AN: Ok, first off, thanks for most of your reviews. Through this whole thing I finally got one negative humongous ranting review. Awesome. I know I shouldn't get pissed and take it as constructive criticism, but that was just—come on that was a tiny bit mean. Believe me, I totally understand that this story is getting unbelievable, Team B is not able to do the simplest of things (aren't there episodes that make Sarah and Casey almost idiotic?), and Chuck is evil. It not even Chuck, so I'm not compromising his character! The whole thing is that after what I saw when he took out the Ring Agents was that he could be unstoppable if he didn't have complete control and had given in to the power….uh and didn't anyone notice that I crossed this over with the Marvel universe? Anyone? Because that is a comic book world and anything can happen; anyone can agree on that.

So, uh, sorry for the whole rant thing, I just kind of got semi-pissed off on that. I just don't understand bashing people's stories and flaming them. If you don't like it, don't read it. You can review and say you're "out" without making feel dead inside….that was a joke. Ha-ha.

I'm done with that, now on to the actual chapter. This is the last one if you don't count the epilogue dun dun dunnnn. Enjoy those who have been with me from the beginning!

Review too.

Chapter Eight: Anthem for the Underdog

"CHUCK!"

His name echoed in the recesses of an empty mind.

"Chuck…"

A gust of wind blew through the clearing; blades of grass danced in the breeze, dried blood sifted into the air like crimson pollen. The sun was monstrous. Its hot rays beamed down onto his face. As his name continued to ricochet off the forest barrier that encompassed the park and held him prisoner, the heat from the hot ball of gas above intensified and was burning him.

His limp body slept on the green grass. Arms were linked around his head for support; legs were sprawled out with his Chuck Taylors angled up to the sky. He was resting calmly beside his double, which wasn't quite dead yet; he was only deathly ill, hacking up blood and swaying in an out of consciousness while his body spasmed from the amount of pain he suffered. His strength was continuously being sucked out of him. It was only a matter of time until he would give up the fight shut down for forever.

But he still slept relatively unharmed. His vitality was draining away, leaving him exhausted and fragile. It's not like he was giving up and calling it quits, he had told himself firmly as his eyes began to droop closed. No, he wanted to fight. He wanted to save the day and be a hero, after all of this was his fault in the first place. None of this would have had to happen if he wasn't so damn naïve. If he had just considered his actions for a split second…he would be awake; his friends wouldn't be fighting for their lives; and the damn computer in his brain wouldn't be sick and dying a slow death. But all of these musing thoughts were just in theory. They were all what is and shouldn't be. Maybe this was his destiny? To fight for his mind and body, not to mention his soul against an outside parasitic force, but to only lose horribly and slip inside an endless sleep as he lived his remaining time in this paradise?

"Chuck."

In the solace of his mind, her plea became quiet and forlorn. The bell-like song swam around him, tickling his nose, tugging at his limbs, doing everything possible to wake him. When it glided over him for the umpteenth time, it stayed suspended in motion and grazed over his lips. The breeze was soft and lovely, just like her. She spoke again, but with more fire and determination. His brows drew forward when he began to burn under the sun's fire. The desperation in her voice strained to stay hopeful and confident, but its strength had diminished and was finally swept away by another gentle wind.

At last, brown eyes snapped open.

He lifted his weak body up slowly. The blood rushed to his head and his vision came out blurry and uncoordinated. He placed a hand on either side of him to steady himself, to keep balance. Wide, confused eyes darted in all directions, letting everything sink in. He squeezed them shut. Then when things started to become clearer and a haze was lifted off of him, Chuck gasped for a breath of air, coughing as he sucked in too much at one time.

"H-huh, w—what's going…on?" He stammered weakly.

Then a wave of nausea shifted in the pit of his stomach and rose up into his throat. He gagged. Covering his mouth with both hands, Chuck kneeled over and vomited into the lush grass. On all fours, he panted wildly. The heat from above was causing him to sweat. Droplets rolled down his skin, burning slightly when it mixed into the corners of his eyes. Sitting on his heels, he rubbed his eyes wearily and waited for his sight to clear.

Winning back his composure, Chuck slowly raised himself up to his feet. As he did this, his mind finally began to work again. All six feet and four inches of him stood slouched over, heaving tiredly. He let his eyes fall curiously on the limp form that was dying a few feet away from him. Just staring at him, Chuck felt like throwing up again. That could've been him if he had chosen to sleep forever. This knowledge frightened him into silence. He remained standing hunched over like that until—

--He was holding a gun, glaring almost manically as he aimed it at her heart. Her beautiful face was covered in small cuts and bruises; blood spilled out from those wounds.—

Chuck's chest clenched tightly. It felt like someone delivered a hard blow to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He held his body and winced painfully. What was going on? It felt like he had just undergone a flash, but that was impossible…wasn't it? He glanced over at the body laying on the bloodied grass and—

--She stared up at him with hard condemning eyes. She had asked him if she was sure he was going to go through with it this time. He answered with a yes. She was unsurprised, but braced herself for the end. Her famous last words rang out sudden and true, and she smiled as he cocked back the gun.—

"CHUCK!"

He was thrown out of the flash with a start. He spun around, looking confused and out of breath. Everything was circling around him at a rapid pace; the trees became a blur and it was all a mesh of green and red.

All he could hear was her voice.

All he could see was her face.

All he could feel was the cool metal between his fingers as he threatened to pull the trigger.

His heart thumped painfully in his chest. The sickening sensation of wanting to end her life discouraged him, but he pressed on. That wasn't how he felt, became his mantra in his single-tracked mind. Something else was making him feel this way. It needed to end. Chuck swallowed.

"Sarah," He tried, but it came out as croak.

Could she even hear him?

--He spoke her name. It sounded concerned and worrisome, not unfeeling and detached like he had spoken it moments before. Her smile twitched into a puzzled expression, but then gradually became enlightened and caught in a sense of bewilderment. Her mouth went slack and she tried out timidly,

"Chuck, are you there?"—

Her words fired through every nerve ending throughout his body, all the way up to his brain. His eyes were still closed, but a beaming smile grew on his face. Oh yes, he was here.

"Yes, I'm h—!"

A sharp throbbing pain pushed him down to his knees. Then a monotonous sound buzzed into his ears, maiming his senses. Chuck buckled down and the world spun around him. He pressed his hands against both of his ears.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!" he begged out loud.

--His gun hand began to shake wildly. Worried eyes became pained and then he closed them tightly. The reopened coldly and angrily, but he couldn't manage to fire the weapon. She listened to him mouth under his breath to just make it stop. She heard this over and over again, and now she finally understood what was happening: Chuck was fighting for control.—

A hand tugged feebly on his pant leg. Chuck shakily opened up one eye and saw a familiar face.

"Y-you're going to have to try a lot harder if you want to win this," His dark eyes locked onto his. He smiled grimly. His face had lost all of his natural color and it resembled that of a corpse. Blood was dripping from his mouth like a fountain.

"H-how can I?" Chuck cried out at him pathetically. The weight of everything continued to drag him further down to the ground.

"Think about what you have to live for," was the cryptic answer. "You have a family; a handful of close friends, and a woman that you love…that should be enough."

"I-I can't…" His eyes watered and he shook his head. "It hurts too much, I'm not strong enough."

--A trickle of blood dripped out of both nostrils. She scrambled up to a sitting position, still too weak to try and disarm him. She watched on as the gun shook in frail hands.

"Come on, Chuck," She told him, "You can do this. Don't let this beat you…" Her voice died out when a painful realization hit her, "Chuck, I can't always be there to save you. There's just some things you need to do by yourself and I have faith in you, I believe in you."—

He listened to her through cupped ears. The pain was unbearable. If he thought that what he felt earlier that day was bad, then this had to be a million times worse. Was he finally dying? Was this it for him?

--She didn't see the light in his eyes return. He was losing and her heart ached for him. What could she possibly do to make him fight harder? She said all she could and it did absolutely nothing.

Her lips parted slightly in awe of herself.

"Chuck…listen to me. I know that I'm the last person you'd hear a confession from, save for Casey, but that's beside the point," She added with a shaky laugh.—

Things got clearer and he fought the gradual escalation of pain weighing him down like gravity upon the earth. The hand that held him at the seams of his jeans loosened and dropped to the ground. Chuck looked below him and saw his doppelganger approaching the end. Chuck resisted the urge to roll over and join his fallen ally; he remained standing. His ears perked up when Sarah began speaking to him once again.

--"What I'm trying to say is, Chuck…" She licked her lips unsurely, "I love you."

Her admission hung in the stale air. She let it linger there. Then she resumed with more passion and assertion than ever before.

"I love you more than anything. From the moment I met you, Chuck, y-you were just, it. I didn't know it at the time and it took me this long to truly understand, but I hope to god you can hear me because I don't want this to be the last time I say it to you." She ended it with a small sob.—

Chuck blinked.

Sarah.

Did she mean it? Did she actually say that she loved him? Not like last time where she told him how she felt when she had thought he was delirious and sick the day before. Did Sarah Walker just tell profess her love to him?

He sucked in a deep breath and struggled to stand up. The voices in his head returned when what was real and fake were brought into question. They told him she was lying. That she was desperate to save her own life and that at moment's notice, she would turn on him.

He shook his head defiantly.

Sarah would never do that. She would never betray him.

That day on the beach when she asked him to trust her, he had took her word on it. He had based everything upon that solitary moment.

Trust. He trusted her.

He loved her.

He wasn't going to let her slip away from him again.

Not now.

Not ever.

--He thrust his arm into the sky and fired the gun. The gunshot stopped her from crying and she looked up at his tall form, blackened tears sliding down her ashen cheeks. He dropped the gun and it clanked to the ground. He dropped to his knees and crawled to her.

He held out a hand, open palmed.

She eyed him carefully.

He appeared to be so frail and weak. But his liquid brown eyes were aflame and seemed to glow; reborn again.

She took his hand and he pulled her into his embrace.

"I love you too, Sarah." He whispered into her ear.

She broke down, but all of her crying came out like choked laughter. Chuck couldn't tell if she was happy or sad. He guessed it was both.

Sarah dug her fingers into his back and remained in his hug. He gently ran a hand through her hair. A lone tear fell down his face. They stayed like this until Sarah felt Chuck's embrace go limp. She worriedly pulled back from the hug and gripped onto his shoulders, staring straight at his face.

"Chuck?"

His face had lost color and became ghostly pale. Brown eyes dimmed like a dying campfire, losing all strength and resolve in seconds. His lips curved into his lop-sided smile, at peace with himself. Sarah held his face in her hands.

"No, no, Chuck what's wrong?" She spoke frantically.

Blood ran down his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears. Her fingers were caught in the sticky mess, but she didn't seem to care. She focused on Chuck. Even though he had fought the virus off, it didn't mean that it was gone. It was attacking his body now, killing him. His eyes looked dead. His smile looked just as empty and decomposed.

"Don't leave me again," She pleaded.

Sarah wrapped him back up into her loving embrace. She rocked him back and forth, losing all composure. Before she gave way to a darkened bliss, her tunnel-vision saw the faint outline a man sprinting toward her, holding something in his hand.

She wouldn't let him go. Not today. Not now, not never.

Sarah dipped into unconsciousness with Chuck still in her arms.

Two Days Later

"Sarah?"

She shifted uncomfortably on the cardboard-like surface.

"C'mon, wake up," A voice urged her.

Her head pressed up against a semi-cushiony pillow. At least it felt cool pressed up on her head.

A finger poked her. She squirmed, her eyes fluttered and she went in and out of lucidity.

"Hey, I saw that. Open up your eyes, I have a surprise for you…" The familiar voice was warm as he kidded around.

She wouldn't dare open her eyes. Not when the events from what seemed like a lifetime ago filtered back inside her brain.

Chuck.

There was so much blood.

No, he can't die.

Sarah squeezed her eyes closed. She wouldn't wake up. She wasn't ready to confront all those angry and distraught faces when asked about their son, brother, or friend. She couldn't even confront herself.

She heard someone sit down next to her. There was a sigh and then a hand combed through her long blonde hair.

"Far beyond a visible, sign of your awakening," He sang in a small whisper. His voice was actually quite nice, she noticed, "Failing miserably to rescue my Sleeping Beauty…"

He stopped petting her and Sarah was lost in the silence. Her heart skipped a beat when his hand slid down and caressed her cheek. He was so gently and soft. She leaned into his touch, wanting this to be real so badly.

A pair of smooth lips ghosted over hers. Her body went rigid and a jolt of electricity ran through every fiber of her being. She welcomed the kiss with parted lips. He deepened it, letting it linger for the longest time. She blindly reached out to feel him. Her fingertips skimmed over his face which was riddled with stubble. Then she tentatively decided to open her eyes, one by one.

Everything was a blur. The lights overhead were bright and blinding. Wherever she was everything that surrounded her was blank and dour. It was stark white. Her vision cleared and when things started to come back into focus, Sarah saw him. She blinked. Was this heaven?

"No, not quite," he gave a short laugh, "But I can see you'd get that impression, hospitals are pretty deceiving sometimes."

Too many things were running through her muddled brain. It was hard to comprehend what he was saying half the time.

"Hospital?" She mumbled weakly.

His smile faltered and was replaced with an uncomfortable grimace.

"Yeah," He admitted.

Sarah stared at him for a moment; everything was so clear to her now. She used her hands to push herself upward into a more relaxed position. Her head pressed up against the headboard of the hospital bed.

"Chuck, what happened?"

A healed Chuck Bartowski sat on her side of the bed; he averted his eyes and looked at the cold floor. Sarah examined him for any signs of injury. She saw a gauzy bandage covering the underbelly of his chin. She winced when remembering that she had kicked him there. His fingers were wrapped with new bandages, Sarah assumed he reinjured them. Her gaze lifted from his hands and landed on his face. There were a few bruises just forming on the surface of his skin. All of the blood that was leaking from every orifice had been cleaned off. All in all, Chuck looked healthier than Sarah imagined was possible. She was grateful for that.

She placed a hand on his neck and he turned to meet her square in the eyes. He looked at her guiltily.

"I almost killed you, Casey and Sam." He told her sadly, "I pointed a god damn gun at your face, for how many times—oh yeah, three times. Each one of them, I expected to shoot you dead." He shook his head blamefully, "And if it wasn't for you…I-I wouldn't be sitting here right now…"

"Neither would I, Chuck."

He snorted, "Add that to the list."

"No," She brought herself closer to him. She tucked a stray curl behind his ear, "That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean then?"

"You saved yourself. I may have given you emotional support," that earned her a chuckle, she smiled, "but in the end, you got what you deserved. You fought to live and you won."

Chuck broke out laughing. Sarah retracted her hand and folded her arms over her chest. She stared at him oddly.

"What's your problem?"

Tears of happiness clung onto his eyes and threatened to fall, "T-that had to be the cheesiest thing I think I have ever heard you say!"

She smacked him on the shoulder. He wiped his eyes and giggled. It made her heart soar.

"I was having a moment, Chuck." She growled at him, "You always have your little monologs filled with cheese, why can't I have a say in anything?"

"Maybe you shouldn't," He shrugged and she punched him again. He teased playfully, "I mean, if we're going to be expecting those little gems right there from now on, maybe you should leave the inspirational speeches to me."

She balled up her fists, but her sapphire eyes lightened up tremendously.

"Just for that," She feigned a warning, "next time we are going to have a meaningful intimate moment, I'm going to cut you off, Bartowski. Just you wait."

"I'm counting down the days," He winked at her mischievously.

A knock at the door broke the two of them out of their staring contest.

"You can come in," Chuck offered.

The knob turned and Devon Woodcomb walked through, clad in a pair of blue scrubs and a white doctor's coat. He was holding a chart and approached the happy couple with a smile of his own.

"So how are my favorite brother-in-law and his very beautiful lady friend?"

"We're just awesome, Devon," Chuck responded dryly.

Not paying attention, the elder man took a pen and scanned over the chart placed on the clipboard. He nodded absentmindedly, "Awesome," He echoed.

Chuck and Sarah exchanged smiles, but stayed quiet.

After signing his name at the bottom of the form, Devon handed the clipboard over to Sarah. She took it and read it carefully.

"Here, Sarah, that's you patient discharge form," Devon said explained, "All you have to do is sign the bottom and you'll be allowed to leave."

Chuck raised a confused eyebrow, "Wait, why would she have to sign her own release papers? Doesn't she need a—?"

"—its fine, Chuck," answered Sarah. She wrote her signature and gave the form back to Devon. He placed it underneath his arm and thanked her, "It doesn't matter, so let it go ok?"

"Fine," He sighed.

"Before you leave, Devon?" Sarah grabbed his attention.

He spun on a heel and looked up at her, "Yeah, Sarah?"

"What are we using as an alibi?"

"Car crash," Devon said.

"—and my dad found us after you called him and told him where we were," continued Chuck, "He 'called the cops' and we were all taken in the ambulance to the hospital. End of story."

"Ok," Sarah nodded.

"Oh, Devon," Chuck asked before he forgot, "How's Casey and Sam?"

"They'll be fine. They're both up and about so that's good," Devon rubbed his face tiredly, "John was just badly bruised, he got a good bump on his forehead, but I've never seen someone with such a thick skull. That dude must have as many concussions as Steve Young…"

The allusion was lost on both spies. The locked eyes, but shrugged indifferently.

"Uh, but Sam, she was a different story." He shook his head, "Thanks to Mr. B, we found out that Sam has a severe case of narcolepsy. She had suffered from a pretty bad concussion, but since she hadn't taken her medication, she was at risk of falling asleep."

'Wow,' Chuck mouthed at Sarah. She repeated the gesture back at him.

"—so we drugged her up and until she was no longer at risk of slipping into a coma. She's fine."

"How did we explain her relationship with us?" Sarah asked interestedly.

"Uh, we haven't actually got that far yet…" Devon said weakly.

His pager buzzed and he read the text. He looked at the two spies.

"I need to go, another patient waits," He joked.

"Thanks Devon," both Chuck and Sarah said simultaneously.

"No problem. What are families for?"

The door shut leaving Chuck and Sarah alone once more. A daunting silence passed between the two of them, like they were stuck in their own little word. Sarah broke out of her trance first.

"What really did happen, Chuck?" she wondered.

"What do you mean?"

"How are you alive?"Her voice was hushed.

"My dad," He told her unblinkingly.

"Orion?"

"Yeah, he got their after I was convulsing and sedated me with a trial vaccination. That's what took him so long to get there anyway…" He stared at his hands, "It put me to sleep and isolated where the virus was attacking me…it was trying to inhibit my immune system and then work from there. After I woke up, he came in and told me he's working on an anti-virus program to upload into the Intersect. It should be able to protect me."

"There's something you're not telling me, Chuck. Its written all over your face, so spill it," She pressed.

"The Intersect was damaged due to the severity of the Trojan Horse," He sighed and shook his head, "My dad could probably explain it way better than I can, but my flashes are going to be spacey, erratic and maybe completely wrong. I'm a liability to Team Bartowski, but that's what I get for being a moron and not being more careful—"

"Stop blaming yourself, I told you that it wasn't your fault. It was just bad luck," Sarah conveyed.

"Right, bad luck…the story of my life," he whined.

"It's not all bad luck," She said sincerely and stared into his chocolate eyes, "You have me."

Chuck bore into Sarah's blue orbs and bit his lip, considering what she said. His critical frown twitched into a small smile. He sat up.

"You need help getting up?" He asked politely.

He held out a helpful hand and Sarah gladly took it. His fingers folded over hers and he hoisted her out of the bed and back on her feet. She wobbled for a moment, but with his help, she regained her balance back. Sarah noticed that she was in a patient's attire and she looked at Chuck glumly. He was in a nice pair of jeans and his light blue T-shirt that read: Cowbell Hero. She smirked.

"I'm not leaving dressed like this."

"Of course not," Chuck rolled his eyes and went to a visitors seat where a plastic bag sat, "I wouldn't expect you to. So being the charming boyfriend I am, I brought you a nice change of clothes. Save your thanks for later, I'm just naturally a goodhearted person."

He handed her the bag and she looked inside, "You're such a philanthropist, Chuck." She complimented him and emptied the bag, revealing a nice spring dress and a pair of high heel shoes. At least he had taste.

His face brightened at the praise, he beamed proudly, "You know it. I'm doing God's work here..." And then his jaw hit the floor.

She untied the patient's garment and handed it to him. It slipped out of his fingers and she stared at him innocently.

"You'll never get used to me being undressed, will you?"

!!!!

Out in the waiting room, Ellie Bartowski sat impatiently (her shift was over) waiting for her little brother and his girlfriend to leave their room. Sure Chuck had been up for the last twelve hours or so, but that didn't mean she had a chance to talk to him. He was being oddly distant to her. To everyone really, even to their father. Since waking up, all Chuck lived for was Sarah. He found her room and barricaded himself in there until she would awaken. So that left Ellie to contend with John Casey, and the mystery girl who seemed to be smitten with her neighbor. She looked at the two oddly. Casey was sitting on a bench with his eyes closed. The younger woman was right beside him, leaning against him and trying to sleep peacefully.

She stared at them strangely. Morgan was sitting next to her and he too looked at the odd couple.

"What do you think their story is?" He asked, making conversation.

"Shouldn't you be in Hawaii, Morgan?" She responded coldly.

"Hey, when I heard that my best friend was involved in a car accident, I took the earliest red eye flight and flew back here as fast as I could…"

She raised an eyebrow, "Morgan?"

"—and I was kicked out at the Benihana culinary school," He finished with a bow of the head.

"Really?" she mocked disbelief, "I guess someone owes me twenty dollars then…" She smiled wistfully.

Morgan snapped his head and faced her, "Wait what?"

"Dad," She turned to her left and held out her hand.

Steven Bartowski was sitting crossed legged in his chair, reading a Buy More catalogue. He folded the magazine and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He took out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to his daughter with a sigh. Then he went back to his reading.

"My sweet Ellie, please don't tell me you were betting on how long I'd last in paradise?"

"It wasn't just me," She placed her winnings in her scrubs pocket, "We had a whole betting pool with the Buy More employees…it was a really big event actually."

"That's just discouraging," Morgan shook his head and folded his arms, "You should've at least won more than a twenty."

"Its twenty per person," She commented airily, "I still need to collect from Devon, John, Chuck, your weird friends at the Buy More, and your mom…"

"My own mother bet against me?!" Morgan asked outraged.

Sam was startled out of her sleep. She looked around her wearily and noticed she was lying against Casey. She blushed and parted from him. He grunted and opened up his eyes. He stared at her sleepily.

"What did I say about touch—"

"Oh John, you're awake," Ellie cut him off in mid threat.

His face undergone his menacing scowls and reverted into a seemingly real smile.

"Hi Ellie," He looked at the bearded man and added, "And troll."

Sam snickered. She yawned loudly and stretched herself out into a Y. Then rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she asked, "Is Sarah up yet?"

"I think she's getting ready right now," Ellie said with a shrug and then pried, "So I never got a chance to ask you your relation to my brother. Do you know him from work, or do you know Sarah or John?"

"Actually," Steven interjected lightly, "Sam is John's little sister."

Sam blinked. Casey growled at the elder Bartowski. God damn that man.

The SHIELD agent's brain clicked and she beamed a huge smile and then proceeded to envelop Casey in a loving hug. He tried to twist out of it but failed miserably.

"Oh, I mean, wow," Ellie said surprised, "John, I didn't know you had any siblings."

Casey opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

"Aw, Johnny here is such the silent lone wolf type," Sam smiled brightly, "He's so quiet about everything; he likes to keep to himself most of the time. But once you get to know him, he's just a big teddy bear! Right, big brother?"

She looked at him with a sweet expression. He grunted.

Sam got up and reached over to shake Ellie's hand, "Hi, I'm Samantha Casey, nice to meet you."

"Ellie Barto---I mean, Woodcomb," She corrected herself quickly, "nice to meet you too."

Casey glowered at Orion who was hiding his face from behind the magazine. He was chuckling.

God, he hated this whole family.

!!!

He zipped her dress up and watched as she spun around, examining the powder blue fabric in delight. Chuck smiled at her when she slowed down to a stop and faced him. She took his hand and rubbed it slowly.

"Where did you find this dress, Chuck?" she asked him curiously, "This isn't mine."

"Uh, well," Chuck looked the other way briefly, as if embarrassed, "You remember when I invited you on an all exclusive vacation to the destination of your choice with yours truly?"

"Yes," She said slowly, cringing at the memory.

"Well, not knowing that you were going to turn me down, I-uh, used some of the money the government gave me and went and bought you that dress…for the trip." His face grew beet red.

Sarah stepped toward him, placing a hand on his waist; she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Thank you for the dress," she said.

"You're welcome…it looks very uh dapper on you?" He tried out using one of the words Sarah used to describe him. She giggled and patted his shoulder.

"Nice Chuck."

She went for the door. He craned his neck and stared at her thoughtfully.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?"

"Maybe."

He hurried over to her and opened the door for her, "Look at me, I can be debonair, so don't make fun of me."

Sarah didn't respond only shook her head and smiled.

"Ready for twenty questions with the family?" Chuck asked her.

"I was born ready," She deadpanned.

The held each others' hands and turned around the hall and made their way to the waiting room.

Somewhere in Washington DC

He was hidden up on the top floor of the building. He was on his stomach, staring through a scope magnifying his target by tenfold. A remote was sitting on the ground beside him and he eagerly waited for the call. He always got so anxious for moments like these. It actually got his heart to make that strange thumping noise, you know, the one that makes someone feel so….alive?

Dark raven bangs fell on his forehead and he ran his gloved hand through his messy hair, pushing them out of the way. He liked his lips in anticipation when he saw one of his potential marks entering the government facility. It was only a matter of time until the meeting started. Then Ka-boom! That place would light up like the Fourth of July.

He pocketed his scope and took out his phone; it had been vibrating for awhile now. He grunted and put it up to his ear.

"Howdy."

"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?" A gruff voice asked him irately.

He scrunched up his nose in equal annoyance; he didn't like this guy telling him what to do.

"Because I like to avoid having conversations like these," was his answer.

"Ha-ha, you're such a comedian, now let's cut the bullshit and get down to what actually matters."

"Killing a room filled with a bunch of high level security government officials, you mean?" He slid off his belly and leaned back on the concrete ledge, pulling out a Corona beer. He took a swig and smacked his lips, "Let's get this party started then."

"Did I just hear you crack open a beer?"

Pause.

Another sip.

"So, what if you did?" He asked challengingly.

There was a long sigh on the other line, "I'm not even going near that one with a ten foot pole."

"You have a ten foot pole!" He said in mock awe, "Ooh, where did you get it, I want one!"

"It's a figure of speech, you idiot."

He sat the beer bottle down and placed a nice slick pair of Aviators on his face. It covered his dark hostile blue eyes.

"So," he began after a long pause, "when do I get to push the big red button?"

"In T-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6—"

"5, 4, 3, 2, and….!"

He flipped the remote's switch and closed his eyes as he pressed the looming red button.

"1!"

At first there was nothing and he actually looked kind of let down. But a second went by and as soon as he scrambled up to his feet, ready to give his employer hell for giving him a faulty bomb, there was loud BOOM! And then came the terrifying explosion.

Glad he brought his sunglasses; he felt the debris from the destruction blow past him. The heat from the flames could be felt all the way where he was. He let out a satisfied laugh and emptied the rest of his Corona. Making sure to deposit it in the trash can, he padded across the balcony aimlessly, stepping over the litter of broken and unmoving bodies. He threw it away and lifted the phone to his ear once more.

"Mission a success?" He asked not in the least bit curious.

"We shall see soon enough," was the reply.

"Nice working with you again. Have a great time at the bad guys convention Mr. Hammer!"

"You continue to surprise me, Walter. We will contact you next time we need your assistance."

"I'm an endless bag of surprises," Walter replied wittily but only heard the dial tone.

"Jerk," he mumbled and made his way down the fire escape with his gun at the ready.

While Sam talked animatedly with the Bartowskis and the bearded troll about her non-existent relationship between him and her, Casey idly waited as patiently as possible for the nerd and Walker to join them. Then maybe they could leave this hell hole and go debrief General Beckman on the mission.

"—and so, Johnny and I were riding our bikes down the neighborhood and he bet me that he could ride down the big hill without holding onto the handlebars!"

Ellie nodded and laughed, stealing a glance at Casey. Morgan snickered while Steve had moved on to yet another magazine. This time it was a Time Magazine. The cover had a giant picture of a middle-aged, but extremely good looking man giving a speech on a podium in front of a mob filled with paparazzi and journalists. He was flashing a giant, albeit cocky grin. The Air Force officer, or maybe Colonel, Casey guessed, who was standing once respectfully by him, stared in shock with his mouth open and eyes bulging out of his skull.

The title read: One Year from today, Mr. Stark still keeps America and the World on their Toes. The subtitle read: Is Arc Reactor technology really a Hoax? Let Iron Man tell you himself.

Casey grunted uninterestedly. Tony Stark. Humph. He was just some pretty playboy billionaire looking to stay in the limelight. Then his mind traveled to the suit. The beautiful armored suit made out of a titanium alloy that was damn near indestructible. Sometimes, Casey wanted nothing more than just to be able to use that suit. So he could blow something up.

Just once.

Shaking his head out of his fantasies, he heard Sam cracking both Ellie and Morgan up with choked laughter.

"—so he let go of the handlebars, right?" She snorted laughing, "And he went down that hill so fast that no one could stop him, not even mom or dad could catch up and tell him to stop. Johnny just kept going until things were going too fast for him. He reached for the breaks, but he used the front wheel one instead of the back brakes and—" She stood up and used her fingers to show an imaginary Casey tumbling down the remainder of the hill, "—he landed right on his face…and that's how he got that nasty scar on his cheek."

Both of their phones became to vibrate simultaneously. Casey got up and urged Sam to do the same.

"Sorry about the interruption," Sam apologized, "But speaking of family matters, we have some personal things to discuss. Right, Johnny?"

"Just follow me." He growled and yanked her down the hallway, just passing Chuck and Sarah who stared at them oddly.

"What's going on?" Chuck began, but Casey didn't stop for him.

"C'mon Chuck, we'll find out later," Sarah lead him to the waiting room.

"—so who thought that Sam was Casey's sister?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"What the hell?" Chuck whispered to Sarah.

"I have no clue," was Sarah's immediate response.

"I actually thought they were in a romantic relationship," Ellie said, seeming disgusted for considering it.

"—what are you guys talking about?"

Morgan jumped out of his seat along with Ellie.

"Chuck!"

Morgan ran up to his best friend and enveloped him in a bear hug. Chuck slapped him on the back.

"Buddy, what happened to becoming a Benihana chef, I thought that was your dream?"

Morgan eyed him carefully, "Dude, I know about the bet. You can drop the act."

"I'm sorry, Morgan," he said honestly, "if it's any consolation, I tried to give you the most time."

"Speaking of that," Ellie interrupted slyly. She released Sarah from a hug and stared down her brother, "You owe me twenty."

"Ellie, I'm kind of tight with money right now. Can't I just pay you pack later?"

"Sure," she said, "I'll keep a tab. Sarah don't you think you're going to get out of it either."

"So, I'm allowed to leave?" Sarah changed the subject quickly.

"Absolutely. It's just hospital policy that you need to be escorted out in a wheelchair," the elder Bartowski informed her.

"That's fine I guess."

"Here, I'll go get it for you," she offered kindly.

"Wahoo!" Morgan whooped loudly, arms in the air.

Ellie, Sarah, and Steven all turned to see Chuck pushing his best friend in a wheelchair. Ellie rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Children, can I have shiny rolling chair back?" She teased them.

The wheelchair skidded to a stop, tossing Morgan out on the floor. Chuck chuckled under his breath and offered it to Sarah. She sat down and Chuck proceeded to take her down the hall where Casey and Sam had disappeared to.

"Do I really need to have this?" Sarah asked him.

Chuck pushed her along, obviously enjoying himself. He looked down the hall and saw Casey in a heated argument with Sam. It wasn't their usual banter either. Chuck ignored Sarah's complaining and rushed down the empty hall, pulling Sarah along with him.

"Hey, Casey! Sam!" He yelled at them both.

They continued to glare at each other. Like enemies.

He stopped the wheelchair, letting Sarah hop out and meet him the rest of the way there. When all four of them were in the very end of the hall, Chuck intervened between the two hot headed ones and broke them up.

"I get that you guys don't like each other, "Chuck panted, still weak, "but fighting? Really, we are adults here, violence doesn't solve everything."

"It does when we have a traitor on our hands." Casey growled out and pointed at Sam. She glowered at him, her eyes flickering into a dark red.

Sarah faced Sam confusedly, "Sam…"

"Maybe if some people don't jump to conclusions so quickly we wouldn't be at each other's throats, blaming someone who's so blatantly innocent!"She snapped at the large man.

"What's going on?" Chuck questioned. He looked between the two for an answer.

"We both got a call from our agencies," Casey began, sending Sam a displeased stare, "about ten minutes ago, there was an explosion in DC—"

"—there was a meeting going on between the high ranked officials from the CIA, NSA, FBI, DEA, and even Whitehouse correspondents." Sam continued sourly, "NSA assassin man here thinks that since my boss was somehow not present at the meeting, that it's enough concrete evidence to say that SHIELD is responsible for this terrorist attack!"

"Fury wasn't there?" Sarah said worriedly.

"Yeah, but the General sure was," Casey revealed in a low voice. He looked visibly upset.

"Oh my god, is she—?" Chuck began but couldn't finish.

"We don't know yet," he replied, "It's still too early to go in the disaster zone and assess the damage. It could be hours…days before we find out if she's still alive."

"So to sum up our current situation, we have no superior to answer to, the Intersect is defective, all government affiliations are in shambles, and we have no clue who is behind it…awesome," Chuck drove it all home with a sarcastic chuckle.

After his assessment, Team Bartowski sat in silence. Sam stared at the floor, lost in thought. The real question now was where do they go from here? What can they do now?

It was still so early in the game and not a single one of them had a clue.

End Chapter.

An: Wow last chapter done! Now all is left is the Epliogue---The Initiative.

Please oh please review and tell me what you think! A sequel depends on it!