Second chapter of Chuck Versus The World is up. Hopefully this chapter will be a little more satisifying than the last one. I just want to say a massive thank you to my Beta reader, DanaPAH, who really helped me along and made this chapter waaaaay better than it originally was. She even let me leave in the British spellings of words!

Anyway, please leave some reviews! They would be much appreciated.

Chapter 2

The Worst Day Since Yesterday

May 10th, 2007

Central Intelligence Agency

Langely, Virginia

10:37 EST

Sarah Walker hated waiting. She really didn't have the patience for the situation she was in now. It was different on missions, when patience could be the crucial difference between success and failure, and sometimes her survival. Being patient in those situations was a means to be end, not to mention a necessity. But all this bureaucracy she was having to put up with really wasn't worth her patience. The metal chair she was sitting in wasn't particularly comfortable, either, its curvature forcing her to sit bolt upright. However, that didn't seem to be bothering her partner, who was sitting in a similar chair on the opposite side of the hallway, who was looking impassively at the floor, his expression unreadable. Well, if anything was actually bothering Bryce Larkin he was unlikely to show it.

"Sarah, stop worrying," she heard him say, dragging her back from her thoughts.

He had looked up from the floor and was nodding to her left side.

Sarah turned to see her left hand was restlessly tapping against the chair. She stopped it, annoyed that Bryce had noticed her obvious tell.

Forcing herself to take a breath, she gave her partner a small smile. "Sorry, I just don't like to wait."

Bryce nodded, not bothering to return her smile. "We'll both be fine. The committee has our testimony and we're both going to be in the clear. This hearing is just a formality."

With that he went back to staring at the floor.

Since they had got back from the mission, Bryce had been acting cold and distant towards her - no, actually it had started long before the mission. They had been working together for just over two years now and had been, well, more than that for little under a year. To say things were complicated between them was an understatement. True, a lot of their relationship was built on that heat-of-the-moment adrenaline that came with their line of work, but she cared about Bryce. At least she thought she did. She liked to think he cared about her too.

Maybe he was finally getting bored with her. Like everyone did.

But emotions aside, she didn't know how he could be so confident about the outcome of the hearing. They had spent the last seven days being quizzed about the mission. About what had gone wrong. Sure, the mission had been a bust, quite a large one at that, but did it really warrant a full inquiry ordered by the Director himself? After all, the secondary team had managed to complete the objective after her team had failed to do so.

Her team. It wasn't actually her team. It was Bryce's team. Even though they both held the same level of clearance, the Director had made it quite clear to them that Bryce in charge, and that she was to follow his orders.

That had bothered her more than it should.

Right before that meeting she had meet the other member of Bryce's team. It had been a strange encounter, as the man before her didn't immediately strike her as a field agent. Bryce had introduced him as Charles Bartowski, saying that they went way back. Charles - or Chuck he has politely insisted she call him - had bumbled slightly when standing up to shake her hand. His lanky limbs had looked uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing. Something in his eyes had seemed different.

Chuck had remained largely quiet during the briefing with Graham and after, when Bryce was out of earshot, she had asked him how he knew Bryce. Chuck had mumbled something about them both going to college together, not looking at her. She decided not to pursue the subject, sensing his reluctance to discuss the subject, and made a mental note to ask Bryce about him later. But she never got the chance to before the mission.

10 days ago, they had arrived in Columbia. They had been tasked with destroying a remote training camp belong to the guerilla movement Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia - the FARC, located deep in the Colombian jungle. It had been a black operation, meaning their could be no evidence of any CIA involvment whatsoever. The Director had particularly emphasised this point to them, stressing that it was pivotal the Columbian Government didn't find out about the operation. Something about regional status quo.

The plan Bryce had devised had been relatively simple; the three of them would covertly enter the camp at night and place charges where the gas barrels were being stored. When the barrels went off, anyone would think it was just the guerillas being careless.

Needless to say, the mission hadn't gone exactly according to plan. After they had gone as far as they could in the Jeep, they parked it at the side of the dirt track and covered it with leaf litter and had continued on foot.

When they were within half a kilometer of the camp, Bryce and turned to her and told her to wait there and make sure there escape route back to the Jeep was covered. She had been initially reluctant to do so but, as Bryce had reminded her, this was his mission, ergo his rules. Bryce and Chuck had continued alone. She had patiently waited for 15 minutes, the time Bryce had said it would take plant the charges and get back, and saw no-one.

Then she had heard gunfire and everything had gone to hell.

At that moment, Bryce and Chuck had come sprinting out of the brush shouting at her to run, the guerillas right on their tail. They barely made it back to the Jeep. When she asked them what happened, Bryce simply said they had screwed up and that the secondary team would have to plant the charges.

When they got back to the airfield outside of Bogota, they learned that the secondary team had in fact managed to plant the charges and destroy the camp. Apparently, the majority of the camp's occupants had been out in the jungle searching for them, so it had been easy for the back up team to sneak in.

Bryce and Chuck had refused to talk about what happened on the flight back, neither looking at each other. When they got back to Langely, the inquiry began. She wasn't really able to answer questions about why the mission had gone wrong, because she didn't know. And so here she was now, waiting for the hearing.

It then became apparent that Chuck wasn't waiting in the hallway with them. Both her and Bryce had been told to report to the hearing at 10:30 and she assumed that he'd been told to as well.

"Hey Bryce, where's-"

"Agent Larkin? Agent Walker?" Graham's young secretary poked her head out of the double doors of the room where the hearing was taking place.

"The committee will see you now," she said holding the door open for the both of them.

Sarah straightened her skirt as she stepped through the door, which she noticed was considerably longer than Graham's sectretary's. Ah, Graham. You're such a cliché.

The room consisted of a long rectangular table, with a set of windows at the far end, The blinds drawn to block out the morning sunlight. The Director was sitting at the centre of one of the table, flanked either side by a couple of other higher ups. Graham's secretary took her place at a computer in corner, ready to take notes. There were only one other occupant in the room, sitting at the opposite side of the table facing the Director. It was Chuck. A glass of water sat untouched on the table in front of him. He didn't look up at either of them as they took their seats next to him.

"Agents Larkin and Walker, sorry for the delay," Graham began, shuffling some papers in front of him. "But we wanted to speak to Agent Bartowski alone briefy."

"That's no problem, Director," she replied automatically, quickly stealing a glance at Chuck.

Bryce merely nodded.

Chuck still hadn't given them any indication he was aware of their presence. He seemed so deflated campared to the man Bryce had introduced her to a couple of weeks ago.

"Now, to the matter at hand," Graham bruqusely continued, delving straight into business. "We've reviewed all of your testimonies and that of the secondary team's. I'm sure you're all wondering why you're all here today at this hearing, as the secondary team did manage to complete your objectives and destroy the training camp."

Sarah noticed that Bryce was staring right at the Director, glaring into his eyes.

"Well," the Director continued, unphased by Bryce's action,"because of your careless arrogance in alterting the guards, a messege somehow found its way to local state media outlet. Want to guess what it contained?"

"But, sir," Sarah interjected. "Even if they got a messege out, the FARC are notoriously unreliable. Besides it's not as if there's any evidence that indicates a CIA or even any American presence at all, for that matter."

"Be that as it may, Agent Walker," his deep voice booming through the large room. "The media has passed this on to the Columbian Government, and whilst they may not have evidence it was us, they are letting it be known, through certain diplomatic channels, that they think it was us and aren't happy about not being consulted on this."

Sarah looked down at the table, suddenly feeling very stupid.

"Now." Graham once again looked down at the papers in front of him. "As I understand it, Agent Walker covered the escape route, while Agents Larkin and Bartowski preceded to the camp, which is when you were discovered. Normally, we might be willing to overlook this blunder, but the Columbians putting a lot of pressure on the State Deparment, who are in turn putting me under a lot of pressure to deal with this. Someone needs to be held to account."

Sarah started to realise where this was heading, what the point of the inquiry had been all along. This was not going to end well.

She looked at Bryce, who was still burning holes into the Director's head. He hadn't reacted at all to the Director's statement.

"Agents Larkin and Bartowski, your statements say that the guards saw both of you. Care to elaborate on this?"

Bryce broke his glare with the Director and sighed. "Sir...As the agent in charge, I feel responsible. But that doesn't change what happened."

She forced herself not to react as the alarm bells started ringing.

What the hell are you doing, Bryce?

"When we reached the camp, Agent Bartowski and I, we split up, briefly. Chuck was to cover me while I planted the charges. But two guards were able to get the drop on him and delay him long enough to sound the alarm. I heard the commotion and headed back, but by then it was too late..."

"Director, that's not what happened!" Chuck leapt up from his seat, having finally woken up from his stupor, causing Sarah to jump slightly in her seat.

"Agent Bartowski, sit down!" The Director shouted back at him.

"But sir, he's lying. He's selling me out!" Chuck turned to glare accusingly at Bryce. "Why are you doing this, Bryce?"

Bryce sighed.

"Agent Bartowski!"

Chuck opened his mouth as if to protest, but then seemed to have second thoughts and collapsed unceremoniously back into his seat.

Graham clenched his jaw. "Agent Larkin, are you saying that Agent Bartowski's actions directly resulted in the alarm being sounded?"

Sarah was speechless as she watched this train wreck unfold around her.

Why was Bryce selling out Chuck like us?

Bryce hesitated for a moment. "Yes, Director. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Chuck gave a small, resentful laugh. "That's crap."

"Very well then. Agent Bartowski, while I feel uncomfortable doing this, I have to take Agent Larkin's word on the matter. He was the senior operative on the mission, and the only other agent -" He nodded to Sarah. "-didn't witness what happened."

Chuck shook his head in disbelief and Sarah nearly felt herself mirroring the action.

"Furthermore, although I'm reluctant to admit it, I don't find it particuarly hard to believe. As your record indicates, the transition from analyst to field agent can be tricky one."

Analyst?

"Prehaps you weren't ready for a mission of this nature. Regardless, I have to address your failure. Normally, I might be willing to let you go back to being an analyst. But because of pressure from the State Department and the DNI, I can't do that. I'm sorry, Agent Bartowski. Your country thanks you for your service." With that, the three man sitting on the opposite side of the table began to shuffle their papers and start to get up.

"Don't I get a say in the matter of what happened, at all?" Chuck cried raising his arms in despair.

"There's nothing left to be said, Agent Bartowski," Graham dismissed coldy, not looking at him. "The guard outside will escort you off government property."

The three officals then left the room, followed quickly by Graham's secretary.

Chuck was the first to break the silence by getting up. He gave a small self- defeated sigh. "Well Bryce, I guess I shouldn't be suprised, after Stanford."

"You did this to yourself," Bryce spat, turning to give him at angry stare with those ice blue eyes.

"Screw you, Bryce," Chuck said as he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

What the hell just happened?

Bryce shifted in his chair to face Sarah, the malice was gone from his eyes. He saw her expression and shook his head. "Don't look at me like that. I know what I'm doing."

Bryce too, then shuffled out of the room, leaving only Sarah sitting at the long table. Alone.

Her mind was buzzing at the events of the last fews minutes, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why had Bryce sold Chuck out like that? Why hadn't he told her any of this before now?

Sarah had more questions than answers right now. She had a feeling she wasn't going to get them from Bryce.

So much for just a formality, Bryce.

October 1st, 2007

Baja California, Mexico

23:11 PST

Chuck slammed the motel door closed behind him and collapsed against it, making sure the barrier he had between him and the outside world stayed shut. He let his head fall back against the wooden door and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm the anxiety he felt. Anxiety had long been a problem of his, and he was used to dealing with it. But not like this. It was never this bad. He remembered back to Stanford, when he had first asked out Jill whilst they had been riding the ferris wheel. He had been so nervous then. But this was so much worse. It was almost laughable to compare the two situations; asking out Jill and what had just occured. Over the past few months, the attacks had become worse and more frequent. Tonight was just the latest setback. That night on the ferris wheel, Jill had calmed him down by kissing him.

She wasn't here to do that now.

After several minutes of slow breathing, he started to feel some semblance of control return to him. He then become aware of an uncomfortable pain pressing against his back. Chuck reached behind him and pulled the Walther P99 from out of the back of his jeans. It was same type of gun that Cooper had used to kill Dr Busgang, not one hour ago. The same gun that James Bond used.

Some James Bond I am.

Chuck ejected the clip and pulled back the slide to let the loaded round drop from the chamber. It didn't bounce on the cream coloured carpet as it hit the floor. He then threw the now empty gun to the other side of the room, where he couldn't see it. Where it could stay. Even after everything, he still hated guns.

He thoughts fell back to Dr Busgang. The plan hadn't been to kill him. Cooper had told Chuck on the flight in that they were just going to question him about the intersect project. Prehaps he had been naive to think that Cooper would ever just question someone. Even though he had only known the man for a couple of weeks, he had already seen the type of ruthless methods he used. Methods that Chuck wasn't comfortable with. Even now, being part of The Ring, who required to do so many things he wasn't comfortable with.

Although, even for Cooper this was particularly ruthless. Dr Busgang had been civilian; he wasn't a threat to anyone.

Chuck suddenly felt very sick, the memory of Dr Busgang's execution replaying in his head. He launched himself off the door into the small bathroom his room came with, and held his head over the toilet. He began to retch.

Several minutes later, he was feeling slightly better. He used to basin to pull himself up and splashed some icy water over his face with shaky hands. Looking up, the man who stared back at him in the mirror had dark and deep bags under his eyes.

God, he looked terrible. He needed to sleep.

He groped at the tube of spearmint toothpaste on the side of the basin, and not bothering with a toothbrush, squeezed some straight into his mouth and rinsed it around for a while before spitting it back out. Taking several gulps of water from the tap, he tried to quell the burning at the back of his throat and failed miserably.

He walked back into the adjoining bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to undress. Looking around for the first time since he'd arrived, he saw that the motel he was in wasn't that bad; it was shabby but at least it was clean. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure where said motel was. As soon as they had arrived in Mexico, Cooper had driven them both to the motel, where they had dropped off their bags, and then immediately headed to the small compound a few miles out of the town, where Dr Busgang was being held. The small compound didn't exactly have sleeping facilities. Even if it had, the thought of staying there wasn't exactly pleasant, given what he had just witnessed.

Chuck's encrypted phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He groaned. The outside world was calling.

Looks like the door wasn't that great of a barrier after all.

He was momentarily tempted to ignore it.

"Yeah, Carmichael," he said, not recognising the dispassionate voice as his own.

"It's Cooper. Did you take care of Busgang?" came his partner's voice, disregarding any need for small talk.

"The guards have taken care of it," Chuck replied, wincing slightly.

Cooper grunted. "There's nothing else here now. We're leaving tomorrow morning, flying to LA. Got something to take care of."

"Right," Chuck replied, but his partner had already hung up.

Los Angeles. Ellie. God, she'd hate me now.

Chuck closed his eyes and like every night of late, hoped for the sleep he knew would not come. Part of him was grateful for this, for he knew exactly the type of dreams that sleep would bring.