Chapter Two - Roads To Discovery

The road that led to the old basement was not a well maintained one. The Avalanche bumped up and down on pavement that had last been treated more than twenty years ago. Small rocks and pebbles graced it now, along with puddles from the now diminshing rain showers, and every time the car would move up or down, Chuck Bartowski's head would flop. Eyes closed in his unconsciousness, dried blood making his brown curls sticky, he lay in the back while the man dressed in dark colors pulled off the back road, and into a small field.

Jumping out of the car, the man grimaced as he inspected the damage by moonlight. His scarred fingers ran across small divets where rocks had flown up and pecked away at the paint. "Big boss man's gonna pay for that," he muttered as he walked around to the trunk. "He'd better not stiff me. Don't see how he can have the money he promised, when he's out here in the sticks rather then in the city." As the dark dressed man pulled open the back hatchet, a voice came from behind him.

"It didn't occur to you that I wanted my privacy," asked a suprisingly deep voice. The man dressed in black turned around to see his employer. The man was about six feet tall, but that was the only thing that could ever be used to describe him. He wore a tux, with black gloves to cover his hands and a black ski mask covering his head. A flashlight shined from his right hand. In the twenty minutes that the man who had kidapped Chuck had known his boss, he had never seen a inch of the man's skin.

"Just as long as I get my money, I could care less where you live."

"Do you have the package?"

The hired help turned his head and nodded at the trunk.

"Get him out. Bring him in." The boss then turned around and walked towards an old oak. Bending down he grabbed a handle that would be impossible to spot in perfect daylight unless you knew where it was, and pulled up. A wooden door, aged by years of weather swung up, unveiling a set of wooden stairs, also hurt by the conditions. Under his mask, the boss smiled, a rare thing. Some would say it was luck that he found this old church basement way out here in the wild, the perfect spot to unleash his plan, but he didn't believe in luck. He had found it because it was he who did it. He never failed. He started down the dark steps, turning back when he was four steps down to shine his flashlight in the direction of the car. "You coming?"

The large man grunted as he picked up Chuck, and slung him over his shoulder. "I don't see you carrying anything. It's dead weight, man."

The boss glared at the man he had hired, though no one could see it under his mask. "Don't drop him. He'd better be alive. I know your... track record with bringing people in."

The man smiled as he walked towards his boss. "Then you know I always do the job. And this one was the easiest I've had in a long time."

The boss started to walk down the steps again. They creaked and moaned as his feet made contact with them. "Like I said, you like to kill. Chuck Bartowski had better be alive."

"It's easier that way. But don't worry, your guy is alive." The man started down the steps, barly able to make it through while holding Chuck's limp body. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That is my business," the boss snapped as he reached the bottom of the steps and flicked the light switch he had installed. A single light bulb lit the whole room; it was not large, maybe twice the size of a normal family's living room. A large chest sat in one corner, with a table in the middle and a bed in the other corner. He turned around to see his employee was at the bottom of the steps. "Put him on the bed."

The man complied, talking as he did so. "You know, I'd like to know the name of the man I'm working for. Makes me feel better." He threw Chuck off his shoulder and roughly onto the bed, where Chuck lay haphazardly placed. As the hired help did that, he did not hear his boss walk up behind him. He turned around as he spoke. "You could just tell me your first..." He was cut off as a blade cut into his chest, piercing his heart. The man's eyes dropped to the knife, then up to the eyes of his boss, who had removed his mask. There were no mercy in those eyes.

"My name is Nicholas," he said, licking his lips. He pulled the knife out and thrust it in again, and the giant of a man fell to his knees, then hit the floor, coughing up blood as his face made contact with the hard packed soil. Nicholas stared down at him as his body stopped moving. He grabbed the back of the dead man's shirt and pulled him out of the way. "Not that I couldn't pay you, of course, but nobody can know we are here." Nicholas threw the body into an available corner, out of the way. "Not that anyone will miss you." A groan made the man move his eyes from the corpse to Chuck, who was starting to stir.

"Well, we can't have that just yet, I'm afraid." Nichoas walked over to his chest, and pulling a key out of his pocket, he opened it. Inside, among many other things, was a good sized brown bottle. Nicholas pulled it out along with a rag. Wetting the rag with the substance in the bottle, he walked over to Chuck and sat on the bed beside him. Chuck's eyes flickered, and Nicholas quickly put the rag over his mouth and nose. In a matter of seconds, he was out again.

Nicholas tossed the rag to the corner where the corpse lay. He would have to dispose of that before he allowed his guest to wake. He ran his gloved fingers down Chuck's cheek and smiled again. Today was a really good day. "I'm so glad you are here, Mr. Bartowski. You and the Intersect." Fire gleamed in the man's eyes as he put his mask back on. "We are going to have so much fun!"

Casey yawned as he drove his new car down the highway, the early morning rays of the sun shining in his baggy eyes. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. Sleep was snatched whenever he could grab it, and that meant none at all last night. And it was all for nothing! He grunted, looking around at his new Monte Carlo. Well, okay, maybe not all for nothing.

He had gotten a call last night from an analyst that worked in DC. An anaylst that was high up, and knew everything that went on in the NSA. Everything except Team Chuck and the Intersect, that was. The guy was someone that anyone else would have considered a friend, and Casey guessed that Brick was the closest thing he had to one. He almost trusted him. But he had called Casey, and told him he was near LA; would he like to come visit? Brick knew Casey was on a mission in LA, and that was it. Normally, Casey would have turned him down, (he was in the middle of a job) but he thought he may be able to get some information out of Brick, mission related data, so he had left Sarah in charge of watching Chuck for the night, and he had taken off on a short road trip.

The time had been wasted. The cab out was slow and the driver smelled. And all Brick wanted to do was trade stories and gossip like a woman. Brick was Beckman's most trusted advisor, and Casey wanted to know what she was thinking. He had to know. He had questioned Brick for two hours last night without Brick even knowing he was doing it. And it had proved unfruitful. Casey had gotten no clues about what Beckman planned to do with the human Intersect once the beta Intersect was up and running. Casey slapped his steering wheel with his hand. All he knew was what Beckman had told him at Christmas. Casey was afraid that the new Intersect was close to being completed. He was even more afraid of what he would do when he got the orders to kill Chuck. Afraid of both options. This was a no win situation for him. That was why he had went to meet Brick. He was desperate; grasping at straws; something he was not used too. He had to find a way out of this. He had too.

As much as he hated to admit it, Chuck had grown on him. Like a wart grows on a big toe, a wart that won't go away, but still, a wart Casey didn't want to get rid of. Chuck had not asked for this duty. It was shoved upon him. And against all odds, the man was doing it. Starting out, Casey was sure this nerd wouldn't last a week, but he had been proven wrong. The guy was a freak of nature, always concerned about everyone else, always trying to help. Casey looked down at the gun sitting on the passangers seat. Would he kill Chuck? He didn't know. But he couldn't wait around till the orders came, that was for sure.

As Casey turned into the residental area near where Chuck lived, he saw a sign for hot dogs, and Walker came to mind. There was another problem. She was an extremely capable agent, especially for a female. She was better then most males, actually, but Casey would never admit that. If only she could get over this whole thing with Chuck. Casey grunted. When she had asked him about family, he thought his eyes would bulge out. Casey wasn't sure if those two had anything going on, but he had to keep his eyes open. It could hurt them on a mission. He shook his head as he pulled into the apartment complex. He knew Chuck had feelings for Sarah, but he didn't know if Sarah had feelings for Chuck, or rather just the idea that was Chuck, what Chuck represented. Stability, family, calm. Or, in other words, the opposite of what her agent life was life. Until Casey knew for sure how she felt about Chuck, his hands were tied. He could warn her, but that only carried so much weight. Casey jumped out of the car and slammed the door. This whole thing was a freaking mess.

Casey walked to the front door and knocked twice. A couple of seconds later, Devon answered, shirtless once again.

"Hey John," Devon said, with a big grin on his face. "What's up?"

"Morning," Casey said, forcing a smile. He could be polite, if he wanted to be. "I was heading for work, and I thought I'd give Chuck a ride. Gas prices these days, you know."

"Doing the car pool thing, hey? That's awesome."

Casey managed not to roll his eyes.

"I'm sorry John, but Chuck's not here." Devon then smiled, and Casey knew something was up. Panic ripped through him. Where was the little squirt?

"Did he leave already?"

"He didn't come home at all last night." Devon slapped Casey on the shoulder, then leaned in to talk to him. "I think Sarah and him are getting the freaky deaky on, if you know what I mean. Awesome, huh?"

Casey stood there in a state of shock. "He is at Sarah's?"

Devon shook his head up and down. "Where else would he be? Looks like he finally took my advice. I've never been so proud." He slapped Casey on the shoulder. "Don't yell at him if he is tired at work, they were more than likely going at it all night, with how long they have held it off." Devon walked back inside. "See ya John."

Casey stared at the closed door for a second, then took off towards his new car, the replacement car. There's no way, he thought to himself. Or is there? The second I leave, Walker goes and gets him, and they... It was making more sense by the mintute. He was going to kill both of them! That would solve all his problems.

Casey's Monte Carlo ripped across the road, making the trip to Walker's a lot quicker than the speed limit allowed. He bounded up the stairs three at a time until he reached Walker's green door. Without losing his stride, he kicked it open. He went in screaming.

"What the hell are you two doing?!"

Walker groggily sat up and removed her sleeping mask. "What are you talking about Casey?"

Casey stared at the bed. Walker was the only person in it. "Where is Chuck?"

Sarah looked at her alarm clock. "He should be heading to work. Why did you murder my door? You could just knock, you know."

Casey glared at her. "He didn't spend the night at home. You were suppposed to be watching him, where is he?"

Sarah got up out of bed, stretching her arms and exposing her tanned belly button as she did so. "What do you mean he wasn't at home?"

"He did not spend the night there. Where is he? Why don't you know where he is?"

Sarah glanced at Casey, and her cheeks turned a bit red. "I guess I dozed off."

Casey couldn't believe this. "Dozed off? Come on Walker!"

It was Sarah's turn to get mad. "Why are you over-reacting so much? There are lots of reasons Chuck may have spent the night somewhere else, and they are all legitimate."

"And I can think of some not so good reasons as well," Casey retorted. "I leave here for one night, and everything goes to hell!"

Sarah reached onto her nightstand and picked up her cell phone. "I can solve this right now, if you would stop yelling. I'm calling him."

"Put it on speaker."

Sarah glared at him, but did it. The phone rang once, then someone picked it up. Sarah smiled saracastically at Casey as if to say "I told you so." The smile went away as soon as the person on the other end spoke.

"Special Agent Walker, I believe?"

Sarah's and Casey's eyes both got huge as they stared at the phone, and the deep voice that had just came out of it. Casey ran over to stand beside Sarah. He spoke into the phone. "Who is this" he asked roughly.

"That doesn't matter," the voice said. "What matters is I have Mr. Bartowski on a bed right here beside me, and if you want him to live, you will do as I say."

Sarah and Casey looked at each other. Trouble brewed in their eyes.