The Farm

Forgot to introduce the story last chapter. I thought it would be cool to do a whole role reversal of our beloved Charah. Rated M for strong sexual content, but that's not coming unti later chapters. But once it's here, there's no stopping it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, but if I did, there would so be a movie coming out.

Two

Chuck reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the beautiful, blond, recruit and almost imperceptibly cleared his throat. "Diana Taylor Johns?"

"Here," a girl with short blond hair and round glasses, said raising her hand.

Chuck nodded and completed the role call. 15 girls, 15 boys. 30 potential future operatives. Some he knew, children born into the spy game, like him, following in their parents' footsteps. Chuck put his messenger bag on his desk.

The classrooms at The Farm, were set up like a basic high school class. Desks, windows, and a teacher at the front of the room. It was designed to make the students feel comfortable on their first day.

Of course, Chuck knew that the comfort would end very, very quickly.

He faced the class, and sighed. "All right. Whatever you think you know about being a spy, forget it. The first rule about being an agent of the CIA is to understand that you're are an officer of the U.S. government. And your foremost objective is to protect the United States of America from any and all threats, foreign or homegrown."

He was quoting his supervisor in operative training, Agent Langston Graham.

"Some people in this world want to be heroes. But others have to be asked. Which are you? Be aware that not all of you will graduate. In fact, if you're picturing yourself as Bond. James Bond firing at Goldfinger on a jet ski, with an Italian supermodel, you might as well leave now."

He paused, waiting for someone to get up and leave the class.

"No? Good," he said with a smile.

"Let's cover the ground rules, shall we? Rule number one: don't be late. Time is security, the nation's security. We start every morning at 7, we end when I say. It's my job to train you, to train you to protect this country. It's my job to ensure that the officers entrusted with that responsibility are completely and totally competent, so I will keep you here until I'm satisfied you've learned what it is I'm trying to tell you."

He watched a couple of them shift in their seats, probably not morning people, he figured.

"Rule number two: you are allowed to leave the compound when your classes have finished for the day, but under no circumstances are you allowed to discuss what goes on at the Farm anywhere outside the compound. This is Langley. The person behind you in the Starbucks' line could be a enemy spy. So what happens at the Farm, stays at the Farm. Understood?"

The class nodded, Chuck was happy that they were at least paying attention. "Rule number three: Sundays are personal days. That's means you're free. You can go wherever, do whatever. As long as you don't discuss what goes on in your training, and you don't do anything stupid. Because even when you're off, you are still an agent of the government in training, and you'll conduct yourselves as such."

A student raised her hand, an African-American girl named Lindsey. "Yes, Lindsey?"

"So what qualifies as 'stupid'?"

Chuck bit back a laugh. "Ok, on your day off, those of you who are old enough can go out and have a drink or two, but getting drunk and crazy while you're here, that's stupid. If any of you winds up with a drunken rant on YouTube, you will be dismissed."

"Rule number four: I can dismiss you at anytime I like. If I discern you cannot handle this job, I have the authorization to ask you to leave, and you are obligated to comply. And it is your strict duty as an American citizen never to reveal what you've seen and/or done."

He paused for a moment, and looked the class over. He knew he had their attention, it was in the way they leaned forward, the way their eyes sparked with interest. They wanted this. That was a good thing. This job was not for the faint of the heart.

"The last rule, arguably the most important and least popular and the most broken, is very simple: we have a no fratenization policy. That means if any of you are thinking about asking out the person next to you, get that thought out of your head right now. Once you've graduated, if you graduate, you can date whoever you please. But while you're here, you need to concentrate on your training. No dating fellow trainees."

He noticed a few of the guys frowning and shrugging their shoulders and he grinned. "But," he said in a conspiratoral whisper. "What I don't know can't hurt you."

They laughed at that. He smiled, he knew gaining their trust was important. He looked at his watch. "That's all for now. Go to your dorms, rest, relax, do your favorite things. Because tomorrow, you shut the door on your old lives."

The class smiled at him, gathered their things and walked out. Chuck's eyes seemed to be disconnected from the rest of him, because they followed Sam out of the room.

The first day is always the hardest, Chuck told himself when he walked into his penthouse apartment that he shared with Bryce. He hadn't used it much recently. Mainly because he was never in Langley long enough. He was stil having a hard time believing that he was stuck there.

He couldn't believed his parents and his closest friends had conspired against him. Being concerned was one thing. But going behind his back and telling his superior officer that he needed to stay at Langley was another.

He knew they were worried, and rightfully so. But he was fine.

At least, that was what he he kept telling himself. He laughed, thinking about the last time his parents had any say in his missions.

It was right after he'd graduated from the Farm, they gave him his first assignment. But he was soon placed under the command of General Diane Beckman.

But after Cairo, his parents had gone into full-blown overprotective mode, a side he hadn't seen in a while.

He knew that his parents were looking out for him, but he resented being treated like a child.

Still, the sooner he got these recruits trained, the sooner he could get back to real spy work. He pulled out his laptop, turned on the webcam and started his mission log.

"Day 1: This is Agent Charles Carmichael. Today I met the recruits. My mission is to train them, train to them to protect the United States. Train them to be spies. Some are familiar faces, born into this life, like me. Others are new, and don't have a clue as to what's about to happen them. Some of them know that they're about to give their lives to the American government. I wonder if they're prepared, if they really have what it takes. I hope so. The better are, the faster they progress, and the quicker I get the hell out of here. Chuck out."

He grabbed his messenger bag and pulled out the flash drive that held the files of the recruits:

Greta Arkin, 19: daughter of Lena and Michael Arkin, NCS. Born August 11th. Hometown: Washington, D.C. Special skills: Black belts in karate, tae kwon do, jujitsu. Speaks fluent Greek, Italian, Polish, and German. Personality: Driven, focused, quick thinker, lacks finesse. Sounds like Casey, Chuck thought. Does she even need operative training?

Daniel Shaw: 20, son of Jane and Ryan Shaw, civilian. Born June 4th. Hometown: Richmond, Virgina. Special skills: High IQ, trained in carpentry. Personality: Overachiever, good listener, emotionally stoic. Stiff as a board. Emotionally speaking, Swiss cheese, got it.

Evelyn Pratt: 20, daughter of Nora and Calvin Pratt, civilian. Born February 6th. Hometown: Richmond, Virgina. Special skills: Sewing, photography, trained in kickboxing. Personality: Endearing, strong sense of loyalty, single-minded when reaching goals. Ok, loyal, but single-minded. Interesting combo.

And then there her file was, Sam. He couldn't stop himself from reading it aloud. "Age 18, daughter of convicted con man 'Jack Burton', mother unknown. Good with knives, and trained in theft. Closed off from people. Has lived in twenty different cities, under many aliases, graduated high school in San Diego, recruited by Langston Graham."

He smiled, he knew Langston had a knack for choosing the best, if he did say so himself.

After all it was Langston who'd chosen Chuck for early operative training, he'd started when he was fourteen. Ellie had long decided she wanted nothing to do with the spy life.

Chuck knew to expect great things from Sam. And somehow, his thoughts always kept going back to her.

Everything in his training should've been telling him to squelch those thoughts, and yet it wasn't.

He heard the front door opening, he shrugged, figuring it was Bryce.

And it was. Bryce sashayed in, with the catalyst herself, DEA operative Carina Miller engulfed in his arms.

Chuck couldn't help but roll his eyes. No one caused more tension between his friends than Carina. Beautiful, sure. Excellent spy, doubtless. But, dear God, that woman was trouble.

Carina was…a wild card. And that was putting it nicely.

She and Bryce had been on-again/off-again since they were both at the Farm. From the looks of it, they were on again.

And whenever they broke up, Carina quickly found someone to make Bryce seethe with jealously.

Chuck couldn't help but sigh as the two made out, completely unaware of his presence. So he cleared his throat loudly.

"Chuck," Bryce said, pulling away from Carina. "Thought you'd still be with the recruits."

"Yeah, well, I thought you were still in Jakarta."

"Still pissed, I see," Bryce said with a smile.

"Oh, get used to that," Chuck said, closing his laptop.

"Oh, poor Chuckles," Carina said smoothly. "Still down about Cairo? Look, I know it's hard losing a partner. But getting dead is an occupational hazard."

"Thanks, Carina. I feel so much better now."

"Training the recruits can be fun, Chuck," Bryce told him. "And I'm sure you'll be great at it."

Carina scoffed. "Recruit training? God, I'd rather practice abstinence for a year and a half. Like you, Chuck. It's been, what, eleven months since you and Jill headed south. God, you must be so tense. I'd love to help, if Bryce doesn't mind sharing, that is."

Chuck rolled his eyes in disgust, bewildered by his friend's taste in women. "Fuck you, Carina."

"Is that a promise?"

"Ok, let me be clearer: Fuck off. No better yet, I'll leave. Not gonna get any work done around here."

He grabbed his laptop and headed out the door, thinking he probably wouldn't be back tonight.

The sun was still setting as he walked through the streets of downtown Langley. He thought of his students, hoping they'd taken his advice to do their favorite things.

They would always need to remember who they were, if they were gonna survive at this job.

He thought about heading over to Morgan's place, playing a little Guitar Hero, unwinding before the real work began.

He stepped into a coffee shop, wanting to grab a latte, before he headed over to Morgan's.

And there she was, sitting in a corner table, by the window, chewing on a swizzle stick.

The spy in him told him not to engage, to retreat, to get out of the coffeehouse as quickly as possible.

But Chuck would soon lose count of how many times he ignored his instincts.

Sam sat in the coffeehouse, trying to think of one of her favorite things to do. Truth is, she didn't have many. When you live your whole life on the run, you don't get a chance to have many favorites.

But wherever she was, she frequented a local café. So with a small smile, she realized she was doing one of her favorite things, even if it was mundane.

She looked up for a second and her blue eyes found a familiar pair of brown ones. "Chuck?" she said.

"Sam, hi," he said with a smile, but not approaching her.

"You wanna sit?" she asked.

He hesitated. "I probably shouldn't."

"I won't tell if you don't," she said with a smile.

He laughed at that, and sat down. "So this is one of your favorite things, sitting in a café?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"And what are the rest of your classmates doing?"

"Off the record?"

"Of course."

"I think they're all going to a club called Lace."

"Ah, I know it well. And you didn't wanna go?"

"I'm used to sticking to myself."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Don't you a have a file on me? Shouldn't you know?"

"I do, but the file's just facts and figures. And this is one-on-one time with the instructor. You shouldn't really pass this up."

Sam laughed, her first genuine one in a while. "I thought we're not allowed to discuss…school stuff outside of school."

"We're not allow to discuss your training, which hasn't even started yet."

"Ok, I'm game. I'm mean, you know practically about me anyway, right?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I've been briefed."

"Ok, I stick to myself because when I walk in a room, I automatically count all the exits. There's four in this café alone, not counting the skylight above us. I also can tell you that the cashier witholds about fifty cent in change per customer. I can also tell you that the guy at the counter eating the bear claw is an off duty cop. And if I didn't know exactly who you were, I'd think you were one too."

"Why is that?"

"The gun in your ankle holster," she said with a smile. "It pulls on your jeans. I stick to myself because I've been trained to be ready to run at any given moment."

"Well, that's one thing I don't have to teach you."

"Hmm?"

"Doing…what I do is kind of like that. Like I can tell you that the waitress behind us knows how to handle herself, possible knife training, can't be sure, but definitely one to look out for. But you already knew that."

"I did."

"See, being what I am, I have to be prepared to run to. So that's a good skill, an invaluable one at times. And being able to read people is priceless. This is is the voice of experience here."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything but my name."

Sam couldn't help but smile. Chuck was pretty funny. "How'd you get into this line of work? Were you recruited, like me? Or is that information like, highly classified?"

Chuck laughed. "I wasn't recruited. I was, sort of born into this. My business, well it's my family's business."

"So your parents, they were in the same line of work?"

"Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and all the ones before that."

"That must be a lot to live up to."

Chuck shrugged. "Well, not as hard as like being a master con artist, but yeah, it's gets a little overwhelming."

"Do you think I'll be good at this?" she asked. She wanted to know if she saw as having potential. If he thought she could do this. Because she wasn't actually sure. She'd handled so much in her life, but this was so much more."

"That depends," he told her. "When you walk into a room, do you see how to get trapped or how to get out alive?"

"Both."

"You'll be great."

They parted ways not soon after that, Chuck insisting that Sam get a good night sleep.

When she got back to her room at the dorms, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just gone on a date.

So this is really an in-between chapter. The real action starts in the next one. Please read a review.