A/N: Again wow! It was a little intimidating to see how much traffic the first two chapters have gotten so far. Very unexpected but greatly appreciated. To all the readers and the reviewers: thank you so very much.

SpeedyTheMouse: it took me quite a while to make up my mind about that, since it's *the* Sarah Walker, but I ended up picking Sam because it would emphasize the rift between those personas a little better. Plus it gave me an idea of why Sam got to be Sarah Walker by her own choice and not Graham's.

undergroundirector: I'll admit it... I toyed with the idea of Zondra and Chuck going out, especially since she seemed to be his 'type' (brunette, brown eyes), but decided against it because I don't think that would've panned out well. So I'm going to stick to friends and colleagues, since Chuck has the uncanny ability to befriend just about everyone, even his nemeses.

Two small points left to address, and it's something I should've done in the A/N of Chapter 2 already: 'Tsugh' is an onomatopoeia, and thoughts will be in italic.

Again, reviews are most welcome. As they are the ink to my pen, the fuel to my jet, eh not jet since I don't have a jet. Fuel to my inspiration, yup, that sounds about right.

So without further ado, here's the third chapter... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck'.

After unbuckling her seatbelt, she slouched a little in the passenger's seat so she would have a good view in the wing mirror without having to adjust it. Once more curiosity had gotten the better of her.

She watched while Chuck jogged back and crossed the intersection. He talked to an elderly woman for a good minute, who in turn nodded and sent him a smile. Grateful, she determined from how it looked.

'Maybe a relative?' She thought while Chuck gave the lady his arm.

Nevertheless she had never heard Ellie mention any other relatives than her parents and her little brother Chuck. A deep frown creased her brow; maybe it was someone he had recognized from his teenage years? With her interest and curiosity reaching a higher level, she continued to watch as Chuck helped the woman cross the intersection, chuckled when she saw him make a 'calm down' gesture at an impatient driver and smiled from ear to ear when the lady had him lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek. He looked somewhat uncomfortable, said something to the woman and jogged back to the car.

Just barely in time, she sat up straight again and tried to look bored when he opened the car door and got into the driver's seat.

"Sorry 'bout that," he sighed while he put the seatbelt back on. "Seatbelt?"

"It's fine," she said, following his request, again reluctantly.

She was not a fan of safety belts, limiting her movement behind the wheel or anywhere else in a car, but she was not going to get into it with him about that again. Or as he had put it in the parking lot of the hospital: his car, his rules.

"So who was that?" She asked.

He laughed amused: "Why? Afraid of a little competition?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes before she grumbled: "No."

"I noticed her when we had to wait for the traffic light the first time, she was still there the second time, and when she didn't cross on the third time... I thought I'd go see if she needed help... It's silly, I know, but what if it was my grandma?"

"So you pulled over to help a complete stranger? Just like that?"

He nodded slowly and looked in the wing mirror on his side, but not before she had caught the slight blush on his cheeks. She considered the possibility that he had done it to impress her, but without a good reason to back up that thought , and the fact that he was Ellie's little brother, she dismissed it. It would be something Ellie would do as well.

If anything, she should know by now that Bartowskis were very helpful by nature, without so much as giving it a second thought. Yet this simple act of kindness had won him big points in her book.

He looked at his cell phone and seriously considered throwing it at the first agent to look at him. Anger and frustration raged through him.

"What do you mean? Stand down?" He barked furiously after he had brought the phone up to his ear again.

"It means stand down, Major." General Beckman said in a calm voice, undisturbed by his outburst.

"Like hell I will," he growled through gritted teeth.

"It's an order, Major, non-negotiable. And may I remind you that I am your superior? I get your frustration, but Graham and I have been ordered from the top to play nice. Since Agent Bartowski made contact first, he's lead. For now. Once the deadline expires, you can go and do your little trick."

General Diane Beckman was a woman after his own heart. Cold, calculating and ruthless. She was not afraid to make the tough decisions. Unlike those wimps at the CIA with their bleeding hearts.

"With pleasure, ma'am."

"Oh, and, Major Casey, if something were to happen to Bartowski then," she paused for dramatic effect. "It would be a most unfortunate yet unavoidable accident."

"Understood, ma'am."

Though he was still furious, the idea of exacting some revenge on the CIA was just what he needed to cool off. He would wait until midnight, and not one minute more. The CIA nerd, he could, and he would, kill. That was a most welcome bonus, payback for getting in his way.

"I don't know about this girl, sir," he spoke into his cell phone, leaning his back against his car.

He had parked two blocks away from the apartment complex to call in his findings so far. There was absolutely no indication that Sam was a threat to national security. Being reserved and perceptive, perfectly capable of blending into the background, did not make someone a bad person.

Whatever the reason had been for Zondra to send her the Intersect file, it did not match with the conventional ones.

"Nice girls aren't sent government secrets, Bartowski," the Director reminded him.

'But what if, by the highest improbability factor, that was exactly the case?' He asked himself in thoughts.

"Things were hectic, sir. Maybe Agent Rizzo meant to send it to someone else?" He suggested.

"Maybe," Director Graham admitted. "But the facts are as they are. The computer's destroyed, and we need to know what she knows so we can deal with it."

It came as a relief that Director Graham did not seem to be intent on extreme measures without asking questions first.

"Just give me a little more time, sir. I'm having dinner with my sister, my sister's boyfriend and her tonight."

"Fine. You have until midnight. Without solid answers then, Beckman can unleash Casey and have him deal with the situation," the Director relented and ended the call.

He slipped his cell phone back into the pocket of his jacket and sighed tiredly. At the very least he had bought a little more time to find out what happened to the Intersect and come up with a plan. If Sam had no part in this theft, except to be collateral damage in Zondra's nefarious schemes, he could not in good conscience let anything happen to her.

Another dizzy spell washed over her and she leaned against the doorpost of her walk-in closet. The horrible headache had subsided a little over the afternoon, but her mind still felt like it was put in concrete.

After being brought to her front door by Chuck, she had decided against lunch in favor of a nap. However the much needed sleep had eluded her. Each time she had closed her eyes, her mind had flashed like a stroboscope. Incoherent. Disturbing. Exhausting. And each time she had been close to drifting off, her mind had pulled her away from that edge, forcing her back into the present.

At one point she had simply given up on getting some sleep, had gotten up and had taken a shower. The sore muscles in her back and neck had been grateful for the warm, soothing stream of water, and she had stayed longer than she had intended.

Now she was rifling through her clothes in her closet. It was a disheartening event; just about everything was old-fashioned and drab. Really, it was hopeless.

Her despair grew even more when she glanced at her watch and realized there was no time to go out and buy something half decent. Or decent, if she could get Bryce to come along.

"Sam, you home?" Bryce called from the hallway.

Speak of the devil, she smirked. Maybe all was not lost after all?

"In here," she called back.

A gasp of shock, and a clearly fake one she could tell, drifted into her room and she turned to see Bryce staring at her with an amused look on his face.

"You really hit your head hard," he teased.

"Ellie invited me over for dinner," she defended herself.

"So? She does that all the time," he countered.

"Her little brother is in town."

The words were out of her mouth before she realized it. She was in trouble now, because Bryce loved nothing more than tease her mercilessly with the non-existent romance between Ellie's brother and her.

He studied her with interest, and she shifted back and forth on her feet under the weight of his bright blue gaze. Suddenly he burst into laughter and her temper rose a notch.

"Dress to impress? That shouldn't be too hard with your figure."

She rolled her eyes at that statement: "Oh, please."

"What?" He tried to sound offended. "You've got a lot going for you. With a little bit of effort, you'd be drop dead gorgeous," he stated with vehement conviction, which almost made her believe him.

"Chuckster!" Devon exclaimed, grabbing him in a bear hug that almost matched one of Ellie's. "Been too long, bro... Heard you played knight in shining armor for Sam."

"It was nothing. Just a ride home," he said in all modesty.

"Still awesome. High five."

Devon seemed to be the poster child for a brainless jock, but he knew it was simply fronting. His dumb act was a means to break the ice and a very good way to keep people from asking for free medical advice upon meeting him.

He shook his head and smiled warmly, high fiving his sister's boyfriend. It beat getting another bear hug.

"How's life up north?"

That got a good laugh out of him: "You make it sound like I live on the North Pole."

"We only get to see you once a year. Maybe you are Santa?" Devon chuckled. "Coming to see if we're being naughty or nice."

"It's nowhere near Christmas, and you are nothing but nice, Awesome. Unlike my big sis, who is constantly playing matchmaker. Reason enough to put her on the naughty list."

"Euh... hi?" She greeted with a slow smile when she caught the look of awe on Chuck's face after he answered the door for Ellie.

With Bryce's help she had managed to put together a decent outfit without looking like a gray mouse. She had to admit that her roommate had impeccable taste when it came to fashion, and now he had finally managed to rope her into going shopping for a better wardrobe.

"Hi," he grinned widely, taking her in from top to toe twice as if he could not believe his eyes.

Was it too late to turn back and cancel dinner? But that would mean that she would have to miss his appreciative look. Matched with that awesome grin, it made her feel quite silly all of a sudden. That feeling was immediately followed by sadness; what would a sophisticated, worldly guy like him ever want with a girl like her?

"Com'on in," he smiled, taking a step back so she could enter.

"Hey, Devon, Ellie," she greeted her friends with a little wave.

As if on cue, Ellie emerged from the kitchen with a salad bowl in her hands: "Hey... Sam?" The look on Ellie's face was priceless.

Devon simply gave her two thumbs up with an accompanying "Awesome". So far she had only received positive reactions, and if she had to admit it, it did flatter her ego quite a bit.

"Wow, Sam! I knew you had it in you, but wow," Ellie gushed after she had placed the bowl on the table and had rushed over. "Twirl, girl."

She could not help but giggle and spun around once. At Bryce's insistence, she had chosen to wear skintight jeans emphasizing her long legs, a white blouse with lace frills and medium height brown boots. And he had even gotten her to flat iron her hair, but she had drawn the line at dying her hair back to her original blonde color.

What the hell was wrong with her? Not only did she have the ability to identify bad guys all of a sudden, now she was going miles out of her comfort zone to impress a man. Bryce had been right; she must have hit her head pretty hard.

He suppressed the urge to rest his head in his hands. Time was running out quickly, and he had yet to come up with a solid plan before the clock struck twelve.

Dinner had gone great; the food had been prepared to perfection and the conversation had been easygoing with lots of laughter. It had been a blessing and a curse to be seated across the table from Sam. A blessing because it given him ample opportunity to observe and determine, and a curse because his gaze kept being drawn to those mesmeric light blue eyes, distracting him each time.

He rubbed his eyebrows, earning a curious look from his big sister: "Another headache, Chuck?"

"Just tired, sis. Been a long day for me," he managed to smile.

"You sure you want to drive back to Bakersfield tonight?" Ellie offered, the concern present in her voice and on her face.

"It's not that far, El. And I can always get a motel room if I'm too tired."

"Don't be silly. You're more than welcome to spend the night in the guest room."

"Fine," he gave in with a sigh of defeat.

His eyes trailed to his mark again. He had noticed that small talk came very easy to her; she was very knowledgeable on a wide range of topics, a conversationalist, yet when it came down to something personal, she would withdraw without a moment's notice. It made him wonder if he had not been wrong about her in the first place.

There could be a number of reasons for her instant wall building act. It did not have to be something evil. Perhaps she was not the sharing kind, especially with someone she had only met hours before. Or maybe she had been hurt by something or someone in the past.

During dinner and hanging out afterwards, she had tried to get a read on Chuck. He seemed genuine, laughing and joking, telling funny stories about his best friend and about himself. But he avoided topics like what he did for a living. It gave her the distinct feeling that he was holding something back.

Or maybe it was her slowly increasing paranoia talking? Her day had been peculiar, if not downright scary at one time. Knowing the full rap sheet of a criminal in the blink of an eye was definitely unsettling, and not something she would like to see repeated soon.

"Devon, why don't you go and prepare the guest room for Chuck?" Ellie suggested in a tone of voice that told all it was not open for debate.

Chuck opened his mouth to protest and shut it just as quickly when he saw the stern look on his sister's face.

An awkward silence settled in, with Chuck checking his watch again. It was something he had been doing an awful lot this evening. Like he had other plans or was waiting for something or someone. It made her a little tense.

A little less than an hour left before the deadline expired and he was still without a good plan. All his observations pointed at Sam being anything but the threat to national securities as his superiors thought her to be.

He had thought about triggering a flash to confirm his suspicions, but his sister would surely think that Sam was having a seizure or something similar to be contributed to bumping her head after the fall. There was only one way out; he had to tell her the truth.

It would probably not save her from being dropped in a bunker or getting a bullet between her eyes, but she deserved to know why the government wanted her dead or locked away.

"Sam, can I talk to you?"

A suppressed squeal from his sister, he had expected no less. It brought a faint smile to his face, if only she was right. He looked at her and could see her tremble with excitement. Sam, on the other hand, looked extremely uneasy.

"Outside?" He put forward with a reassuring smile. "Uh uh uh," he shook his head at his sister, trying to subdue her obvious overexcitement.

"Sure," Sam answered as confidently as possible.

Worry seeped into her thoughts. What on earth could he possibly want from her? Dinner had gone just fine and she had managed not to make a fool out of herself.

"Sit," he told her while he nodded at the fountain.

For a moment she considered being stubborn and remain standing, but the look on his face was quite serious. So she sat down, only to nearly fall off while scurrying away from him when he sat down next to her; it was a little too close for comfort if you asked her. Immediately he reached for her and kept from ending up on the floor for a second time in less than twenty-four hours. She marveled over how firm yet gentle his grip on her upper arm was.

"So what's up?" She asked in an attempt to change the course her thoughts were taking.

Her brows knitted together in wonder as he gave quite the rendition of a fish out of water. Whatever he wanted to tell her, he was struggling to say it. Did it have to do with Jill? Just like her best friend she hated that woman with a passion, but mentioning the name in front of Ellie was like poking an already furious mama bear. She was not sure why she hated Jill. Maybe because Ellie did? That had to be it: hate by proxy, and nothing else.

"How well do you know Zondra Rizzo?" He finally probed.

"Zondra? She was my roommate in college... How do you know Zondra?" She sounded completely caught off guard.

"Did she try to contact you?" He chose to ignore her question.

With a little bit of luck, there would be time to answer any and all questions she might have. He owed her that much.

"No, she... She sent me an email yesterday."

"Did you open it?

"Yes... Was I not supposed to?"

He took a couple of deep breaths. All but one of his suspicions had just been confirmed. He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his federal ID and held it out to her. It made him feel quite dirty but he had to do this. He had to make sure.

"CIA?" She asked surprised when she took it.

One glance at the credentials sent the strange tingle running through her brain, immediately followed by the sharp tug at the back of her mind. Another torrent of images flashed by.

"Tsugh," she muttered, shaking her head instantly to clear her mind but ending up upgrading her headache from slumbering to omnipresent. "Charles Irving Bartowski, aka Charles Carmichael. Codename: Cyberus. Lead data analyst for Project Omaha. Intersect trial run survivor."

"Uh huh," he confirmed. "You flashed, didn't you?"

She was at a complete loss. Flashed? All she understood this very moment that something was very wrong with her and that she was remembering things she should not know. Highly sensitive, super secretive things. A deep panic began to set in.

"The email Zondra sent you, it contained a file. That file contained an undefined number of pictures, all encoded with government secrets. If you saw them, you know them," he explained in a soothing voice when she kept quiet, trying to process the flood of information.
She had all these secrets downloaded into her head? Impossible, that was science fiction. And Chuck? He was certifiably crazy. Her instincts took over, following the overwhelming urge to run, and she took off like the wind.

"Sam, no!" He shouted after her.

She looked back over her shoulder to see if he was giving chase. A new despair and a stronger need to run even faster came over her when she saw that he was actually closing in on her. All of a sudden she found an immovable object in her way. Obscure, big and rugged. Unable to avoid it she slammed right into it, falling backward, the wind knocked from her lungs. Her eyes trailed up and she saw a hulking man in a dark suit standing over her. The expression on his face was neutral but in his eyes burned a devilish fire of delight.