Chapter 4: Big Brother is Watching

He wanted to write it off to the captivity. To tell himself that he was just suffering some advanced stage of cabin fever. But that just seemed like a hollow reasoning for whatever had just happened to him.

For some reason, when the woman in the next cell, this Sarah had said the word "intersect," Chuck's mind went into hyper-drive. It was like his brain was putting on a very strange PowerPoint presentation. And there was a pie, some random people, a big building, a very white room, and then the pie returned.

Chuck actually preferred the pie. At least he knew what that was. At least that made sense.

Well, strike that. None of what just happened made sense. But at least he identify the pie. And frankly, it looked delicious. Much more appetizing than anything else he'd had to eat since being thrown in his cell.

His mind was still a bit fuzzy after the weird, well, he didn't know what to call it. But whatever it was, he was pulled from his fog by a voice. Sarah's voice, he realized.

"Chuck? Are you okay?" she was asking.

"Um, ye-eah," he fought to say. "I'm fine, I think."

"You haven't said anything in a few minutes," she said.

Well, Chuck had good reason for that.

"And you didn't answer my question," she continued.

Oh, right. She'd asked him something. "What was your question again?

Whatever her question, there was apparently someone with one more pressing. That was the only reason Chuck could fathom when the metal slide on his cell door shifted, and the heavy steel door was swung open.

For just a moment, Chuck allowed himself some hope. Maybe Ellie had finally come to bail him out. Maybe he could go home, and put this entire horrible experience behind him. And maybe he could bail Sarah out, too. It was the least he could do. She'd been the only reason he'd managed to stay sane in captivity. He owed her that much.

Whatever hope he had was washed away, however, when his eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from the hallway, and he could make out the shadowy figures before him. Perhaps it was stereotyping, but these guys didn't seem the type to bring anyone good news.

In the open doorway stood three heavily armed and armored men, one in front flanked by the other two, a half step behind the leader on his left and right. It seemed this was a prison that took security very seriously. But then, Chuck should have figured that based on everything that had happened to him over the past several days.

"Um, hi guys," Chuck said nervously. "How's it going?"

The stone-faced guards didn't seem amused by his greeting. Nor did they seem to pay it any attention.

"You need to come with us," the leader said.

Not waiting for another bumbling reply from their captive, the guard standing on the leader's left walked purposefully over to Chuck's cot, and bodily dragged him up by his arm, giving Chuck a shove in the direction of the door.

"I'm coming!" Chuck said indignantly.

"Shut up," the leader said.

And Chuck did.

He shut up as they dragged him out of his cell. He shut up when he heard Sarah call after him. He shut up as the guards slammed his cell door shut behind them, and as they cuffed him—hands and feet—at gunpoint.

Chuck was led down the dimly lit (but still better lit than his cell) hallway, and it was then that he couldn't shut up anymore.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

There was no answer.

"Because, here's the thing. I don't want to be a nuisance, or anything, and if you just tell me where we're going, I'm sure I could—"

Chuck's words were cut off, as he felt something hard, heavy collide with the back of his head. Then he saw only black.

When he opened his eyes, Chuck found himself in a white room. A very white room. A stark contrast to the darkness of his unconsciousness. The walls were white, the floor was white, the ceiling was white. Even the chair he was strapped to was white. And if it had a color, he was pretty sure the throbbing pain in his head would be white.

He wanted to reach up to rub the knot he was sure was forming, but the leather straps that bound him to his chair wouldn't allow it.

"I'd like to apologize for that little altercation in the hallway."

Chuck looked to his left to see the speaker. Black suit, black tie, perfect hair. Very G-man.

"I assure you, the man responsible is being thoroughly reprimanded. Now, Mr. Bartowski, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

The man spoke slow, with a slight Southern drawl. And despite the kind offer, Chuck didn't detect an ounce of sincere concern in his captor.

"You could let me go," Chuck said. It seemed unlikely, but it was the obvious request.

The man chuckled. "We both know that's not going to happen."

"Can you at least tell me why I'm here?"

For some reason, being in his cell hadn't seemed nearly as scary as his current situation. At least in his cell, he was isolated. Time went by, but he was ignorant to the outside world. It made it easier to forget that he'd been captured and imprisoned unjustly. Plus in his cell, he could talk to Sarah. After his fear of her had faded, she'd certainly become a calming influence on him, if only to be an ear to listen.

"And why's Sarah here?" he added.

"Well, I'll start with you. There's no sense beating around the bush here. We want to know what you did with the Intersect."

"But I—"

"There's no reason to deny it now, Mr. Bartowski. We heard everything you said to Agent Walker. We know Bryce Larkin sent you the Intersect. Now, if you'll just tell us where we can find it, maybe we can work out some type of deal to send you back home," the man said.

"I don't—"

Chuck cut himself off this time. There was something hidden in that last explanation. Agent Walker?

"Who's Agent Walker?" he asked.

"Oh yes, Agent Walker. Or Sarah, as you know her."

"Wait, she works for you? She was just trying—"

"She tried nothing. She successfully got you to admit to stealing the Intersect. A pretty good day, in my book," the man gloated.

"Let me talk to her!" Chuck demanded.

The man sighed. "Fine, I think I can arrange that."

The man spun on his heel and walked over to the door of the all-too-white room. He opened it a crack and leaned his head out. A moment later, the door swung further open, and the man was followed by someone else.

A tall, olive skinned woman with long, dark hair and chestnut eyes. She was stunning. Was that Sarah?

"Hello Chuck, it's nice to finally see you face to face," she said.

Disclaimer: Even after a couple of weeks away, I still claim no financial interest in the characters or concepts of Chuck.

A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize for the delay. For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you may know that I've had a lot going on personally. And if you don't follow me, you should, so next time you will know. My handle is the same over there. I may try to push out another chapter this week to make up for it, but no promises, as things haven't really slowed down that much.

Also, yeah, this is the chapter that gave me the most trouble. I've been trying to write around it, and come back to it to beef it up, but it just wasn't working. But it had to go down, so I finally just went with what I had, and put it out there. Hopefully it's not a disappointment. And hopefully there aren't too many errors, as I've re-written this so many times, I'm sure I've managed to make a few. I'll correct them as I find them.

Thank you to everyone that took the time to read it, and I hope it was to your liking. You guys are awesome. Peace.