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Mr. Bartowski. You attacked someone yesterday. We need to ensure the safety of our other patients and employees," explained the older man.

"He started it," Chuck said rather childishly.

Dr. Stewart sighed inwardly, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. It was clear that he was quickly losing patience with Charles Bartowski's lack of progress. He had to call upon all of his years of training to remain calm and professional.

Giving his restrained patient a chastising look, Dr. Stewart continued, "Your dreams Mr. Bartowski."

Chuck shook his head from side to side. "I'm not having any dreams," he assured.

"Then what of these wild tales of espionage that you weave?"

The metal chair scraped across the floor as Chuck fought against his bindings once more.

"They're not dreams or tales! They're reality!"

Tapping his pen lightly against the clipboard in his lap, Dr. Stewart pondered his next words very carefully. The patient in front of him was on precarious mental grounds. He needed to get Chuck to come to his own conclusions about the fantasy world he conjured.

"You work at a BuyMore Mr. Bartowski. What would the intelligence community want with you?"

"Haven't we been over this already," Chuck said, refusing to give up on his stubbornness.

"We have, but we haven't been able to come to terms with it. We're going to rehash it until we can figure out why you believe certain events happened."

"Fine," he said, losing the energy to be contradictory. He just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. Unfortunately, the curly haired man knew he would probably never see daylight again. It looked like Fulcrum had their hands on him and Sarah wasn't coming to the rescue. Their psychoanalysis routine was confusing, but it beat the possibility of torture.

In anticipation of breaking down barriers, Dr. Stewart shifted in his seat. "Let's start with this e-mail you received."

"It was my birthday. A very old friend sent it to me. I was curious so I opened it. There were things in that e-mail that I wasn't supposed to see. Federal agents showed up on my doorstep the next day. After deciding not to kill me, we agreed to work together. A year and a half later, you guys finally managed to capture me," Chuck recounted.

Scribbling on his clipboard paper, Dr. Stewart said, "We did no such thing Mr. Bartowski. You were remanded into our custody at the request of your family and the City of Los Angeles."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night you traitorous bastard," Chuck sneered.

"I sleep fine thanks for your concern," he said, knowing it was best not to feed a patient's anger at that particular point in therapy. "Now the story you just told me is the same one you've been telling for the weeks that you've been here. We can't make any progress if you don't let me help you."

"I don't want to make progress," Chuck countered.

"You'll never be released otherwise. Why don't you give me some hard details? Describe these agents that came to you or missions that you went on so that we can analyze them and see what they really mean," Dr. Stewart offered.

Chuck saw red. "If you think I'm giving up government secrets, you're crazier than you all claim I am."

"I am not the enemy Mr. Bartowski. We not all part of some great conspiracy or government cabal. Your own mind is the enemy. You've imagined this world where you're some sort of hero, but it's all a figment of your imagination."

Chuck started to shake. "It's real."

Exhausted, Dr. Stewart signaled the guard with a wave of his hand. "No it's not Mr. Bartowski. I wish it was though, for your sake, I wish it was."

The guard closed in on Chuck. He began to panic. "What are you doing? We still have forty-five minutes."

"Not today. We can't get anywhere until you're willing to explore these fantasies more intimately," he said, getting up out of his seat.

Chuck was beside himself, as the guard bent down to undo his restraints. "You're going to kill me aren't you. You've finally realized that you can't use the gift I have so you're going to dispose of me," he screamed.

"No, Mr. Bartowski, we're not. You're going to go back to your room and take your medication," Dr. Stewart said, tearing off a piece of paper and handing it to the guard. "Make sure the nurse gets this. We need to up his meds."

The guard nodded, slipping the paper into his shirt pocket. He turned towards Chuck and was immediately knocked off of his feet. Chuck had leapt from his chair and bowled into the burly man's midsection. Rolling onto his back, the guard groaned as he saw the patient fleeing towards the door. Getting to his feet as quickly as possible, the guard pressed a button on the wall.

"We've got a patient on the loose. Number 817. Name is Charles Bartowski. Last seen in Therapy Room B. Use caution on approach. He is identified as dangerous. Acceptable force only," he said into the intercom.

Personnel all over the facility heard his announcement and went on alert.

The guard turned to Dr. Stewart who had been stunned to inaction by the series of events. "You ever going to make any progress with that nut job?"

Dr. Stewart frowned at the guard. "He's our patient, not a nut job. Psychotic breaks are hard to heal."

"He's got a visitor today. I saw her in the lobby."

The doctor nodded his confirmation. "I don't think it's a good idea, but someone with much higher authority sanctioned it so he gets to see her."

Meanwhile, Chuck was trying his best to navigate his way out of the prison. He had yet to encounter anyone, which bolstered his confidence, but he got the distinct feeling he was going in circles. The fact that his upper body was awkwardly confined didn't help matters. Approaching a corner, he proceeded cautiously. He extended his neck as far as it would go and peeked into the adjacent hallway. Seeing the two guards, he quickly retreated. It wasn't fast enough, however. They saw him and were immediately in hot pursuit. Chuck silently cursed to himself. The guards spoke into their radios, relaying their location.

"Stop now Bartowski, before someone gets hurt," one of the men shouted.

"Never," Chuck said, looking over his shoulder at them.

Rounding another corner, Chuck came face to face with two more guards. He was trapped.

"Crap," he said.

The guards pursuing him finally caught up to the action. His head swiveled back and forth between the pairs.

"Give it up 817. Let's just get you back to your room and we can forget this ever happened," suggested the guard to his left.

Chuck pondered his proposition briefly before shaking his head. "I don't think so," he said, leaping at the space in-between the pair in an attempt to escape once again. Before he could get very far, he felt two tiny pricks in his side and then a world of pain. Falling to the floor, he screamed and convulsed. The pain went away as quickly as it had come, but Chuck still had small tremors coursing through his body.

Two guards positioned themselves on either side of his prone form and hoisted him to his feet. A third man removed the stun gun clips from Chuck's side. "Sorry man, but you gave us no choice," he said.

Those words seemed to jolt Chuck back to reality. He blindly struggled against the hands holding him. They ignored his attempts and dragged him down the hallway, towards his room.

"No…let me go, let me go….help…someone help me."

His screams echoed through the corridor until he was safely ensconced inside of his room. Only then did a figure emerge from the shadows. The tall woman had tears in her eyes. She'd witnessed everything that had happened to the crazed man. It tore at her soul. She had been a party to Chuck's commitment. She would never forgive herself.

Following the path that the quintet had just taken, she came to a panel of one-way glass. She watched in horror as two men secured Chuck's feet to the end of his bed. The other two held his shoulders to the mattress, while a nurse forced pills and other medication down his throat. He fought the entire time, moving his body any which way.

Wiping the moisture from her eyes, the woman fought regain her composure as the personnel made their way out of the room. The guards left immediately, but the nurse stopped to speak with her.

"Can I see him now," she asked.

"You can," the older woman said, looking through the glass at her patient. "Please use caution. Push the button on the wall if you need any help."

The taller woman shook her head in understanding. "Thank you."

The nurse briefly put a comforting hand on her shoulder, before disappearing into another room. Taking a moment to summon her courage, she stared intently at the man inside of the room. He was sitting upright in the bed. His feet were still secured to the bedposts, but his upper body was free of similar restraint. He just stared out into space. Eyes that were once filled with inextinguishable joy, were now void of emotion. Heaving a giant breath, the woman quickly entered the room. Anything but a hasty entrance would have given too much time to reconsideration.

"Chuck," she said, closing the door behind her. Her hand remained on the knob, gripping it tightly. It was a temporary lifeline.

The man on the bed slowly turned his head in her direction. As realization of who stood before him dawned, a spark lit in his eyes.

"Ellie," he choked out. His throat was still hoarse from screaming. "Is it really you?"

Once more, tears welled up in her eyes. It was the first time she'd seen her brother in over a month. She wasn't sure how he'd react to her presence, but she nearly passed out when he gave her one of his brilliant smiles. Letting go of the doorknob, she rushed to his bed, flinging her arms around him. Chuck tried to reciprocate her emotion, however, he could do nothing more than bury his face in her neck.

Pulling back from their embrace, Chuck hit Ellie with a questioning gaze.

"What are you doing here? I thought I'd never see you again…wait…did they kidnap you? Did they hurt you?"

Chuck did his best to assess his sister's health with his eyes. Ellie quickly attempted to allay his fears.

"No one hurt me Chuck. I came here of my own free will. Some of the doctors thought I might be able to help you," she explained, brushing a piece of curly hair off of his forehead.

Chuck pulled away from her hand. "That doesn't make any sense," he said.

Ellie moved closer to him once again, challenging him to listen to what she had to say.

"Sweetie, you've had what doctors call a psychotic break. I'm sorry I didn't see it at first. We could have gotten you help more quickly."

Chuck looked down at his bed and back up at Ellie. He tried to process what she was telling him but it didn't make any sense. She was saying the same things as Dr. Stewart, who was obviously a member of Fulcrum. The dots didn't connect with his reality.

"What?"

"Something happened to you and you mentally broke. You created this world so that you weren't burdened by the real one. I finally figured it out when you tried to kill our neighbor, Mr. Knosh," Ellie explained.

"But Sarah and Casey…"

Ellie placed her hands on Chuck's face, forcing his to look her in the eyes. Once she was sure she had his attention, she continued.

"We don't know anyone named Sarah or Casey, at least in real life. They were the main characters in that video game you always talked about. Don't you remember?"

Chuck shifted in his bed, shaking his head. "I got an e-mail. It had secrets…"

Placing her hands in her lap, Ellie prepared herself to explain the hardest part. "Bryce did send you an e-mail Chuck, but it wasn't full of government secrets. It was full of pictures, pictures of he and Jill. The pompous ass just wanted to gloat. You…you couldn't handle it. I think that's why you created this world where you got the girl and saved the country. At least that's my own analysis of the situation," she said, rambling towards the end.

Silence permeated the room. Ellie waited on pins and needles for Chuck to give some kind of reaction. Instead, he just stared at her with his mouth ajar.

Finally deciding to prod him, she said, "Chuck."

His mouth snapped shut, before opening once more to say, "Get out."

Ellie was shocked. "What?"

He flung himself against the wall in an attempt to get away from his sister. "I don't believe you. You're one of them aren't you?"

Ellie tried to comfort him, but the look in his eyes told her to think otherwise. "I'm not one of 'them' Chuck. I'm your sister and I just want you to get better."

He would have none of her compassion. "Get out," he yelled.

"Fine, I'll go, but you need to wake up and stop waiting for someone to come to your rescue. Save yourself and stop with this crazy spy stuff."

Ellie marched to the door, threw it open, and burst into the hallway. Instead of closing the door, she let physics do its thing and turned to the women standing in front of the glass. Shock coursed through her at the sight of the blond haired agent.

"I hope you're happy Sarah or whatever your name is."

Sarah Walker looked Ellie in the eyes. "You know I'm not, but this was the only way. Beckman was issuing a termination order no matter what. Chuck had the Intersect out of his head, but he still had his memories of the mission, of myself, and of Major Casey."

"So you decide to make him think he's insane," Ellie yelled. Thankfully, Chuck's room was very well insulated.

"You agreed to it Ellie. This way, the CIA has leverage over the NSA and their kill order. I could have stopped Casey and I would have, but they would just keep sending people after him. Someone would have gotten to him eventually, no matter how good I was," Sarah assured.

"I didn't agree to this. I agreed to help because I knew you would do it no matter what. I thought it would be easier for him if I was at least able to visit," Ellie ground out angrily.

She quickly looked through the glass at Chuck's shaking form. He had started talking to himself. Ellie's anger faded to sorrow.

"Maybe it would have been better…"

The blond haired woman looked at her fiercely. "No! He will be fine. He will get out of here. All evidence of his commitment will be destroyed. He can go back to a normal life. He'll be safe," Sarah argued.

Ellie didn't really agree with the younger woman's assessment, but she was too busy watching her actions to counter. Sarah had turned her gaze back to Chuck. She unconsciously placed her hand against the glass. Chuck looked directly at her. There was no way he could see them, but he must have sensed something. Seeing his reaction, Sarah hastily removed her hand.

"You love him don't you," Ellie asked.

Sarah looked at her sadly. "It doesn't matter now."

Ellie let the topic drop. She was fairly confident she knew the answer, but Sarah was right about the fact that it no longer mattered.

"I have to go," Sarah said.

Ellie's fury returned with a vengeance.

"Another mission?"

"Yes," Sarah said bluntly.

"You're not even going to stick around to make sure he survives?"

Sarah turned to face her former asset's sister. "Even if I did stay, there's not much I can do. I have orders."

"The same kind of orders that would have compelled you and Casey to kill my brother," Ellie spat.

"I do what I have to do. Your brother understood that. I'll check in on him. I promise," Sarah said quietly, turning around and heading towards the exit.

Ellie stared at her retreating figure. Deciding to make one last effort to sway the operative, Ellie let her voice loose in the hallway.

"It shouldn't have happened like this. Why couldn't you have left him alone? He loved you. Why did you ruin his life?"

Sarah continued walking. Ellie couldn't see them, but tears were falling down her cheeks. She heard the sound of Ellie crumpling to the floor. It took all of her training to push the exit door open. Special Agent Sarah Walker would never again see Chuck Bartowski.

"He's a good person," Ellie cried to the air.

"He was a good person."