A/N: Sorry that this took forever to come out. Real life and writer's block teamed up to kick my ass. Thanks to those that favored this story and left reviews.

Chapter 10

Chuck was woken up to the sounds of klaxons wailing. For a moment he was confused, unsure where he was, how he got there and why somebody left a heavy duffle bag on top of him. For a moment he thought Anna decided to dump her laundry on top of him until memories of his kidnapping came back to him. He was in some unnamed government facility and he was fighting with some scary looking lady and... the rest was hazy. He was wondering how badly she clocked him when he looked down.

"Ahh!" he cried out as he realized that it was the woman with the gun laid on top of him. Faster than a speeding bullet, he managed to squirm from under her weight and crab-walked a few steps away. Chuck watched her for a moment, waiting for a reaction to the sudden movement. Nothing. Moving closer, he realized the woman wasn't moving. Chuck gathered his courage and checked her pulse to see if she was alive. Again, nothing. Whoever she was, she was dead now. As he rolled the woman onto her back, Chuck caught a glimpse of her face and was instantly hit with a familiar disorienting feeling. A flash! So he was uploaded with the accursed Intersect once more. But it was different this time.

Unlike in the past, where the information had been dumped into his conscious mind all at once, this time it was just a trickle. However, he was fully aware of the actual data, could perceive the individual words in the report instead of the hogpog of data he was used to being dumped into his brain. He could picture in his mind a report with a picture of the still woman at his feet and the alias "Jamie Sunderland" displayed in bold near the top. There wasn't much information available except for her being a former employee of the generically named Brant Waste Management Co. Chuck wondered for why the CIA was so keen on the place when the next Flash hit him. Just like that additional reports appeared in his mind's eye on the organization. There was a lot more information in these reports but one word stood out for Chuck: FULCRUM. The woman lying at his feet was a spy or something equally nasty for the dismantled rogue agency. And that meant...

"Wait, did I just cause myself to flash?" Chuck wondered out loud. He was so used to the process being triggered by pictures that the fact shocked him. Well, he'll have to figure that out later when he didn't have to worry about being shot, at least from whoever was working with the late Ms. Sunderland. Shaking himself from the odd interlude, Chuck continued his task of arranging the woman's body into a more dignified position. Once that was done, he headed over to the scientist that got shot. The man let out a groan and rolled onto his side before letting out a whimper. His wounded leg had banged into the table and blood was seeping out.

"Don't move!" Chuck hissed at the man. Realizing how harsh that sounded, he added, "Sorry that came out a little mean. It's just that you got shot and it's probably best not to agitate it more."

"Oh, that sounds very practical. Never been shot before, sounds like a real nasty business, "the mousey looking scientist mentioned to him. "Good thing I wasn't awake when that happened eh?"

"Hmmm... this guy is taking this all too well, like he lost a quarter in the couch, " Chuck thought to himself again. It was getting to be a habit with him. Chuck peered at the balding man's face and noticed the faraway look in his eyes. Dang, it looks like he was concussed on top of being shot.

"I'm happy to say that I haven't had the pleasure," Chuck quipped.

Chuck feel silent afterwards, as he focused on using what little medical knowledge he had to treat. Taking off his shirt, Chuck wrapped it around the man's leg as a makeshift tourniquet. Once he was done he turned to the dazed scientist and told him that they'd have to get out of there. If they could stumble onto the room then it stood to reason that the woman's partners could too. With his luck Chuck was certain they'd most definitely find them there. "Now where should they go?" Chuck thought to himself. Looking down at his patient, he could see that the man wasn't in the best of conditions. With the way he was bleeding there was no way Chuck's shirt would work for long as a bandage. Looks like they'd need to swing by the infirmary first, and Chuck couldn't think of anywhere better to hole up for awhile.

"Hey, you know where we can find the infirmary in the place?" Chuck asked.

"Let me think. A yes, you make a left at the intersection, then a right. Or was that another left? I seem to have some trouble recalling things right now. Who are you again?"

Chuck blurted out, "I'm Inspector Threepwood. I'm... I'm the flooring inspector the higher-ups sent over. " Truly an iron clad cover story, if he said so himself. "Listen, try not to think too hard. I think you hit your head earlier."

"Where are my manners? I'm Dr. Emmerich good sir. And I must say that I doubt that'll be a problem young man. I couldn't hold onto a thought with a pair of thongs."

Mmmh... that can't be good. If he could confuse the word "tongs" with "thongs", there's no way he'd remember where anything was with any accuracy. If only he could find a map to this place or at least a sign to get his bearings. The government facilities he'd interned in during his Stanford years had signs all around and if he was lucky the island location had some to... The thought was cut off as Chuck yelped, "Ack!"

The thought was cut off when another Flash came over him. Suddenly his mind was filled with the blue-prints and maps for this place, which was originally a meteorological survey station. His mind quickly took all of the various blue prints and notes on the place and immediately produced a workable map for him to use. And that was crazy in itself. Instead of just merely retrieving data, he compiled it into something new and useful. Just like a computer... Well he'd have to mull it over later. At least he knew where to go. "Better than Google Maps!" chuck thought out loud.

"Pardon moi?" groused Dr. Emmerich.

"Nothing, just remembered where it was. Just slipped my mind before," He quickly added before dragging the both of them towards the infirmary. No need to worry the man with the fact that an untold quantity of data got dumped in his head and was doing the weirdest of things up there.

Sarah stretched and allowed herself a satisfied grunt as her back made that cracking sound reminder her of walnuts for some reason. Shaw had finally come to take over and for once Sarah was thrilled to see his bland mug. And he even remembered to bring his cover wife a meal this time! He'd forgotten (or at least she hoped he'd forgotten) to get lunch and her stomach had been doing its best angry Casey impersonation all afternoon. Oh, she had planned to give him an earful about this all afternoon but as soon as the smell of the fresh pasta hit her senses her hunger won out over her indignation. At least that bonehead chef couldn't have messed up spaghetti, especially when the sauce obviously came from a can.

She'd wolfed down the entire bowl in less than a minute and had even licked the bowl clean before the 57 second mark. Sarah allowed herself a small smile as she imagined what Ellie's reaction would be if she could see her now. Just the look of unadulterated shock on the well mannered doctor's face would have been priceless to see if she was present for Sarah breaking Morgan's record for speed eating.

Now came the hard part: killing time. Sarah had sat the whole day out and was ready to go crazy with cabin fever. Sadly, she couldn't risk leaving the room without contradicting her alibi and she had already read over the reports to the point of memorization. She couldn't even do calisthenics without disrupting Shaw's monitoring and she certainly wasn't in the mood for one of Shaw's tiresome lectures. As she looked over the room, her eyes settled on the forgotten laptop she'd lugged over in the plane. It didn't have any of the surveillance software installed but it did have the usual computer programs on top of the standard security protocols. And as luck would have it, that set of programs included a web browser.

That website with the videos of the cats that Chuck showed her one time would be perfect for a time like this. What was it called... oh yes "Youtube". It was crazy how these websites seem to come out of the woodworks while she was away on missions. She entered in the address as she plugged in a pair of earbuds. Within a moment the website's main page had loaded up and she was greeted to a listing of various videos. She was about to type in "cats" when an image caught her eye. It was a picture of those two perverts Chuck used to work with at the Buymore and it had the unfortunate title "Jeffster does Kayne" on top. Clearly that wasn't an accident...

In a moment of temporary insanity, Sarah clicked on the video and was bombarded by the duo's version of a song she half remembered from the radio. It was simply dreadful and yet... and yet she couldn't tear her eyes from the screen. It was like watching a car crash into a lamppost: disgusting yet appealing to the darker curiosities in her soul. Her eyes caught the number the ridiculously high number of people that had watched this very same video and shook her head as she spied the number of "Likes" right beside it. At this rate Curry Breath and Ultra B.O. would go viral and there was nothing the C.D.C. could do against a plague like those two.

"Walker, we got movement!" Shaw curtly called back to her. Removing the earbuds, she slipped into the chair beside him and slipped the offered pair of headphones on her head. Two men were on the screen, one of them Montebloom and the other a man Sarah had never seen before.

"Care for a drink Mr. Anderson?" Montebloom asked his guest.

"Very kind of you Dom. A Coke would do nicely if you got one handy," Anderson replied with a vaguely English accent. Sarah mentally let out a breath of relief as she heard the man's voice. Whoever he was he certainly wasn't Bryce and thus wasn't her concern. With the flick of a wrist, Montebloom opened a previously unseen refrigerator and pulled a bottle out. Out of the corner of her eye Sarah could see the beginning of a frown on Shaw's face. The fridge door was designed to look exactly like a section of the wall and had done a perfect job of evading Shaw's notice. She turned her attention back to the screen as Mr. Anderson had taken his first drink.

"Just what the doctor ordered," he quip as he set his bottle down. "So, how's it going with that redhead you've been eying these past couple of weeks? You manage to sweet talk that fine piece into the sack yet?"

"I prefer if we could stick to business my friend," Montebloom reponded in a manner that tried to convey friendly nice and failed spectacularly. The frustration in his voice came through as clear as day to Sarah's ears.

"Probably for the best Dom. Any bird willing to dump that much hair dye all over herself probably isn't all up there if you catch my drift." Taking another pull from the bottle, Anderson looked in the direction of the window. "So, have the arrangements been made yet?"

"Yes, my men have taken care of the arrangements and they assure me that your shipment will be arriving in a day's time. I do admit that it's rather unusual to go through such lengths for such... trivial cargo when more conventional means exist."

"Oh, if only it was that easy. You know how big a bunch of sticklers the port authorities are here with the rules and you know how I hate wasted effort. Why should my employers have to expend the funds and time to haul the entire product to Florida and THEN send it here when they can just cut out the middle man and send it directly from China?"

"I understand your frustration with those archaic rules but you have to admit that we are going to such extreme lengths over a simple shipment of shirts," Montebloom brought up.

Anderson regarded his host with a look of patience before continuing. "Ah Dom, this isn't a load of rags the Yanks sell in those gaudy stores, these are top of the line Footie jerseys. With FIFA coming up and the tourist season in full force, there's something in the air in these fair islands." He paused for a moment as he sniffed the air. "And do you know that this? Money. Dollars and Euros and Pounds all migrating to the islands just waiting to be spent, and my employers got the ideal product for them. If we play nice with the boys in suit that money will have gone to parts unknown, leaving us in the ditch. And that Dominic is where you come in. Let's just say that if you scratch our back will most certainly scratch yours when the time comes."

"I never did understand this obsession for foot-ball, but I can appreciate the fervor that accompanies it." After pausing for a moment, Montebloom continued. "Very well, you shall hear no questions on the issue."

Standing up, Montebloom gestured to Anderson to do the same. "Now if that is all for business would you care to view the grounds? I fear that the air in here is still dusty after the ... renovations and it would be best if we get a breath of fresh air."

Anderson got to his feet and replied, "It'll be a pleasure Dom. I haven't seen your award winning cacti in a quiet sometime..." The rest of the conversation faded out as the two moved out of the bug's range. Shaw shook his head and turned to Sarah. "Do you buy that garbage about the jerseys Walker?"

"Not for a second. " For once she was agreeing with Shaw and the thought made her skin crawl. "It's probably narcotics from the sounds of things."

"I agree. I will personally alert the higher ups about this development. This is the Bureau's problem now. It is a shame that the Anderson lead was a dead end though but it probably was for the best."

"Why's that?" Sarah found herself asking Shaw. For all of his faults he wasn't the type that turned away from a job.

"Let us just say that your past relationship with rogue Agent Larkin was not as discreet as you would like to believe," Shaw said with a haughty airs. Sarah cursed silently to herself. The office drones were worse than the sewing circles her mother used to drag her to when it came to gossip. Shaw continued, "Needless to say, the personal attachment you have with Larkin, even as exhausted as it the reports lead me to believe, would be a hindrance when it came time to apprehend him. Hopefully the team that does find Larkin in the future won't have your handicap."

Just one more day, Sarah told herself. If you can avoid sticking that boor Shaw for one more day you can head back to L.A. and get your 2.5 years worth of smooches Chuck owes you. "Fair enough Special Agent Shaw," Sarah replied with mostly concealed disdain. "At least you won't have to deal with my 'handicaps' after today." Shaw however was not paying attention to her, already focusing on setting up a connection to HQ. Again Sarah wondered to herself how someone so blind to social niceties could be so accomplished as a field agent. Well, enough of Agent Bland, time to start packing up. Sarah was in the middle of pulling her suitcase out when Shaw spun around to face her.

"Bad news Walker," Shaw said levelly. "We got an alert: Blackwatch Plaid." Sarah was puzzled for a moment, until she remembered her refresher training. That was one of the newer protocols. When it was issued, any agents in the immediate area had to report to the closest CIA substation as soon as possible without compromising themselves. This one was reserved for only used in the most catastrophic of situations.

"Hmmm... I know there's an Orange Organge being used as a front in Honolulu but I'm not sure if there's a closer location, "Sarah added. The CIA favored that franchise for fronts since they always had food deliveries to the locations (perfect for concealing equipment transportation) and even the least domesticated agents could manage to make frozen yogurt. At least it wasn't another Weinerlicious. The smell of burnt corndogs still gave her the cold sweats.

"There is another location in the region, right on this Island actually. The front is of a pineapple processing plant. It is more obscure than some of the other ones but it is well stocked."

For reason the news of their rendezvous point made her stomach churn, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. "Right... It's about time you took your wife to see the sights Mr. Taylor. Being cooped up in here must be driving her nuts."

A look Sarah couldn't decipher spread across Shaw's face before his default bored look returned. "Good plan Walker. Mr. Montebloom wouldn't be suspicious if we head into head. The agency left a car for us in the area so transportation should not be a problem. Be ready in 10 minutes."

As Shaw trooped out of the room, Sarah retrieved her throwing knives and secured them to her customary hiding spots. Something in the message had spooked Shaw and that never was a good sign.

A/N: Guest Starring Ben Browden as Ryan Anderson. I know he had a bit role in season 5 but this is completely unrelated to that. The man that brought John Criton to life deserved a better role than generic goon #531 damn it!

As you probably noticed, the Intersect 2.0 works differently than it did season 3 and onwards. I went with this approach since I thought that it was more of a natural progression for the software to allow conscious (and more complete) retrieval of important data. Being able to not only upload skills into somebody but also the muscle memory to become an instant master of said skills seemed like too much of a jump to me, especially considering how much the research teams were struggling to figure the encoding process during the first 2 seasons.