Night's Tale


Author's Note: Previously on Chuck VS Season Four: Morgan, Alex, Devon and Ellie are kidnapped, captors unknown.


Morgan thought that his thumbs had hurt a lot, when he had broken them, for the love of his country, but this had to be ten times as worse. He desperately tried not to let his wrists rub against the ropes that tied him to the chair. The burn that existed on his wrists from trying to escape for the past two days was unbearable. He wished he could ask his friends if they had similar problems, but alas, all of their mouths were gagged.

Morgan wished he knew why Alex, Ellie, Devon and himself were all taken. He knew it had to do something with Chuck, and perhaps Operation Cygnus. That was what Chuck had asked him to look up, right before he was taken. He told himself that if they tried to force what he knew about Operation Cygnus out of him, he would withhold, he would keep Chuck safe, not tell them what he knew. But deep down, he thought of all the horrific torture scenes he had seen over the years, and if his captors had seen any of them, they would get the information out of him.

But Operation Cygnus only explained why Alex and him were there, he thought. Ellie and Awesome knew nothing about what Chuck was doing on his personal time. That led Morgan to think that they were there for blackmail purposes, to force Chuck, Casey and Sarah to do something.

Two days now they had been in this place. Once a day, they were allowed up, one at a time to use the restroom by a man dressed in all black with a ski mask on. They also were forced to eat in that time, and drink, the only food and water they would get all day. The man, or the Cylon, as Morgan had come to hatefully think of him, never talked, and didn't want to be talked too. Ellie had tried, the first time she was let free to go to the restroom, and her right cheek bore a huge bruise. Devon had gone ballistic when that happened, Morgan was afraid he might go insane.

That lead him to think of what had happened not three hours ago. It was Devon's turn to go to the restroom, and as he was walking towards the small bathroom connected to the enclosed interrogation like room they were being held in, the Cylon man behind him, Devon had quickly spun around on his heels and thrown a punch directly at the Cylon's face. The Cylon had sidestepped the punch as if Devon had told him he was going to do it beforehand. He grabbed Devon around the back of the neck and forced him to the ground, and kicked him in the ribs repeatedly. Devon's muffled grunts could be heard, and it was a sickening sound. Morgan had looked at Ellie while this was going on, and he could tell her wide, panicked eyes wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was a deer, caught in the headlights. And they all were a couple of rabbits, trapped in a damn cage. Freaking Cylons.


Hugo Longhi watched the prisoners on the 46 inch video screen. As expected they had been really easy to retrieve. The Fornax Group knew what it was doing. Now, if only they could put the prisoners to use.

Hugo paused, and thought back. Just a week ago, the thought of kidnapping people, innocent people, would have terrified the secetary. Than, Mr. Caplan had given him a gun, and with the sound of the bullet hitting the failed one's head, came Hugo's rebirth. He was a new man. What was kidnapping a few people, after you've killed someone? It couldn't get any worse. He looked at the prisoners again. Well, for them it could.

Using the people that Charles Bartowski cared about to get him to come into the lion's den was a brilliant move, and on that would work. Mr. Caplan was a brilliant man, for coming up with this plan. But the problem was, Bartowski, Walker and Casey had gone off the gird. They could not be found. And if they couldn't be found, than they had no idea that Bartowski's friends and family were being held. It was rather annoying.

But more annoying than that was the fact that they may have found something out, something about where Mary Bartowski was being held. Whereabouts unknown, they could be breaking her out of CIA custody right now, and that would not do. The Fornax Group must have her! They must, or Mr. Caplans twenty years of planning, and careful guiding, would go down the toilet. Hugo told himself, we will succeed. We will. He would not fail Mr. Caplan. He would not fail the Fornax Group. His life depended on it.


Chuck lay back against the tree in the clearing he had found for the whole night, never really falling asleep. Resting his eyes would be a better way to put it. He was exhausted, there was no doubt about that. He could sleep eight men's sleep. But, he was in the middle of an African forest where not ten hours previously, a tribe had attacked him and his team, his girlfriend, and now, he was alone. He dare not fall into a slumber. The problem with that was, it gave him time to think. Sarah, oh Sarah, where was she. Casey, slain in the line of duty, to protect Sarah and Chuck, to give them a chance. Tears fell from his eyes.

Over and over, he thought about these things, and his sister, and Morgan, as the air grew colder. It was so hot during the day, he couldn't believe it got this cold at night. He shivered nonstop, his bones still wet from his unwanted swim. He learned to adjust as dawn approached, and the beginnings of sunlight started to pour in through the trees in this forest that only grew because of the river that fed it. A few more moments resting my eyes, Chuck thought, and I'll get up and walk. Walk along the river. That'll have to take me somehow, hopefully to their camp. That was a revelation he had felt during the night. Sarah was in trouble. He knew it in his heart. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. So he must rescue her. There was no question in his heart, or his mind, for that matter.

As he lay there, eyes closed, sun coming out of it's hiding spot, Chuck's heart started racing. He had the feeling someone was watching him, that there was a presence, there with him. Chuck took deep breaths, shaking now from fear, not from the cold, and opened his eyes, than jumped up and back, against the tree. A large African stood before him. "Hi… um… who are you?" Chuck asked nervously.

The man smiled, and took a step closer. "I am a friend," he said in a deep, gentle voice. Chuck's dark eyes made contact with the stranger's bright green eyes, the greenest eyes Chuck had ever seen before. Chuck tilted his head back and his mind went blank of all senses and thoughts expect those that flashed through it…

-a picture of a light switch, painted red-

-a file with classified stamped on the cover-

-an image of a small tribal village-

-a silhouette of a man standing on a hill as the sun rose-

-back to the picture of the light switch, painted red-

Chuck gasped as he came out of the flash, breathing in deeply as if he had just been underwater, and devoid of air. His eyes made contact with the man once again, who was now looking at him curiously. "You are Eko Doleke, of the Dao-Fambetta Tribe."

The man shook his head in affirmation. "Yes, I am, but you may call me Sweet."

Sweet, as he wanted to be called, was a very big man. He stood about six inches taller than Chuck, and his shoulders were a lot broader. Chuck noticed that he wore no shoes, his tough, worn feet, hardened by years of tough terrain, were already as tough as hide. It look as though the man wore something similar to deerskin as pants, though Chuck thought it was made out of a hide of on the local animals, maybe a hyena or something similar. He wore a gray shirt that was covered in the dirt of the country, open done the middle, no buttons to close it. Big walking stick in his right hand, and a satchel around his back, Chuck almost laughed as his mind went to an African mailman. This Sweet was old, his hair, slightly more than a buzz cut, was gray, as was his beard that hung about three inches off his face. But despite his age, his back was straight, and Chuck had no doubt the man was in great physical shape.

"Ahh… Sweet," Chuck said nervously, still leaning back against the tree. "How did you get that nickname?" Keep him talking, find out if he's crazy, and what he wants, Chuck's mind told him, though his instincts were telling him that Mr. Sweet here was a good man.

"Your fellow countrymen gave it to me. They did not like saying Mr. Doleke over and over. You have lazy tongues." Sweet started walking, towards the river that Chuck had fallen in the evening before. When Chuck didn't follow, Sweet turned around, and beckoned to Chuck with his left hand. "Come."

Chuck hesitated. He had no idea who this man was. He was in the Intersect, which was enough of a rarity to be a caution flag for Chuck. However, he seemed like a good man. And if Mr. Sweet here could help Chuck find Sarah… well, Chuck would have signed his soul over to the devil for that to happen.

"I… I have to get my friend. She was… I'm sure she was taken."

Sweet paused, and wrinkled his nose. "Men on horses?"

Chuck nodded. "With guns."

Sweet did not react in a positive or negative manner, but Chuck thought he saw the man's shoulders slack for a split second, than he was back, standing taller than ever. "I'm sorry, friend, but the Azcliz's have her."

"The who," Chuck asked, confused.

"Let me think," Sweet said in his deep, yet somehow soft voice. "They are the Blackwater Group of Africa."

"Mercenaries," Chuck asked, surprised.

"Yes, that is the word."

"Well that's cute," Chuck said. It had to be that group he had flashed on, the Fornax Group, Chuck thought to himself. They had killed Marlordore Trinsburg, and now they were trying to kill him and his team.

"If by cute, you mean not good, than you are correct." Sweet turned and kept walking, again, towards the river.

"Wait, hold up," Chuck yelled, running up beside him. "I have to find her, I have to rescue her." "I know this," Sweet said, walking as they talked. "I will help you find your friend."

"Uh… thanks… you do know they are dangerous, right," Chuck asked the elderly man. He knew he probably shouldn't be reminding the man this, but he didn't want the man to get into his business unless he knew what might happen. Sure, the man may be working for the enemy, but if he was, he would take Chuck to Sarah, and if he wasn't, well, all the better.

"I know better than anyone," he said slowly.

Silence filled the forest for a few moments before Chuck once again spoke. "Do you know where their camp is?"

"Yes."

They reached the river, and Chuck was able to look at it in daylight for the first time. It was not as wild as he had remembered from the night before, but not tame enough to embarrass him. They started following it, downstream. Chuck remembered the previous night's swim. He would never be telling Casey that his mind had been forced to flash on how to swim, since he was panicking, that was for sure. A shot of pain shot up Chuck's chest as he remembered, all to quickly, that Casey wasn't around anymore for him to tell. God, how was he going to tell Alex? She had just met her father, and than he was taken from her. All because of him, all because of Chuck. If he wouldn't have asked for Casey's help…

"Why are you helping me," Chuck asked the man as they walked. He had to know, before he put another innocent soul, or he hoped an innocent soul, in jeopardy.

"Someone helped me out once. You remind me of this person I owe my life too."

Chuck thought about that. "You don't even know my name."

Sweet laughed. "I can keep calling you friend, or you can tell me your name, friend." He laughed again.

"My name is Chuck, Chuck Bartowski."

At that, Sweet stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at Chuck. He raised his left hand to Chuck's cheek. Chuck stood there, mesmerized. Tears flowed down the old man's cheek, out of his bright green eyes.

"You have your mother Mary's eyes, Chuck."


Thanks for reading, I really enjoyed writing the new character, Sweet, in this chapter, let me know what you think of him and the chapter. Thanks! :)