summary: Exhausted from the events with her mother, the baby, and Ryker, Sarah takes a break and turns down Graham's next assignment. With her not there to intervene, Casey's Intersect plan is realized- Chuck is thrown into a bunker. When she learns the truth through a twist of fate, Sarah realizes all she missed out on in not taking that mission, and the gift she never got to know. Discovering the bunker has isolated Chuck and shut down the Intersect, she decides she only has one choice: to fix it. What she finds in him, and he in her, might just change both of their lives.

note: Here's some development. Thanks for all the reviews and comments etc., super appreciating them over here. Please review this one too!

disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, hoodies, coffee mugs, or phone calls.

The second time Sarah enters Chuck's quarters within the bunker, she's supposed to be there, which she's sure is a step up. The palm and retinal scans no longer confuse her, the voice recognition is quick and simple, and she steps behind the sliding door and into Chuck's hallway just as she'd expected. Which is about the only part of the past few days she truly has expected.

Because Chuck has a government supercomputer in his brain, the only remaining remnant of it, and he knows but can't remember every single government and international secret unless it's inexplicably triggered within his mind. Which is just... absolutely crazy.

Although she hadn't known it, when Sarah had been scheduled to fly to Burbank and find Chuck Bartowski, it had been due to his tenuous connection to Bryce Larkin. A fading trace signature of a lone email sent by Bryce to his former college roommate. That's all the CIA had on him, some weak link to a rogue agent who'd blown up the DNI and stolen a supercomputer database. If she'd known the connection to her former-ish partner, Sarah really might have gone right away, but Graham had conveniently left that part out back then. And Bryce had never mentioned Chuck; why would he? They could've been the closest of best friends in college, but he was part of Bryce's real life, once, and so nobody could know about him. Even with a partner you're close to, date, even, you can't share anything real about your life. The people you know, or used to know.

And so, clueless in so many ways, Sarah had turned down the job and headed to Spain instead.

When Casey, and Sarah's replacement Agent Jones, had found Chuck, it took them a while to figure out what had happened. Sarah doesn't begrudge the delay; it's hard to even think about this as something real and not something completely and utterly crazy. That Bryce had sent Chuck, this Nerd Herd civilian, the entirety of the Intersect, the whole supercomputer and all its data encoded in images, and somehow those images had been downloaded into Chuck's brain. He's a walking, talking supercomputer, the data coming to him through the encoded images, triggered by a face, a photo, a phrase, anything familiar that brings up a memory.

But it's not working that great at the moment. At first, it'd been a goldmine, the first mission with Casey and Jones a whirlwind trip through LA, stopping a bomb with a combination of Chuck's Intersect knowledge and, judging by the report, his very un-CIA computer knowhow, too. A porn virus, combined with Intersect technology, to defuse a bomb and save Los Angeles. It's insanity, but it worked.

All that ease, all that intuition and brains, to Sarah it would've screamed potential. It so clearly pointed toward a different approach, something other than usual asset protocol, the understanding that such crazy, new technology, couldn't work in a bunker like other assets do. Who knows what triggers the memories- or what would lead to Chuck cracking?

But Jones had voted with Casey, and Chuck was put in a bunker, moved to D.C., away from his home and loved ones and normal life. Though the first few weeks of him perusing files and intelligence had yielded a few good leads, it's dried up recently.

And apparently nobody knows why. This whole science is new and confusing, according to the research Sarah had done last night, but she's confused about all that, too. Nobody had expected the computer to be able to be downloaded into a human brain, yet they're suspiciously able to study and track Chuck so well already. The data was encoded into images, but the computer itself mined for chatter- so why the encoding? Why enable the ability for such data to be compressed? And how can such encoding work so easily in someone's brain? Its ability to do that can't just be accidental.

There's something missing to it all, Sarah knows, but whatever it is, Graham didn't tell her, and it's not in the files she's read either. Clearly, she's not supposed to know. Which is as unnerving as it is expected, from her always generous employers. For now, though, she can't look deeper into all the pieces that don't quite add up. Not when she's still only temporarily on this assignment, and not when there's so much at stake.

Either way, the flashes work in person, Chuck seeing a face or an object, hearing a phrase, and the scientists who have been reporting from afar suspect that the insular bunker life isn't helping matters thanks to the little exposure their asset gets to more than just printed files and photographs. But Sarah also thinks it's due to Chuck simply just being so isolated. Alone. His only visitors in months beside herself, have been Casey, who she's heard has the conversational ability of an ant, and the analysts who drop off information every day.

Chuck is cracking, and to Sarah, it's not unexpected. She could've seen it coming a mile off; she certainly would never have voted to bunker him right away.

So she has three weeks to get the computer working, get Chuck working again, or he stays here, alone, and she goes back to the field, leaving yet another innocent hurt thanks to the agency. And she's not sure she can live with that on her conscience, not when she's the reason he's here in the first place.

Swallowing, she looks around the blank, empty hallway, and takes a deep breath.

"Chuck?" she calls out, wondering if he's in his office again. It's a Saturday today, and Graham had assured her that Chuck does get days off, but she's not completely confident on that.

And she wants him to be more relaxed, not working, resting and taking time for himself, here.

She's here to break the news to him, that she's working with him, handling him, trying to help with what she'd initially done wrong those months ago. It was the one thing she'd insisted to Graham that she do, that she be the one to tell Chuck. If she's to help, they need to get along, she needs to be there, for him. It's an unusual relationship for a handler to have with an asset, but if she's right the way she thinks she is, Chuck isn't flashing because he's alone, here, taken from his family. Such a personable, open guy, so suddenly isolated- she thinks he could use a friend.

She almost thinks she could use one, too.

But she's a spy, and such things are never allowed of agents. She gave up her chance at a normal life years ago when Graham recruited her.

Sighing, she waits in the hall, wanting Chuck to come to her rather than walking right into his space.

"Hello?" he calls, just like before, and after a beat the door on the left opens this time, his head of curls popping out. She watches as confusion melts rather sweetly into surprise. "Oh, Agent Walker!"

He sounds pleasantly surprised, even, which is quite nice. And since he'd come from the left side of his bunker, she presumes he really isn't working today.

"Hi, Chuck. It's- it's just Sarah." she insists, immediately wanting to put an end to that kind of formality. All formality, frankly.

He beams, then, nose crinkling rather adorably, and she ignores the warmth that makes her feel.

"Okay." He nods happily, body language relaxed and open. Welcoming. "I, uh, I didn't think I'd see you again."

She finds herself smiling softly at him, shrugging a little.
"I actually wanted to talk to you, if that's okay."

His eyes widening a little in curiosity, he steps back, waving her into this second space.
"Sure. Come, come in. Sorry it's, uh, kinda a mess. Bunker and all, I don't exactly get visitors."

Sending him a smile, she steps into what, she sees, is Chuck's living area. Far bigger than the office room, at least, it's got an open plan living room and kitchen, a large TV (though with CIA monitoring and limitations she's sure), and two other doors presumably for a bathroom and bedroom. In a corner stands a treadmill, clearly for the only exercise she supposes he gets, since his sole other option for a workout would just be walking from room to room. And, contrary to his word, it's not that messy. A few plates sit around, there's a hoodie tossed on the couch, an open DVD case on the floor by the TV and some kind of games console attached, but there's so little else to clutter up the space at all. It's pretty bare. The walls are wide and plain and stark, no artwork, posters, nothing personal. No books on shelves, no trinkets for decoration, apart from two lone photographs in frames. Chuck, in a red Stanford t-shirt with a very proud-looking brunette by his side in one frame, and a group shot of them with two others in another frame.

That's it.

"It's nice," she lies, just to be polite, and Chuck snorts a laugh.

"It's not, but I appreciate you being kind about it anyways. Can I- Would you like a drink, or something? I have coffee..."

"Uh, sure, yeah, coffee would be nice."

His answering grin is enough to make her glad she chose that.

He seems happy to have something to do, racing to the kitchen and setting up the coffee machine, tugging out two mugs from a cupboard. They're plain white. Impersonal. She wonders if he's ever even used both before; she can't imagine Casey's visits include friendly drinks. He hums a little as he sets it up, bobbing his head a bit, and once the coffees are done, Chuck heads to the couch, sitting in one corner, the cushions there squished and used. Sarah takes the other side, neat, never touched.

"So, I talked to my boss, Graham, about you," she begins, and Chuck raises an eyebrow curiously.

"Uh..."

Giggling at that, she shifts toward him.

"Nothing bad, I swear," she promises. "I asked about your operation, why you're here, why your first handler just... left. He filled in some gaps for me."

Chuck sighs, gulps down his coffee a moment before sobering.

"It wasn't Agent Jones' fault, I guess. I just- I couldn't take it, the way she suddenly switched." Sarah sends him a curious look, not interrupting, and he shrugs. "We were on this date and it was... okay. Not great, but I don't date much- didn't."

He swallows at that, the change to the past tense, and Sarah feels a pang of sympathy as she realizes why he's done that. It's like he thinks his whole life will now just be this bunker, nothing else. He clears his throat, continuing.

"There was no connection, y'know? And she was kind of a dick to the servers at the restaurant we were at, she tried way too hard to push me on questions. She would be totally uninterested one minute, but then way too into me the next. And she came on so strong at this club that I just told her it wasn't working, and I tried to leave. So she pulled a gun, just... out of nowhere. Scared the shit out of me. And then Casey found us, and she didn't know if he was trying to kill me or not, so we had to run. We got to higher ground and she just... immediately started threatening me, my family, forcing me to tell her everything when I didn't even know what was happening to me. I already thought I was losing my fuckin' mind and then my date pulled a gun. She just, like, snapped, totally different to the woman I'd been with all night. I thought I was going crazy, y'know? Knowing all this government stuff, not knowing how or why... She didn't... she didn't help that. Casey was the only one who got through to me, actually. He worked out I'd realized there was a bomb, he got me focused, knew we had to stop it."

"But then?" Sarah prompts, sipping her own coffee and knowing there must be more.

Nodding, Chuck sighs.

"Then after it all, I heard them discussing what to do with me. Jones, she suggested they just tell my sister that I had died. That it was easier for everyone if I just disappeared. And I just, I lost it. After that night and where my head was at, and after how much Ellie and I struggled as kids, the idea of her being told that... I got angry. I tried to tell them I wouldn't go anywhere, that the government needed me, not the other way around. I guess I got kinda cocky, and she didn't like it." He sighs, looking guilty for a minute though she can't fathom why. He was right, from what Sarah knows, how Graham has acted, all she's read. The government do need him. And usually, yes, assets just disappear. But not in every case. It didn't have to be that way with Chuck, and he was right to call it out. To change it. Realizing his worth and standing up for it shouldn't have been a bad thing for him. "Not that it matters much now, Jones is gone, Casey only stops by every couple weeks with NSA stuff, and I'm not flashing..." Trailing off, he looks at her, eyes wide, and she picks up what he's thinking. The things he's just admitted.

"Graham read me in, Chuck, don't worry."

"Oh, thank god," he breathes out, rubbing a hand over his face. "I never see anyone, sorry, I just rambled all that at you."

She smiles at him, reassuringly, she hopes, taking the opening he's just offered.
"Well, that's kind of why I'm here."

"To... let me ramble at you?" he asks, and once more she finds herself giggling, especially when he laughs too.

"Not quite," she says after a moment. "But this, you, it was supposed to be my assignment, and I passed on it, and now you're stuck here and the Intersect isn't working. So I want to help. I want to be your handler, Chuck."

His face falls, oddly blank, jaw dropping.
"What... why?"

Something tugs inside her at that. That of all the questions he could have, his first, most instinctual, is simply to wonder why she wants this. Why, she presumes, she'd want to be in a bunker, with him.

"Well, for one, I'm in this base recovering for three more weeks at least, anyway," she says, but that's very much not why she's here. "And... I suppose I feel responsible, honestly. I'm part of why you're here, why Agent Jones was sent to you instead."

Chuck blinks, a little stunned, she thinks, but then he shifts closer, sets his coffee down, turns to her all so rapidly, so fast.

"No, c'mon, you couldn't have known, Sarah. You turned down some nerd who got sent an email from Bryce Larkin, not a guy with a computer in his head who needed protecting."

"Maybe so," she admits, finishing her drink and leaning into him a little, naturally. "But I also have a theory. I'm not a scientist, and maybe I'm way off-base, but... uprooting you, here, leaving you by yourself underground to trawl through information, taking you away from everything you knew, everyone you know and love... I don't think that's helping you."

"I..." He blinks again, this time, she thinks, to clear the tears she can see clouding his eyes. "That doesn't sound like a very CIA thought- no offense."

Well, saving an infant in danger and handing them over to her mother wasn't a very CIA thing to do either, Sarah muses. But maybe that's just who she's becoming, in this world. Not quite the CIA. Just someone who works for them, but who still believes in the people she's supposed to protect. In every day, normal, nerdy civilians, who've just been dealt a shitty hand.

"It's what I think, it's my way," she murmurs, and Chuck looks up at her with a soft, soft smile, so warm and open it sends something spinning within her chest, content. Him. "I've been in this life long enough I know how things usually are, but that doesn't mean I agree with them. I've... Well, things change."

She smiles tightly, and, almost like he's sensing something there, he swallows, nodding a little.

"So what do we do, what does having you as a, uh, a handler, entail?" he asks, and she nods, thinks of the plan she'd worked out with Graham yesterday.

"I'll come to you with new intel every day, and we'll work through it together. If you flash and it's something we can follow up on, you're coming with me."

"Out of the bunker?" Chuck asks, jaw dropping, and something twists within her at how stunned he is at simply being able to leave this place.

Because, of course, he can't. Or he couldn't, until right now.

"Yes," she reassures. "Only if it's safe, obviously, we won't be chasing terrorists, but if you flash on, like, the location of a meet, important intel, we'll follow it up in person, taking a team if we need to. That way, if anything related to it makes you flash, you can tell us right away, or act on it- like the bomb in LA." He nods, and she smiles, continuing. "One thing the scientists did say about what happened in LA was that you can flash on physical things a lot, too? Rather than just files?"

"Yeah... It was people, buildings, that kinda thing."

"Well." Sarah says a little sourly. "You can't really do that in here, so I thought once a week we should head out anyway, just for a walk for a break from here, even if you haven't flashed. We're in D.C., there's bound to be current dangers here all the time. Even a walk around the base up top will do you good." He nods, looking a bit lost, but she continues, trusting him to get through it. "I also got approval from Graham to allow you contact with your family more often, not just one call every two weeks. The contact will still be monitored, and you'll still have to pretend you're working for a software company, but you can call whoever you want, every day, if you like."

Chuck just gapes at her again.

"Wait, what?" he asks, and she pauses, wondering what wasn't clear.

"Uh, you can-"

"No, just- Morgan, Ellie... I can call them whenever?"

Oh. She nods, seeing as he looks around, away from her, clearly overwhelmed or something similar. When he gulps a bit, some innate... force in her, makes her reach out for him for quick reassurance. But he reaches for her first, grasping her fingers and squeezing tight, firm, his skin hot. She swallows, holds tight in return.

"If it had been my choice, that would've never been something I stopped. The restrictions they put on you here- you were right to fight when you did, in LA," she says, and he looks at her in confusion. "The government do need you. And they never should've used your family against you to make you give in to this. Threatening your sister, cutting you off here- none of that was right. Not for any asset, but especially not for you. I need you to know that what you said, to Jones and Casey, it was totally right."

He blinks, jaw dropping a little, and she realizes quite how insistent, determined she just was.

"I... Um."

"Sorry," she says with a wince. At that moment she realizes his hand is still in hers, and she pulls away fast, ignoring the heat she feels rising in her cheeks. "That's... that's not the biggest thing, here, obviously. But I wanted you to know."

He swallows, nods a little.

"I... Honestly, I don't even know what to say- about anything."

"That's okay. I know it's a lot," she admits. "And it's not all perfect, you'll still have to be here, and if Casey brings you intel that you flash on we'll have to follow up with the NSA too, but it's the best I could do, for now. If it works, if you start flashing again, we can try for more."

"I... Why?" he asks again, so breathless and stunned. And for a moment, she thinks on it. "Why would you do all this?"

She could answer as she did before, her guilt about passing on the assignment. She could even be more honest and say how she's doubted enough in this job, and she can't stand by and let this happen to him. But instead, looking at him, his soft smile, this so genuine so real and sweet man, she finds herself smiling at him.

"Because I might not know you, Chuck, but I know you deserve better than this. The government is treating you like any other asset, but you're not, and not just because of what's inside your head. You're just a civilian, you're not trained for this, you- you didn't run through a gifted program that geared you up for the agency like an analyst, you weren't scouted, you didn't ask for any of this. All you did was open an email, and have an amazing brain. Uprooting you from your life... it isn't right. And I've seen too much in this job that isn't right. So if I can help to stop it, I will."

He smiles at her, so soft again, his eyes crinkling if not his nose this time, and she can't help but smile in return. He reaches out again, squeezing her hand light, brief.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and she nods. And this time, when his hand leaves hers, she pretends she doesn't feel so cold, so strange without his touch.

They chat a little more, have more coffee as Sarah talks him through certain things, and he shares more about the life he'd left behind, his sister, his best friend Morgan. Graham had covered the bases, but as Chuck tells her about all these people, about his crazy old coworkers at the Buy More, about Captain Awesome, and as Sarah laughs at the ridiculous impossible stories, the more she knows she was right. Chuck being here is the worst possible thing for the Intersect. And certainly the worst thing for him, Chuck Bartowski, human being.

And when he's back flashing properly, when this is back to normal, Sarah knows she's going to do everything she can to get Chuck back there, to LA and to his family. For the sake of the mission, yes, to make this a proper operation, too, but also just for him. Because she's only met him twice, but she just knows, he deserves so much better than this.

And while she doesn't know quite why yet, she does know she's going to fight for this. For him. It's her way.

As he walks the short distance to his door with Sarah, Chuck pretends he can't feel the sheer weight of everything they've just been through, that he's just been through, bearing down upon him.

Sarah is his new handler. She's going to take him out of the bunker, she's going to try to get the Intersect working properly, not by isolating him or forcing him to read page after page of reports and logs, but by letting him breathe, talking to him... handling him. She's arranged for him to be able to call anyone, any time, not just his sister every two weeks.

Just one quick meeting with her, and she's done all of this. For him, for some reason.

Maybe it's some kind of professional duty, maybe guilt he doesn't understand about her turning down the mission initially- but he gets why she did that. Like he told her, when the CIA first found him, all they knew was that Bryce Larkin had sent him some form of communication, an email. They didn't know it was the entirety of the Intersect, they didn't know what had happened with that email, that it'd been uploaded into his brain, and they definitely didn't know that he could use the thing like nobody expected him to. Turning down such a vague connection as a rogue agent sending an email to a college roommate- Chuck understands why Sarah did that.

And yet, that kind of guilt, or apology for her choice, that wasn't the only reason she'd given for choosing to be his handler. She'd also said she thought he didn't deserve this, that she thought he should get to be back with his family... And Chuck can't quite recall when he's been so moved by someone else's perception of him, before.

Swallowing, he shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts, as they slow by his front door just a second later.

"Well, I'll, uh, see you Monday morning, I guess?" he asks, and she nods with a soft grin.

"Yeah, you will. Have a good weekend- try and relax. I can't imagine flashing is much fun, and hopefully you'll be doing a lot of that, soon."

He snorts, shakes his head.

"Not like there's much to do to tire me out, but you got it. I'll try and limit the video game time."

She laughs lightly, nodding.

"Okay. I'll, um, I'll be here at around nine, see what we can do. And don't worry if nothing happens yet- you've been down here in the same routine for so long, shaking things up might be an adjustment in itself."

"Maybe," he nods. "But it also sounds really good right about now." She giggles at that, and he does too, before she stands, pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

"I'll see you Monday, Chuck."

She says it so assuredly, determinedly, he just nods.

"Yeah. Have... have a good weekend."

Her eyebrows raise a little, in surprise, he thinks.

"Oh." She blinks. "Oh, yeah, thank you."

He wonders idly what's so surprising about wishing her a good weekend. Is such a courtesy unusual for her, maybe as a spy? He hopes not, but then, down here, he's come to know courtesies are few and far between in this life.

Regardless, she's turned away before he can say more, reaching for the door handle and then looking over her shoulder at him.

"Bye," she murmurs, and he smiles at her, nods.

"Bye, Sarah."

And with that, she's gone.

But for the first time since he's been here, the departure of someone from his quarters feels... okay, actually. Since he got here, every time Major Casey or an analyst has left, Chuck has felt this distant sense of dread fill him, at knowing he'll be entirely alone until they next appear. But not now. Yes, he'll be alone until Sarah returns on Monday- but now he's looking forward to her being here. As company, with a new approach to what he does here, as someone who has actually seen him, and wanted to help.

In fact, he just feels a strange sense of excitement. Relief in spades, too. But mainly quiet excitement and anticipation over it all.

With a nod, he heads back to his quarters, turning on the TV. He skips past the news and turns to that single music station he gets. Turning the tunes down low, he heads over to the phone set up by the kitchen counter, lifting it up and dialing a familiar number.

Sure enough, it begins to ring. When he's tried this before outside of his allocated time, the call hasn't connected, only the dial tone blaring aggressively.

And yet today it's ringing. Already. Thanks to Sarah.

"Chuck?"

He grins at his sister's voice, complete surprise and all.

"Hey, sis."

"I- It's not Sunday night, next week, why-"

He chuckles lightly at her sheer confusion.

"What, can't a guy call his sister on a whim?"

It's an oddly moving question to him. Because until very recently, he very much couldn't do that.

Ellie laughs a little, and he can imagine the look on her face as she shakes her head.

"Any time, little brother, you know that. I'm just surprised, I mean, you said how much you were working and how little time you had to call, it's been months now..."

"I know, I know, sis," he murmurs down the line, holding back a sigh. She's trying her best and he knows it, but there's a hint of hurt within her voice at his decision. It was out of his hands, but she doesn't know that. And he understands her hurt. From being so close to each other, growing up how they did, living together, and then having to cut their interactions down to one short, set phone call every two weeks... Chewing on his lip, he makes up an excuse on the fly. "But I miss you, El. And I'm way more settled at work, I've got a handle on things way better than I did at first. I don't wanna just have to call you when we decided, y'know?"

"I miss you too, little brother," she says softly, affection thick in her voice, and god, he really does miss her suddenly. What he'd give for an Ellie Bartowski hug right about now. "So! This is exciting, it's been less than a week- what's happened with you?"

"Uhhh, not much," he admits, that part being true at least. He chews on his lip, wondering quite what to say. And how to say it. He's got a cover, being here, a job at a software company that snapped him up overnight, casual lies spun and spun every time Ellie asked, just because he couldn't tell the truth. But now... there's something else he could say. Maybe. If he covers that, too. He swallows, finds himself smiling. "But I've got a new... coworker, who seems pretty nice. And I think work is maybe gonna change things up, for the better, break up the workload a bit."

"That's good." She tuts. "I worry about you, sometimes- you sound so tired most times we talk."

"That's because it's always a Sunday, right before work starts again, nobody likes that." She hums at that, and he keeps going before she can respond. "Anyway, enough about me- how are you?"

"I'm good. I'm, um, I'm thinking about applying for the neurology fellowship, at USC."

He gapes a little.

"Oh my god, El, you've wanted that since Grade School."

"I know," she laughs a little. "This is the first time I've been looking into it, properly. There's a lot involved, a lot of work I'll have to do just to apply, with no gieranree I'll get it, but... it feels like I could do all that work. And me and Devon are both in really great places at the hospital, you're over there and happy... It feels like a good time."

He swallows, smiling in spite of the slight pain he feels too.

Because her mentioning him and his work specifically, tells Chuck she probably wouldn't be considering this if he were still at home, in Burbank, at the Buy More. If she still had to worry about him.

And of course, his reasons for being here are a lie. He hasn't gotten himself a great job at a software company, he isn't finally doing what he loves and getting paid for it. He hasn't finally gotten over Stanford and Bryce- in fact, the man landed him in this mess, like one final act of malice against him, for some unknown reason. It's all a façade, and Ellie can never know.

But his sister is happy. And right now, to Chuck, that's all that matters. In this world of lies and danger and spies and missions, he holds onto that one thing he knows he'll always root for, always believe in. The reason, in a way, he agreed in a heartbeat to come here when her life was threatened, when the pain of his fake death was hanging in the balance: Ellie's happiness. He'll always choose that.

So he grins, nods, encourages her, and they talk for almost an hour all told, catching up, reminiscing. It's like old times. Before.

When they hang up, and that strange, no-longer-lonely silence falls around him, Chuck sits back against the couch, wondering idly what he's feeling right now.

He thinks it just might be hope.

note: Boop, now everyone's on the same page and in the know, woo. Please review!