Disclaimer: 'Chuck' and all its affiliated characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. This fiction is written for entertainment only. No profit was made. Not by me, at any rate.

A/N: Only a year and a half between updates. Relatively speaking, that's not bad!

~o~o~o~

[Six Weeks Ago]
Echo Park, California

The sun was little more than a faint glow on the horizon when Devon finally got back to the apartment he shared with Ellie. Making his way through the bushes as quietly as he could, he slipped in via the infamous Morgan Door and crept through the darkened apartment.

Following Bryce's directions, he shed his bloodied clothes, stuffed them in a garbage bag and hid them in the toilet tank. Rooting through the laundry hamper for the filthiest t-shirt and sweatpants combo he could find, he pulled them on while fighting the urge to gag at the sour combination of stale beer and body odor that wafted off them. Hurrying to the living room, he grabbed the three nearest unopened beers, chugged all of them in quick succession, and sprawled out on the couch to wait.

Devon hated waiting. He'd always hated it, and this was the worst kind; waiting for something that only might happen.

After the ambulance, he and Bryce had made their way back into the city as unobtrusively as they could. Even as he was laying here, the other man was transporting Chuck to some off-the-books safehouse he had tucked away. Because of course he had an off-the-books safehouse. As badly as Devon had wanted to accompany them, though, his part wasn't over yet.

He still had to make sure no one suspected his involvement, so if anyone came knocking it was critical that they find him here, just as drunk and messy as the last time they checked.

It was nearly noon when someone knocked sharply on the door, jerking Devon out of the half-dozing state he'd been in. Taking a deep breath as he approached the door, he pulled it open to reveal a uniformed LAPD officer. Playing the drunk to a hilt, Devon leaned forward, squinting as he exhaled a hefty cloud of second-hand beer breath in the shorter man's direction. "What?"

To his credit, the officer barely flinched. "Good morning, sir. Are you Mr. Devon Woodcombe?"

"Doctor Woodcombe." Devon corrected.

"Right. Sorry." The officer apologized, not very sincerely. "I was hoping you'd be willing to answer a few questions for me?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Where were you last night?"

Devon wordlessly gestured at the apartment behind him.

"All night?"

"Yeah."

"May I ask what you were doing?"

"Drinking, mostly."

The officer eyed Devon's dirty clothes and seemed to accept that answer. "Did you happen to notice any unusual activity outside? Maybe see someone who looked like they we're trying to hide?"

"No." Between the stress and the lack of sleep, Devon wasn't having any trouble putting on an annoyed expression. "What's this about anyway?"

"We got a report of a car-jacking that took place last night, right across the street. A man and a woman were attacked, and their van was stolen."

"Sucks to be them, I guess." Devon managed to send another reasonably potent beer belch wafting into the officer's face. "Sorry."

For his part, the cop was beginning to look a little green around the gills. "That's...uh... Did you have any visitors last night?"

Taking a step back, Devon waved a hand at the filthy apartment. "What do you think?"

"Right. Thank you, sir. Have a nice day." With that, the officer bid a hasty retreat.

"Sure. Whatever." Closing the door, Devon gently rest his head on its cool surface as he tried to get a grip on the last 12 hours.

~o~o~o~

[The Previous Evening]
Echo Park, California

"Hey Bryce? Wake up." Chuck gently shook his old friend's shoulder, rousing him from his brief nap. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Sarah began gathering the others back around the pile of mismatched documents and scribbled notes that only loosely resembled a plan.

"Wha?!" The spy sat up, looking around frantically. "Chuck? What's going on? How long was I asleep?"

"About fifteen minutes. Sorry."

"Seriously? What could you possibly want?"

"We're gonna get back to it in a minute, but I was just thinking about the good old days at Stanford. You remember that game we were coding in our spare time; Zork IV: Attack of the Copyright Infringement? I actually still have it."

"What are you...?"

"I'm serious." Chuck interrupted, gesturing behind him. "I've been tinkering with it over the years, too. It's still buggy as hell, but I can show you what I've got if you like? Y'know, for old time's sake?"

"Honestly, I'd rather still be asleep." Bryce stood and stretched, wincing as a half-dozen joints popped at once. "But now that I'm awake I may as well have a look."

Taking a second to assure the others they'd be right back, Chuck led his old friend down the hall to his former room, closing the gently enough to not attract unwanted attention. It looked like it had been in a half-packed state for at least a couple of months, but it still contained everything he'd left behind when he'd turned fugitive. Despite that, Chuck made no move toward either the desktop computer or the laptop sitting nearby.

Watching the other man wearily take a seat on the corner of the bed, Bryce pinned him with an unimpressed glare. "Okay, what gives? We never programmed any game at Stanford."

"Yeah. I just needed to talk to you alone for a second."

His expression shifting slightly, Bryce dropped into the desk chair. "Well, we're alone. What's up?"

"Okay, so...here's the thing. You and I both know that even if we do manage to pull this off, it won't really change anything." Chuck nodded toward the other room. "As long as someone thinks they can get to me through them, they're all going to be in danger."

"They could just leave town." Bryce countered. "It wouldn't be too hard to put together the necessary documents for them to go under the radar."

"So they can spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder? We both know what it's like on the run, man. I can't do that to them."

"Well, what's the alternative?"

"I have a plan...sort of. It's a little crazy, but it should keep them safe." Chuck sighed heavily. "It's part of the reason I came to get Devon. I needed a surgeon."

"I really don't like the direction this is heading in." Bryce eyed his friend suspiciously. "This isn't some kind of plastic surgery thing, is it? Because that whole bit from that Face/Off movie doesn't actually work."

"Gee, now you tell me." Chuck muttered, rolling his eyes. "There goes my whole plan. Next you're going to tell me that the Six-Million-Dollar Man isn't real either."

"That depends. What's your clearance level again?" The spy smiled faintly.

"Federal fugitive?"

"Then no, the Six-Million-Dollar Man isn't real. What's this plan of yours?"

Taking a deep breath, Chuck took a second to gather his thoughts. "Okay, I first need to emphasize that I have thought this through, and it's probably not as crazy as it sounds."

"That's not an encouraging start."

Chuck laughed nervously. "Now, you should know that I fully appreciate the irony when I say this; for this plan to work, I need you to..."

"You need me to...?"

Chuck sighed. "I need you to shoot me."

"You need me..." Bryce repeated slowly. "...to shoot you."

"That's right."

"Like, with a gun?"

"Yes."

"Again?"

"Dammit, Bryce..."

"Excuse me for being a little skeptical, considering how much you complain every time I do shoot you."

"Are you going to do it or not?"

"We have a messed-up friendship, you know that?"

Chuck didn't respond, tapping his foot impatiently.

"What about Sarah?" Bryce tried to keep his voice low. "Why can't she shoot you? As much as it pains me to admit it, she's a way better shot than I am."

"She doesn't know about this plan, and it's going to stay that way."

"Keeping secrets isn't part of a healthy relationship, you know."

"Did those words seriously just come out of your mouth?" Chuck laughed. "Look, if everything goes according to plan, she'll have plenty of time to yell at me later."

Bryce looked away uncertainly. "Chuck..."

"Can I count on you or not?"

"...fine. I'll shoot you if it's so damn important." He leaned forward, glaring at Chuck. "Seriously though, this is the last time."

"No argument here. Of course, now comes the really tough part." He stood, gesturing for Bryce to stay where he was. "I'm gonna go get Devon. I have a feeling he'll be a little tougher to convince."

~o~o~o~

"Wait. Hold on." The doctor eyed the two of them warily. "Did you just say you're planning to get shot? Like, that's the preferred outcome here?"

Chuck shrugged, laughing awkwardly. "Pretty much."

"Dude."

Separating Devon from the rest of the group have proven easier that Chuck had anticipated; all it took was a simple request to speak privately. Unfortunately, that was where 'easy' ended. Once they'd rejoined Bryce, Check had carefully walked Devon through the details of his plan – twice. He'd covered off on all the important facts, explained his reasoning, and even deferred to Bryce's own experience. Despite all that, however, a half-hour had passed and the older man remained unconvinced.

"Devon, I know this seems crazy. I really do." Bryce assured him. "But the kind of people we're dealing with here are ruthless on a level you can't even imagine. They play for keeps, and they won't hesitate to kill us all to keep their secrets hidden."

"And your solution is to shoot Chuck before they get the chance?"

"Buddy, I have gone over this and over this." Groaning, Chuck rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I need you to trust me when I say that the only way the rest of you stay safe is if I 'get killed' and the rest of you play dumb."

"The air quotes aren't convincing me to take this crap seriously, bro."

"Oh, for the love of..." Chuck leaned in. "Look, this is one of those do or die moments. I need your help on this one. This will work, but even if everything goes right, there's still going to be a bullet wound that needs to be treated."

"Yeah? Well there's already a foolproof treatment for those. It's called not getting shot in the first place!" Devon snapped. "Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't tell Sarah about your stupid plan and let her sort you two out herself."

"Because you need both of us." Chuck countered. "And she's not going to be able to change my mind."

"But..."

"Y'know what? I'm done arguing with you. This is happening. Are you in or are you out?"

Devon didn't say anything for a long moment, then let out a long-suffering sigh. "Dammit."

~o~o~o~

"Okay, you'll want to aim high and to the right; his right, not yours." Devon emphasized. "Avoid everything below the rib cage. Gut shots are nasty and almost always get infected. Don't hit right on the sternum; shatter that and we'll have a whole world of problems to deal with."

"I think I know how to shoot someone." Bryce quipped, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he checked the magazine and worked the MP5's action.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No, I'm not a doctor." He responded dryly.

"Then shut it." Devon growled. "Look, just imagine a triangle between his collarbone, nipple and sternum. That's where the armor is; that's where he's expecting it. Hit him in the middle of that, and it should slow the bullet down enough to prevent any permanent damage."

"I'm aware of how Kevlar works, Devon. Go start the ambulance and I'll be there in a second."

"You're sure?"

"Seriously, don't worry." Leaning into the railing surrounding their rooftop perch, Bryce peered along the weapon's sights and waited for his target to appear. "I got this."

~o~o~o~

[Five Weeks Ago]
Long Beach, California

"Don't worry, he says." Devon mimicked quietly as the reviewed Chuck's vital signs. "I got this."

"I can hear you." Bryce growled from his position near the window.

"I know." The surgeon sniped back.

Lifting the bandage that concealed nearly a third of the man's head, Devon gently pressed his fingertip on the long row of stitches. He was please to find that the wound was healing nicely; there didn't seem to be any kind of infection. That was a refreshing piece of good news, considering that most of Chuck's treatment had taken place in a warehouse office that rated about two points above 'filthy'.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Chuck began to stir, eyes opening hesitantly. After a second, the younger man began to sit up and Devon gently pushed him back down. "Easy, bro. Just take it easy."

"Ellie...okay?" Chuck muttered, and Devon suppressed a relieved sigh. Chuck had been in and out of consciousness for the last few days, but this was the first time he said anything coherent. It didn't rule out brain damage entirely, but it was still a positive sign.

"She's safe, bro. Thanks to you."

"S'good." The younger man nodded weakly. "Sarah?"

Devon hesitated, glancing up at Bryce, and forced a smile. "Last time I saw her, she was just fine."

"Where..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

"Where are we?" Devon guessed.

Chuck nodded again.

"Seems that Bryce here keeps a safehouse in Long Beach." The doctor glanced at Bryce over his shoulder. "Though I guess old 'Bullseye' Larkin's idea of safety doesn't include avoiding tetanus."

Though the spy's jaw clenched visibly, he chose not to respond.

Looking back down, Devon grimaced at Chuck's confused expression. "I'll fill you in later, buddy. For now, just get some rest. Cool?"

"Yeah...cool." His small amount of strength spent, Chuck's eyes fluttered shut and he went back to sleep.

~o~o~o~

[Four Weeks Ago]
Long Beach, California

"So, what's the plan?"

"That's easy." Chuck winced as he eased himself into a sitting position. "The plan is that I'm ending this, one way or another."

"Okay." Bryce nodded patiently. "That's a little vague. Maybe you could share some more of the fine details?"

"I'm going to rescue Sarah, tear down Project Horizon, and make the people behind it rue the day they ever heard the name Bartowski."

"I see. And you're going to accomplish these things...how, exactly?"

"It's complicated."

"Right." The ex-spy hesitated before continuing. "Chuck, maybe you should..."

"Shut up, Bryce." Devon interrupted as he came into the room. "You shot him in the head; you don't get a vote."

"Alright, y'know what, Woodcombe?" Bryce growled, rising angrily from his seat. "Let's settle this."

"Guys!" Chuck interrupted, gently massaging his temples as he felt yet another migraine coming on. "I don't care how pissed you two are at each other; please stop making me be the grown-up here."

"But he..." Devon started to say before Chuck cut him off again.

"He is a highly trained intelligence agent with years of experience in covert operations. He knows what he's doing, and you can count on him at least ninety-nine percent of the time." Chuck fixed Bryce with a glare before the spy could object, pointing meaningfully to the long row of stiches running along his own head. "I know you're mad , but you need to let it go. Bryce fucked up and he knows it. He's already beating himself up, so quit piling on."

Smirking, Bryce returned to his seat as he none-too-subtly flipped Devon the bird.

"Cut it out, Bryce." Chuck scowled. "As qualified as you might be, Devon is way smarter than you. He's also probably in better shape too, so stop treating him like a nuisance. I really need the two of you to work together here. Got it?"

The pair briefly went back to glaring at one another, but Devon relented first and held out his hand. "Sorry for acting like a dick, man."

Sighing, Bryce lifted his own hand and shook Devon's. "Me too."

"That was a really touching moment, you guys." Chuck smiled. "I mean that."

"Very funny." Bryce quipped. "Now like I was saying..."

"I'm not letting this go, Bryce."

"Alright, alright. Well, then make with the details so I don't think you've completely lost your marbles."

Despite himself, Chuck smiled as he retrieved a notepad from the table beside his cot. "Fair enough. First of all, if I'm even going to consider doing anything about Project Horizon, I'm going to need Sarah's help."

"I think I've spotted your first hitch, buddy."

"That Sarah is most likely being held by an unknown agency in an unknown location?"

"Yeah, assuming she's even still al..."

"Don't go there, Bryce." Chuck warned. "There's actually a silver lining there. Whichever agency is detaining her, they wouldn't risk holding her in a regular prison. She'd probably escape before dinner, right?"

Bryce nodded, begrudgingly.

"Which means there's a pretty short list of places they could be holding her, doesn't it?"

Bryce nodded again. "Yeah, probably. But..."

"Then we're going to find out where she's being held and stage ourselves a good old-fashioned prison break."

"Come on, Chuck. You have to realize it's not going to be that easy. That short list of yours includes places like ADX Florence in the Colorado Rockies, or possibly one of the classified ultra-secure black sites scattered around the country."

Devon snorted. "So? We managed to break Ellie out of one of those."

"No, Devon, we didn't." Bryce insisted. "That was a secure site, but it was still above board. They were in the middle of a city, and they had an agent sitting at the front desk."

"These black sites don't?"

"Nope. You wouldn't even know you were in one until someone shot you in the back of the head for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well, shit." Devon muttered. "What if they sent her to Guantanamo Bay or something?"

"No, there's people there who might recognize her." Bryce shook his head. "Either way, if these kinds of places have one thing in common, it's that they're just as tough to get into as they are to get out of."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, do you have any way of narrowing down the list?" Chuck gestured to the map displayed on his laptop. "Because I doubt we have time to go traipsing all over the damn country."

"Maybe, but..."

"But what?"

"Look, Chuck. I may still have a few resources on the inside, but there's a limit to what they can do for me and the info you're after isn't the kind of thing people leave laying around." Bryce gave his old friend a serious look. "I'll be asking them to commit outright treason. Even if they can give me anything, I'll never be able to go to them for help again."

Chuck stood shakily, glaring at the former spy. "Bryce, maybe I haven't reminded you of this enough; the day you emailed me the Intersect is the day you fucked up my entire life. So how about a little less negativity and a little more helping?"

~o~o~o~

[Three Weeks Ago]
Long Beach, California

"You guys ready to go?"

Bryce glanced up to see Chuck standing in the doorway. He still looked a little shaky, but at least he was back on his feet. "Yeah, we'll be leaving after your funeral next week."

"Can you not say it like that? It's creepy." Chuck laughed, pretending to shudder. "You're sure about where you're going? I mean... Facility 9? For an NSA Black Site, it doesn't sound very interesting."

"That's probably the idea. Besides, my source said that of all the likely sites, it's the only one that's seen any change in their security procedures in the last month. Then he told me never to contact him again and hung up." Bryce shrugged. "It's not a lot to go on, but it's the best we've got. Makes sense, though. West Virginia has hundreds of places like Black Ridge. Every time a coal mine closes, the town around it just dries up. Buying one out and setting up shop would be an easy way to hide in plain sight."

"If you say so. Just don't go getting into any trouble before I get there."

"I'll try my best." He pointed to Chuck's head. "How're you doing?"

"Better. I haven't flashed at all in the last couple of days."

Bryce winced, remembering earlier in the week when Chuck had flashed on a news story and spent the next hour suffering from a splitting migraine. Even though it had been better than the day after Chuck had started speaking again, when Bryce had mentioned something that set off a flash and the injured man spent the next three hours curled in a whimpering ball, it was still something to avoided.

"Well, that's a good sign."

"I guess. Might make my part in this whole plan a little tricky."

"Yeah. Remind me why you aren't coming with us again?"

"I've got to go recruit someone. I've also got to go head off a potential problem." Chuck answered vaguely. "On that point, have you got any favors you can call in at the Department of Corrections?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. I might. Why?"

"I need you to set up a prisoner transfer. Something relatively low security."

"Oh, sure. Why not?" Shaking his head in disbelief, Bryce pulled a small well-worn address book from his pocket. "Why don't I just get you a fucking attack chopper while we're at it?"

"Bryce..."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. Who're you after?"

"One of the inmates in Montana State Prison, about three hours southwest of Great Falls. He's in for conspiracy to defraud." Chuck grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote down the details. "His name is Jack Burton."

~o~o~o~

[Last Week]
Malmstrom AFB, Montana

"Damn." Jack muttered, watching Casey pull the young man into the house. Shaking his head, he winced at the memory of the kid's scream. It was a wonder no one came running. "I really hope this kid knows what he's doing."

Outside the small and unremarkable house, Jack Burton did his best to look nonchalant. Luckily, acting like he belonged somewhere when he didn't was a skill set he'd been practicing for over thirty years. Taking a seat in Casey's recently vacated chair, he settled in and waited for the kid to give him the all clear.

Jack wished he could say this was the most complex and potentially lethal situation he'd ever found himself in, but that title belonged to the Guarez-Takashi deal. Helping himself to a beer from Casey's cooler, he took a moment to reflect on the stunningly bold operation - convincing a Triad cell and a Columbian cartel that each of them was buying guns from the other, then transferring all the funds to a third-party account and vanishing. It'd been a rush, but not one he'd care to repeat. Particularly since the only way to keep his head firmly attached was to make a deal with the feds. It'd landed him in prison, but at least he was alive.

Of course, what did he do when he was finally released? He tried to sell a building he didn't own to Sheik Rajiv Amad. And once again, he nearly got killed in the process. It was his own fault for trying to do the job solo, and it landed him back in prison for another six months. After that, Jack had decided that he was done. No more scams, no more cons. He'd finally accepted that it was time to retire before his luck ran out.

Then this Chuck kid showed up and told him his daughter needed him.

What else was he supposed to do?

~o~o~o~

End Chapter III