A/N: I certainly do not expect that many of you will be familiar with some of the historical and technical terms I'll be using. To get the full picture, I suggest that you look them up online.

I do not own Chuck or any of the movies and novels referenced in this story… (I'd love to own Sarah Walker though)

I'd also like to thank you for encouraging me to continue the story.

Somewhere over Europe

"Pauke, Pauke!" Oberleutnant Hans Günther yelled excitedly into his mike as he wrenched the big Junkers Ju 88C-6c night fighter into a tight turn. The ground controllers had directed them to the bomber stream and Klaus, his radar operator, had found him a target. Now he had visual contact as well. Coming closer, he identified his target as an Avro Lancaster heavy bomber. It was one of the hated things that rained death and destruction on the Fatherland almost every night. He sideslipped a bit to the right and positioned his fighter below the bomber, where he was invisible to its crew, making sure to synchronize his speed with that of his prey. Finally, he pulled the nose of the Junkers sharply upwards by yanking the control wheel back and pressed down on the trigger. The three 20 millimeter MG-FF cannon stuttered in concert as they sent a steady stream of armor piercing and high explosive shells into the bomber's vulnerable underside with the clatter of the three 7.92 mm MG 17 machine guns adding to the din. Breaking away, he watched with satisfaction as his victim caught fire and started its death dive towards the earth. In the light provided by the flames engulfing the doomed aircraft, he saw the individual identification letter painted in dull red on the matt black fuselage side by the RAF bullseye roundel. It was an S. S for Sugar, he remembered an intelligence briefing. Well, S for Sugar would do no more harm now. Looking around, he saw some bright dots descending from the sky; some slowly like flares, others fast like comets. Most had a reddish hue, but one was whitish. His mood darkened a bit when he realized that despite their success one of his comrades was going down. Even in the dark it was easy to discern if a burning aircraft was friendly or not; British aircraft burned red, while German aircraft, which had a high magnesium content in their alloys burned white. Günther was about to ask his radar operator for another target, when suddenly a stream of tracers shot past the Junkers on the left. The hunter had become the hunted. Cursing, he corkscrewed hard to the right, hoping that the De Havilland Mosquito night fighter that had sneaked up on them would lose both radar and visual contact. He let out a relieved breath as the evasive maneuver apparently worked. The relief was short lived, however, as the port Jumo 211J engine coughed and sputtered. A quick look at the instruments confirmed that the Mosquito's fire was more accurate than he had surmised. At that instant, the engine caught fire. There was no other option but to bail out. He turned to give the order and saw the radar operator slumped over his equipment, his flightsuit stained with blood. Engaging the autopilot, he checked on his crewman. The kid was out cold, but alive. He dragged him to the escape hatch, popped it open and jumped, still holding on to the unconscious younger man. Counting to three, he pulled Klaus' parachute ripcord. He then opened his own 'chute and, while slowly descending, watched sadly as his burning fighter impacted the earth and exploded in a massive fireball.

January 5th 1944, Burbank, CA

Chuck was sitting on the couch at Ellie's place, reading the latest issue of Life magazine. He was bored, although he tried to hide it as best as he could. His sister had gone to the store and had refused his offer to help, saying that she wouldn't buy too many things and that she could manage on her own. Ellie's boyfriend Captain Awesome, known to the world as Devon Woodcomb, was still at work. Chuck smirked when he realized that the nickname he had coined to his future brother in law was now literal. Ellie had told him that a few weeks ago Devon had been promoted to Captain. Although Devon had not yet proposed to Ellie, but Chuck knew that it was just a matter of time, given how much the couple loved each other. Being a chest cutter, as his specialty was colloquially known in medical circles, Devon was in his element as a flight surgeon with the USAAF, evaluating the cardiopulmonary functions of pilots during their medicals, scheduled or otherwise, or tending to aircrew injured in the occasional mishap. He had joined the military right after Pearl Harbor and was somewhat disappointed when he did not get a posting to a combat unit. Nevertheless, he strove to be as efficient in his job as he could be. The sound of the door opening jostled him from his thoughts. Speak of the devil, he thought as Captain Woodcomb entered.

"Hey bro," he said, "what are you doin' here all alone?"

"Oh, hey Devon. Ellie's gone to the store. She'll not be long now. How was your day?"

"Pretty boring, mostly, which is kinda good, I guess. Thankfully, one of the guys offered me a ride in a Lightning and, let me tell you, it was one hell of a ride! Really awesome!"

"Lightnings are single seaters. How on earth did you manage to fit in one with another guy?"

"That one was somewhat special, pal, a prototype they've got at the plant. It's the XF-5D Photo Lightning, which has a navigator station in the nose. Although it did not go into series production, they still keep it around as a test bed and hack. I'll show you the photos when I get the film developed at the base lab."

"Sounds interesting. I'd love to see them. Hey, I was wondering, when Ellie comes home we can all go grab some Chinese food at Anna's. I've really missed that place. Save Ellie the trouble of cooking. She could use the rest. What do you think?"

"That'd be awesome, Chuck. The truth be told, I haven't been there in ages myself. Plus, Ellie would love it, I'm sure."

"It's settled then. I only wish that Morgan was here too. He loves Chinese food and, just between us, I think he had a thing for Anna. Never told me anything, but I sorta knew."

"I miss him too. He's a nice guy. Where was he the last time he wrote?"

"I think he was in France. But that was a long time ago. Who knows where he is now…"

"He'll be back. Count on it."

"Yeah, I know. It's just… It's not like him to stop writing all of a sudden."

"There is a war going on. And if I know him, he's in it somehow."

Los Angeles, CA

The Caseys and their guests were gathered around the table in the dining room, happily finishing their dessert. To say that Kathleen's cooking was good would be a gross understatement. Objectively, the woman was easily the equal of the best chefs in most of the five star hotels. Over coffee, the conversation had drifted to various subjects, from neighborhood gossip to the war in general, to the latest assignment that Casey himself was about to be given. Understandably, neither Casey nor Highway could discuss the subject openly, keeping only to the parts that were deemed safe.

"So, Tom, since you told me that you have experience in training people for that kind of work, tell me what I can expect, how it is and be frank about it," said Casey.

"It's a cluster fuck, sir," growled Highway.

"TOM!" Kathleen and Aggie, Highway's wife, exclaimed together, somewhat shocked. Highway's turn of speech was in no way modified or inhibited by the presence of members of the opposite sex. Casey smirked, but Alex giggled and then started laughing in earnest.

"Alex!" said her mother sternly.

"Sorry mom, it's so funny, you know. Besides, listening to Dad and Uncle Tom over the years has taught me almost all the profanity I know. Which is enough to make even the frat guys in college cringe."

Casey cleared his throat, indicating that he wished to continue his conversation with his friend. Highway took his cue and spoke again.

"What I said meant that they will give you a mixed bag to work with. Some will have military training, even combat experience; they are the easier ones. But if you're also stuck with civilians whose skills you'll need on the job, then it all goes south. I can't exactly tell you why and how, 'cause I'll be risking another reprimand by the ladies," he said looking meaningfully at Aggie and Kathleen.

"Well, Tom, I'll take all that into serious consideration. Thanks for the warning, too."

"I have something to keep your spirits up, Major." Highway got up and less than a minute later returned with a small box.

"Chooz brought these when he went on a stint with the Fleet Marine Force. I told him to get enough for both me and you sir."

Casey opened the package and to his delight saw that it was a box of cigars from Costa Gravas. The finest brand, too. He carefully, almost reverently, extracted one from the box and stuck it between his teeth. His face took an expression of bliss. Highway smiled as he chomped on an identical cigar that he had fished from his shirt pocket. Casey flipped open his Zippo and offered his friend a light; then he lit up as well. Soon the dining room was filled with a cloud of smoke, obliging Alex to open a window in order to make the atmosphere breathable again.

Burbank, CA

As both Chuck and Devon had expected, Ellie jumped at the suggestion that they go to Anna's. The restaurant was not far from their place, the food was more than good and of course Anna Wu was a long time friend of the Bartowskis.

"Chuck!" the small Asian woman exclaimed when she saw him enter. She was obviously very happy to see him. She also showed it by running to him and giving him a big hug. She then turned and greeted Ellie and Devon just as warmly.

"Wow, it's been a long time since all you guys came here," she said, "although, I was kinda hoping to see Morgan with you," she added. Chuck and Devon shared a knowing look. It seemed that not only Morgan had feelings for Anna, but she also had a thing for the short bearded man. Anna gave them the best table in her restaurant and, after taking their order, hurried to the kitchen to oversee the preparation of her friends' meal. Since there were not many customers at this hour, she joined them at their table for some small talk.

"So, Chuck," Anna began, "how are things in DC?"

"It can be a bit hectic sometimes. Other than that it's pretty much normal. I'm sorry, but I can't exactly tell you what I'm doing there."

"Never mind, Chucky. I understand. As long as it helps bring an end to this war… By the way, Devon, congratulations on your promotion."

"Thanks Anna. How did you know?"

"Your rank bars. They are different now. Plus, Ellie told me when I met her at the store a few days ago."

Ellie and Anna did most of the talking after that, mostly discussing their common interests, with Ellie at one point asking her friend for her opinion on how to best add a Chinese touch to some of her favorite recipes. When the fortune cookies arrived, Anna translated the script to the others and tried to explain the philosophical meaning behind the phrases. She also insisted that the meal be on the house, but Chuck, Devon and Ellie would have none of it. Before they left she made them promise to tell her any news on Morgan the moment they received it.

Washington DC

It was already dark when Sarah Walker strode confidently into the building that housed the OSS Headquarters. Today she would be getting her first assignment in the new section she'd been transferred to. Although she was by now experienced in the whole cloak and dagger game, she could not help but feel a bit excited about it. After all, it was not often that an agent had to get a whole new identity while still in the US, so it had to be something big. As she entered the waiting room of her new boss' office, his personal assistant, a small middle aged redheaded woman looked up at her and smiled.

"Hello, Sarah dear," she said, "take a seat. The General will see you in a minute."

"Thank you Mrs. Beckman," Sarah replied and sat down. Crossing a silk clad leg over the other, she smoothed an almost invisible wrinkle on her tight skirt and let her mind once again wonder to the possible natures of her new assignment; would it be in occupied Europe? Or would they send her to a neutral country? The buzz of the intercom on Mrs. Beckman's desk interrupted her train of thought.

"Diane? Is Agent Walker here yet?" came a voice from the intercom. Beckman pressed a button to reply. "Ah, she's right here, Roan. Do you want me to send her in?" she said. The answer from the General was affirmative. The use of the General's first name, however, caused Sarah to give Mrs. Beckman a curious look.

"You can go right in, dear," the older woman said. "And about the name thing, he insists on it. We have worked together for a long time," she added. Sarah nodded and knocked on the heavy oak door of Brig. Gen. Roan Montgomery's office.

"Come in," he replied.

"You asked to see me, sir," she said entering and closing the door behind her.

"Yes, Agent Walker, please take a seat. Can I offer you a drink? A martini, perhaps?" As she sat down, General Montgomery cast an appraising look at her. To say that the young woman was beautiful would simply not do her justice. The charcoal grey skirt and jacket that she was wearing hugged her curves perfectly. Her hat was at a rakish angle on her head, blonde hair pulled in a bun and her face showed just a touch of makeup. Not that she needed any to begin with.

"No, thank you, sir," she replied.

"You don't mind if I have one, do you?"

"No, sir."

The General poured himself a martini and sank back in his chair.

"Agent Walker," he began, "your record so far has been exemplary. Your work with F Section SOE and the BCRA has earned you glowing endorsements from our Allies. Now, you have a chance to do more. We have a much bigger mission and we would like for you to be the deputy lead on it."

"Me, sir?"

"Yes. It is not what you have gotten used to so far, however. It's more of a commando mission. Special detachment stuff, if you prefer. It's got to do with the upcoming invasion of Europe. Very, very secret stuff, hence the need for you to get a new identity. "

"I can do it sir."

"Excellent. Your first mission with the detachment will also be a kind of test run, but still very important. Diane will give you your initial orders. You leave first thing tomorrow. It will take a little longer to assemble the rest of your team, but I want you to lay the groundwork in preparation for training." Sarah made a face at the mention of the word 'training'. She was a highly trained and experienced operative and was accustomed to working solo or at least with people who had undergone the same training as her. Time for the team members to get acquainted with each other and form the kind of bonds that ensured the successful outcome of the mission she could understand. And even that could be done during the briefing and preparation phase. The General noticed her uneasiness.

"It is the kind of mission that requires the participation of personnel from various branches of the Armed Forces many of whom will have no experience in covert operations, as well as civilians," he explained. "I can't tell you all about it right now, but I assure you, it is very important. I might add that this will be an inter-allied effort. Plus you will probably need the cooperation of local Resistance organizations." She could barely suppress a groan of frustration. So far she had managed to avoid having dealings with the resistance in any of the countries she had been. Keen and dedicated they might be, but they still lacked the training and discipline that she considered essential. The risk of betrayal or discovery by the Germans was also exponentially increased when working with a resistance cell.

"Sir, with all due respect, why me?"

"Sarah," he said, using her first name for emphasis, "you speak excellent French and German. You are a crack shot, as well as an expert with knives. You are parachute qualified. You are a naturally gifted actress. And you have exhibited considerable leadership qualities on your past missions. In my book these aforementioned qualities make you ideal for Project Intersect, as this endeavor is codenamed."

"I understand and appreciate your confidence in me, General," she said cautiously, "but I am still uncomfortable with the whole concept. I am used to operating either alone or with other agents, always independently, without any potentially compromising contact with the local resistance and-." He held up a hand to stop her.

"I know how you usually operate, Agent Walker. In this case, I'll make you a deal. You and the team leader will be able to reject any of the candidates that you consider unfit or otherwise unsuitable for participation in the operation during the training phase. Is that understood?"

"Yes, I understand sir."

"Very well then." He rose from behind his desk and she did the same. He shook her hand and then put an arm around her shoulders. She tensed; the General's reputation as a ladies' man was well known. But he just guided her to the door and wished her luck on her new mission, before leaving her in the capable hands of his assistant. Mrs. Beckman immediately gave Sarah the file folder pertaining to the initial details of her assignment and quickly briefed her on the travel plans, contacts and some other details that she needed to know.

Sarah left the OSS Headquarters in a daze. This mission was new territory for her, and she was not sure how to take it. She needed to clear her head, so she decided to go home and think about it over a glass of wine while luxuriating in a hot bath. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

January 6th 1944, Berlin, Germany

Gruppenführer Teo Von Roark stepped from the chauffeured Mercedes into the SS Führungshauptamt building on Prinz-Albrecht-Straße, acknowledging the salute of the smartly uniformed guards at the entrance. He moved slowly, like a man aged beyond his years. He was certainly tired, but he ignored the fatigue as he made his way to his office; there were more pressing matters at hand. Reichsführer Himmler had finally given his approval during their earlier meeting. The Ring Abteilung, as the outfit under Von Roark's command was codenamed, was to undertake its most ambitious mission yet. A mission that, if successful, would change the course of the war in favor of the Reich, or at least buy enough time for the Wünderwaffen that were being developed to enter production and hopefully reverse the flagging fortunes of the Nazi state and its battered but still mighty war machine. Despite being a fanatical Nazi, Von Roark was a realist and believed that there was only a small chance for all these grandiose plans to succeed, but if Germany could get some breathing space, it was worth the effort. However, he wisely kept his reservations to himself. Being viewed as a defeatist was not good for his career, or his life, for he had made many enemies, even in the SS, who would have been only too glad to see him removed from his post in disgrace or worse. He hit the intercom button on his desk.

"Call Standartenführer Keller and tell him to come and see me immediately," he told his secretary.

Eprobungsstelle Rechlin, Germany

It was a clear day, ideal for flying, something unusual at that time of year. Two 'black men', as the Luftwaffe ground crew were known on account of their coveralls waited patiently for the Junkers to taxi to its assigned parking spot where they would put the wooden wheel chocks in place. The task completed, they retreated to join another man who was standing ready with a fire extinguisher. The pilot killed the engines and exited the aircraft, while the ground crew started fussing all over it, tying it down and doing the prescribed post flight maintenance. The pilot moved towards a balding bespectacled man in civilian clothes who was waiting off to the side.

"How did the flight go, Herr Major?" the civilian asked.

"It was good, Herr Doctor. The new system is performing quite well. There are just a few minor bugs to work out, but I believe that we can proceed to the next phase and start operational testing."

"I expect your report on those 'few minor bugs' to be on my desk later today, Herr Major."

"Don't worry, Dr. Busgang. You did a great job in a short time. If I'm right, all it will need is some fine tuning and some stronger couplings and attachments for the wiring. I had a couple coming loose on this flight." The pilot moved towards a Kubelwagen.

"Would you like a lift, Herr Doctor?"

"Sure, why not. I'll buy you lunch, too, Herr Major."

"Thank you Herr Doctor." He held the door open for the older man, then got in himself and drove off towards the mess.

Berlin, Germany

The tall imposing man entered Von Roark's office, clicked his heels and gave the Nazi salute, barking 'Heil Hitler!' Von Roark looked up from his paperwork and motioned for the other man to take a seat.

"Standartenführer Keller," he said without preamble, "I just returned from a meeting with the Reichsführer. He told me that your concept for Operation Fulcrum has been approved by the Führer himself." The SS Colonel smiled thinly. When Von Roark had stolen him from the Sicherheitsdienst, SD for short, his boss Walter Schellenberg, the chief of the Amt VI, Ausland-SD, the foreign intelligence operations section of the Reich's Security Office, was not exactly happy. In fact many other high ranking SS officers were also extremely unhappy every time Von Roark poached in their private fiefdoms in order to staff his own detachment.

"What do you want me to do, Herr Gruppenführer?" he asked.

"I want you to ensure that the men assigned to Operation Fulcrum are the best we have. I want a team handpicked. Any Ideas as who is going to lead?"

"Jawohl, Herr Gruppenführer. I will lead the operation."

"You?"

"Jawohl, Herr Gruppenführer," he repeated, "I am fully qualified for the mission. In fact I consider my participation essential for a variety of reasons."

"Very well, Standartenführer Keller. I would like the files on the men that you choose on my desk by tomorrow. You may get started now." Keller rose and snapped to attention, again clicking his heels.

"Zu befehl, Herr Gruppenführer. Heil Hitler!" he said, saluting his superior.

"Heil Hitler!"

Somewhere in the US

Sarah stepped off the plane and on to the tarmac. Fortunately, the OSS had seen fit to book her on a commercial flight, so the trip had been very comfortable. Not that it did much to relieve the uneasy feeling she had about her new assignment since yesterday. General Montgomery had been very vague as to the exact nature of the mission. Perhaps he did not know exactly what it would be himself yet. But he definitely knew that there was a mission in the works. Figures, she thought. They were putting a team together, allowing time for training and eventually they would determine if the aforementioned team was suitable for whatever scheme the powers that be had in mind. According to Mrs. Beckman she had at least a couple of days before the first of the others would arrive. Entering the small terminal building, she looked around for her contact. She soon spotted him; a rotund black man in a casual outfit. Mrs. Beckman had described him perfectly. She picked up her suitcase and travel bag and walked over to him.

"Mr. Michael Tucker?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. "You must be Miss Walker. How do you do. You can call me Big Mike."

"Nice to meet you Mr Tuck- Big Mike, I mean."

"Let me get your luggage, Ms. Walker. The car is right over there. Good flight?"

"Ah, yes, it was pleasant. And please, call me Sarah."

"OK, Sarah. You are exactly like what the General said you'd be, if you don't mind me sayin' so. By the way, me and my pal Langston, you'll meet him soon, have orders to provide anything you and your team might need around here. Anything you need and I mean anything; supplies, transportation, booze, whatever, no matter how strange it may be, we can get. All you have to do is ask."

"Good to know, thanks Big Mike."

It was a two hour ride from the airport to her destination. Sarah made some small talk with Big Mike, and quickly figured that he and that Langston he mentioned were just logistics men. They obviously had no clue as to what was up. Eventually, they made it to a secluded spot near a beach. It was a large property that was apparently ideal for use as a secret training facility and that was probably why the OSS had leased it for the duration of the war. The row of small cottages nearer the beach and separate from the other buildings suggested that it had been intended as a holiday retreat before the war. Big Mike drove straight to one of the cottages and parked the car. He opened the door for her and showed her inside, before returning to the car to get her luggage. He told her that she could call him to bring her dinner to the cottage after she made herself comfortable. She smiled as he informed her of the, understandably limited, menu options. Making her choice from the 'menu', she thanked him again before going to the larger of the two bedrooms and starting to unpack. A day of travelling had worn her down and she desperately wanted a refreshing shower. Fortunately, the place had hot water. Shower, dinner and a good night's sleep in that order; everything else could wait until tomorrow. She would ask Big Mike and Langston to show her around, give her a rundown on what equipment was available, and procure a uniform for her in the morning.