A/N: So I'm getting to one of the bigger AU points that had actually been planned for a couple of chapters back. But sometimes as a writer you have to let the story lead you to set up all the pieces properly. Without leaving the reader guessing about all that went on in the writer's mind which did not make it on paper, or in this case the computer screen, but that could crucial to the story. So I wanted to complete the Pilot/Helicopter arc first. This arc should tie in with Tango/Wookiee, well, somewhat.
This chapter is in two povs. Like the adorable bugga he is, Chuck crawled more and more into the story while that was not my intention. All I can say in my defense is: I want to handle all sides of the story I want to tell?

On a side note, my desktop's hard-drive went on the fritz earlier this week, so all I have now is my netbook which is a relief but it is not the most convenient device when writing or responding. A lot of the time is 'wasted' with waiting for the little machine to be ready, which is the reason why this chapter is right on time and not two days earlier.

A huge thank you to all whom have taken the time to read and/or review this story. And welcome to the new followers.

Fezzywhigg & Joe-El: Thanks... And what can I say? I like to take unexpected turns ;-). Though in this chapter I will not address Chuck's reason yet - I know, a little spoilerish - but it's not forgotten.

Guest: Thank you.

BCC1: I hope this chapter will make up for the lack of and that it is Sam/Sarah aplenty ;-) And no, Sarah won't be there for the occasional flash and heartache, as this chapter will hopefully show.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck'.

Again the call went immediately to voice-mail. She had left a message the first three times, but after that she just hung up. There were more polite ways to brush someone off.

She placed her cell phone on the desk and looked over her notes. After being called into Big Mike's office for a fourth morning in a row, where she had not been able to answer him as to where Bartowski was, she had decided to spend her time in the Cage.

Left with her own thoughts while pretending to be busy with a backlog of computer repairs, she had come to a few conclusions. Last night had been a real eye-opener to her; it was only because Morgan had been there to keep her occupied or she would have left the car to help. However she had been very aware of the feeling of powerlessness. Stuck in a car, completely useless.

Chuck had been in serious trouble, and there was nothing she could have done about it. She doubted she could have fooled Morgan into letting her go, and she was not sure if he deserved to be knocked out. That is if she were able to.

She had, in fact, hated having to sit and wait. So her first conclusion? She was going to take matters into her own hands. No more idly sitting by, while others put themselves in harm's way to keep her safe.

What if she got captured and there was no one to rescue her? She needed to be able to at least defend herself. A quick glance on her watch told her that she had thirty minutes left until she had her lunch break. Again she had to sit and wait. She shook her head, uttering a grunt the man she wanted to talk to would be impressed by.

The bell above the door chimed and he looked up just in time to see the asset enter the Wienerlicious. He looked at the clock and saw it was her lunch break.

"If you're coming here to grill me about Bartowski," he began in a gruff voice.

She shook her head: "I wanted to talk to you about some things."

"Taking five," he growled at Scooter, who wisely did not object and kept his distance.

He lead her outside to the most distant table and sat her down before taking the seat across the table from her.

"So what is it?" He asked annoyed and curious at the same time. "And don't even think of mentioning Bartowski. I don't know why he went back or if he's even coming back, and I don't care. Lady feelings are his thing, not mine."

"It's about last night," she replied while she grabbed a paper napkin and started shredding it.

He growled softly. Though he warned her not to talk about the CIA-nerd, he doubted that she would not.

"What about last night?" He took the bait anyway.

He could always get up and leave her sitting there.

"I understand that I got to stay in the car for my own safety, but-"

"It bugged the hell out of you?" He finished for her.

"Hmm-mmm... I've spent most of my mature life hiding, and I'm done with it. If I am supposed to be this special kind of spy, shouldn't I at least get some training?"

He guffawed at the question, then realized this was one way to one up the CIA moron, and let the laughter die quickly. She had a point and if she was willing to put in the work and effort, who was he to deny her that?

"And you're asking me?" He wanted to be sure.

"Hmm-mmm."

The paper napkin was now a pile of tiny shreds of paper.

"And not Bartowski?"

"Hmm-mmm."

He smiled slowly and nodded in agreement: "Just give me a little time and I'll see what I can set up for you."

After her lunch break she had retreated to the Cage again. It was the perfect disguise to do some more thinking. If Casey would come through, it would be a big first step in the right direction.

An hour before her shift officially had ended, he had texted her an address and had instructed her to meet him there after work. It was a white, boring looking one-story building that housed the Burbank Fitness Centre without any signs to draw the attention and she wondered about the nature of the company. Maybe it was paranoia kicking in, but after the last couple of days she no longer took everything at face value.

Casey was waiting for her by the entrance and gave a dark smirk as a greeting before he lead her into the building.

"So what are we doing here?"

"This'll be your IST," he growled.

"IST?"

"Initial strength test. Gonna see how you fare and what we'll be working with," he explained in short.

She swallowed nervously. Aside from the run once or twice a week, she lead a quite passive life so it did not bode well.

"Who is we?" She queried.

He snorted and shook his head before he pressed some standard issue workout clothes in her hands: "Get changed and be out in five. Don't make me come in and get you, because I will."

She began to worry about her first decision. Casey was taking this a little too seriously. But was it not what she had wanted? To be taken seriously? After taking a deep breath to still her growing nervousness, she went in the direction he had pointed her in to get changed.

He nodded in appreciation; she had been ready and out in less than five minutes, which was a promising sign to him. At least so far she was taking this seriously.

"First things first," he told her, gesturing she should follow him. "I need a name."

"A name?"

"To get you in the system. A cover name, not your real one," he grunted somewhat annoyed with her lack of understanding. "Any thoughts? Or I can give you one."

"Sarah Walker," she answered without a second of hesitation and with complete conviction.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity and realized his mistake too late. Undoubtedly there would be a long back-story to that name, one he really did not want to hear: "Save it for Bartowski, Walker," he cut her off when he saw she was getting ready to explain.

Walker, the name felt right to be severely abused by him while training her. An irritated growl escaped him when he wondered about where the name Sarah came from, but if he asked, he feared he would learn much more than he wanted to. He would leave that for Bartowski to find out, if and when the moron would come back.

"The test consists of three parts. A run, a flex-arm hang and crunches," he stated, leaving out the specifics intentionally. "We'll start with the flex-arm hang," he added while he nodded at the horizontal overhead bar. "The point is to keep your chin above the bar for as long as possible. Understood?"

She nodded and he suppressed a growl. If she were decently fit and came somewhere close to his requirements, which were similar to Marine boot camp, there would be enough time to explain that she should answer him with 'Sir' instead of nodding or shaking her head. At least for the duration of her training, which could be long or short, depending on her eagerness to learn and train.

The only discipline she had done well on, had been the run. One-point-five miles in the littlest bit under fifteen minutes on the treadmill, which had been a surprise to her as well. Casey had simply nodded and cut her down by growling his displeasure about her performances with the flex-arm hang and the crunches.

However it had not been all in vain, because he had informed her that he saw some potential in her. So if she was willing to follow his instructions, he was willing to put together a training schedule. Nevertheless he had warned her that if she were to complain about the strict regiment, he would make her work twice as hard. That was something she was definitely not looking forward to.

She took her time changing back into her clothes and looked at her cell phone's display. Bryce had called twice, but no call from Chuck. She put the device away, ran her hands through her uncooperative hair and headed out the door.

"Walker!" Casey barked after her.

At first she did not realize he meant her, until he repeated her chosen name with the force of a drill instructor. She stopped dead in her tracks and waited for him to catch up.

"Oh-six-hundred hours, tomorrow morning. Be ready."

She thought of objecting since tomorrow would be her day off, but she remembered just in time that complaining would have a negative effect. Thus she nodded: "Yes, sir."

He buried his head under his pillow. Who the hell had set the alarm at five-thirty in the morning? It had to be a mistake, because he knew his roommate, and on her days off, she would never get up before ten.

At this hour the alarm blared loudly through the apartment, and he would not be too surprised if the entire apartment complex was awoken by it. The incessant sound finally stopped and he removed the pillow, only to hear Sam stumble around in her room.

'What the hell is going?' He thought while he listened to her moving.

By now, with all the weird things that had happened over the past few days, added her increasingly odd behavior, he was really getting worried. After stretching, he got up and snuck out of his room, which came down to him stumbling about and stubbing his toe against the door-frame.

He danced around on one foot, barely able to keep the curses in, but he did not want to alert her, so he had to suck it up. She came out of her room, dressed in a black t-shirt, gray sweat pants and black trainers. Her unruly hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.

A low groan nearly eluded him as he felt torn between catching the last bit of his sleep and following her to see what was going on. The first option won after he convinced himself that there would be other, better chances to find out what had Sam act so out of sorts.

She had even been a little early, something he greatly approved of. It had shown him that she was taking this seriously. For now. And thus far she had done everything he had ordered her to do without questioning or complaining once. He had to admit that he was impressed. Just a little.

"Okay, Walker. Just five more," he instructed her, keeping her feet firmly down while she did another set of sit-ups. "Four... Three... Two... One... And done."

He watched with a feeling of devilish delight as she let herself fall back tiredly. If she had expected that he would be going easy on her on the first day, she had not been paying any attention on the ride over to the Burbank Fitness Centre when he had explained to her what he was demanding of her this early morning.

Again she did not complain, in fact she did her damndest best to keep the grimace off her face. He nodded in approval and held out a bottle of water to her, intentionally forcing her to sit up. Without pain there would be no gain.

She had a long road ahead of her, but without that CIA moron to be a distraction, they might actually get somewhere. Though it might be a complete waste of time and effort to train her, when she would turn obsolete as the Intersect in a few months, when the new one would get online.

A surprising thought entered his mind that left him grimacing. Maybe, if he could get her ready properly, she would not have to be terminated. He growled annoyed; it was something Bleeding Heart Bartowski should think of, not him.

It was a little past ten when she returned to the deserted apartment. Which was very welcome to her, since Bryce would go all mother hen on her and would want to know where she had been these past few hours.

Her entire body was hurting, even in places she did not know that existed. It was even worse than after her unfortunate meeting with the floor after getting the Intersect uploaded. However the day was not over yet, and she was expected to be ready to go again at sixteen-hundred hours. Four p.m. to laymen, Casey had explained to her.

After shuffling slowly to her room, she checked her cell phone which she had left on her desk. There were no new calls or messages, which was disappointing. She took her shoes off, set the alarm and let herself fall face first on her bed. Within seconds, she was lost to a dreamless sleep.

"D.C.? The moron's been called back to D.C.?" He growled furiously, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.

"Calm down, Major Casey," General Beckman told him from the TV-screen. "He was going to Rizzo'-"

He snorted with deep contempt at the name.

"She was a good spy once, Major, and they worked together a few times in the past," she continued undisturbed.

"Which is exactly why we can't trust Bartowski or the asset... They've known her... And since when are we paying for traitors' funerals? What happens if we finally flush out and kill Bin Laden? Give him a state funeral?"

"Don't be absurd, Major Casey," he could tell that she was starting to lose her patience with him by the pitch in her voice.

His entire good mood had gone down the drain in seconds, and this while he had planned something fun later today. Well, something that was his kind of fun anyway.

With the asset - 'Walker,' he corrected himself in thoughts - showing more dedication and eagerness than he had expected, he had decided to introduce her to the 'pugil sticks' a lot earlier than he had actually planned. That was his kind of fun: beating his student senseless with a pugil stick, though she might not feel the same way.

Maybe he should review his plans now. Senseless would be fun, to death however would cause a lot of problems, the Completely Incompetent Ass being one of the major ones undoubtedly.

She woke up in exactly the same position as she had fallen asleep in, to the alarm blaring. A low hiss passed her lips when she tried to move; there was not any part of her body objecting against movement, but she had to get up.

Yet she could not complain or ask for a rain check because this was all her own choice. If she wanted to be an active part in this operation, not having to stay in the car all the time, this was what she had signed up for.

Carefully she rolled onto her back and for a moment seriously doubted the wisdom of this decision. Her legs, her arms, everything felt like it was on fire. She let out a pitiful moan when she struggled to sit up. All she needed to do was get moving again. Casey had forbidden her the use of any pain killers, but now she was considering to go against his orders. What he did not know. Yet something withheld her from cheating on her training.

Slowly she moved to the edge of her bed. This was going to get worse before the day was over, and what excuse would she have going into work tomorrow? After taking a few deep breaths, she got to her feet and almost took a dive when her calves and thighs began to buckle. Gritting her teeth, she put one foot in front of the other and managed to make it to her desk, where she checked the display of her phone again.

Bryce had called twice, left one voice-mail and sent one text. Ellie had texted her as well, asking her if she knew where Chuck had gone. Nevertheless the one person she had hoped to get any answer from, had remained suspiciously silent. Did he even bother to check?

Even in her pain induced haze that covered her mind she understood that it would seem odd if she had no idea where her so-called boyfriend was, so she texted Ellie the most logical answer back. That Chuck had gone back to Bakersfield to take care of a few things before coming back to Los Angeles again, which was what she assumed for now.

She put her sport shoes back on, deciding against taking a shower since Casey would make her sweat again anyway, and wandered into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Casey had treated her to a healthy and nutritious breakfast on the way to the centre, but that was hours ago, and with all the physical effort she had put in, she was simply starving. Thank the heavens for Bryce who was always peckish after coming home from work because that meant there was always something around to eat. She settled for a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a glass of milk.

"Holy hell!" He exclaimed when he stumbled back again after she nearly took his head off with a hard, precise swipe of her pugil stick. "What the hell's gotten into you, Walker?"

She had been hesitant and unsure at the start of their little stick fight, and he had gotten in some easy blows, much to his own amusement. Which had lead to him taunting her about everything and anything, from being a wimp to hitting like a girl, from living with an adult kid to that stupid CIA-agent.

All hell had broken loose after that. She had charged at him aggressively, unrelenting, and all he could do was block and deflect the blows that kept coming. Gone was the hesitation. Forgotten was the soreness of her muscles. Further and further back she had forced him.

She sure had a fighting spirit, something he could truly appreciate and approve of. Sure he had pushed some buttons, but he had unleashed the Walker. However she was starting to run out of energy now, and soon enough the tables would be turned around. A devilish smirk crept on his face. He would pace himself, wait for the perfect opening and pay her back in kind, blow for blow. His ego and competitive spirit demanded it.

Distracted by the tempting thoughts of exacting revenge, he missed her lowering her stick. Something hit him hard at the back of his knee and his leg gave way. The air was pressed from his lungs in a low growl when he suddenly found himself flat on his back. She appeared over him, her stick now pressed firmly in the soft flesh of his throat. He was quite impressed, realizing that not only she could unleash quite the fury, she was a sneaky one as well.

"Huh, there's hope for you yet, Walker," he grinned, pushing the stick away and sitting up.