Hang with me, my little chickadees. It's okay if you succumb to the title of this chapter. In fact, you're supposed to. Things will eventually make sense. Probably.

CHAPTER FIVE: LAND OF CONFUSION

After promising to be a good boy and not to scream, Rachel ripped away the tape covering his mouth. Chuck couldn't help but yelp in pain.

"Sorry," she said. "At least you won't have to shave tomorrow."

Chuck gave consideration to a hunger strike, but he hadn't eaten in forever. He wolfed down a Whopper while Rachel munched on a chicken sandwich. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that she had to hide a grin while watching him eat.

"You can take a shower if you like," she offered after they ate. "It might make you feel better. Sorry I didn't think to buy you a change of clothes." As Chuck moved to close the bathroom door, she added, "Door stays open. I trust you, Chuck, but not that much. Not yet."

Despite being drugged and kidnapped, a shower did make him feel slightly better. When he reemerged from the bathroom, he found Rachel gazing at her iPhone, a morose expression on her face.

"Are Sarah and Casey okay?" he asked.

Rachel quickly pocketed the phone and rubbed her face. Did she wipe away a tear?

"Of course. Gave them the same drug I gave you. Probably woke with a hangover. No worse for wear."

Small comfort. "Why are you doing this?"

"Yours is not to question why, yours is but to do or die." Rachel fixed him with a sympathetic gaze. "Sorry Chuck. This isn't twenty questions. Speak when spoken to. Obey orders you are given. And don't give me a reason to press the button."

Rachel zipped up her duffel bag, then scanned the room, checking to see if she was forgetting anything. "Time to go. If you're a good boy we can stop by K-Mart and get you some fresh clothes.

"Yes ma'am," Chuck coldly replied. There it was again on Rachel's face, a brief flicker of... hurt? What the hell?

---------

Nothing. A full day's search and not a damn thing.

Sure, there were a few sightings. Local law enforcement checked them out. All proved to be false.

So, nearly twenty hours after his disappearance, they had no leads regarding Chuck's location. They couldn't even be sure whether Rachel hitched a cargo ship out of Port Of Los Angeles, a plane out of LAX, or if she was driving cross-country with Chuck tied up in the trunk.

Now it was nearly seven pm. Sarah stood at the doorway of the Bartowski apartment, simply staring at the front door, unable to bring her hand up to knock. It had been a long time since Sarah could honestly say a person – any person - frightened her. But now, at this moment, Eleanor Faye Bartowski scared the crap out of her. And Sarah hadn't even confronted her yet.

Once more, Sarah raised her hand, summoning the will to knock. Suddenly the door flew open to reveal Ellie. "Sarah, hello," the woman said cautiously, still unsure of their relationship in a post-CIA revelation world. Sarah tried to put up a stoic face, but couldn't quickly enough.

"Oh God," Ellie gasped. "What's wrong? What happened to Chuck?"

"We need to talk," Sarah pitifully admitted.

--------

For the second time in five minutes, Sarah reeled from a devastating slap to the face. Ellie readied to fire a third and Sarah did nothing to defend herself, content to allow the other woman to work out her anger. It was Devon who stopped her, though Sarah could tell, the handsome male doctor's own eyes burned with fury.

"You said you would protect him!" Ellie screamed, tears flowing, struggling against Devon's grasp. "You swore to me! I believed you! Now you're telling me some psycho bitch has taken him?! You lied to me!"

Sarah stood there. Not reacting, not defending herself, not anything. The left side of her face was red and inflamed. She tried desperately to will tears from spilling.

"Why are you just standing there?!" Ellie continued. "Why aren't you out there looking for him? Why are you just standing in my living room doing nothing?"

"We're trying to find him," Sarah softly answered.

"Really?! Because it looks like you're standing there with your thumb up your ass! Get out of my house!"

"It's, uh, more complicated than that," Sarah mumbled.

"What are you talking about?" Devon sourly interjected.

"With Chuck in enemy hands, certain measures must be taken..."

"Just say it," Devon snapped.

Sarah reacted at his sharp tone, unused to hearing the usually jovial man speak harshly. "Even without CIA training, Chuck knows not to divulge sensitive information to enemy combatants. But it's possible he could be coerced into cooperation if his family were leveraged against him. Particularly family who knows of his government associations." Deep breath. "We've been ordered to take you both into custody."

Ellie and Devon stared in shock. Finally, she answered with, "Go to hell."

"Ellie..."

"What? You lose my brother and now you think you can pull us from our home? Go to hell, Sarah."

Sarah paused, trying to frame her next words very carefully. "Ellie, you need to come with me. You don't want General Beckman to send someone else."

Ellie's brow furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"Ellie, Casey and I aren't exactly sticking to the reservation on this. We're trying very hard to keep a low profile to buy us some extra time to find your brother. But if Beckman has to send other operatives out here, she'll know her orders aren't being obeyed to the letter. And that's not good for you, Chuck, or any of us."

Ellie couldn't even begin to fathom what Sarah was talking about. But the young operative could tell Devon was working things out. Thankfully, if he had a theory, he chose not to share it. Instead, he simply said, "I think we should listen to Sarah, honey."

Ellie snapped her attention around to Devon. Stared in disbelief. "What are you saying? We should just let her drive us from our home?"

"I'm saying we should let Sarah do her job. For once," he said with a pointed look. Sarah just looked to the floor.

"Look," Sarah said, "you can stay in the apartment. But you must stay confined here. No work, no going out, nothing. Out of sight, out of mind. Understood?"

Ellie looked ready to object, but Devon simply said, "Understood."

**************

Sarah reentered Casey's apartment and collapsed back against the door. Casey looked up from his file.

"How'd it go?"

Sarah scoffed. "Like you weren't listening?"

**************

Rest Stop

Just West of Flagstaff, Arizona

The old Toyota Corolla parked in the nearly abandoned lot. Rachel put the car in park and turned to her companion.

"Okay. Here are the ground rules when we go out in public. First, no unnecessary speech. Second, do not give any indication to anyone that anything is out of the ordinary. Third, try to run..."

"And you'll push the button," Chuck finished dryly.

Rachel nodded, retrieved a small key from her jeans pocket. Unlocked the handcuffs binding Chuck's wrist to the passenger side door handle.

"Your best behavior," she warned.

They exited the vehicle. Chuck gave a cursory look around, judging his options. Not seeing any chance for escape, he simply followed Rachel to the restrooms.

She first threw open the door to the men's room. They both heard hard grunting coming from a stall. Rachel rolled her eyes. "Guy's gonna give himself a hemorrhoid."

She then threw open the women's room door. "Anyone in here?" she called. No response. She indicated for Chuck to enter.

"You're kidding," he exclaimed.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

No, she didn't. So Chuck entered the bathroom.

"Handicap stall," she instructed.

Chuck entered the extra large handicap stall. Just as he was about to shut the door, Rachel's hand blocked it. She stepped inside the stall.

"What are you...?" he asked.

"I don't trust you enough yet," she repeated. "Now do your business."

Reluctantly, Chuck turned to face the toilet. Unzipped his fly. After several moments of inaction, Rachel asked, "What's the problem?"

"I can't do this with you watching me."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Oh brother." She turned away.

After checking that she was turned around, Chuck began his business. A minute later, when Chuck finished and zipped up, he turned to face Rachel. "Now what?"

"Now I gotta go."

"Oh. Wanna give me the keys? I'll wait in the car."

"Ha! No. But I like that you're keeping in good humor." Before Chuck could react, the handcuffs were back out. One cuff snapped around his wrist, the other around the metal rail support bar. "Now turn around."

Chuck obediently turned away as Rachel took her turn on the toilet. A minute later the toilet flushed. Rachel unlocked the handcuffs. "Remember to wash your hands," she reminded.

Soon as they exited the stall, they were greeted by a mother bringing in her 6 year old daughter. The mother gasped, quickly covered her daughter's eyes.

"Sorry," Rachel apologized. Very cheekily, she smacked Chuck on the ass and gripped his cheek, rested her head on his shoulder. "Long road trip. Stress builds. You know how it is."

Neither Rachel nor the mother caught Chuck mouthing, "Help me." The duo simply washed their hands and exited the bathroom.

As they walked by the vending machines, Rachel asked, "Want anything?"

"How 'bout a bottle of Pepsi and a bag of Please Let Me Go?"

"Pepsi I can do. But will you settle for Cheetos?"

"I guess."

*************

Soon as she snubbed out one cigarette, Sarah quickly put another to her lips and lit it.

Smoking was a nasty habit. One Sarah had kicked nearly a decade earlier. In the aftermath of her father's arrest by the government, and her subsequent introduction to the CIA system, Sarah had found that smoking, while not making her look cooler, did manage to calm her nerves during anxious times.

Once she turned 18 and began her CIA training in earnest, she had kicked the habit at the suggestion of then Deputy Director Arthur Graham and her agency mentor, James Craig.

But now she was on the verge of a panic attack. Uncomfortable with the idea of scoring Xanax, Sarah instead took a trip to the neighborhood gas station. There she bought a fifth of Absolut and two pack of Pall Mall's.

In the courtyard outside the Bartowski apartment, Sarah puffed her cigarette and stared up into the night sky. At the moment, her only comfort was that Rachel expended considerable effort to incapacitate Casey and herself. Which meant she wanted Chuck alive.

She wondered if Chuck was gazing into the night sky, staring at the same stars she was. Or if he was even in a position to.

Sarah shook the unpleasant thoughts away. Rachel was a good woman. Whatever reason she had for taking Chuck, Sarah had to believe she wouldn't hurt him.

Sarah took a deep drag, blew smoke into the cool night air. She struggled to remember a time when life wasn't so complicated. A day when she went in, did a job, then rode off into the sunset. No fuss, no muss.

She was compromised. Sarah knew that. Once again she had grown emotionally attached to someone she worked with. To compound her troubles, it was an asset she had fallen for.

At least she thought she had fallen for him. Not that she had much to compare her emotions to. Never had a high school boyfriend. Hell, she didn't even kiss a boy until she was nearly seventeen, and that experience didn't go particularly well. Her first serious romantic relationship was with her CIA mentor. Even he was thirty years her senior and married. After which she immediately stepped into the whole sordid mess with Bryce...

Then came Chuck. A loveably goofy computer geek with a normal job and a normal life. All the things she never had and was surprised to find she was actually intrigued by.

Not that life with him was perfect. He had essentially dumped her twice. First for some sandwich maker, a second time for an ex-girlfriend. The ex-girlfriend.

Truthfully, Sarah could understand his motivations, if not his tastes. Both women offered a sense of normalcy, a taste of life B.I. (Before Intersect). While it crushed her to watch him flirt with and kiss another woman – ripped her heart out to be more accurate – she always sucked it up like a good little soldier. She wanted him to be happy and find love, even if not with her.

During those times she allowed herself to dream about the impossible. A life without the Intersect, without the CIA. A nice house with a white picket fence, two kids, and a loyal dog roaming the yard. Of a day when maybe Fate would stop kicking her in the teeth. When Life would stop treating her like some bitch that slept with her husband. That maybe somehow, someway, she'd find a little slice of happiness.

The last two days were a sharp reminder that that life was indeed a fantasy. Chuck was gone, his life once again endangered because of the Intersect. And now his sister, a woman Sarah always adored despite being a tad uncomfortable around, loathed her. To make matters worse, Beckman had ordered Chuck to be terminated.

At the moment, Sarah could see her life going one of two ways. More accurately, she saw it ending one of two ways. Either in a hail of gunfire trying to bring Chuck home, or through her own weapon when Beckman tried to take him away again. Frankly, Sarah saw either scenario playing out within the next few days.

"Walker," Casey's gruff voice sounded. She turned back to face his doorway. "Beckman wants a status report in five."

Sarah mutely nodded, dropped her cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out. Casting a quick glance to the Bartowski apartment, she caught a glimpse of Ellie. The young doctor had obviously been watching her. The second she realized she'd been spotted, she ducked behind the curtain.

Sarah sighed. One hurdle at a time. Once she found Chuck – and if she weren't reassigned or dead – she would work on mending her relationship with Ellie. Until then—

"Back to work," she murmured as she turned to Casey's apartment.

**********

Interstate 40

Near the Arizona – New Mexico Border

Chuck fiddled with the dial on the radio – one concession Rachel had begrudgingly made – as the Toyota raced along the interstate. Finally settling on a classic rock station – one genre they could both agree on – Chuck leaned back and watched the desert fly by in the night. Finally he could stand the silence no longer.

"I don't suppose we're going to Six Flags in Arlington."

Once more, Rachel completely perplexed him. She smiled. A tiny whisper of one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Sorry, no."

"Wanna give me a hint?"

"Just got an errand to run before we get down to business."

"Oh? What sort of errand? And, you know, where?"

Rachel spared a glance. He could never tell when he was dealing with BadRachel or SlightlyLessBadRachel. At this moment it was the latter.

"Gotta stop by the bank. In Roswell."

Chuck took a few moments, trying to gauge whether he heard her accurately. "O-kay," he drawled.

The Corolla continued to clip along the highway.

END PART