A/N: This time I'm shaking my head. I wrote this chapter around eighteen months ago. It was to be a serious fic. A few days ago I decided that I would pick it up again. What happened…well….sometimes Chuck and Sarah do just exactly what Chuck and Sarah want to do. And these two are just a little extra in this one. No heartbreak for either, neither in the CIA, both of them around 21, they just are all over the place. So if you enter this, please know the tone completely changes next chapter. Guys, they're a lot. I mean…a lot. If you're here, buckle up, because it is insanity time. Sarah vs Piranha Ch 1
Disclaimer: It is more apparent than ever that I do NOT own Chuck.
Simi Valley, 1991
"Are you sure about this, Stephen?" Jack Burton seldom asked this to anyone willing to pay him. He preferred cons, but when it came to getting merchandise, he could. When it came to acquiring something for a fee, that was typically easy work, and Jack never passed on easy work. This job would require him to relocate, but it was about time to get out of California again. He and Emma… well, she thought something of him, and that was probably best.
"Jack, you are the only person that I know that can get this part for me without raising any red flags," Stephen Bartowski replied. They sat in a restaurant at a booth, each accompanied by a child. Stephen had learned about Jack from some of his friends in the CIA. Jack was known to be able to pull off any job, and had contacts everywhere that could get whatever you need. The two had bonded over learning what each was doing to help and protect their respective spouses. "That con you pulled last year in Butte, getting me the item I needed while everyone else was worried about the money? Brilliant."
Jack gave a head tilt, smirking, but then turned serious. "But if I do this, I'll have to disappear for a while. You know that. Then what will you do?"
Stephen looked over at his son, Chuck, and then Jack's daughter, Jenny. "I'll make sure they don't touch you. Jack, it's the only way to find my wife…" Jack looked away. "Have you told Emma the truth? Have you told her you stay away to protect her?"
"Have you told your kids why their mom is away?" Jack retorted. He looked over at the two children talking, ignoring the adults. "It's really pretty sad; if these two could have normal childhoods, they'd probably grow up, go to prom together, fall in love, the whole nine yards." Stephen nodded. "Who knows, maybe they'll figure it out one day, where we couldn't."
"You know what," Stephen said, looking at Chuck and Jenny. "Let's not do this. That way, you don't have to move."
"Nah, I need to get away for a while," Jack replied. "Wisconsin is nice this time of year," he quipped. Stephen chuckled. "Any ideas on a new name?"
"How do you feel about O'Connell?"
A little while later, the four left the restaurant. "Tell Chuckie bye, Jenny, we're gonna be leaving town again for a while."
"Dad, do we have to? Chuck's my best friend." The girl gave him her best pout and puppy dog eyes. Jack felt concern for whatever young man was going to win his daughter's heart one day, and then he stopped that thought mid-sentence. He did, somehow… he just did. Jack grinned.
Chuck was gonna have his hands full one day.
"Yeah, darlin', we gotta go," he said, ruffling her hair. Jenny slumped, and Chuck put his arm around her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. She spun on the young man and pulled him into a hug. Jack and Stephen exchanged a look. The two kids may have been young, but there was a bond. Jack tilted his head to the side, as if to quietly say Let's give them some privacy.
"I'm gonna miss you, Chuck," Jenny said softly.
"I'm gonna miss you, Jenny. But I will see you again, right?" Jenny pulled away and gave him a look. This life… as a 9-year-old, she already knew. There was a good chance she would never come back.
She gave him a sad smile. "I don't know, Chuck."
He gave her his trademark smile. "Jenny, I will see you again, and you know where to find me when you need someone."
"Chuck…"
"Jenny, you know," he said insistently. She kissed him on the lips, making his eyes widen, and then she turned and sprinted away. That was the last time Chuck Bartowski saw Jenny Burton.
-ooooo-
1998 San Diego
Ben Douglas parked his car, leaning his head back against the headrest, exhausted. If Emma knew he was trying to live an honest life… she wouldn't believe it. He had made a mistake years ago, crossing the wrong guy. He thought back to his days in the military. He had been the guy that could come up with any plan, he had been the guy that could get anything, and he had been the guy that could smell a con a mile away and blow it up before it ever happened. He hated guns; he would carry them, but hated them. He had made a huge mistake, and crossed Langston Graham. Graham was Spec Ops, and was so good at his job no one had a clue he was an operator until it was too late. Graham was on a mission, and Ben hadn't known that… hence why he created the alias Jack Burton.
Jack had been Benjamin Douglas, until he made the mistake of catching wind of an illegal shipment of arms. He and his unit had intercepted them. What Ben didn't know was that shipment was going to a group of guerrilla fighters to overthrow a government. The person in charge of that operation was Langston Graham. Langston assumed Ben was an upstanding citizen because of his time in the military. Ben used that assumption against Langston, and when he returned to the States and found out Graham was still after him, he'd changed his name to Jack Burton and began running cons. Jack understood cons, how they worked, how to blow someone else's up and sweep in and pick up the money and leave, and never being blamed.
Graham never paid for the shipment of guns since it was hijacked. Graham had managed to convince the warlord the whole thing was Ben's fault, and now the evil warlord that was selling those guns was after Benjamin Douglas. They'd never find him; he didn't exist anymore. Benjamin Douglas was a ghost, gone and buried.
Jack wondered some days if he shouldn't have been more careful. He wondered if he should have gotten married under a name other than Jack Burton, or name his kid Burton. The list of names was a mile long, but the beauty of everything was, Jenny's name truly was Jenny Burton. Jack had this system that looked so complex, but in reality, it was quite simple. It was like that episode of MacGyver, about how to get into a locked door. The trick was, the door was never locked in the first place; it just looked like it was, so every attempt to figure out how to open the door, resulted in locking it.
The passenger door opened, and a man slid in. "Drive!"
"What?"
"Jack, drive!"
Jack glanced over to find Stephen in the passenger seat. He threw the car in reverse, and took off like a shot. "What's going on?"
"They're after Jenny," Stephen said, his face pale.
"Oh, God, not my Angel!"
"Jack, it's time." Jack nodded, his gut twisting. "Over there," Stephen said, pointing toward the black van. Jack pulled up, and Stephen got out of the car. "Go, you know I have this. She knows what to do." Jack nodded and took off, placing his daughter's life in his friend's hands. Stephen watched him pull off, then got in the van, and drove back to Jack's house. He parked a bit away, and watched as federal agents raided the house. He saw Jenny's VW Rabbit pull up, slowly pass the house, and drive away. Stephen knew exactly where she was going.
-ooooo-
Jenny found the box quickly, having practiced the plan over the years. She quickly opened it, and found money, a note that said in case of emergency, and an earwig. Taped to the ear wig was a note that read, put me in, quickly! She put the earwig in her ear and heard a popping sound from it. She heard movement, grabbed the knife, and spun around, throwing it. The steel pierced the tree right in front of the man she'd heard.
"Nice toss," he said, removing the knife from the tree.
"Who are you?" Jenny asked.
"I'm the man who put your father in prison," the man said, playing with the knife in his hands. "The question is. who are you? In San Diego, you go by Jenny Burton. In Wisconsin, it's Katie O'Connell. In Cleveland, it's Rebecca Franko. Funny thing is, when I looked at your birth certificate-"
"I get your point," Jenny replied.
The ear bud crackled. "Jenny, my name is Orion, and I am a friend of your father. If you listen to me, I will get you out of this."
"What do you want?" Jenny asked.
"Oh, well done. Graham is going to wax poetic for a bit, that's his thing. When he's done, sweep his leg, and run back the way you came. There's no one near your car, and I've changed its license plate. Inside is a burner phone on which you can contact me. Your dad is not in prison. He is on the run. I am helping him, and I will help you if you let me."
As the voice was talking, Graham had begun. "Your father scammed some pretty dangerous people. I saved his life by putting him in jail."
"Well, don't expect a thank-you note," Jenny replied.
Graham stared at her. "I can save your life, too." Jenny held her arms out in front of her to be cuffed.
"No, not that way. Your dad trained you pretty well. The CIA can do even better. You like names so much, hmm? What do you think about Sarah Walker?" Graham offered her the knife, she reached for it, smiled, and swept Graham's leg, knocking him down.
"Here's what I think," Jenny replied, giving him the double-bird. She took off.
"JENNY!" Graham yelled from the ground.
"Good job, Jenny," Orion said into her ear.
"No, don't call me that," Jenny replied. "Jenny's gone. I wanna help dad, and I want to get back at Graham. I know who he is."
"How do you know about Langston Graham?" Orion asked.
"Dad talks in his sleep. We've had to be in too many hotels. Have Dad run, and from now on, call me Sarah."
"That will piss off Graham, make him chase you… oh, I get it. I get it."
"Where do I go?" she asked.
"Jen-"
"Sarah," she insisted.
"Sarah, you don't have to do this. You have a future. Your dad doesn't want this, and we can help you escape."
"Is there a way to get the price off of my dad's head?" Sarah asked.
"Yes, but it's dangerous."
"So is being wanted by the director of the CIA," she replied.
Orion sighed. "Okay, I'll help you." Sarah started the car and took off.
-ooooo-
2003
The burner phone rang, and Jack stared at it. He picked it up, wondering what kind of news it could be. "Jack we have a problem," Stephen said. Jack hung his head. "Wait, let me back up: She's alright, for now."
"Are you trying to give me a damn heart attack Stephen?" Jack asked. "What is the problem?"
"Vaas Montenegro has offered Sarah a way to finally get out of the contract," Stephen began. "She has to bring in the hacker that drained his bank accounts."
"So she doesn't have to kill or anything?"
"No, in fact this hacker is a wanted man."
"Great!" Jack said, happy. "How can I help find him?"
"Oh, I know exactly where he is," Stephen replied.
"You do? Then what are we… oh… oh shit."
"Yeah," Stephen replied.
"What are you gonna do, Stephen?"
"I'm going to help her find Piranha," Stephen replied.
-ooooo-
"ORION!" Sarah yelled into the comms. "What the hell has gone wrong?"
"Time has run out, Sarah. You have to bring in Piranha. Vaas Montenegro is sending his thugs after you."
Sarah dodged another haymaker, kicking the man in the inside of his knee. He dropped to the ground, and she brought her elbow around, crushing the attacker's nose. She spun to find there were two more. She brought her foot down down, flipping up the trash can lid that had been laying on the ground. She grabbed it, and hurled it at one of the two oncoming thugs, catching him across the bridge of the nose and eyes. The other thug pulled out his gun.
"Orion, he has a gun," Sarah said softly. The other man was starting to get up, but he was woozy. "Orion?"
"Take out the earpiece," the thug with the gun said, pointing it at her.
"Sarah, find Chuck Bartowski, he's at Stanford University," Orion said just before she took the earpiece out.
"Give it here," the thug said, motioning with the gun.
"If you want it," she said in a sing-song voice, tossing it into the air. As the thug with the gun watched the earwig go into the air, his hands followed. Sarah began to run, then slid on the ground, on her knees, thanking God for the reinforced areas of her combat suit. She slid to a stop just in front of the thug, and punched him directly in his mommy-daddy button. The gun went flying, and the thug made a strangled, howling noise. She shot her hand up, hitting him in the throat. Using that momentum, she sprung backwards, her foot catching him in the face, knocking him backwards, as well. She stood, smiling, and that's when the shot rang out.
The thug she had hit with the garbage can lid had grabbed the gun and shot her in the leg. She hit the ground, and her opponent smashed his foot down on the earwig, smashing it. She held her leg, applying pressure to the wound, terror on her face.
"Hands up," the thug ordered. She did, using the motion to fling the knife she had retrieved from its hiding place in her pants, burying it in the thug's throat. She rose, gingerly, and tore a piece of the thug's shirt off to use as a battlefield dressing. She retrieved her knife, wiping it on her target's chest, then headed for her vehicle.
She had to find Chuck Bartowski, the name ringing in her ears. It couldn't be the same Chuck, could it?
-ooooo-
"Chuck, when are you gonna ask me out?" the brunette asked, as she sat on Bryce's bed in his and Chuck's room.
"Jill, my asking you out is just trouble for both of us. Trouble we don't need," Chuck replied.
"Aw, Chuck," Jill began, as a knock sounded on the door.
Chuck walked over, turning his head over his shoulder as he began to open it. "It's not you, Jill. I'm just not someone you wanna date." He turned back around, and stood transfixed, staring at the woman in front of him. Her leg was bleeding, and there were multiple cuts and bruises on her face, but her eyes had his attention. He knew those eyes. He had seen them in his mind for nearly twelve years.
"Jenny?" he whispered.
"You said if I needed someone…" she trailed off as she fell into him, having passed out.
"JENNY!"
A/N: Does Vaas Montenegro sound familiar? Then you played FarCry 3. Next time:
"I need to get this bullet out of you," he told her. "It's going to hurt." He held up a belt for her to bite into.
He watched her eyes eventually focus on the belt. "Damn, you get kinky fast," she muttered, trying to stay conscious.
"I haven't even got your pants off yet," Chuck told her, trying to keep the mood light.
*smacks palm to forehead* Send help. Seriously. Help.