A/N: Hello all! Unfortunately, real life in the forms of many hours studying, a gargantuan freak-out over a HUGE quiz, said quiz – seriously, what kind of "quiz" is over an hour long? That's clearly an exam. I digress – parents visiting, and my local grocery store suddenly lacking in their stock of Dove Dark Chocolates have prevented me from writing. Not to mention that my chapters require a few re-writes that my unimaginative mind struggles with. Anyway, I'm a bit bummed cos Monday's episode used a similar idea I had for this fic. Oh, well. I'll still use it cos it's crucial.

A HUGE thank you to retropanda37 for her awesome feedback and for beta'ing this chapter for me. She gives me reassurance when I start doubting the words on the page. Also, a thank you to my sister for her multitudinous positive emoticons she texts me once she's read a draft I've sent her, even though she becomes much more honest about my first draft after reading the second draft. Hmmm. Thank you to those who read/reviewed the first chapter and/or set an alert for this story – it warms my heart. Seriously. Okay, enough with the gratitude, I could go on forever….

Oh, wait, one more! I'd like to say thank you to Jack-1977 for the shout-out in his A/N. Check out his story "Chuck versus The World" when you can. It's a great read, especially if you're into AU.

Disclaimer: I had to check my account for any grand purchases, just to be sure, and it proved to be a futile effort. Don't own Chuck!

He was seeing stars.

His jaw hurt and so did his hand.

Especially his hand.

Throughout his conversation with Mr. Accent, as Chuck had taken to calling him in his head, he had repeatedly clenched his jaw, hands, and eyes. He was mad. Only now that he was no longer hearing Mr. Accent's voice was he able to relieve those muscles from their contracted states – and now they hurt. Chuck looked down at his hand to see why it was hurting beyond an ache.

Oh.

Well, he won't be able to wear those anymore. The sunglasses were now a crumpled mess of bent metal fragments that were currently digging into his palm. Chuck threw them aside as he realized they were breaking skin. Taking a few calming breaths, he rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. Now was not the time to indulge in his anger, panic, and worry. Nor was it the time to freak out. He needed a plan.

"You know," Morgan began, interrupting his thoughts, "I don't think I've ever actually been in a situation involving the tables turning...until now. And I must say, I don't like it. At all." Morgan intoned, more annoyed than angry. "Chuck, how are we going to save them?" he practically shouted as he abruptly shifted into panic mode.

Chuck blinked. So much for not freaking out.

Dropping his hands from his head, Chuck looked determinedly at his friend. "We just need a plan, Morgan. We need to get them back."

"How do we even know where they are?" Morgan asked.

"You heard him. This jerk wants the drive back and wants me to find him. He'll make it easy," Chuck said as he pulled out his phone. "He probably wants me, too," he mumbled.

He pulled up the GPS application that would allow him to check the locations of Sarah and Casey. On the screen were two moving dots. Morgan stood next to him peering over his arm and pointed at the screen.

"Hey, at least they're still together, right? That's a good thing."

"Yeah, but they're still moving," Chuck said, setting an alert to notify him once they stopped, before placing it back in his pocket.

His thoughts were racing. He and Sarah had just been reunited and now, she was the one who needed rescuing. Morgan had told him of some of the incredible lengths Sarah had gone to in order to find him, but as the details were kind of brutal, he figured he didn't need to know all of the specifics concerning the cross-country rampage by the "giant blonde she-male." Now, Sarah was the one who needed him to find her. Oh, God. If he was honest with himself, he really felt like sharing in Morgan's panic but that would just be a waste of time and energy and he couldn't afford that. Neither could Sarah. Chuck knew he was going to need Morgan's help if he was going to have any chance of rescuing Sarah and Casey. The reality of the situation, though, was beginning to set in – they were two guys possessing no real physical spy skills suddenly having to save their partners, in a foreign country, from some very bad people.

"Look I need you, buddy," Chuck said, grabbing Morgan by the shoulders. "I need to get Sarah back, okay. I need her back. We have to come up with a plan," he said again, not bothering to hide his worry and desperation from creeping into his voice.

Morgan looked up and nodded.

"Okay, okay," Morgan breathed. "By the way, I don't know how you kept it together, man; I mean I almost blurted something out at that accent guy."

If he wasn't so worried, he might've smiled at his friend referring to Mr. Accent by a similar name. Chuck released Morgan's shoulders and flexed his fingers, still feeling the ache. "Well it's a good thing you didn't…and believe me, it wasn't easy."

After a few beats of silence had passed, Morgan spoke. "I don't know how we're going to do this."

"Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've had to do something like this. But the last time I did have the help of an alcoholic lothario…albeit, legend of a spy. And it wasn't a jungle we were in – we were actually in the Buy More, and it wasn't – " Chuck stopped himself at seeing Morgan's concerned face. His nerves were making him babble. Why was he babbling at a time like this? "Not important right now. Some other time. We need to focus on a plan."

Pocketing his earpiece, Chuck stepped out onto the street and motioned for Morgan to follow. A silence fell between them as they started walking. He began running over the things he knew. He currently had the drive with the "precious" intel in his possession. Sarah and Casey were still on the move and had been for an unknown amount of time, though he hoped they stopped soon. Mr. Accent desperately wanted the drive with said "precious" intel back and therefore would not likely play any games with their locations. The equipment and weapons that were to be used for the initial mission were at his disposal.

And he had Morgan.

Things could be worse.

He could have no weapons.

In all honesty, he meant what he said earlier – he believed in Morgan and together, they could make something work. Suddenly remembering that all communication with Beckman had been severed once they landed because of the more-than-normal clandestine nature of their mission and the U.S.'s denial of involvement, Chuck released an aggravated sigh. This caused Morgan to turn toward Chuck expectantly but he just waved him off. He didn't want to voice his concerns to Morgan. At least if he was able to contact headquarters, there was the slim chance that he could receive some kind of back up. Not now, though. This mission wasn't "officially" happening. It really was just him and Morgan.

Oh. That's right. He also didn't have the Intersect.

"Chuck, you gotta say something man, I'm starting to freak out here."

You and me both.

"Okay, we just have to come up with a plan." How many times had he said that already with no plan being formed? "Unfortunately, we can't really form one until we know where they–"

A familiar chirping interrupted him and immediately stopped them mid-stride.

Scrambling to pull out his phone, Chuck spared a glance in Morgan's direction whose eyes were widened in anticipation, before looking back down to see that the GPS signals had stopped moving.

"They stopped!"

Morgan was at his side at once, trying to look at the screen. Tapping one of the dots that held its respective coordinates, an aerial shot of trees just a bit away from the ocean appeared.

Trees?

He was so used to warehouses, he didn't know what this meant. He and Morgan shared a look that made it clear to him that Morgan was just as bewildered. Swiping his thumbs across the screens – silently thankful for the progression of technology – the shot zoomed in further to reveal a clearing within the trees.

Well, now this makes more sense.

After a few more swipes using the data that the coordinates could provide, he gleaned, through some indirect channels of information, that this was the rumored location of a rebel camp. Fantastic. Why couldn't it have been a warehouse? Or even an abandoned building. At least he was familiar with those – they were all relatively the same. He was definitely unfamiliar with jungles in South America, or jungles anywhere for that matter, let alone those that hosted rebel armies. The only jungles he had experience with were those of Thailand and he clearly didn't fare well in them. This rescue just got a lot more difficult.

Logically, it made sense for the captors to bring Sarah and Casey to the camp. One of the two countries involved in the foiled intel exchange probably had some kind of unofficial relationship with the rebel army. The numbers alone would be an advantage.

"Okay…well, uh," Chuck started. "So obviously this rescue mission of ours just got a lot hairier. And frankly, that's…" he paused, searching for the appropriate words. "…scary as hell." Yeah that worked. "This just means that now more than ever, we can't afford to do anything stupid, like, oh, I don't know…get caught."

"I'm with you on that."

"So, at least now we can start coming up with a plan."

Finally.

As they resumed walking back to their base of operations, Chuck began to let his mind run over past missions, trying to see if any of the methods used could possibly be transferred to their current situation. When he had to rescue Sarah and Casey with Roan, the saving grace had been "remember Thailand." Well, he didn't want to remember Thailand anymore. It meant something else entirely to him now. Nor did he think jumping off a building would help him any, seeing as there probably weren't any buildings in the jungle. He was desperately wracking his mind but was coming up with nothing. This was horrible. His girlfriend needed him and he was drawing a blank. He was about to ask Morgan if he had managed to come up with anything, even just a glimmer of an idea, when he noticed his friend's face twisted oddly.

"Are you…are you thinking of ideas or are you just…walking?"

"Wha – of course I'm thinking, Chuck. My eyebrows are furrowed, my mouth is contorted in thought. What else would cause such a face, if not deep concentration?"

Well, that was descriptive.

Morgan took a breath before saying, "I've got nothing so far. You?"

Chuck ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and let it rest on the back of his neck. "I can't think of anything. I mean they're by the ocean so…maybe that's something…I don't know," he said, feeling useless.

"Well...maybe if we focus on things we know – comics, movies, TV – we can get an idea from there," Morgan offered.

"Morgan, this is real life and my girlfriend has been taken by some crazy, egotistical jerk with an accent." Chuck argued, a bit agitated.

"I know that," Morgan said, holding his hands out in front of him, in what Chuck assumed was meant to calm him down. "But that doesn't mean we can't look to them for an idea. Good ideas can come from anywhere, right?" Chuck narrowed his eyes as he nodded. "Okay, then. We just need to think of a time when we've seen characters get in and out, while having clever, albeit highly improbable, escapes and having to make a break for it."

Chuck actually gasped as he came to a complete halt. Morgan's words had inadvertently given him an idea, and by the way Morgan's eyes widened as he stared back at him, it had dawned on him, too. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, Chuck taking the time to mull it over in his head.

"The ocean is right there so…" Morgan finally said.

"I suppose technically it is feasible," Chuck said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared off in contemplation. "But we still need a way in. I'll need to do some research on that army and look at the map more when we get back." As he turned to resume their walk, he pulled back and added, "Oh, and we'll need to buy a few things."

Morgan nodded in understanding, scratching his beard.

Feeling slightly more at ease now that they had at least a part of the plan, they began walking again. But when he thought about the magnitude of what lay ahead of them, fear immediately overtook him. He glanced at Morgan who was tugging at his collar like there wasn't enough air in the world. He knew it, too. Could they do this? It was risky. Dangerous. Probably suicidal. None of that mattered, though.

It was Sarah.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It smelled horrible and it was hot.

The zip-ties were cutting into her wrists and ankles. They weren't taking any chances with them. If only Casey had kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't be unconscious right now, and she wouldn't be left alone with her thoughts. She looked over at his slumped form at the corner of the truck. You have to pick your moments like I do, Casey, she thought. She brought her cuffed hands to her forehead and rubbed the small bump that had formed just at her hairline. She couldn't help but sneer. It wasn't her fault that one of the henchmen had a broken nose because he was standing directly in front of her just as she "violently sneezed." That it had happened just as he was slowly running a finger down her face after meticulously disarming her in unnecessary detail was just an inexplicable coincidence. She didn't even get a 'bless you.'

She breathed a deep sigh and clenched her eyes shut before opening them again, as she fought her own thoughts from turning in the inevitable direction they were headed.

Chuck.

The one semblance of refuge her mind clung to was knowing that at least he was able to escape. He was safe. For a little while. But now? She was both proud and scared to death of the fact that he would come find her and Casey.

She shook her head in frustration.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. How the hell had they managed to get surrounded the way they had? The numbers they found themselves up against were completely unexpected. And all of this just as she finished telling Chuck to be careful…damn it. Now, she found herself with her partner, who was stirring out of unconsciousness, in the back of a draped truck heading into, she assumed, the jungles of South America – if said truck and makeshift camouflage uniforms of their interim captors were of any indication.

She had distantly overheard the conversation between Chuck and the diplomat. He wanted the intel back and he wasn't about to make Chuck's search for them a particularly difficult one judging by the beeping her and Casey's homing beacons had made as Chuck activated them early on in her unwelcomed forced expedition. She was just waiting for the telltale sign of being located.

The truck jerkily began to slow down until rolling to a stop. She heard shouting surround their truck before it quickly quieted. They were sitting there a few minutes, unmoving. Craning her neck in an effort to hear anything from outside, a blinking light from the corner of her eye caused her to turn back around. Her stomach flipped as she stared down at the flashing from the faces of both her and Casey's watches, indicating that Chuck was now alerted to and was probably honing in on their locations. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified at what she knew was forthcoming. She felt a mixture of both. She was feeling a lot of things since being captured.

"Walker…" Casey suddenly grumbled as he positioned himself to sit up.

"I know."

"They let us keep our watches?"

"Yeah. While you were out, you missed the part where he wants Chuck to come to him. He made it easy. I think the whole world knows agents have GPS watches," Sarah answered. "So much for secrecy," she humorlessly added.

"Since you've been awake, where the hell are we?"

Through the dim sunlight shining through the gratings of the side panels of the draped truck, she saw Casey turn his head from side to side, seemingly getting a feel for the atmosphere. Just as she was about to answer him, he cut her off.

"Never mind." She quirked an eyebrow. "Sweat. Tarped trucks." He sniffed the air a few times. "Forestation," he said before his face contorted in disgust. Apparently those three variables could only signify one thing. "Ugh…rebels," he growled.

Impressive. And he wasn't even conscious when they were transferred into a rebel truck.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "You know, now that he knows where we are, he's going to come for us."

"I know." Sarah answered weakly.

"He doesn't care if he doesn't have the Intersect."

"I know this, Casey," she said in a louder voice this time. Why was he telling her things she already knew? And worse, he was telling her things she feared. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel hope. If anyone could do it, it was her Chuck.

"Which means that he'll probably have some elaborate and moronic plan that'll somehow end up working out."

Suddenly, the back of the truck opened, plunging sunlight from the late afternoon into its bed and directly into the faces of its occupants. She blinked a few times. Casey's statement gave her a sense of peace that was steadily overtaking the fear she felt moments before. The multitude of men, both of the rebel and henchmen variety – the broken-nosed guard included – pointing numerous rifles in their direction didn't stop Casey from finishing his thought.

"Although, Grimes is with him," he added.

She was thankful for the veiled attempt at levity Casey was providing. They both scooted their bodies toward the opening, Sarah coming face to face with Broken Nose himself. She saw the dried blood along the edges of his nostrils and bruising that had developed and felt a bit of satisfaction at seeing her work. She saw Casey alternate glances between herself and the henchman a couple of times, pausing once to look at her forehead, before one of the others came forward with a blade and cut the zip-ties at her ankles, and then Casey's.

"So what happened to your head?" Casey asked with a lightness to his voice, as if it was just the two of them, while they slid off the back of the truck and into the crowd of men aiming their weapons at them.

She gave him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "I sneezed."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, just as they were led into a clearing in the jungle. With a smirk, he said, "Bless you."

If you caught the slight hint I gave…*looks both ways* Shhhh. If you didn't – it might not be a source you'd think they would consider. Review if you feel compelled to do so! I'd appreciate any and all feedback.