A/N 7/22/12 - Here you go, chapter 2 of my new AU Chuck story. This story has received a lot more interest than I thought it would so I used a few down days because of bad weather during the last several weeks to indulge all of us and keep the fire burning.

Thanks so much for all the reviews, favs, follows, and even a C2. Wow, I'm very gratified. Ya'll are a great bunch of folks.

I don't own Chuck

Sarah Versus the Farm

Chapter 2 – Getting to Know You?

She watched Chuck's truck turn onto a dirt driveway off the old asphalt county road and drive under a classic American ranch gate entrance made of old well casing pipe painted white. Over the gate on an arch of wrought iron was the flying 'B' and she smiled as she looked at the old white two-story farmhouse to the right of the gate with large cottonwood trees and grass around it. One of the trees had a tire swing hanging from it. Then her smile morphed into an expression of puzzlement as his truck continued slowly down the dirt lane beyond the house and past an oat field bordered by a barbed-wire fence. After a minute the oat field turned to alfalfa and beyond it trees and more classic Americana came into view in front of her.

It was a picture fit for a postcard and Sarah's mouth fell agape as she took it all in. Lit by the early evening sun was a large wood sided ranch house and an accompanying barn both stained burgundy red with white trim. Several big shade trees were dotted around the grounds and behind the home to the east were golden colored foothills dotted with oak trees rising to the Sierra Nevada Mountains beyond. The house had a broad covered porch that wrapped around two sides of it. The front half was wood with a porch swing hanging from the overhead beams and it transitioned down steps to flagstone along the south side of the building that looked out onto a pasture surrounded by white well pipe fence with well sucker rod rails and the red barn beyond it.

Behind the barn more of the large cottonwood trees grew along a meandering dry creek bed that ran to the west and wrapped around the eastern edge of the property behind the house. Several horses, some cattle, and a couple of mules were in the pastures looking at them when they drove into the circular drive in front of the house. Surrounding the house was a low white rail fence with a multitude of different colored rose bushes along the front of it. Beyond the fence was a neatly mowed lawn with a flagstone path leading to the front porch and a sight that made Sarah's breath hitch unexpectedly when she saw it. Gardenia bushes filled with blooms –her favorite flower – framed the front of the house and porch, and she felt a sudden and powerfully intimate attraction to this place.

Chuck pulled into a short driveway in front of a rustic old wooden garage off the north side of the drive and then jumped from his truck and trotted over to Sarah's Porsche to open her door for her. "Welcome to Casa Bartowski," he said with a sweep of his other arm as he held the door open for her, bowing at the waist, and then offering her his hand to help her from her car.

Sarah stepped from her car smiling at his chivalrous gesture before looking around. "Wow, Chuck, this place is incredible," she said as she turned around in place taking in the view. "You live here by yourself?" She asked with a touch of wonder.

"Yeah, pretty much. Though my sister has a room in the house she still uses every now and then when she comes to ride her horses."

"So you have a sister. Any other siblings?"

"No, it's just Ellie and me. She's a doctor of veterinary medicine. She lives in Bakersfield with her boyfriend, Devon. He's also a doctor, but the people kind, a brain surgeon, actually. Every now and then they come out to the Casa to spend a few days away from town. It's quieter out here, a good place to relax."

"I'll bet," Sarah said still looking around, "It looks like your nearest neighbor is over a half mile away."

His smile lit up. "Yeah, up until last spring my next door neighbor was Buck Owens. He passed away last March, but his son still owns the property. I'm gonna miss Buck, he was a very cool dude, and a good neighbor. His singing voice has graced our living room on more than one occasion."

Sarah just stared at him with a blank look on her face.

"You don't know who Buck Owens is do you?" Chuck asked her with an amused grin.

Sarah bit her lower lip and gave him slightly embarrassed smile. "No, I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, but it sounds like he was a musician? Perhaps country? I'm mostly a city girl."

"Yep, Buck was a country music legend, and kind of an icon around here. Don't worry. If you hang around long enough we'll make sure you know all the local trivia. And we'll turn you into a country girl before you can say 'boot scootin'," he chuckled. "C'mon, let me show you around a bit before we get something to eat. It looks like Morgan is here feeding the livestock," he added, pointing to a four-wheel drive Honda Fourtrax quad parked over by the barn.

As they walked down the dirt road toward the barn Sarah looked across the alfalfa field towards the west and then back to Chuck. "How big is this place?"

"Two sections. That's a little over twelve hundred acres, or one mile wide by two miles long. About of a third of a section of the ranch is in the foothills behind the house. The rest runs up to the county road in front of the caretaker's house at the gate. I mostly grow feed crops for our animals on the part I farm. The rest I sell to the local feed store and some of the equestrian people and 4H kids around here who want premium feed. Our alfalfa is some of the best you can get," he said with pride.

Sarah's expression turned to one of surprise, "One by two miles?" She asked with incredulity, "Do you take care of all of this by yourself?"

He laughed, "No, I've got help. Morgan lives in the caretaker's house and he helps out with the livestock and cutting hay. A couple of my employees from the aerial application business also help out around here a couple of days a week when we're not slammed with spray work. This place can be a lot of work, but it's not as bad as you might think."

"Well, it looks like it could be a full time job just maintaining it, if you ask me," she stated with a hint of awe.

"Well it does keep me a busy, I'll admit that," he chuckled.

As they walked up the road to the barn some of the horses started to follow them along the fence and suddenly a gray dog came tearing out of the barn toward them at a breakneck pace. "Chewie! How are ya doin', knucklehead," Chuck exclaimed as the dog zoomed around them and under the fence to tease the horses as he ran around them. "Chewie! Leave the horses alone! How many times do I have to tell you!" Chuck turned to Sarah, "He's a Queensland Heeler. He can't help himself, it's in his blood," he mused as they watched the dog run around the horses and then finally trotted up to greet them.

"Chewie, meet Sarah. On your best behavior, bud," he warned the dog, which actually seemed to understand him and dialed back his excitement a notch as he stepped up to Sarah wagging his tail and giving her a cautious sniff.

"Hi, Chewie. It's nice to meet you," said Sarah with outward enthusiasm as she patted him on the head and scratched behind his ears. He soaked up the attention she was giving him.

"Oh, yeah, you've definitely made a new friend," Chuck said, with a smile that dazzled her.

"Where did he get the name, Chewie?"

"Well, he's a herding dog, he has tendency to nip at the heels of the livestock. But I'm also a Star Wars fan, so the name is a double entendre. It's short for Chewbacca. I've been trying to break him of the heel nipping habit with the horses – rather unsuccessfully – I'm afraid. Bo over there is going to kick him one of these days," he said, pointing at a particularly striking looking buckskin horse.

"Bo?" Sarah snerked.

"Short for Bodacious. We could probably spend the whole evening talking about animal names, so…" he trailed off with a shrug.

"Ah, got it, changing the subject or get bogged-"

"Hey, Chuck, Sarah!" They looked up to see Morgan Grimes walking out of the barn with a flake of hay in each hand. "No fair, you caught me working!" He walked over to the fence and threw the hay into some feeders that were attached to it.

"Good to see you're earning your keep, buddy. Would you mind giving Ellie's horse a bucket of oats? She's planning on being here for Memorial Day weekend and I want to make sure Jesse is in tip-top shape for her."

"You bet. Consider it done. Are you giving Sarah the nickel tour? I see she's met Chewie," Morgan said with a grin noting the way the dog was following her closely and nuzzling her hand.

"I guess you could say that. We just got here. Since we're at the barn I thought I'd show her the Cub."

"Ah, introducing her to the mistress already, huh?"

Sarah looked back and forth at them with a puzzled look on her face. "The mistress?"

Morgan shot her a wry grin, "You'll see… I've got to finish up with these chores, then I'll be on my way back to the homestead. Just shout if you need anything Chuckster," he exclaimed as he turned back to the haystack under the open hay barn next to the corral. "Nice to see you Sarah. You don't know how much," he added with wink and a tip of his cowboy hat.

Sarah turned to see Chuck rubbing his neck with a sheepish look on his face that he followed with a little shrug before they continued walking toward the barn. They went into the open barn door passing horse stalls and a tack room as they walked toward the back of the large building. At the back of the barn in a large concrete floored area surrounded by machine tools and shop equipment was a yellow Piper Supercub with the classic black lightning bolt stripe down the side.

But this was no ordinary Cub. The first thing that caught Sarah's eyes were the extremely large tires and extended landing gear it was resting on. They caused the airplane to sit at very exaggerated angle. The wheel hubcaps had the yin and yang symbol painted on them in yellow and black. Then she saw that even the tailwheel was much larger than normal, and the prop was very oversized too. And the plane had a slot cut into the leading edge of the wing and vortex generators along the top of it. This machine was built for the bush; it was a flying Jeep. She had seen similar Cub's on a mission in Alaska a few years ago, but none of them looked as nice as this.

Chuck walked to the front of the airplane and slid open a large double door on rollers to let the evening light into the space casting the airplane in a warm glow. And then as they walked around the plane Sarah saw why 'she' was being referred to as the 'mistress'. Painted on the engine cowling was a very shapely female bear with a blue and white polka-dot bow on her head wearing a matching polka –dot bikini. She was sitting on a cloud with her legs crossed striking a provocative pose. She was a cutie, right down to her stylized paws. Painted next to her were the words 'Stephen's Mistress'. A short laugh passed Sarah's lips and her hand came up to them and she looked at Chuck with a twinkle in her eye, "Oh, that is too cute," she said with amusement and then added with curiosity, "Stephen was your father's name?"

"Yep, this was his favorite toy. He's taken it to Alaska a few times to hunt and fish. He and I flew it to a Cub fly-in in Idaho a few summers ago, which was a total blast. Almost a hundred Cubs crammed onto a grass backcountry airstrip. And let me tell you, those people know how to party. It is one of the fondest memories I have of Dad, we had a great time."

"It's beautiful, Chuck." She noted how Chuck tended to still refer to his father in the present tense occasionally. "I can only imagine how you must feel when you fly it," she said, thinking of the connection it probably still gave to his father.

"You're very perceptive, Miss Walker. Yeah, I still share the controls with Pop when I fly her," he said with a wistful smile. "Still want to go for a ride in it?"

"Oh, yeah! Most definitely," Sarah exclaimed enthusiastically, "I'll bet this would be a fun way to have a picnic," she coyly suggested with a wink, her hands resting on her hips.

"That is a very good idea. Maybe we could do that tomorrow after I'm done with work. What time did you say your interview was tomorrow?"

"I didn't say, but it's at 9:30. I'll probably be done in time for lunch."

"Well then, lets plan on a picnic in the Cub, then. But you better do some chair flying because you're not just going to be a passenger tomorrow." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Speaking of food, I'm pretty hungry, how about you? Can I show you the rest of the house and maybe feed you a little supper? Maybe a glass of wine?"

She placed her hand on his arm gazing at him, "I'm starving. I haven't had a thing to eat since stopping at In-N-Out in Valencia just before noon."

"Well follow me, then." He glanced at her knowingly like they shared a secret, "In-N-Out, huh? You have good taste in burgers. Did you order from the secret menu?"

She grinned at him, linking her arm with his as they walked, "Always."

-II-

Sarah stepped through the front door of Casa Bartowski – there was actually a wood sign attached next to the front door proclaiming it as such, with the lettering burned into the wood along with the flying 'B' brand. The heady smell of the blooming gardenias following her into the living room where she gazed around at the rustic ambiance of the room. The living room with a large river stone fireplace was off to the left and a dining area with a large dining table for twelve was off to the right with a double set of French doors opening to the flagstone south porch beyond it. Several hunting trophies adorned the walls with a Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep figuring prominently over the fireplace mantle and a Sharps rifle hung on wood pegs below it. Leaning against the stone base of the fireplace was a red, white, and blue acoustic guitar. A large Navajo rug covered the wood floor of the living area and large leather sofas with oak end tables and armchairs surrounded a rustic oak coffee table in the center.

A very large Maine Coon Cat was curled up asleep on the love seat oblivious to them. There was no TV in the room. Beyond the dining area was a large open kitchen with flagstone flooring and oak cabinets surrounding a large island. The counter tops were pounded copper. The appliances had an antique look about them and they were all painted with a deep red enamel and accented with copper and bronze trim. The whole living space was splashed with jewel tone colors and accents. The open multi-pane windows and French doors framed by elegant lace draperies lighted the room accented by several antique looking table lamps and a large oblong copper and crystal chandelier over the dining table. Against one wall separating the living and bedroom wing of the house was a large and very ornate oak gun cabinet with a porcelain Winchester Repeating Arms logo inlaid over the glass doors.

Sarah's eyes settled on the rifles and shotguns in the cabinet. They all looked pristine and well cared for, and to her trained eye they all appeared to be Winchesters, some of them quite old. For some reason when she looked at Chuck she couldn't picture him harming a fly, but apparently there in front of her was evidence to the contrary. "Are you a hunter, Chuck?" Her question was matter-of-fact without a hint of judgment.

He looked at her for a moment seeming to try to measure up her opinion about the subject by the look on her face, which to his frustration was totally unreadable. "Yeah, I'm a hunter, but only occasionally these days. It's kind of a family tradition, although I haven't had much time for it lately. I mostly hunt upland birds now or deer for the freezer. I don't hunt anything I don't intend to eat. Most of these trophies are Gramps but Dad shot that Bighorn in Colorado years ago. That four point Mulie over there is mine," he said pointing to a deer head mounted on the wall next to the gun cabinet. "I hope you're not offended that I shot Bambie," he added a little sheepishly.

To his relief she gave him an understanding smile. "No, I don't have a big problem with hunting, especially the way you say you do it. I think there's some nobility in understanding exactly where that steak you're eating came from."

"You would probably find the Bartowski hunting ritual to be very interesting, then. Gramps taught us to hold all the game we took with extreme reverence, and not to waste any of it, or to take it for granted."

"As long as you don't have a fetish about hunting endangered species I think we'll get along fine, Chuck," she responded wryly.

He sighed with relief, "No, that's not me, or anyone I know for that matter. I guess you could define me as a conservationist when it comes to that sort of thing, and honoring the land in general. I make my living off the bounty of the earth, after all. It wouldn't make much sense not to respect it and be a good steward of it."

Sarah studied him for a moment, fascinated by the contrasts of the man in front of her. He appeared so outwardly gentle, yet she knew something much stronger was hidden beneath the surface. She wondered just how tough he might really be, and if he could be genuinely dangerous. She looked around the room again and then turned a penetrating gaze onto his eyes. She just didn't see a killer hidden in them, or one who might sell out his country for money or a nefarious cause. Then she smiled at him disarmingly, "This is a very charming place you have here, Chuck, but I believe you said something about a glass of wine and something to eat?"

"Oh, pardon me, I haven't forgotten you," he effused with a touch of apology in his voice, "Follow me. Let's see what we can find, shall we?"

They walked into the kitchen and Chuck opened a below the counter wine refrigerator in the island and looked into it. "How does a nice jammy Zin sound? Maybe a little cheese with it followed by some dark chocolate?"

"Oh, that sounds yummy. Especially the part about the chocolate," she nodded enthusiastically.

"I kind of figured you'd like that part," he said, with a crooked smile as he looked out of the corner of his eye at her. "Here's one of my favorites from across the valley in Paso Robles." He proceeded to pull a corkscrew from a drawer and had the bottle open in seconds, setting it on the counter to breath before turning to the refrigerator in search of something. "Since you're obviously hungry I'm going to enlist your help. Would you mind grabbing that cutting board over there, and a couple of plates from the cupboard?"

He pointed in the direction of the cabinet next to the sink and Sarah went to it in search of the requested items.

"I've got some smoked trout that a farmer buddy of mine caught up on the Kern River," he said with his head in the fridge, "How does that sound to you? Maybe with a couple of slices from a baguette?"

"You're spoiling me, Chuck."

"I'll take that as a yes," he said turning from the fridge with that astonishing grin of his that caused her heart to suddenly pick up it's pace in a way that startled her because she couldn't seem to slow it down no matter what she tried.

-III-

"Oh, my, this is really good," she said taking another bite of the smoked trout followed by a nibble of sourdough.

"Yeah, Charlie is a real artist with a smoker. He used apple wood for this batch. He's not too shabby with a flyrod either. He's a fishing fool, and that's good for us, isn't it?"

"You can say that again…oh, wow," she let out a deep guttural groan and licked her fingertips, "that is so good!"

They were sitting out on the back patio at a small table under a large grape arbor enjoying the cool early May evening air and the smell of roses and gardenias on the breeze. Chuck watched her with fascination and a quickened pulse as she savored the flavor of the seasonings lingering on her own fingers. The sight was quite sensual and he wondered how much she realized it, or if it was intentional. She definitely knew how to appreciate some of the finer things in life, he concluded. Sarah Walker was without a doubt one of the most beautiful and fascinating women he had ever laid eyes on. He was smitten, and he knew it.

He refilled her glass with the Fatboy Zinfandel. "And now, for the moment I know you've been waiting for."

He broke off a square of Ghirardelli 72% dark chocolate and set it next to her glass. "Take a bite of that, then a sip of your Zin," he more than suggested.

Sarah did as instructed and he watched her with a broad smile as her eyes looked like they were going to roll back into her head. "Oh…my…God. This…is…simply…amazing." She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle right in front of Chuck, "Ooooooooooh!"

Chuck's eyes grew as large as espresso cups. He felt like he had just witnessed something extremely intimate. Something that belonged in another setting altogether, and it caused him to blush intensely. Even Chewie, who was lying near Sarah's feet, looked up startled by the sound she made and watched her curiously.

Sarah noticed his reaction and beamed at Chuck even as she regained control. She cleared her throat. "Wow, was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"Yes."

"You know how to get to a girl, Chuck Bartowski."

"Thank you," he said, unable to look away from her eyes. "I try."

"No. You do."

His eyes filled with gratitude and curiosity at her compliment. He motioned to her wine and chocolate and flashed the Bartowski smile, "Please…continue…" his voice trailed off.

Sarah giggled at him as she took another sip of wine, "Don't mind if I do…" she trailed off in response sipping her wine while holding the square of chocolate in her other hand…followed shortly by another sighing moan from deep within her.

Chuck just watched her with wonder in his eyes as he drank his wine.

They sat wordlessly for several minutes just enjoying the cool evening and each others company while sipping their wine. It felt easy, without any pressure or need to fill the space with conversation.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "Chuck, I need to visit the powder room, can you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure. It's through the French doors behind me and down the hall in either direction," he said pointing over his shoulder. "The master bath is to the right, the guest bath is to the left. Feel free to use either one. I'll wait for you out here."

She got up and placed her hand on his shoulder, catching his eye as she went by. "Thanks. I'll just be a few minutes."

He patted her hand, "No worries, mi casa es su casa."

-IV-

As she stepped through the French doors Sarah was met by a second of indecision as she decided which direction to go. Her curiosity got the better of her and she turned right walking down a hallway lined with pictures of family and friends, shadow box frames filled with livestock and equestrian ribbons and medals, and other memorabilia. She turned left through open double doors into a spacious master suite with a king sized four-poster bed and a sitting area with a Franklin stove next to a bay window looking out at a panorama of the foothills east of the house where a nearly full moon was lighting the twilight scene. It was quite beautiful.

A large dresser with a mirror over it and a wardrobe occupied the wall and corner opposite the bed. To the left were the bath and a walk in closet. The bath was decorated with jewel tone Mexican tile, Saltillo floors, and a large Mexican tiled walk-in shower. A large clawfoot tub was set in another bay window at the end of the room looking out into a small walled garden area outside. Sarah was overcome by the charm of the space and for that matter, the entire home. There was so much care and individuality showing in the design and the décor. My house is your house. What a charming thought. She made quick work in the bath so she could explore a little more without raising suspicion.

She padded down the hall looking briefly at Chuck still sitting with his back to her on the patio sipping his glass of wine, apparently gazing out at his garden. She turned right through another set of double doors and her jaw dropped. This must be the 'den', or 'man cave' as was becoming the parlance. However this was probably better described as a 'man cavern'. A large built-in desk figured prominently along two walls opposite the doorway with three very large computer monitors on it. Next to the desk built into the wall was a full-blown enterprise server stack in nineteen-inch floor to ceiling racks, by the looks of it, custom built. It housed three very large RAID arrays with hot swappable disk trays and the accompanying processor module blades with an apparently dedicated active cooling system – and it was running.

The monitors were in screen saver mode, the Call of Duty logo with 'Team Bartowski' danced across the three dark monitor screens. The room had a very modern look to it that seemed out of place with the rest of the home. Around the desk were pictures from Stephen Bartowki's days as a Navy carrier pilot, an engineer, and crop duster pilot and farmer. There were also pictures of someone who must have been Chuck's grandfather. A couple of the pictures of him were with Stearman Biplane crop dusters, like a scene from 'North by Northwest'. Another was a picture of him on an aircraft carrier deck standing in front of a Grumman F-9F. He was a very dashing looking man who appeared to have a sense of flamboyant style judging by the pictures. And there were pictures of three women that Sarah assumed must be Chuck's sister, his mother, and his grandmother. He had yet to mention his mother in conversation…curious.

The other half of the room was divided by a sofa and contained an elaborate home theater system. Two very cushy chair-and-a-half's flanked the sofa facing a very large flat panel screen mounted on the wall with tower speakers on each side. Looking around the room she realized the walls were bristling with speakers and acoustic panels. Game controllers and a wireless keyboard and mouse were sitting on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The room had no windows. Then something even more interesting caught her eye to the right of her; a green enamel painted walk through vault door built into the wall near the corner of the room set between two bookcases behind the office area and desk. Now she was smoldering with curiosity – and more than a little suspicion. What are you hiding in there, Chuck Bartowski? She decided she would be returning to have a better look at this room, and soon, because time was running out.

Sarah Walker stood at the French door leading from the living room for a moment looking out through the glass panes at Chuck Bartowski trying to make some sense of the man as she watched him sitting on the patio outside. He swirled the wine around in his glass and took a drink, then looked down at his dog and gave him a scratch behind the ears. Chuck seemed so genuine, so unassuming, and so gentle, and yet he exuded strength in intangible ways - ways that she wanted to better understand. He just didn't appear to be someone who was a member of the world in which she lived; a world of lies and deceit, posturing, and on occasion even brutality. A sometimes vicious and ruthless world where the participants justified and cloaked the terrible things they did with words like duty, country, patriotism, and honor.

Sarah had no illusions about what her world did to the people who were in it if they stayed too long, and too long could be a very short time indeed for a person of lesser strength to be corrupted completely by it. Chuck Bartowski just didn't show any of those outwardly visible qualities. The sorts of tells she could see when she looked at herself in the mirror every morning when she forced herself to start her day. When she told herself that what she was doing was for the greater good. Looking at Chuck sharing that look of unconditional love with his dog and his interaction with his friends and employees told a different story all together, and a part of her wished that some of him would rub off on her, maybe even help wash her soul clean by just being around him.

Startled from her thoughts when she felt something rub up against her leg, Sarah and looked down to be greeted by the loud purr of a very large and furry cat. She stooped down to give the big fellow some of the affection he craved and the purring reached epic proportions when she scratched him behind the ears and stroked her hand down his back. Maybe the motion caught Chuck's attention, maybe it was the loud noise emanating from the feline at her feet, but she looked up to see him looking back at her through the glass with that astoundingly lovable smile on his face and something unreadable sparkling in his eyes; something she couldn't recall ever seeing in any other persons eyes before. And that look in his eyes rocked her world so severely that for a split second she thought she was going to fall over.

Sarah opened the door for them when Chuck and Chewie got up to come into the house. But when Chewie saw the cat sitting at Sarah's feet he stopped dead in his tracks and wouldn't take another step towards the door. Chuck saw the curious expression growing on Sarah's face and softly chuckled as he stepped up to her.

"I see that Mongo has finally introduced himself to you," he said with look in his eye that said he was just waiting for the expected question.

"You've got to be kidding me…Mongo?"

"Yeah, you know, from 'Blazing Saddles'? He's just a big loveable lug, but definitely not one to be trifled with." Chuck grinned as if he was picturing something vividly in his minds eye. "Mongo only pawn in game of life," he said giving his best Alex Karras imitation with a short chuckle, "however, this big guy is hardly a pawn. He rules the roost, as you can probably tell."

She smiled at his imitation even though she had know idea who he was trying to imitate, then looked down at the big Maine Coon cat and shrugged after a more measured appraisal, accepting that maybe the name might fit, especially seeing the dog's reaction. Then Sarah looked curiously at Chuck like he had grown a pair of antlers, "Blazing Saddles? What's that?"

"Wait…don't tell me you haven't…" he trailed off seeing the pained look in Sarah's eyes. "Well, we'll just have to do something about your pop culture education, won't we?" he suggested in a conciliatory fashion. "It's a Mel Brooks movie. You know, 'Get Smart', 'Spaceballs', 'Young Frankenstein', 'Robin Hood: Men in Tights'?"

Sarah just shrugged her shoulders again at him sheepishly with her palms pointing up at her sides.

He stared at her in shock. "Oh, Sarah, you've just given me a new mission in life."

She looked back at him incredulously, "Jeez, Chuck, it looks to me like you've already got all the missions you can handle around here."

"Well, for you I'll take on a couple more. This is important. We're talking about your movie education here," he explained with a lopsided grin.

"If that's an invitation to go to the movies, then I accept."

"I'm glad you agree, because I really wasn't going to accept no for an answer," he responded devilishly.

She laughed, "Don't get cocky, buster, I'm not a pushover. But you mentioned more than one mission, care to elaborate on that?"

"Well you happened to mention looking for a job," he said in an exploratory fashion rubbing his neck pensively, "If you're really serious about it, we'd be talking about a mentorship. We could definitely use another pilot if you were really interested in trying it." Placing his hand on her shoulder Chuck gestured with his other hand to two armchairs sitting ninety degrees to each other by the fireplace and walked into the living room and sat down in one motioning for her to sit in the chair next to him.

Sarah sat down looking intently into his eyes, "Well, I really hadn't given the idea that much thought until I saw you working today. It does look like a fun job, but I'll bet there's probably a lot more to it than I saw today, isn't there?"

He leveled his gaze back at her. "Yes, there is much more than meets the eye, and it's not just the flying part. It's about applying the crop protection product safely and accurately without drift or exposing anyone, and a whole lot of ground work that goes on behind the scenes. There are also risk management aspects that figure very heavily into this sort of flying. This is a job that can make you as dead as fried chicken in a heartbeat if you're not paying attention. It demands 110% of your concentration and it's definitely not for the faint of heart. But something is telling me that's really not an issue for you, is it?"

Sarah snickered inwardly at his statement when she contrasted her current job with what he was describing and then sobered when she realized what he saw in her; that he could see something in her that she normally held very close. It bothered her a bit that he could get a read on her so readily. And in spite of her real qualifications for the job she was feeling an enormous amount of distress playing the role in this ruse she had found herself in. "I'm not fearless, Chuck, if that's what you are asking. But I don't let my fears rule me. I think I could do the job and I'd be up for the challenge. But if you don't mind, I'd like to think about it a bit." Damn, what am I going to do with this?

"Certainly," he chuckled, "I'd be a little worried if you didn't want to think it over for a while. And I'm glad to hear you say you're not fearless, that can be a liability in this job." Then the thought of him worrying about Sarah doing this sort of work suddenly snuck into his mind. The smitten side of him wasn't sure if he liked the idea of her doing this job. Maybe a nice safe corporate pilot job for her would be better for his sanity. "Maybe those folks at your interview tomorrow will make you an offer you can't refuse."

"I'll tell you what. I won't accept the jet job if I'm offered it until we've had a chance to discuss this more. Does that sound fair?"

"Yeah, that's more than fair. Besides, we have picnic plans tomorrow. We can talk a bit more about it then, and you can tell me all about your interview."

"Yes, and I'm very much looking forward to that. However, I heard Morgan mention something about you guys being at work at 4:30 in the morning? I think maybe I should probably let you get some rest." Sarah saw a flash of disappointment cross his face. He clearly wasn't ready for the evening to be over and for some reason that made her feel good, because she wasn't seeing the reasons for his want that she had seen in so many other men's eyes. He seemed to genuinely be enjoying her company without pretense or an overriding motive or desire to just get her into the sack. It seemed that he just wanted to be with her, and it was refreshing.

He looked at his watch and frowned. "Yeah, you're probably right. At least I can plan on sleeping in my own bed tonight, thanks to you." He turned beet red when he realized how what he had just said could be misconstrued and stammered, "I mean, well, you know what I mean, I haven't been around here much the last few days, work has been crazy lately, I've been…I wasn't implying…"

"It's okay, Chuck, I know what you meant," she said with a grin, "It's a shame that big four-poster bed doesn't get more use isn't it? And I'm sure your pets miss you. Whatever I can do to help," she added mischievously looking at him from the corner of her eye. She almost wished he would ask her to stay because that would have made what she had to do that much easier, but she knew this man would never be that forward with her, and something was preventing her from even thinking about pulling a seduction routine on him. For some strange reason she found herself looking beyond the mission and more at the consequences of her actions when she was with Chuck.

Much to her delight, Chuck just blushed more furiously and gazed into her eyes with a slackened jaw.

Seeing the internal conflict in his eyes Sarah rose from her chair. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, Chuck, I really enjoyed your company. And you have a breathtaking home. Thank you for showing it to me."

"Well, I sincerely hope this isn't your only visit, Sarah," he said, collecting himself as he rose to show her out. "We have to at least work on your movie education, and while I'd like to take you to a proper movie theater, I'm also uniquely equipped for that here at the house," he suggested.

"Yes, I noticed that. I was wondering why you didn't have a TV in your living room."

"I thought you might have seen the home theater when I saw you at the living room door. I have all those Mel Brooks movies on my home theater server harddrives, so one of these days I'm going to make you watch all of them," he warned along with that smile.

"I'll bring the popcorn," she responded soaking up the grin it solicited.

They stepped through the front door and Sarah's senses were once again assaulted by the scent of gardenias as she stepped down to the path to her car. The smell of the flowers alone made her want to come back here, until she looked back up at Chuck when she reached her car and felt the assault on all her other senses as she touched his arm and stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. That simple innocent gesture had a much more profound effect on her than she expected and it was obvious to her that he felt it too. Why am I taking it slow with him? She asked herself.

Chuck opened her door for her, with a pensive look on his face. "I don't mean to sound forward, but where are you staying?"

She regarded him curiously; "I'm at the extended stay hotel in Bakersfield for the time being, why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were somewhere safe and comfortable, that's all," he stammered. "That's a good place. If you take county road 21 to Porterville highway and turn left it's almost a straight shot to your hotel." He bit his lip. "You wouldn't mind trading phone numbers would you?"

"Of course not. Here," she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her leather jacket, "what's your number?"

He told her and she dialed it, causing his back pocket to vibrate, which caused the smile to grow on his face as he pulled his phone from his pocket to touch the receive button. Then he stepped back a step and raised the phone and took her picture before she had time to react. He grinned and turned the display to her. "There, now I have a beautiful face to put with the number." The expression on her face in the picture surprised her, it was actually radiant, and she stifled her planned protest when she saw it.

So Sarah raised her phone and returned the favor causing Chuck to laugh. "Turn about is fair play," she said, turning the phone to him satisfied with the result. He gave her an approving smile.

"Thanks again for a wonderful evening, Chuck," she said as she climbed into her Porsche.

"Anytime, Sarah," he said, closing her car door, "You're always welcome at Casa Bartowski. Have a safe drive back to your room, I'll see you tomorrow."

Sarah drove slowly down the drive thinking about her evening with Chuck. As she drove through the gate onto the county road it suddenly dawned on her just how much her mission had been pushed back into her mind by the very pleasant time she had spent with the man. She realized with a start he had very quickly ceased to be a mark in her mind as he completely captivated her with his disarmingly pleasant and engaging personality. As she thought about him alarm bells started to go off in her mind, the cynical agent side of her warning her that she might be being played by a very smooth operative; then a seldom used more emotional side of her protested back proclaiming that the thought that Chuck Bartowski was a spy was absurd. It was apparent Chuck was many things, but a spy was not one of them. She had to get to the bottom of this and soon because much to her surprise her seldom used emotional side was demanding it – and that shook her to the core. She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked again at his picture on the display and as she looked at his easy going smile, captivating brown eyes, and curly locks, she also realized that Chuck Bartowski had become more than just a mission to her.

-V-

Chuck walked back into the home he hadn't been to for a couple of days now because of the heavy workload he had found himself buried under for the past week at his business. He reached down to give his doting cat a pet. "I'm sorry, Mongo, I haven't been around much lately, have I? I don't know what we'd do without Morgan, do you? C'mon, let's go make sure the game server is still working before we knock off for the evening. I don't want the clan to be mad at me because it crashed while I was away."

The cat followed him into his den and jumped onto his lap as he sat down at the executive chair at his desk. He waved the mouse and logged in to his workstation first checking the status of his two game servers that he ran for the Call of Duty and Halo clans that he lead. It looked like his squads were busy fragging opponents mercilessly and for a second he was tempted to join a game until he looked at the clock on the wall and realized that 3:30 in the morning wasn't very far off and he needed some sleep before he climbed back into the cockpit tomorrow.

As an afterthought Chuck decided to look at his personal email account that he hadn't had a chance to check in days. As he watched the email subject headers load he started to regret it because there were a lot of them; then one in particular caught his attention: 'Have You Got Game?' It was from Bryce Larkin. "What the hell?" he exclaimed as he read it. He couldn't believe it. The jerk that he had thought was his best friend and had gotten him kicked out of Annapolis had sent him an email. His cursor briefly hovered over the delete button but his curiosity got the better of him and he opened it.

Logon to your Halo server and access and join the private game 'The Flood' creating and using the player name 'Master Chief Bartowski' You must use your old default profile from our Academy Halo clan days.

Password hint: In college Bryce was in love with _.

Huh? That was it? What the hell are you up to, Bryce? A private game called 'The Flood' on his own Halo server? How did Bryce do that? Both he and Bryce were computer science and engineering majors at the Naval Academy and that was how they had met and the common ground from which their friendship had been built, but at the moment the idea that Bryce may have hacked his game server kind of pissed him off.

He logged on to his Halo server and sure enough there was the game 'The Flood' with no players in the game. He built his old Academy character profile from a file he still had saved and pulled up the private game login box. Bryce's college love interest? That was his old girlfriend, Jill, the one Bryce had stolen from him after he got him expelled for supposedly cheating on his mid-term tests; but that was too easy, it couldn't have been Jill and somehow it didn't fit the challenge Bryce was presenting to him. Then the light bulb went on. Bryce had to be talking about Cortana, the AI character in Halo. Bryce had always had a thing for her beautiful 'construct' and her sultry voice. In spite of all the animosity he harbored towards Bryce that brought a big smile to his face.

He typed in 'Cortana' in the password box and tapped the Enter key. And turned toward the server stack with a startled look on his face as it sounded like every disk in the RAID arrays on the server spun to life. There was a flash on the center monitor that drew his attention back in front of him and suddenly he was assaulted by thousands of images flashing across all three screens. Mongo jumped from his lap in a panic as Chuck lost control of his eyes and his body subtly twitched in rhythm to the images streaming across the monitors. He sat transfixed by the flashing images for several hours unable to move yet conscious of what was happening to him, his eyes pinned open by muscular contraction he couldn't overcome. Finally the images stopped and Chuck found himself involuntarily tipping back in his chair until he fell on his back on the floor with a thud. As he lost consciousness he softly uttered the words: "I hate you Bryce Larkin"

-VI-

She crouched on one knee dressed in a black tactical uniform outside his home in the darkness of the long shadow of a tree cast by the low moon in the western sky, waiting for him to get up to go to work. At least that was the plan. Sarah had parked a rental car a couple of miles away on the edge of an almond orchard next to a farm reservoir on the property of one of Chuck's neighbors, and then hiked onto Chucks property from there. But it was almost 4:00AM and he still hadn't come out of his home to go to work. She figured he would have already been up and out of the house by now and she had roughly another hour before she would lose her cover of darkness.

Sarah finally lost patience and decided to go into the house. She quietly stepped up onto the front porch and reached into her pocket for her lock pick set but as she grabbed the old bronze doorknob to hold it while she picked the lock it turned freely in her hand – it was unlocked. Either he had forgotten to lock it or that was just the way they did things out in the country. She concluded it was probably the later with a little bit of discomfort. Silently she crept through the living room listening for the sound of any activity but couldn't hear a thing. She was beginning to get concerned when she saw the light on in his den from the hallway, but the bedroom and the rest of the house were still dark. She peaked around the edge of the doorway, and there he was, on his back, laying on the floor still in his upturned chair with his feet sticking up in the air, apparently unconscious. His cat, Mongo, was sitting next to him, staring at him. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Chuck! She almost shouted his name out loud as she rushed to his side and checked his carotid pulse near his ear and placed her other hand on his chest. His pulse was strong and steady, his breathing regular. What happened, Chuck? Sarah was frozen for a moment in internal struggle as she tried to decide whether she should try to wake him. If she woke him he would know something was unquestionably amiss and there would be questions she couldn't or wouldn't be able to answer. He seemed peaceful enough despite his awkward position and didn't appear to be suffering from head trauma. Then she looked at his computer monitor and something caught her eye. On the screen in white lettering on a black window was a message…from Bryce!

Chuck,

This was what you were once tested for and showed the greatest promise for of all the candidates tested. You were my last chance to save it. If I hadn't sent it to you it would have been lost, and it's too important. I work for the NSA now, Chuck, and bad people were trying to get their hands on this. I had to destroy the original to keep it out of their hands, but I peer-to-peer transferred it to your server to preserve it. I didn't know who could be trusted with it, except you. You now have the only copy. It's in you, Chuck. Your server drives are now wiped clean. I trust you Chuck, I know you'll know what to do with it, and I know you'll protect it. Before long you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

I've arranged for someone to help you. Her name is Sarah and she's a good friend. Trust her Chuck, she'll help you get through this, and oddly enough I know the two of you well enough to think that you were made for each other. You and Sarah share a lot in common. Give her a chance, my friend, even though the two of you have met under false pretenses. She's a good person and one of the best at what she does.

I hope this will atone in some way for my past transgressions in your life. Things I never wanted to do, but was pressured by others to do supposedly for your benefit. I now think both they and I were wrong. I know I've probably opened a can of worms for you again, but I also know you will make the best of it in the finest tradition of your family. Please don't stay angry with me. I value what we once had that much.

Your friend always,

Bryce

Oh, my God, Bryce, what have you done? Sarah reread the message dumbfounded. Was Bryce rogue, or was he a double? With who and what was he involved in? Her head was spinning trying to make sense of what was happening. He had sent his friend and former Naval Academy roommate the Intersect. She stepped to the workstation and scanned the drives for the data but it didn't appear to be there. She would have to come back later to double check when Chuck was at work. She palmed her face and paced around for a few seconds and then looked at Chuck, still unconscious on the floor. Was it possible? Had he somehow unwittingly downloaded the Intersect into himself? He was originally an Intersect test candidate? It was the stuff of science fiction and she wasn't sure if she actually believed it, but Bryce had cryptically laid it all out in his message. And he had arranged for her to help? And that part about her and Chuck…she was starting to feel like she was going to have a panic attack.

Then she snapped out of it and came to a swift decision. She pulled a USB thumbdrive from her pocket and plugged it in. She dragged the message from Bryce onto the drive and then deleted it from Chuck's computer, and not without a significant amount of guilt tugging at her heart for doing it. Hopefully she would be able to share it with him later. At least that was what she was telling herself now. Sarah bent down and checked his pulse again and placed her hand on his cheek. Could Chuck trust her? Could she help him? Are we made for each other? Sarah saw the irony in that question when she realized she had started to ask herself if he could be 'the one' almost from the moment she met him. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his lips and then silently slipped out of his home.

A/N There you are. This chapter sort of sets the scene for what is to follow. Stand by for some John Casey.