Set during S5E12, Chuck vs. Sarah. Sarah's memories of her years with Chuck may be gone (or at least temporarily misplaced), but her memories of the time before that aren't what they used to be either. Thanks again to Anti-Kryptonite for comments.


Sarah Walker drove around Burbank, not aimlessly. Never aimlessly. It was an art form to make it look aimless though. Bartowski had a team; they may have made her in the lot and be tracking her right now. She hadn't seen anyone but you couldn't be too careful in her line of work.

Something was wrong with her. She'd had to lose tails before, it was a common enough occurrence it shouldn't have annoyed her the way it was. This didn't feel like evasive action, it felt like…like running away. She never ran away, but somehow Bartowski had routed her out of that parking lot without even showing his face. He'd done something to her, poisoned her mind.

If only she could remember!

Eventually she ran out of road, a dead-end street that opened onto a beach. She pulled over, unable to turn without giving herself away. Nothing for it now but to make it look like this was where she wanted to be. At least there were no hotdog vendors nearby, or whatever that was. She cracked the window, listening for sirens or screeching tires. Smelled brine. The sea, the sound of waves and the smell of…ocean.

She watched her mirrors, ready to bolt if any cars should appear to block the road behind her. None did, and gradually the smell of the sea displaced the horrid smell of grease that had somehow impregnated every inch of her car. Gradually she grew calmer, allowed herself to believe that she had not been detected. Good. She could continue with her mission.

In a bit. The sound of the waves was…nice. She'd never noticed that before, too busy running for her life, she supposed.

She took a deep breath of salt air, could practically feel her nerves steady. Back to work.

A short while later she pulled up in front of an apartment complex on some road somewhere, unpursued. No cars in sight, no sentries, no cameras. She ditched her coat, grabbed her mask, and sprinted into a small tunnel undetected. From the cover of a small dumpster she pulled on her mask and surveyed the terrain. It was perfect. A small courtyard, lots of plants. She could take out her target before he knew she was there.

Like her Red Test all over again. Empty streets, light rain, innocent girl…

No! Not innocent. She'd done something, something to earn a death sentence. She must have. Graham wouldn't have given the order unless—Graham wouldn't have…

And anyway this Bartowski wasn't innocent!

She ran, into the courtyard and behind some of the plants, her bodysuit blending into the shadows. Even their thermal sensors wouldn't find her. Assuming they had them. Which she was. Good agents did that, good agents followed protocol, good agents followed orders. Not like Chuck—this Bartowski guy, with his erratic behavior.. Honestly, why would the agency wait so long to send a kill order?

Suddenly she was drenched in water as sprinklers went off above the plants, above her. Great, now her goggles were obscured. "Damn it." She didn't dare lose the mask.

A woman entered the courtyard, tall, attractive, brown coat, she matched her mission parameters precise—No! That was Paris. Keep your head in the game, Walker.

The woman walked right past her, out of reach of the spray but not any of the weapons Sarah had on her. She had no problem with collateral damage if necessary, but it would be better to let the woman pass. Graham hadn't—Quinn hadn't ordered this kill.

The woman walked up to a door, the door, and knocked lightly. A large man answered, and Sarah barely restrained herself from shrinking down further. The goon, whoever he was, whatever agency Bartowski had suborned him from, scanned the courtyard automatically and might have detected her movement.

He shut the door, and Sarah moved, readying her weapons just in case.

Only a minute later, the door opened again, and the woman came out alone. Sloppy. As she walked she pulled a set of car keys from her pocket—

And dropped them.

"Oh, fudge," muttered the woman, bending to pick them up with one hand as the other dipped into her other pocket. Classic tradecraft. Sarah lifted her gun.

Hesitated to kill a woman who said fudge like that.

The woman pulled a tissue from her pocket, and wiped off the water from her keys when she lifted them from the puddle they'd fallen into.

Sarah lowered her gun. She hadn't been spotted, and it would be foolish to reveal herself over a stooge.

"Ellie!"

"Chuck!"said the woman, and Sarah lifted her gun again. "I was just coming to see you. Any news of Sarah?"

Sarah's heart pounded. Bartowski was here! He was surprisingly tall, taller than her. Not at all goofy. The grin must be another cover, he looked cool, composed, clearly in command of this little cell.

And he wasn't alone. Not only this Ellie operative but he had a bodyguard with him. Unlike the goon inside, he was small, compact. Probably a hand-to-hand expert or a martial artist. She couldn't take three, not and escape to perform the second part of her mission.

A word or two of code, cleverly disguised as chit-chat, and the group parted ways, Ellie moving one way and her target moving closer to her. Yes!

No. The goon opened the door as they approached, and again Sarah was forced to delay her vengeance. Her mission, that is.

For a moment she actually contemplated scaling the walls and coming at them from above, but then realized she was being foolish. That innocent façade no doubt covered a multitude of traps, motion detectors, and God knew what all else. She'd never make it.

No, they'd have to go with Quinn's back-up plan, take by stealth what they couldn't take by force. She had to get back, get into her costume as the damsel in distress.

After she…stopped by the beach first.


A/N From here we go into the beginning of ep 12, Chuck vs. Sarah. Future installments will be in the two weeks between ep 12 and ep 13. Please read and review!