Disclaimer: If I owned Chuck, in episode 2.21, Chuck would have had a condom, Fulcrum wouldn't have bothered them, and Casey would not have interrupted. That didn't happen though right? So I guess the only conclusion we can come to is that I don't own Chuck.

A/N: I just had to get this out tonight before school started again. Shoutouts to Wepdiggy and londonwriting for the tips. I present to you, Chapter two.

Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis

Chapter 2

Langley, Virginia

Scarlet Ibis' Apartment

3:00 PM Eastern

December 20, 2005

Ibis takes one last look at the building he lived in for the past two years. Walking to the sidewalk, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reaching into the manila folder currently in his grasp. He extracts a driver's license, birth certificate, social security card, and a myriad of other items that he had lost so long ago. He takes a look at the ID card. It reads: Charles Irving Bartowski, Male, 6'3, and every other bit of information one needs on him. Reaching into his back pocket, he extracts his wallet and slides the appropriate items into the sleeves of his wallet. He hails down a cab, and the first thing he does as Chuck Bartowski again, is to call his beloved sister, Eleanor Fay Bartowski.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sis."

She freezes at the voice she had not heard from in such a long time. Tears find their way to her eyes, and a single tear drops down her cheek. She dabs at it and composes herself for the upcoming conversation.

"What do you want?" she says, unable to keep the biting venom out of her voice.

"I'm coming home."

The last line shakes her to her core. The cold she felt for him instantly abates and she feels an insurmountable joy as she repeats the words in her mind.

She feigns misunderstanding and asks him again, "You're what?"

"I'm coming home Ellie," Chuck smiling, knowing his sister had heard him the first time.

Chuck holds the phone away from his ear as the piercing shriek reverberates inside the cab. Chuck smiles at the thought of his sister's face as she sees him for the first time since he left to work for the CIA. The cabbie gives him a look of annoyance through the rear view mirror. Grinning sheepishly, he murmurs, "Sorry."

"What time will you be here?" she questions enthusiastically. She cannot hold her excitement in, the joy dripping from her voice.

"I'll be home in a couple of hours. I'm currently on the way to the airport now."

"Well, get here as soon as you can! I can't wait to see you little brother!" she exclaims before hanging up the phone. She has many things to do for her brother's homecoming.

Chuck flips the phone close and smiles inwardly.

Yup, it's good to be back.

***

Echo Park

Casa Bartowski

5:00 PM PST

December 20, 2005

"OH MY GOD, I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU'RE HOME!" she squeals as she wraps him in the patented Ellie hug, a crushing bear hug that will guarantee the receiver loss of breath and the inability to talk for a short period of time.

"ELLIE, I NEED TO BREATHE!" Chuck manages to puff out.

"Oh, sorry," she says sheepishly with an impish grin plastered on her face. "I'm just really glad you're home. I haven't seen you in 2 years baby brother, so don't blame me for being happy."

"Gotchya, so what's on the menu? I've missed your cooking. Take out gets old after a while."

She smiles and simply says, "Follow me."

Leading him to a table, Ellie smiles as his brother reacts to the meal she has for him. His eyes light up with delight and she can tell he is truly grateful to be home, and in reality, she is too. It had been just them for too long, and she did not want to be so far from her brother anymore. She looks over to see her fiancée Devon, or Captain Awesome in Chuck's eyes, greet him with a loud boom and a high shrilling slap on the back. She watches her brother reach his hand behind him to sooth the stinging flesh. She hears him say, "Okay Devon, that was not AWESOME. I just got home man." All Devon does is laugh and wraps him in a bear hug and directs him to his seat at the table.

The talk begins light, full of laughter and smiling, and as the questions become more serious, Chuck's eyes begin to darken and cloud to ebony. The miniscule change does not go unnoticed by his sister though. One question in particular piques her interest.

"So Chuck, what did you do as you traveled the world?" Devon asks.

The silence following the question quickly becomes uncomfortable. The answer that leaves her brother's mouth is what nobody would have seen coming. Before he begins, he takes a deep breath, calming the butterflies in his stomach. "Okay, the truth is…"

He spends the next hour clueing them in on what he has been doing, starting from his recruitment on that fateful night of September 16 two years ago. Devon and Ellie sit in shock as he talks about the numerous numbers of missions he had gone, their faces betraying the underlying emotions. As he finishes, he feels the hand of his sister impact the side of his face, the sound did not betray the true power behind the slap.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me, Chuck? I'm your sister for goodness sakes! I've wondered where you have gone for the last two years and now I figure out you are a gun toting SUPERSPY?! You fly around the world, getting into dangerous situations where you can get hurt, where you can…" she drifts off, allowing Chuck to finish it in his own mind.

"Ellie, calm down. The only reason I haven't been able to tell you or contact you is because it is forbidden. The information I just told you is highly sensitive and any leakage of it in any way or form can cause a lot of damage. Yes, dying is an occupational hazard, but what we do ensures that you can live your lives normally. It's a choice I made to protect the greater good. Understand?"

Ellie takes a good look at her brother. The last time she had seen him, he had a lanky frame, barely any muscles, and no physical physique at all. Now though, his body has filled out. His shoulders are broader; she could see the muscles bulge under his T-shirt and as he moves his hand to scratch his neck, the muscles flex showing their true form. His eyes have a solemn look to them, almost like sadness. His actions are of an adult in the real world, not the brother she knew before this whole debacle. He surely had changed, but was it for the better? She needs to sit on it for the night. She quickly makes a retreat to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Chuck looks on as his sister makes a hasty retreat to her room. Turning to Devon, who has somewhat calmed down enough to close his mouth, he says, "So, what do you think?"

Taking his time, he blinks his eyes, registering the fact that his soon-to-be-brother-in-law is a spy, not a dumb loser who got kicked out of Stanford. He inhales a deep breath and lets out a deep, "Awesome."

Smirking, Chuck retorts, "That's what I thought. So, what do I do about Ellie? It seems like WWIII is about to rear its head."

"When she goes off like that, you should just give her space. Don't approach her until she makes the first move. She'll talk to you when she wants to. So, you got anywhere to stay tonight? We have a guest room you can use."

"Thanks for understanding Devon. This isn't how I wanted to let you guys know, on my first day back and just before Christmas. I'm so sorry. No, I don't. Thanks for the offer"

"No worries dude, I got your back. And don't worry about Christmas. I think having you home is a big enough Christmas present for Ellie. Anyways, the room is down the hall and to the right. Bathroom is just across the way. You have any clothes to sleep in? If not I can probably dig around and find your old clothes."

"It's okay Devon, I have my luggage. See you in the morning."

Watching Chuck slink to his room, he can't help but feel pity for him. The government expects him to do their dirty work at the consequence of his innocence. The lives he has to take always weighing on his conscience. He knew the once vibrant man before him, but now, he is a shell of himself, so somber and foreboding. The next morning, he will offer Chuck to stay with them, hoping to help break him from his gloomy mood. He hopes as they get to interact more, they will bring the once vibrant and happy man back to life.

***

Fulcrum Warehouse (Interior)

Unknown Location

1:58 AM

February 01, 2008

Reaching behind his back, he grasps the handle of his USP .45. Pulling it out, he also extends an arm to his ankles, reaches under his tactical pants, and withdraws a knife. Holding the knife by the hilt, blade pointing towards his pinky, he moves it into position, criss-crossing his wrists, right hand holding the pistol, left hand holding the knife. Extending his left hand, he tentatively reaches towards the doorknob, turning it slowly, and he finally turns it, pushing the door open, trying to catch any agents inside by surprise. His eyes scan the room before stopping on its final resting place. A pair of ocean blue orbs come to rest on his own sepia spheres, silently communicating on a deeper level only found in the deepest states of love. He walks towards her, resisting the urge to run to her and wrap her up in his arms.

On the other hand, Sarah wasn't surprised that he would try to help them, but with gun in hand? The Chuck Bartowski she knows shies away from guns and anything that shoots live ammunition. Peering into his eyes, she sees the darkness in them, the eyes of a man who has lost his innocence. The eyes that tell of a somber story that is full of darkness. She didn't know who is looking at her and she lets out a tentative, "Chuck?"

Gathering her up in his arms, he asks, "Are you okay Sarah?"

"Yeah, Chuck. I'm fine, although I don't think Casey is."

His arms feel good around her. She is astounded at the perfect fit, her body molding into his. His warmth spreads through her like a raging inferno, the heat so intense that it threatens to singe her skin.

Without letting her go, Chuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his iPhone. Punching in a set of numbers, the dial tone rings and he simply says, "Send in the cleaners. Bring along an ambulance, we have an agent injured. Bring any technicians to be found. Have them extract all information on the computers inside the facility, do not miss a single inch. Understood?"

Sarah listens to the commanding voice of Chuck, wondering where it is coming from. She knows he is special, but who exactly is Chuck Bartowski? Taking a step back, she takes a good look at him, noticing the muscles in his biceps, T-shirt straining against them. Instead of the slouching posture she has become accustomed to seeing him in, his back is straight, almost militant in its stance. Her eyes bulge as she takes in the two submachine guns resting against his chest and the gigantic sniper rifle strapped across his back. She still cannot believe her eyes. He continues to speak into the phone and a million questions flit through her mind. A soft, "Sarah," breaks her out of her thoughts and she looks again into the eyes of one Chuck Bartowski. They had mellowed back to the chocolate brown she is so use to.

"Sarah, are you okay?" he asks again, eyes full of concern.

All she can do is nod her head in a silent yes and as she opens her mouth to ask a question, Chuck cuts her off.

"Questions can come later Sarah. We need to get Casey out of here."

When she nods in the affirmative, he hands Sarah the knife to cut the ropes so he can support Casey's tremendous body as he is still unconscious. Slicing through the rope, Casey's body falls limply into the hands of Chuck Bartowski. Wrapping one of Casey's arms around his neck, he gingerly moves Casey towards the exit, followed closely by Sarah, who notes the body count of fourteen dead men. The Chuck Bartowski she knows cannot kill a fly, let alone fourteen men. She stares at the back of the receding man, wondering who he is.

Walking outside, she sees Chuck helping to unload Casey's body onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. After speaking to the ambulance driver, Chuck walks back over to her.

"Come on, let's go. They are moving Casey to my sister's hospital. I want to be there when he wakes up. I need to make a quick stop at home as well."

She follows him out to the road and is surprised to see a sleek black motorcycle. Even more surprising is Chuck riding it. The Chuck she knows is scared when she hits ninety on her Porsche. What else does she not know about him?

"Come on Sarah, we don't have all day."

Shaking her head, as if shaking the cobwebs out, she scoots onto the backside of the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his stomach, which surprisingly has abs. She shudders at the contact. Chuck turns around and cocks an eyebrow, before turning his attention back to the road. Luckily, he does not catch the blush rising quickly up her face.

He takes off in pursuit of the ambulance, following the trail of lights and the blaring of the sirens. He moves fast along the streets, darting in between cars, moving like a street devil, not sparing anything a second glance. Fear shows in his passenger, the speed simultaneously exhilarating, but also terrifying. She has never seen him like this, smile on his face as he moves erratically through traffic, only stopping for lights.

They stop at his house, unloading the weapons once again into the secret compartment in his closet. Her eyes grow wide as she takes in the numerous numbers of weapons in his closet. "How long has this been here?" she asks herself. Blinking her eyes, she finally notices him staring at her from the Morgan Door. She moves to join him and they once again take off into the night.

***

Burbank, California

Westside Medical Center

2:30 AM

February 01, 2008

When they reach the hospital, he hops off and jogs to the front entrance just in time to see Casey being loaded onto a gurney and moving deeper into the hospital. They move him into an ER and they begin surgery on him. Both sit in silence as they ruminate about what to say to one another.

An hour passes by before Casey is let out of surgery. They find a couple of broken ribs, a broken nose, nothing serious. They sigh in relief, taking in the information like ambrosia sent from the gods. They find Casey in room thirty-six. They both enter and things start to go down.

As Casey becomes lucid, Chuck sets up the teleconference in the room, connecting wires here and there. Casey awakens to the sight of Chuck Bartowski dressed in full tactical uniform, bullet lodged in his vest. All three turn to the screen as Brigadier General Beckman comes online.

"Good work, Agent Bartowski."

His handlers turn to him, surprise written all over their faces as they take in the shock of the words. His eyes do not stray from the screen, focusing on the debriefing. Both handlers share a confused look before turning back to the screen.

"The information gleaned from the computers is invaluable. The information shows of a shipment of plutonium arriving in two days on a port in Los Angeles. Man surveillance on the port and devise a plan of operation. All three of you will infiltrate, find the plutonium while taking out any Fulcrum agents. This is serious business folks, no screw ups. Understood?"

The three agents nod their heads, while each take in the information just given to them.

"Agents Walker and Casey, I need to speak to both of you in private. Agent Bartowski, will you please leave the room?"

Nodding his head, he steps out of the room, leaving Sarah and Casey with the image of Beckman on the screen.

She nods to them, allowing them to ask their questions.

Sarah began with the most obvious one, "Who is Chuck Bartowski?"

"Chuck Bartowski was an ex operative for the CIA. His files were wiped when he quit the Agency and returned to civilian life. This information is highly classified, way above both of your clearances. The only reason this is being shown to you is that this pertains to the Intersect Project."

"You both understand that Project Omaha was a recruitment project for the Human Intersect. Had Agent Bartowski not been kicked out of Stanford, he would have been the Intersect a long time ago. Shortly after his expulsion, the CIA was still interested in his work at Stanford. They approached him with the guise of a job opportunity. The fall at Stanford influenced his decision, and without thinking, he accepted."

The information shocks both agents into submission, neither making a movement. Taking their silence in, Beckman continues.

"Shortly after that meeting, he entered The Farm, finishing it in 3 months, a little longer than your time, am I correct Agent Walker? After leaving The Farm, Agent Bartowski was tasked with missions of high importance, assassinations most of the time. His favorite method of eliminating his targets is by sniping. He earned the codename, Scarlet Ibis. Nobody had ever seen a better agent. He went on missions for two years and they abruptly came to an end after his assassination of Egor Danil, a Russian terrorist. He left the CIA and flew back to Los Angeles to where he is now, living with his sister and her fiancée."

"His mission dossier and files will be sent to Castle where you two will be able to read through them. He was one of the best agents working for the Agency. His mission successes highly outnumber both of yours combined."

"I'm sure both of you have many questions for him so, I will leave it here for now. Devise an ops plan and have it sent to me ASAP."

The screen fades to black, and the agents exchange glances. Casey, sensing what Sarah wants to do, tells her, "Walker, find him. Ask him what you want. Go."

Nodding absently, she walks out into the lobby, finding Chuck sitting with head in his hands. His hands gently rub his forehead and she sits in the seat next to him. Without looking up, he reaches a hand over and grasps hers in his.

She gently bumps his shoulder, causing him to look up. His eyes are full of sadness, sadness that comes about from his return to the life of an agent.

Softly whispering, she murmurs, "Come on, let's get out of here."

***

The Beach

Their Spot

4:03 AM

February 01, 2008

They take his motorcycle to their spot on the beach. They stare into the horizon, neither making the first move. Chuck, tiring from the silence, speaks first.

"I'm sorry."

The words surprise her. Those are the words she is least expecting.

"For what?"

"For not letting you in on my secret. I didn't trust you and for that I'm sorry. It's just that, it's just that my life before the Buy More was a little erratic. Sure, I found it fun flying around the world, but when it came down to show time, the excitement kind of ebbed away, only leaving the tense silence of the release of a life. I am and still ashamed of what I've done. I've tried to push the spy life out of my life, but it seems to follow me wherever I go. At Stanford, the Intersect, and now here."

"I quit the Agency because the release of a life didn't sit well with me. It made me uncomfortable; the feeling of it left me raw. The last guy I assassinated had a family. I can't live knowing that I left his children without a father and the wife without a husband. Sure he was a terrorist, but what right does it give me to kill him? I just don't understand."

Listening to him, she can't help but feel the truth of his words. The spy world did follow his life. At Stanford, where he was going to be recruited, to the time where Bryce sent him the Intersect, and this moment here, where he had to immerse himself back into the life of a spy. He successfully lived a civilian life after the spy world just to be pulled right back in by his former best friend. She feels his speech tug at her heart strings, making her shed a single tear. She had never felt closer to Chuck in her life, and she had felt close to him before. Her hand grabs his hand in her crushing grasp as tears silently flow down both their cheeks, running down to their shirts, staining them with their salt.

Wiping away the tears, he continues again, "Before that though, there was a mission that led me down the landslide. Arnost Bednar was unfortunately the one to begin it."

***

Prague, Czech Republic

Arnost Bednar's Home

6:00 PM

April 15, 2005

Trees that reach toward the Heavens surround the home, obscuring it from view to the world. The green foliage, breathtaking as the light hits the brush, accentuating the green of the plants. It was one of the greater perks of the job, being able to see the sights of the world. Taking stock of the house, he walks up to the front entrance, hands the guards his invitation, and steps into the luxurious home. The house is painted in a light, burnt orange, in contrast with the burgundy of the furniture. Looking around, he sees all the paintings, some hanging from the walls, while others lean in a corner being admired by guests who walk by. The pool outback glistens in the sun's rays, sparkling brightly in the setting sun.

His cover, Ceslav Krasna, is attending a party hosted by terrorist leader, Arnost Bednar. Intel provided to him shows the workings of a bomb, headed by Arnost himself. He is there to glean any information and assassinate the terrorist leader.

As he mingles with the guest, he spots Arnost talking to two men dressed in black suits. He can see the guns in their shoulder holsters. As they move by him, he brushes his hand across their backs, planting bugs on each man. He walks out into the surrounding forest all the while taking out his phone and he prepares to listen to their conversation.

"Is the bomb ready?"

"Yeah, it's ready to be deployed."

Looking back into the house, he notes the disappearance of Arnost, just as the bomb goes off in the home. The house lets out a deep moan, as the bomb goes off inside its belly. The flaring light, white and burning, blasts into sky, lighting up the quickly darkening sky. The heat and energy released from the bomb is enough to knock him back a good twenty feet, searing his skin. A dull ringing erupts in his left ear, leaving him deaf in his left ear. He tentatively starts to crawl forward, trying to move into a standing position. As he reaches his feet, he stands up in time to see the house collapse on itself, burying any occupants still alive.

He spots a car leave the facility, and his instincts tell him it is Arnost himself. Without taking a second glance into the burning building, he runs into the surrounding forest, USP .45 in hand, following the car. Luckily, the road is winding, allowing him to run straight to the car. Looking down the sight of his pistol, he rapidly pulls the trigger twice, allowing two bullets to fly into the front tires of the car. The car makes a screeching turn, burying itself into an enormous tree trunk.

The two bodyguards hop out of the car, dragging their boss along. Laying him to the side, they take out their pistols, trying to spot the assailant. Little did they know, the silent assailant sat in the tree above them, waiting for them to walk underneath him. As they appear below him, he makes his descent, burying a knife into the throat of one man, while simultaneously kicking out with his left foot, striking the other man in the nose, a sickening crunch resonating into the forest.

Grasping the knife in the other man's throat, he turns around and lunges at the other man, slicing the arm protecting his head. He cries out in pain and falls backwards. The hunter becomes the prey as he looks on at the man, holding the knife, getting ready to end his life. He looks into his eyes, and he only sees the swirling ebony staring back at him. His last coherent thought is, "Goodbye, world."

Stalking his fallen prey, he lunges, slashing his prey's throat, blood gushing out of the wound and into the soil. He paints the ground red with blood, creating a canvas of blood, bone, tissue, and sinew. Turning around to the still incapacitated Arnost, he swiftly walks up to him, throws him over his shoulder, and walks into the surrounding forest, becoming a shadow, leaving nothing of its existence except the remnants of a burning car and two red abstract paintings.

***

Prague, Czech Republic

Unknown Location

April 15, 2005

10:00 PM

When Arnost comes to, he finds himself tied to a chair in a dark room. He looks around and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he notes the man sitting across from him, in a chair unlike his. As the light comes on, he sees the face of his captor, an emotionless void, dark circles staring at him, analyzing him. He has to divert his eyes as he feels the two spheres burn into his skin, looking into his soul. The man looks like an avenging angel in his dark suit, gun in hand.

"Where did you get the parts for the bomb?"

Arnost chooses to stay silence, and the consequence of that is a gun shot to the foot. The pain erupts in his left foot, jarring his senses, as his brain tries to relieve the pain for his conscious body.

"I'll ask you again, where did you get the parts for the BOMB?"

Staying silent once again, his reward is another gunshot wound to the right foot this time. He screams out in pain, still refusing to divulge the information. His captor puts the gun muzzle to his right knee, pulling the trigger, pain spreading throughout his body like a wildfire feeding on dead brush.

"You got a lot of joints left. I can keep going all day."

The malice in the voice is poorly hidden, betraying the underlying emotion of hatred and disgust. Once again, the reward to his silence is another gunshot to his left kneecap. He shouts out in pain, words going to his god to stop this pain.

"You can make this all stop by giving me what I want."

He feels the gunshot rip into his shoulder, burying itself in the flesh. The blood trickles out of the wound, dyeing his shirt red with blood. Another bullet impacts his other shoulder, burying itself there as well. He cannot take it anymore and acquiesces to his captor's demands.

Telling him all he knows, a feeling of relief washes over him as no other gun shots come. Little does he know though, there is one more objective for the Agent.

"Oh Arnost, I forgot something. Say goodbye."

A piercing gunshot reverberates in the room, the receiver of the bullet lying dead on the floor with a third eye. The chair tips over, its lone occupant still sitting in its contours, not moving and lifeless. The blood paints the floor red, creating a deep red canvas one cannot describe in words. The other man stands up, adjusting his suit, and makes his exit. As he steps outside, he falls to his knees, heaving the contents of his stomach into the cold forest floor. He retches until all the contents of his gut gone, hands held the whole time at the pain in his stomach.

He walks out of the forest and into the dark of the night sky. The clouds obscure the moon, not allowing the rays of the moon to fall onto the lone occupant of the parking lot. Ripping his eyes from the sky, he continues to move towards his car, thoughts flittering through his mind like fireflies. Thoughts like, "What have I done?" and thoughts like, "What have I become?" rings clearly in his mind.

A/N: Any and all mistakes are mine. Nano 09 in a couple weeks folks, hope to see you there! Look for another chapter on Wednesday/Thursday.