An: Thanks once more for the reviews, loyal readers! You guys motivate me more than my parents do, which now that I think about it, is really sad… :/ Uh, anyway, here's the next chapter. I tried to do something different this time and write from multiple points of view; it's really just Chuck and Sarah.

Oh and to those who got the little Smith and Wesson Easter egg, huzzah. Same with Sam and Deane too. I love comingling pop culture references from other shows into my stories, just like the Chuck writers like to do in the actual show. If you go back to Chapter four, there's another SPN reference if you can catch it.

Pss. This turned out way differnt than I planned. I was originally thinking about approaching the climax differently, but I went with adding another layer to the Intersect mytholog. It pretty Sci-Fi, just warning you. But this is Chuck and the Marvel universe so I couldn't pass it up.

Review as always!

Chapter Six: Unwell

She never thought about how she would die.

Ever since she had joined the CIA and became a spy, a part of her always knew that her time would come eventually.

But not now.

Not at this moment where the one she loved was her murder. He couldn't be the one who pulled the trigger so effortlessly, a satisfied smirk on his face as he intended to kill her. To watch her die in a puddle of her own blood.

When he spoke so coldly to her and cocked back the chamber of the gun, Sarah closed her eyes and wished that death would be painless for her. She never imagined that it would end this way.

Chuck, please don't do this.

He never thought about killing anyone before.

The idea just had not crossed his mind. He was too nice, too genuine of an all around ordinary guy to think those dark thoughts. He was too normal to want to condemn his soul to a fiery hell.

He needed to kill.

But now he was driven to be unrelenting and murderous. Voices in his head, flashes of grainy pictures burned their images into his eyes, leaving their remnants in his retinas. Everything was so confusing. All of the absorbed information and the shock he felt when he tried to resist the urge to comply with the wordless orders. It was too much for him to take.

He couldn't control the necessary urge to aim that gun right at her heart. It was the place that caused him the most trouble anyway. That's what the voices told him. The beautiful goddess standing fearfully right in front of him would have to pay for hurting him.

If he pulled the trigger, the headaches would go away.

It was that simple.

All the conviction he needed to carry out and what needed to be done had been laid out right before him.

He had to do this.

His finger curled around the trigger and he flipped the safety off.

Sarah.

She would want him to do this.

She would want the pain to go away.

Just like she had promised it would.

He fired the gun and prayed for forgiveness.

She stood without breathing.

Her eyes closed as she didn't want to witness her own demise.

Then there was a faint but audible click.

There was no gun shot.

She couldn't smell the smoke.

She didn't feel the sensation of fire piercing her skin and tearing into her flesh and bone.

No pain.

No blood.

She was still breathing, which meant she was still alive.

Sarah opened her blue eyes slowly and saw Chuck holding the gun, there was no indication of it ever being fired. Shocked to say the least, she looked directly at her would be killer's face; it was contorted up in a twisted scowl, too pissed off for words. She looked deeper and saw that in the depths of his eyes was relief.

Her heart thumped on like the beat of a drum and she began to breathe again.

Chuck was still in there somewhere, and it was her job now to find him.

When time decided to pick up at its normal pace, Sarah felt a shoulder brush bye her. Sam sprinted on, drawing her gun and then pressing it up against Chuck's temple. Sarah couldn't find her voice to tell her to stop. A hand touched her briefly and she glanced over to her side and saw her partner. His face was expressionless, with his mouth in a straight undefined line. His brows knitted together at loss for words.

"Walker, are you ok?" He asked gruffly.

She nodded.

He squeezed her shoulder and went to go assist Sam in subduing Chuck.

She watched the scene unfold right before her terrified eyes.

The gun was empty.

He felt a tremendous throbbing pain ring out in his head; enveloping his senses into oblivion.

His head told him to be outraged, to be overcome by anger and white hot rage. His heart told him to feel blessed that the big guy upstairs actually cared about him and her. The conflicting feelings threatened to drive him into insanity. They were tearing his mind into two separate entities, feeding him several thoughts both good and bad.

It was like a tidal wave of a thousand voices swelling up in the sea, and crashing down on him. Sucking him into its endless abyss until he couldn't breathe. He was drowning in himself.

He trembled where he stood. Anger was all he felt since the thing in his head had corrupted everything inside of him. He was blind and could no longer see her angelic face. He was deaf to reason.

A low threatening voice pulled him out of the raging current.

"Drop the gun, Charlie."

He blinked a few times and swallowed a lump in his throat. His distant eyes met with hers.

"It's empty."

He said it very evenly.

The cool metal pressed up against his head with more incentive.

"I said I would let you hold the gun didn't I?" She smirked, "Did I ever tell you that you'd be likely to shoot it?"

Everything she said came out distorted and warped. Her jumbled words made him dizzy; he parted his gaze from her and clumsily ejected the cartridge out of the gun. He fumbled with the piece and he let it drop to the ground. He sighed and another achingly bad migraine returned.

"You're smarter than I give you credit for I guess," He winced sharply when the words slipped out of his mouth.

She lessened the pressure against her forehead in fear she was causing him distress. His eyebrows drew into a pained expression and he collapsed to the ground.

"Crap, what's wrong with him now?" Casey yelled at Sam.

He was laying spread eagled on his back, his head and heart thumping in unison. His chest heaved up and down as he wouldn't stop panting.

The flashes inside of his head grew worse. They became rampant and unrepentant. Behind closed eyelids, Chuck was met with countless of horrific images. Every single one of them plagued his mind in a different fashion. As the pain intensified, he relived each individual altered memory. He screamed.

When he crumpled to the floor, Sarah looked on in horror.

Her body still wouldn't allow her to move. She was cemented down to the one spot, forever designated to never leave.

Sam dropped to her knees and crouched beside Chuck. Her gun was sticking out of her waistband and Sarah saw this as an immediate liability. She wanted to warn her but they were too far away, and she was so lost.

Chuck screamed out in anguish. She felt tears slide down her face. One hand numbly wiped her damp face. Her legs atrophied and were too weak to stand upright. Chuck's back arched into the air and he bit back a second cry. Nails scraped against the concrete for support, but his fingers kept sliding away and he wasn't able to get a solid hold on anything.

Sam leaned forward and examined his seizuring body. She grabbed onto one arm and urged Casey to take the other, "Hold him down so he doesn't hurt himself."

He nodded in affirmation and he took his asset by the wrist and pinned it down. With his arms held down securely, Chuck had trouble moving. His legs shook and thrashed around sporadically. He continuously would hit his head accidently against the pavement. It left a few stray red drops on the surface. Casey saw this and used his free hand to stabilize his neck.

Through all of this, Sarah looked on. Why couldn't she help him?

"Hey, Bartowski," Casey breathed into the younger man's ear, "Can't you just quit it? Stop moving for one second."

"No!" Chuck cried out. Tears clung on to his eyelashes and threatened to fall.

"Is he talking to us?" Casey questioned.

Sam shook her head, "I think he's just hallucinating…"

"God, Sarah, don't leave…please," Chuck begged as he cried her name.

Sarah brought a hand to her mouth. The wheels in her head began to turn and she regained feeling in her body.

"What is he talking about?" growled out Casey.

Sarah's thoughts traveled back to last night. Far after they came home from dinner at Ellie's, and just after they had made love for the first time. When they both fell asleep, she remembered. Chuck woke her up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning. She thought he was having a nightmare, just a—

"Bad dream?" She had asked him.

He panted softly, "bad dream."

But it was something far more worse. She just didn't want to delve into sharing such private feelings with Chuck, even after professing their love to each other. She wasn't ready to discuss nightmares and dreams. It scared her, so she let it pass.

"Sarah!" He wailed.

She choked back a strangled sob as he relived his greatest fear.

His back straightened and he fell completely still. Sam and Casey exchanged worried looks. Suddenly, Chuck's eyes snapped open and he moaned out in a string of intelligible consciousness.

"I couldn't save anyone! Not one person—oh god it's all my fault, god dammit--!" He cursed heavily and then snarled a, "fuck you." His body went limp and his head dropped back down into Casey's open palm. He shut his eyes and cried helplessly; he squeaked out a pitiful moan, "No…"

Then there was silence. Chuck fell into a restless sleep, his prone form twitched and jerked around periodically in quick intervals.

"What kind of virus is this?" Casey placed a damp hand on his asset's creased forehead.

Neither did Sam or Sarah know the answer to his question.

All he could see was himself.

Chuck was sitting in the same park from his dream. He felt the grass between his fingers, the sun on his back. His eyes strayed away from the man sitting crouched in front of his vision to only find the six dead bodies of his loved ones lay face down and scattered throughout the clearing. The field was still bathed in their blood.

"This is just a dream," Chuck whispered and stared directly at the shiny red knife.

"Yeah, well you said that last time, didn't you?" His own voice echoed amusedly.

"Get away from me," He warned himself and he scooted away from him.

The other Chuck flipped the knife so that the sharp end faced downward. He stabbed the ground and left the weapon there as a peace offering. He held up his hands in mock surrender and took a seat beside his double. He brought both hands up and formed a steeple; he leaned his chin against them and smiled pleasantly.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Chuck."

"Then what the hell am I doing here?" Chuck bit back, "Last thing I remember is reaching for the memory stick and—"

"Can't remember the rest huh?" His other self chuckled darkly.

"What's happening to me?"

The other Chuck rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, "You're dying."

"Dying?"

"Bingo."

"Wait, why?" Chuck asked aghast, "How?"

"It's quite easy to explain actually," He replied with a loathing grin. "The virus that you stupidly uploaded into that noggin of yours," He tapped Chuck's temple and laughed, "is for lack of a better word, tearing you apart limb from limb."

"Virus…what virus?"

"The one that some Ring agent planted inside of the computer for you to purposely download, it's pretty ingenious, I'll give him that," his voice came off as admiring.

Chuck pursed his lips together and he tried to recollect all of his lost memories. A light bulb flashed in his brain and everything returned to him. He jumped up to his feet and stammered.

"Oh my god, I almost killed Sarah!"

"You're lucky on that one." His other half pointed out.

"Lucky?" Chuck practically screamed at him, "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Hey, don't curse." The other admonished him, "it's rude."

"Can you shut up?" He pressed both hands to his ears so he could think straight.

He felt calmness overwhelm him and he inhaled a deep breath. The other Chuck looked at him oddly and rolled up to his feet. He stuck his hands into his pockets and bounced on his heels idly.

"You found your calm center yet?"

Chuck dropped his hands to his sides and glared at the shadowy version of himself.

"Who are you, and why did you kill everyone I love?"

"Now we're finally getting to the thick and thin of it! Alright," He rubbed his hands together excitedly, "Well, Chucky boy, who do you think I am?"

Chuck felt like punching his cryptic doppelganger in the face. The other saw this and his dark eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"I-I don't know," He stuttered honestly, "That's why I'm asking you in the first place!"

"Think about it genius…"

Balling up his fists, Chuck struggled to think of an explanation. But then he realized something.

He didn't feel that overwhelming heaviness.

There were no headaches or feelings of nausea. He felt…normal, balanced.

His eyes widened, "You." He pointed.

"Me," the doppelganger beamed.

"Y-you're the Intersect?" He accused in a small voice.

"Ding ding ding! We got ourselves a winner!"

"But, but why do you look like me…? And why were you killing my family?!" He shouted.

"One, well, I'm essentially you…" The Intersect mused, "I am your daddy's greatest creation so I manifest in the form of God's will, or in this case, Orion's."

"And your vendetta against them," Chuck pointed at shaky finger at the dead bodies.

"Oh, yeah," He winced, "Don't take that too harshly, Chuck. I was just trying to get your attention."

"For what?!"

The Intersect dropped his mildly interested demeanor and his voice lowered an octave. It sent a chill up Chuck's spine.

"I was trying to warn you about the danger you were going to encounter today."

"You mean me killing Sarah, and everyone else?"

"I guess I'm not getting through that thick headed skull of yours am I, Bartowski?"

"Apparently not," Chuck snapped.

The other's nostrils flared angrily, "The virus is controlling you and fucking with your mind."

"If it's causing so much harm, then why can't you do something to stop it?" Chuck challenged him hotly.

"Because it's messing with me too," the Intersect answered sharply.

"H-how?"

"Boy aren't you a man of many questions," he said sarcastically, "The virus is a Trojan Horse, Chuck. You should know better than anyone what that entails. What can happen if it's not isolated correctly can result in permanent damage to any computer…or even termination."

"Even you?" He choked out.

The Intersect nodded sagely, "Even me."

"What can I do to stop it?"

The Intersected averted his eyes from Chuck's and his even face melted into a helpless frown.

"I was hoping that you would know. You are the nerd."

"But you're the Intersect," Chuck accused, "You should be able to fix this with no problem."

"Computers aren't always 100% reliable," He sighed sadly, "They all have problems, glitches and kinks to work out. I'm just as fallible…and some of the CIA scientists were moronic enough to forget to install a simple virus protector into my hardrive."

His words died off into a seemingly endless silence. Chuck tired to absorb everything the supercomputer was saying, but for some reason, it was inconclusive to him.

"If the Trojan Horse is controlling me, does that mean it can make me perform any action?"

"So far it can dictate your hormones and alter your emotions…something I'm not capable of," He huffed irately, "It can also feed you false thoughts."

"That's why I almost shot Sarah," He murmured quietly.

"Yes. If it can do all of that then I don't see why it won't be able to access my Intel and force you to flash either."

"On information?" Chuck asked hopefully.

The Intersect buried his head into his hands and shook his head exhaustedly, "Not likely. The virus wants your team dead Chuck, and you as well. It's going to make you kill them all, one by one."

Sarah made herself move closer to his comatose body. Sam and Casey were both lingering by his side, staring at him, confounded. Still on her feet, she reached inside of her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone. Her hand shook and the I-phone rattled in her palm. She casted Casey a pained stare and dialed a number.

It ringed only once and then a weary voice answered.

"Sarah, what assistance are you in need of this afternoon?"

She inhaled a deep breath and shut her eyes briefly, "Mr. Bartowski, we need your help."

"With what?" He asked her confusedly.

"Your son…Chuck," her voice broke, "There's something wrong with him."

"My dad can make this right," Chuck spoke up after the tension between them cleared.

The Intersect ran his hand through his messy hair. It frightened Chuck to see another version of himself standing there, using his voice and mannerisms.

"Of course he can."He rolled his eyes.

"What," Chuck narrowed his eyes, "You don't think he can?"

"Look," the Intersect snapped at his host heatedly, "I'm a little tense right now. If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to prevent this catastrophe from beginning every time you open your mouth!"

Chuck noticed it now. His double was sweating a bit; he looked feverish, with reddened cheeks and all. He was fighting off the infection from progressing further into its hostile takeover. Chuck felt kind of sorry for the AI's sacrifice.

"Why hasn't the Trojan Horse started possessing me yet?" Chuck spoke lowly.

"Other than me protecting you?" He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and broke down to his knees, "Dammit…the thing is dormant. I kept it under wraps, expecting one of your friends to figure something out…or knock you unconscious..." He snorted, "That's our answer. Or at least a temporary one."

"Getting me unconscious?"

"Yeah, then Orion can get to us before we hurt anyone."

It was weird, but oddly fitting the way the thing that resembled him referred to their one body as "us," and "we." It was like they were joined together. They had a symbiotic relationship that was never meant to be played around with, or broken. Chuck's eyes warmed to the thing he thought had destroyed his life countless of times. He felt a kinship to it…machine or not.

"Hey, uh, Intersect?" Chuck tried, but calling it—him that didn't sound natural on his tongue.

"—Carmichael," He cut in and bit back a moan.

"Carmichael?"

"Just call me…that," He wrapped his arms around his stomach and a trickle of blood dripped down a nostril.

Chuck lowered him down to the grass and placed both hands on his shoulders for support. Looking straight into his eyes, Chuck smiled.

"I never got around to thanking you, Carmichael."

Squinting one eye open, the Intersect stared at him strangely, "For what?"

"You were the best thing to ever happen to me, virus or no," He said sincerely, "You're the reason why I met Sarah, found my dad, left the Buy More…and forgave Bryce." He thought about it for one more moment and then grinned, "You gave me this second chance at life. And I can't ever thank you enough for that."

"Even if you die today, can you live with it?"

There was a jolt of electricity and it shocked Carmichael. He squeezed his eyes tight and gave into the pain. His body went slack and he fell on his back. Chuck looked on in horror.

Sarah ended her phone call with Orion. She pocketed her cell in her jacket and stared back at two pairs of anxious eyes.

"He said that he's coming over right now and that all we can do is keep Chuck asleep."

"What if he wakes up?" Casey got up and asked skeptically.

"Then we do everything we can to successfully subdue him." Her voice was calm and composed.

"Even if that means we end up hurting the kid?" Casey raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever it takes," She said with resolve.

Sarah receded back into her shell and Agent Walker came forward. The spy looked at him coldly and added:

"It's better him than us."

The Colonel tentatively nodded his head and left her side. Not too sure how he felt about it.

Sarah continued to set her eyes on Chuck's unmoving form, praying that she wouldn't have to face him in combat.

End Chapter 6

Next Chappie: numero 7- You Fight Me