To all those who've reviewed this story, thank you, it thrills me to no end. Keep 'em coming. For those who haven't... I know where you live. Bwah ha ha (evil laugh, for those who don't know).

CHAPTER FOUR: RUDE AWAKENINGS

Chuck awoke to the sun glaring in his eyes and a jostling sensation. It took a few moments to realize he was riding shotgun in a car. How the hell...?

Suddenly, Chuck was hit by a series of flashes. Not the usual kind, but a recollection of the previous night. Drinking. Laughing. Then a look of utter betrayal on Sarah's face. Then, for some reason, Rachel was leading him down to her car. She brought out a small aerosol tube and squirted him in the face...

Rachel!

Groggily, Chuck turned to face the car's driver. Sure enough, it was Rachel. She returned the look, a completely neutral expression on her face, before turning back to the road. It took a few more moments for Chuck to carefully analyze the situation.

"I'm in deep crap."

-----------

In Rachel's Los Angeles hotel room, an hour or so earlier, Sarah Walker slowly began to rouse to consciousness. A jackhammer was pounding away in her brain, worse than any hangover she had ever experienced. And then—

SLAP! A thick hand cracked Sarah across her cheek.

"Wake up, Walker!"

Sarah's eyes popped open. But the sunlight only amplified the piercing pain reverberating in her skull, so she immediately shut them again.

"Slap me again and I'll gut you like a fish," she managed to slur.

"Yes, very scary, Sleeping Beauty. Will you wake up?"

Sarah forced her eyes to open a crack. She got her first glance at Casey, and boy, did he look rough. She shielded her eyes with her arm. "Ah! Not pretty! Ugly!"

"Dammit, Walker, Chuck's gone!"

That snapped Sarah into sobriety. "What?"

"The skirt hosed us. She has Chuck."

------------

"Beckman, secure."

"General, it's Casey. We have a Hauptmann situation."

Silence. Then: "Oh, dear God."

-------------

Casey's apartment was a flurry of activity. Casey was in a video teleconference with Beckman and a select few NSA and CIA higher ups. Sarah was screaming into her cell phone, dealing with California Highway Patrol.

"General, we couldn't have known. It was Rachel Roe, for God's sake..."

"This is Agent Sarah Walker, Central Intelligence Agency. I need a BOLO for a Red Ford Taurus, license number JFB-583. The driver is Rachel Roe, alias Silvia Thomas, alias Annabelle Reed. Car was rented at LAX two days ago."

"He didn't flash! We assumed she was clean. No indication whatsoever that she has Fulcrum connections. She certainly wasn't on LaFleur's jump drive."

"Subject is Caucasian female, 29, approximately 5'10, 135 pounds. Red hair, green eyes. Subject is to be considered armed and dangerous."

"We didn't consider her a threat! Agent Roe is well known to Agent Walker and myself. She has an impeccable reputation within the intelligence community. We both considered her a friendly face."

"Subject is wanted for the abduction of Charles Bartowski, Caucasian male, 28, approximately 6'3, 190 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. Mr. Bartowski is an analyst for the Central Intelligence Agency."

"She has at least a five hour head start. An agent of her skills and connections, she could be halfway to Moscow by now."

"I need the BOLO extended to Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, and Oregon. Please notify those respective state's highway patrols. I also need descriptions put out to airports in Los Angeles, Oakland, San Fran, Vegas, Phoenix, and Portland. Anyplace within 500 miles that offers international flights. I also want flight manifests from every private airport within that same radius. Oh, and notify every port on the western seaboard."

Suddenly, Beckman's voice caused both agents' jaws to drop.

"I'm authorizing a Schedule Seven action."

Sarah nearly dropped her phone in disbelief. But she couldn't stop the words that slipped from her lips. "Are you insane?!"

Beckman glared. "Excuse me, Agent Walker?"

"I think it's a little early for such drastic measures," Sarah defended.

"A CIA operative shows up and less than ten hours later incapacitates two other agents and kidnaps the single most important intelligence asset in the world. What action would you deem appropriate? Or have you lost all objectivity in regards to this operation?"

"My mission objective is to protect Chuck Bartowski at all costs."

"A mission you have failed miserably. A Central Intelligence operative of unknown allegiances has kidnapped the Intersect. Both she and the Intersect are compromised. I am approving a Schedule Seven. Rachel Roe and Chuck Bartowski are to be terminated. Any civilians with knowledge of the program are to be taken into immediate custody. Am I understood? Or must I bring in someone else to see these orders are fulfilled?"

"General, I've run a half dozen operations with Rachel Roe," Sarah gritted. "She's a good agent. I simply refuse to believe she's turned traitor. Something else must be going on."

"Agent Walker..." the General viciously countered. Casey quickly interrupted.

"General, our orders are understood and will be executed. Casey out."

The teleconference abruptly ended. Sarah immediately drew her weapon on Casey. The NSA agent merely glared at her, annoyed.

"Put the piece away, Walker. Last thing we need is your girly feelings clouding your judgment."

"This is Chuck we're talking about. His family," she said through gritted teeth.

"I know. And your overreaction just about lost us control of this operation. We don't need Beckman bringing in outside contractors."

Sarah struggled to wrap her mind around what Casey was saying. "What?"

"I agree with your assessment. Something strange is going on. I know Rachel, too. She's a solid agent. No way she'd betray her country by handing the Intersect over to the baddies."

Sarah laughed ruefully. "Are you telling me you won't kill him?"

"If he's actually being turned over to Fulcrum, yeah, I'll put a bullet in him. I just don't think that is what's happening." Casey paused a moment. Sarah lowered her weapon slightly. "Although I do agree with Beckman on one matter. We should take Devon and Ellie into custody. If for no other reason than as a precaution."

A grief stricken look appeared on Sarah's face. She holstered her weapon and sank onto the couch. In a dull voice, "I swore to Ellie that I would protect her brother. That I would die for him. Now, less than 36 hours later, how am I supposed to tell her that I've broken my promise?"

Casey didn't have an answer.

----------

Sunrise Inn

Just Outside Kingman, Arizona

When Chuck woke for the second time, he was gagged and handcuffed to a bed. The television was flickering on the dresser. "The Andy Griffith Show". The episode where some shady lawyer tricked Otis into suing the Sheriff's Office.

In the bathroom, Chuck could hear water running. Figuring Rachel was busy, he took a moment to access the situation.

Run down motel room. Handcuffed to the bedpost. No key visible. He thought about dislocating his thumb to escape the cuff. That seemed like something Sarah or Casey would do. And while it might work, he thought there an equal chance he might pass out from the pain. So rule that out. Judging from the lack of a bulge in the back of his pants, Chuck figured his cell phone was gone. No way to triangulate a cell signal. Plus, his watch was missing. No homing beacon.

Chuck was on his own.

Rachel stepped from the bathroom wearing a pair of plain white panties and white t-shirt. Her hair was a couple inches shorter and dyed a peroxide blonde. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her still wet locks. With a small smile:

"What do you think? Very Geena Davis, The Long Kiss Goodnight, don't you think?" Chuck didn't give much of a reaction. She almost seemed disappointed. "Well, I thought it was a good movie."

Brown eyes simply stared back, not so much afraid, just terribly confused.

"Here's the situation, Chuck," Rachel said, sitting on the corner of the bed. "I've kidnapped you, as I'm sure you already deduced. You are my hostage. Resistance is futile.

"You may also be wondering why I chose you. Well, it turns out you are uniquely qualified to help. You see, I need your particular skill set, Chuck. I need the Intersect." Chuck's eyes widened. "Yes, I know that's what you are. So here's how it's gonna go down. You will obey my every command. Noncompliance will be met with swift and brutal consequences.

"You should know, I have injected you with a compound called NJ-27. Nanites. Microscopic machines. These machines rove throughout your blood vessels, gathering and converting the body's own resources into a small, but incredibly lethal, explosive compound. If I press this button," she held up a small device the size of a keychain, "the bomb will explode. If it detonates in your head or heart, death will be instantaneous. If it detonates elsewhere, death will be slow and terribly painful.

"Now, I believe a man like you has a sense of honor. If absolutely necessary, you would sacrifice your life rather than assist in a terrible cause. As such you should also understand that I know where you live. I will kill your future brother-in-law to gain your compliance. I will threaten to kill your sister to keep it. Blink twice if you understand."

Confusion turned to hate. Still, Chuck blinked twice.

In an instant, her tone performed a complete one-eighty. Rachel reached out and gently brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes. "Good. Now I'm gonna go on a food run. Are burgers okay or would you like something else?" Chuck continued to glare. "Well, try to get some rest while I'm gone. We gotta get back on the road. Hafta stay a step ahead of our pursuers."

Rachel patted his knee. For just a moment, she let her hand linger on his leg. When Chuck's glare refused to soften—

"Try not to escape while I'm gone. Remember, I can kill you with one touch of a button."

Chuck watched as she slipped on a pair of blue jeans and grabbed her wallet and car keys. She looked back at him, an undecipherable flash of emotions crossing her face before cool neutrality returned.

As the door shut behind her, Chuck's expression once again returned to confusion.

----------

Sarah sat at Casey's desk. Flight manifests from private airports all around the Los Angeles area were being e-mailed. But her eyes were not focused on the computer screen.

She stared at her iPhone. Ellie's name was highlighted. All it would take was a single touch to make the call.

"I can make the call."

Sarah startled at Casey's voice. Her partner was looking at her over the top of a file containing a preliminary forensics report on Rachel's motel room. If Sarah didn't know better, she would swear something akin to sympathy reflected in his eyes.

"No. It should be me."

Her phone began to chirp. Looking to the caller ID, Sarah paled. But when she answered, she used her cheeriest voice.

"Ellie, hi! What's up?" ... "Sure, dinner sounds great. It'll give us a chance to talk." ... "He isn't? Well, he might be on a service call. He usually shuts off his cell for those." ... "Okay. Seven o'clock. I'll be there."

Sarah disconnected the call. She slumped in the chair and stared at the ceiling. "Coward," she murmured.

----------

Twenty-five minutes after leaving the motel, Rachel was back. Two bags of Burger King food sat in the passenger seat. Rachel simply sat in the driver's seat of her 1992 Toyota Corolla, the engine shut off, parked in the motel lot.

She bought the car for 500 bucks a few days earlier. Knowing Sarah and Casey would track down her rental car, Rachel purchased this getaway vehicle for cash, finding the ad in the LA Times newspaper.

Good thing it was an old ride, too. She was about ready to snap off the steering wheel, wringing it frantically in her worry. But finally she gathered her courage. Grabbed her cell phone and hit speed dial.

"It's me." ... "I fully intend to honor our deal." ... "I will bring you the package. I just want assurances you will give me what I want in return." ... "Soon! The package will be in your hands soon. But so help me God, if you don't live up to your end..." ... "No. That isn't a threat. It's a guarantee. But if you honor your word, I will honor mine."

Rachel disconnected the call. She collapsed in the seat, a weary expression on her face. Staring heavenward—

"Please God, I've never asked anything of you before, but I'm asking now. Let this work."

END PART