A/N: Well, I didn't expect that. So that press conference was in September of 2019. We are hopping back in time to understand how we got to where we got. And then, then we'll all go forward. I give you The Comeback Ch 2, January 2019. Oh the picture for the story is a candid of Yvonne. If anyone has anything better or can make something I am glad to replace it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, and what little jump shot I have left has been blocked by Father Time (that escalated quickly, didn't it?)


January, 2019

"Sarah, you can make real money over there." Bryce held the phone away from his ear, avoiding the hearing loss from the response that was coming through the earpiece. "So that's a no?" He looked at the phone, as he heard the dial tone. He shrugged, and shook his head.

Checking his calendar, Bryce grinned. Lunch with Chuck Bartowski… today was old home day. He grabbed his coat, and headed downstairs. As he left Intersect Sports Agency, he mused at how ironic his life was. He really had two close friends in life: Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker. He could never forget that night when Chuck, who had never met Sarah Walker in his life, but had watched all her games, watched her go down, tearing her ACL as she hit the game winning shot for Harvard's National Championship. Chuck had BEGGED Bryce to help her.

Bryce knew no agent would really want to touch her. She wasn't as fast as the other players, as talented as the other players, or even as skillful as the other players; but no one had ever out-worked Sarah Walker. She had worked with doctors everywhere, trying to get her knee back to 100%. But, it wasn't happening, and she knew it. She had finally decided to go to work in "the real world" , but not before Bryce had helped her milk every dollar out of the advertising world that they could manage.

Bryce grinned as he saw his college roommate- and the man thrown out of Stanford that shouldn't have been- Chuck Bartowski. Chuck was well on his way to getting his degree from Stanford when tests were found under his bed. Chuck knew they weren't his, and Bryce knew they weren't his, but someone was going to take the fall. Chuck told Stanford he had done it, confessing in order to save Bryce, and was expelled. He had taken two years off, and when he came back from backpacking across Europe, he told Bryce he had to try to become a physical therapist. Bryce was stunned, but went to work. He pulled every string he could to get Chuck into UCLA, where he eventually completed his degree.

However, his confession to something he didn't do hung around his neck like the Ancient Mariner's albatross, preventing his being hired at many places. He was currently working at UCLA, making much less than he would anywhere else. But, he was helping people, and that was what made Chuck happy.

"Hey, Bryce, how you doing, buddy?" Chuck asked cheerfully, rising from his chair and giving his friend a hug.

"Chuck," Bryce replied. "Morgan," he said, giving the bearded man a hug as well. "Did you trim?"

"A little," Morgan admitted. "I was becoming a bit too wild for some of the ladies."

"Ellie said it looked bad?" Bryce asked, grinning.

"Yeah," Morgan admitted, nodding. "She kept shaking her head. I had one hair that was growing faster than the rest and it stuck a few inches out in front of the rest of the beard." Bryce was cracking up.

"Man, I needed this today," Bryce said, shaking his head, and taking a sip of water.

"Bad day?" Morgan asked. Bryce shrugged, and gave him a small head shake. "Oooh," he replied.

"Oooh, what?" Chuck asked. Both Morgan and Bryce gave him a look. "What did I do?"

"It's about Sarah," Morgan said. "Has he ever actually met her?" he asked Bryce, knowing the answer, but unable (and unwilling) to resist the opportunity to needle his buddy.

"No, and trust me I've tried MAAANY times to get them to meet," Bryce replied, grinning. "She doesn't have a bigger fan."

"What? She's so good at what she does, and she works so hard to be one of the top players. And, her family life was hard, so yeah, I stan Sarah Walker. She is an inspiration." Chuck gave them both a look.

"What if she could play in the WNBA?" Bryce asked softly.

"What?" Chuck asked, dropping the roll he picked up.

"What if she could play? Do you really believe her knee is salvageable?"

"Bryce, look," he began, very uncomfortable. "I mean that stuff I read and told you about, it depends on a lot of factors."

"Right… age, the willingness of the person to work," Bryce paused and gave Chuck a pointed look. "The therapist."

"Listen, Bryce…"

"Chuck, if I could convince her, would you be willing to try and help her make a WNBA team?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "But who would chance it? She had a tryout after the surgery and… well…" Bryce gave him a look, and he shushed.

"Oh come on, Bryce, I know you snuck him in there to watch," Morgan said, amused. "But, Chuck is right. Who would risk it? Who would give her a chance?"

"The Cleveland Rockers," Bryce replied, grinning. "It's good for both. Feel good story, they have a decent little team, and if it works out, they might have the best player in the WNBA."

"Bryce, I told you it could take six to eighteen months to work, if at all," Chuck protested.

"Would it make her any worse?" Bryce asked.

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head. "Ultrasound in the knee, some massages in the knee that can get uncomfortable, plus work the quad and calf to make sure they are okay. Possibly some needling."

"Wait, what?" Morgan asked, looking concerned. "Needling?!"

"Oh, yeah, it's the best," Chuck replied. Morgan's eyes went wide. "Say a muscle is tight, or stiff. You take this tiny needle, and place it into the muscle, and then you either manually manipulate the needle or you run current through it and another one, making it rest." Morgan's face turned pale. "Dude, I thought I would hate it. But, I've needled my own leg."

"That's insane," Morgan said, still a little shaken.

"But it gives the muscle relief," Chuck said, shrugging. "I can't believe a PT hasn't suggested it to her."

"She won't see a PT," Bryce replied. "Her dad told her, back in the day, that they were charlatans."

Chuck abruptly stood, making Bryce and Morgan both flinch back. "WHAT?" Bryce knew he had set the hook… now to get Sarah.

}o{

Sarah rolled her neck, and then stared back at the screen in front of her. Why was she doing this? She didn't need the money. She should be out there, trying to play ball. Somewhere… ANYWHERE, for a shot at the WNBA. Hell, overseas paid more than this.

She sighed. She knew why… she was damn stubborn. When Harvard told her that they had little chance of winning the conference, she put the team on her back and won it. When they told her she and her teammates couldn't beat UCONN, they did. When they told her she and her teammates couldn't win a title, she did, even though her landing on that final jump shot ripped her ACL in half. She looked down at her leg, and shook her head. If you didn't know what to look for when she walked or moved, you'd never know.

She slowly rotated the offending joint back and forth, and felt that little catch, that tug that told her it wasn't 100%. She looked at her phone. Maybe she should call Bryce.

"So, how bad do you want to play in the WNBA?" she heard Bryce's voice ask. She spun and saw him there with a grin on his face.

"I'm not sleeping with you," she retorted, grinning at him.

"But would you let a Physical Therapist work with you?" Bryce asked. Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I'll pay for him. Consider it an investment." Sarah sat there, the eyebrow still raised. "If this works it will come out of the endorsement money."

She rose, and stood there chewing her lip, thinking. "Why would you trust a Physical Therapist?" Sarah asked.

"Because he's my best friend. And, he turned to me the night you tore your ACL and begged me to help you," Bryce answered with a shrug. "He's a hell of a guy, and let's be honest; part of your problem with PT is you think it's a con."

"Is your friend a requirement?" Sarah asked.

Bryce huffed and looked away. He turned back to her. "No." Sarah stood there waiting for more, but he had nothing to add.

"I feel like there's more to this," Sarah said, looking for more information.

"Listen, he's one of your biggest fans. He thinks you are the hardest working player in basketball, and can be the best player in the WNBA. He even said he stans you," Bryce added, grinning.

"Stan?" she asked, laughing. "Okay, you obviously trust him." Bryce nodded. "Whatever he does to me in PT, could he make my knee worse?"

Bryce stood without saying a word for a few seconds and when he spoke it was quiet, but full of emotion. "A test was found in our dorm room our junior year. Chuck swore he didn't steal it, and the university said it had to be one of us that took it and cheated. I was about to get kicked out of the university, but then Chuck said he did it. He was expelled."

"Did he do it, or was it you?" Sarah asked.

"Sarah….no," Bryce said. "Believe us or don't, but know this: Chuck Bartowski would never knowingly hurt anyone, and no one has researched your issue more than him." She gave him a look. "He stans you." She burst out laughing.

"Is he a stalker?" Sarah asked, not really concerned, but felt she should ask.

"No. He's likely to be tongue tied the first time he ever talks to you," Bryce admitted. "Will you at least think about it?"

"I'll think about it," Sarah replied. "Wait… what team?"

"The Cleveland Rockers," Bryce replied.

"Makes sense," Sarah admitted. "Ugh, I'll have to find someplace to live…"

"I'll rent a four-bedroom house, for all three of us," Bryce said. Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I'll be there as much as I need to be, and I'll need a place to stay."

"As long as you two don't frat-boy it up." Bryce grinned. "Okay," she blew out a breath. "Let's do it."

Bryce grinned. "WNBA, here we come."

A/N: David...are sticking Chuck and Sarah in a house together? No...I'm sticking them in a renovated warehouse apartment with a basketball court. *grins* EDC maaaaay have helped writing this fic.