Hey, guys. Sup. How ya doin'? Good? That's good. It must feel nice. Physics is kicking my butt, but whatever. I'm sorry about the delay, but I've consistently had an hour of homework every night in math alone, plus other stuff, and soccer, so I haven't had much time. But now that you know, I'm going to stop hiding behind that lame excuse that every writer uses and try harder. Sound good? Cool. Appreciate your patience.

Hey, guess what? I own nothing!

Sarah P.O.V

Sarah holstered her pistol and pulled on her leather jacket. She didn't really need it. The temperature outside was downright warm. But she wore it anyway. She had had this jacket in particular for several years. It was one of very few that had survived for so long without getting shot, knifed, ripped, or otherwise ruined in Sarah's day-to-day life.

After checking over herself cursorily in the mirror, she opened the door and exited the bathroom. She began to pull her blonde hair up into a quick ponytail as she called, "Hey, Chuck! I'm about to go, okay?"

She stood still to finish the ponytail. She waited for a few seconds, but there was no answer from the living room. Sarah's eyes narrowed, and she cursed under her breath. In hindsight, she realized it was a monumentally stupid idea to leave Chuck alone with Ellie's situation still brewing in his mind. He was known to be extremely stupid on occasions like this, charging out into the thick of it to somehow save the day with no plan, no backup, and no means of defending himself.

Sarah sprinted to the main room, berating herself harshly. What had she been thinking? Of course Chuck wouldn't just sit there like she had asked. He loved his sister too much to just sit around and let Sarah do all the saving. He probably hadn't even stopped to think about the fact that he could barely stand straight. Or the fact that he had been shot, the idiot! she thought worriedly.

She charged into the room where she had last left Chuck watching the news with a menacing look on his face. She quickly searched the room with her eyes. He was nowhere to be seen.

Sarah's heart plummeted, and she leaned against the door frame, almost dizzy. "Damn it," she muttered. She rubbed her forehead tiredly. She would have to speed up the entire operation. Now, not only was Casey in danger, but Ellie and Devon had gotten dragged into it, and Chuck was about to charge in headfirst. It was like, every time bad news like this reached him, he pressed his hands over his ears, kept his eyes shut, and trucked forward with absolutely no regard for his own safety.

As the agent the CIA handpicked to protect him, he was a nightmare to keep safe. She thought she had gotten good at her job, having spent long enough to get to know him and his reckless side, but apparently she was wrong. Now she would have to go save his sorry butt again.

Sarah tried to convince herself that that was the only reason she was worried.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly, calming her system. In a few seconds, she would open her eyes and get going, but she needed to gather herself first.

"Sarah?"

Great, now she was hearing his voice. God, she was getting way too attached to him. When you can't leave someone's presence for five minutes without hearing them talk to you in your head, something was wrong with you.

"Sarah?"

And he'd decided to be persistent and annoying. At least her projection of him was accurate. Maybe, if it was getting this bad, she should request a transfer. She couldn't afford to get dependant on anyone, least of all an assignment.

This thought shook her, and she took in a jagged breath.

"Sarah!"

Warm hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently. Without even thinking about it, Sarah's hands snapped up and forcefully knocked the hands off. There was a masculine cry and a thud. Sarah's eyes opened to see Chuck sitting on the floor, stunned.

Her jaw dropped. "Chuck?" Her voice was embarrassingly shaky.

Chuck rubbed his arms, scowling. "God, Sarah, you're in a bad mood today."

Sarah dropped to her knees next to him, but he waved her off. "No, no, I'm fine." He got to his feet, only grimacing once or twice, then he looked down at her. "You're on a roll," he said flatly, but Sarah could see the glint in his eye. She recognized it and was relieved to see that he wasn't truly annoyed with her.

But she would never tell him that. She crossed her arms. "Where did you go?" she asked, her chin jutted out.

Chuck had his hands in his pockets. "Uh, nature called," he said, gesturing toward the other bathroom with his head. "Sorry?"

Sarah sighed. "No, nevermind. "You're going to stay here, then?"

Chuck's eyes darkened, but he nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay," he said resignedly.

"For once," Sarah added under her breath. "Anyway, don't forget to check that soon, okay?" She pointed to where his shirt was a bit tighter, stretched by thick bandages. She faltered, unable to shake the mental image of someone shooting Chuck.

Chuck's eyebrows furrowed. "I will," he said. An awkward silence stretched between them. Chuck looked like he was trying to build up the courage to comfort her. His hand started up, then froze midway and hung there. Sarah stood still, not meeting his eyes, waiting for him to do something. Hoping he would do something.

Then he turned around and sat on the table. "You'd better hurry," he said quietly.

Sarah couldn't justify the disappointment she was feeling. She couldn't even really identify what she was disappointed about. She stared at Chuck's profile, trying to decide what was the proper thing to do in the suddenly-awkward-for-no-apparent-reason situation she was in.

After a pause, she nodded. "Okay." Her voice was just as quiet as his had been. She wiped the palm of her hands against her pants. "Okay," she repeated, her voice louder and more confident this time. "I'm going."

Chuck waved to her without even glancing in her direction. "Bye," he said. He sounded almost- Sarah couldn't tell. Dejected? Maybe, but there was no reason to be.

What was she talking about? Of course there was. His place of employment was taken over, his sister was being held hostage at gunpoint, his other partner was MIA. There was no reason why he shouldn't be dejected.

But, for some reason, Sarah got the feeling that those weren't the only thing he was upset about. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what was happening, but it was weird, and she was ready to get away from it, if at least for an hour or two.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and began to head toward the corridor that would take her to the hidden entrance she had first come from.

She only looked back once.

Chuck P.O.V.

"Damn," Chuck whispered to himself as the echo of the the closed door faded. His hand curled into a fist on his leg. His head was pounding, from more than just the large bump forming.

He let Sarah go alone. Those… bastards had his sister, and he just let Sarah go off to save her by herself. It wasn't that Chuck didn't think Sarah was capable, but she was only one woman. One woman with years of CIA training and two firearms, granted, but she could only do so much.

Normally, Chuck would've been gone as soon as Sarah left the room, but, for some reason, he stayed. He wasn't really sure why he did it. Of course he was worried, and he was sure that, no matter what Sarah said, he could help somehow. Maybe he would only have ended up on the wrong end of a gun; at least he would be with Ellie. She was his older sister, and no matter how over protective she got, they were extremely close. He shared an apartment with her and her boyfriend. How much closer can two siblings get?

When Sarah left the room to go do some girl thing in the bathroom, Chuck had gotten up immediately, intent on leaving for the Buy More. But pain flared in his head and he could feel a drop of blood sliding down the side of his face, so he took a few moments to get to the other bathroom and clean up. But as he stumbled over, he had too much time to think, and he psyched himself out. What if he got shot again? What if he got Sarah shot, or Casey, or Ellie? There were so many people that could get hurt if he acted too rashly. Was he really ready handle the responsibility that would come with getting someone killed? Yes, that was an extreme possibility, but it was a possibility all the same. These were not rational people. They just stormed a Buy More in Burbank. Wasn't that proof enough?

Time was something he usually didn't have. His stupid split second decisions were generally just that- stupid and made in a split second. With enough time to mull things over, he was somehow able to convince himself that Sarah knew what was the best course of action.

He stayed put.

And immediately hated himself for it.

"What am I even doing?" he muttered bitterly, smoothing his hair roughly. He was no super spy. He could barely run across the store without losing his breath. He wasn't even that smart of a guy. Sure, he had attended Stanford, but had he ever graduated? No. No, he had not. He had messed up the mission, like most he was included in. He even somehow found ways to ruin missions he wasn't even aware of. He couldn't look at any slightly malevolent needle without passing out. He was absolutely useless with a gun, or any weapon for that matter. His hand-eye coordination was just embarrassing. And even though there was a frickin' computer in his brain, he couldn't even use that right. His job was fixing other people's computers, but he couldn't do anything about the one stuck in his head. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Despite all of that, his sister and Awesome were in the line of fire, and he couldn't stand doing absolutely nothing about it.

The logical side of his brain, the side that had convinced him to let Sarah take control of the situation in the first place, was desperately trying to tell him that he was being stupid. Even with her partner MIA, she had the entire CIA at her back. What could he add to her already difficult situation other than another thing to worry about? He should just sit back and wait for the cavalry to arrive. After all, this cavalry had really big guns and the American government on their side. Surely, letting the seasoned professionals would be the smart thing to do.

But was the smart thing to do the Chuck thing to do?

Hell no.

Seriously though, I told myself I wouldn't become that writer who updates once every three years, so I'll try to do better.

You know, I just realized that I messed up the whole "Chuck vs. fill-in-the-blank" trend with the name of my story. Dang it.

Thanks for reading anyway!