A/N: Two days ahead of schedule, a new chapter, but that has gotten quite common. Though I'm more like Casey at this point and like to pretend it doesn't really matter to me, I do like getting reviews but I want it to remain optional. However a review does give me a feel of how the story and its chapters is being received, the chance to correct the wrongs and steer it back or in a direction I had previously not thought of.

So in a way, this story is not only a part of me, but of you, the reader and the reviewer, as well. Without your input, it would not have been where it is today so a huge thank you to all whom have taken the time to read and/or review this story so far. A big thank you to my beta too, I know this is not your 'verse, but you do me this favor every week.

Also a warm welcome to the new followers. And for those expecting Charah, no worries, it will happen soon... Or maybe later... *insert evil laugh*

Guest: Thank you, and the training will come back, I promise. It was fun to write those scenes; I just need to come up with a few sadistic ideas here and there to use. Nevertheless I think a lot of readers would revolt if I only kept to the banter and violent bonding between Sarah and Casey, lol, though Sarah beating the living daylights out of anyone, well, I doubt that could ever become boring.

Nomadic Nerd: Thank you, and for the observation in Chapter 9 as well. Didn't know that or maybe I did and simply forgot, and it's definitely something to keep in mind for future reference :-) . As for Charah, the story's getting there, but just like Sam's development into Sarah, it's a little more paced than I had originally planned, but unless she suffered severe brain trauma, I couldn't really imagine her going from one side to the other overnight, and I seriously doubt Sam, as depicted in Vs the Cougars, would ever think she's worthy of Chuck's attention. She was simply too aloof and insecure, with good reason, but still.

tshdow: Thank you.

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

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck'.

The blood stopped thundering through her veins, and the world came into focus again. Casey lay flat on his back on the mat, looking at her with what could be described a proud smirk. For a third day in a row she had managed to take him down. In a blind rage.

Who knew that channeling anger and frustration into violence could be so cathartic? Sure, Casey had provoked her until she had seen red, but she was learning to tap into the seemingly endless well of unbridled emotion.

Especially Chuck seemed to be a sore spot for her. Her so-called boyfriend had managed to ignore her for three solid days now, and she was getting sick and tired of it. Would it kill him to at least answer a call once or send a text message? Now it felt like she was stuck in limbo, not a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

She held out her hand to pull her teacher to his feet. That was a mistake. Before she knew it, he had her pinned down with his right forearm pressed firmly against her throat: "Never hold out your hand to the enemy," he growled with bared teeth. "And stop being distracted, Walker! It'll get you killed."

She gave a light nod in understanding. He was right; she had assumed the fight was over, and would have paid dearly for it if it had been for real. It was something to remember for the future: never ever let your guard down, even if it looked like you had won, because in reality fights were never fair.

"Lady feelings'll get you dead out there," he added while he removed his arm. "Got it?"

It was the opening, his mistake, she was looking for. Only to see a million stars, and to feel an equal amount of stings, in her head when she head-butted him. Damn, that man had a really thick skull!

"Admirable," he nodded, rubbing his forehead after he released her and sat back. "You are learning. A lesser man would've been knocked out cold."

The whole funeral had been a joke. No service, only a burial with a closed casket. Except for Amy, Carina and him, all mourners had been planted agents. It had been a charade. Yet he preferred that one over the one he found himself back in now.

The funeral had been two days ago and where he had thought he would take the next flight back to Bakersfield, Director Graham had ordered him to stay and come in for a few meetings. Long meetings with little to no result, punishment for not following protocol, he was sure of that. If you got on his bad side, the Director would go great lengths to make work life quite unpleasant for you. What Director Graham failed to see was that the longer he kept him here, the harder it would be to get and keep Sam out of the clutches of that gruff NSA-agent, making his job unnecessarily harder than it needed to be.

Though, if he were to be honest, he was making his job harder on his own as well. By deliberately ignoring the calls and texts in relation to the asset. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. His reluctance had come back to bite him on the ass pretty hard. Things would have been a lot easier if their relationship had been remotely real. And that was exactly where things went awry, turned into a cliché contradiction of Chuck the agent versus Chuck the human.

His cell phone chimed and he checked the message. To make things even more interesting, he now had the name of the agent who would temporarily strengthen the team in Los Angeles. At least with her he would not have to worry about a 49B soon since she held quite the disregard for appropriate protocol. He wished he could say the same of his NSA-partner, who was undoubtedly filling the asset's head with fibs and untruths.

"Sam," Jeff began, giving her one of his creepy look. "You look... yummy today."

"Back off, Jeff," Bryce immediately jumped in. "You too, Lester."

She rolled her eyes, like she needed him to be her champion, but it was what he had always done, ever since they had become friends. The changes in her Nerd Herd outfit had been a calculated risk, with creeps like Jeff, Lester and Fernando. However it had felt right somehow.

Or maybe she had listened a little too much to the side of her that was Sarah Walker. The part that wanted to stop hiding from the world. For years she had accepted a mousy existence and appearance because it had kept her off the radar, safe. However where Sam had been completely fine with looking a dork – because who would look at a dork twice, right? - stuck in a dead-end job, Sarah Walker was a completely different story. Walker downright did not accept baggy pants, nerdy t-shirts and old sneakers as a suitable wardrobe.

'God, I sound like I'm two different persons,' she thought mildly amused.

For now she dismissed Sarah as an act, but she also knew that at one point she would have to unite those two sides of her. Or maybe it would not come to that?

"I was only paying her a compliment," Jeff protested.

She frowned for a second and nodded. Compared to the completely inappropriate things Jeff was to known to say, this was indeed to be considered a decent compliment. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

It was the Sarah Walker part of her that had been confident enough to update her Nerd Herd outfit today, by trading in the black slacks for a skirt and the trainers for comfortable low heels. Nevertheless the part of her that was still Sam had begun to find the newly-found attention from men to be intoxicating and addictive. Turning heads boosted her confidence and flattered her ego, decreasing her low self-esteem to the point where she became a little daring.

Should she go for the next phase? Or would it be too much too soon? She looked at Bryce who still stood glaring at the two crazies. Maybe he was right? Maybe she should go back to her golden blond instead of this matte coppery blond? If you had to do something, you better do it right, right? She shook her head in dismissal: she needed to crawl first, then learn to walk before she should even think of running. Patience was a virtue, and it was time that Walker was going to practice it. She would make sure of it.

He looked in the direction of the Nerd Herd and saw his best friend help an elderly lady in digital distress. A deep sigh passed his lips; he felt completely left out, and quite frankly it sucked. Like she had decided from one day upon another to move on with her life without him.

She had not needed saving from Jeff and Lester, and all the other crazies, but he had done it anyway. Was it a last-ditch effort to show her that she could depend on him to have her back, no matter what? A desperate try to get his best friend back? He let out another sigh.

His focus had been on Ellie's little brother, fearing Sam would fall completely under his spell, but now he was losing his best friend to that middle-aged ape John instead. The man had a way about him that made him think that he would not hesitate to shoot him if given the chance. Preferably twice.

Of course, they both had their own lives, but at the end of the day they would hang out and discuss their days. Ever since he found her on the floor of her room after her birthday, things had been different. Like hitting her head had changed her personality. She had never been an open book on her emotions, and it had taken him years to learn to read her tells, but now it seemed even worse than ever before.

He had been there to catch and help her after the whole Zondra debacle back in college, and he wanted to be there for her now, but she was not letting him. Whatever it was he could deal with it, but ever since Chuck and John had appeared in their lives, her trust in him had diminished. If pressed for the truth, he had to admit that was what hurt the most.

Finally he was out of there, out of D.C. and on his way to Bakersfield. It had taken way too long, for his taste. As soon as he got back to Los Angeles, he would need to do some serious damage control, part of which he could only blame himself for.

"Why the sour face, Chuckie?" Carina asked in the seat next to him.

He shook his head. It certainly was not the first time he would have to work with her, and it was not the first plane ride with Carina. He knew that she loved nothing more than to rattle his cage and stir up trouble wherever she went. She was a loose cannon, but one hell of a DEA-agent as well.

"Can't wait to meet your girlfriend," she remarked offhandedly.

He thought of protesting that assumption. Sam was not his girlfriend, only pretending to be. During the briefing Carina had been made aware that whatever there was going on between the asset and him, it was only a cover.

"Aw, you're no fun," she pouted, making a show of crossing her arms.

"A lot on my mind, Carina. You're not the most reliable person I've had the pleasure of working with," he stated.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But I sure am the hottest."

He rolled his eyes. Carina was a class apart, and her antics could cause more trouble than it was worth. The thought of denying her statement passed his mind, but it would require a lot of explaining and it would cause a lot of trouble in the end. Something Carina might already be looking for, judging by the look in her eyes as she sat studying him.

Suddenly she burst into laughter: "I don't hear you object, so I assume you agree," she hiccuped, sending him a saucy wink.

He groaned softly and picked up the case file Director Graham had provided him with during the last meeting. 'La Ciudad', world's most dangerous and most elusive arms dealer. Reports mentioned MI6 activity on American soil, in chase of the man or woman, but nothing concrete so far as to the true identity. Chatter had resulted in a few possible leads as to where La Ciudad might turn up, an art auction at the Wilshire Grand in Los Angeles being the most likely.

She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. His initial reaction would be to shrug her off, but it would only challenge her, so he did nothing.

"Speaking of, I'm really sorry about Zondra," she tried to engage him again.

"Thanks," he smiled faintly, knowing that he had to take the bait this time. "I'm sorry too."

She snorted before stating in a sweet voice brimming over with contempt: "Of course, getting dead is an occupational hazard. It really wasn't a surprise though."

'Typically Carina,' he thought wryly.

"I'm sorry for my idiot brother," Ellie began her apology when she caught her in the courtyard.

Her answer was a single shrug of her shoulders.

"I raised him better than that."

"I'm sure he'll have a good reason for taking so long," she countered remembering the white lie. "It's not like his employers are the most cooperative."

Ellie looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised, her head tilted a little to the right: "You know... You know he's with the Agency, don't you?"

Her answer was a single nod in agreement.

"Wow," Ellie sighed. "It took him months to come clean and tell me, and you know in a couple of days."

She had known in a flash, quite literally, but she could not tell her friend that, knowing it would trigger that impressive protective side of Ellie. And she did not want to cause a gap between brother and sister.

"He must be serious," Ellie drew the wrong conclusion.

She suppressed the need to snort in contempt. If anything, Chuck Bartowski was not serious, at least not where it concerned their fake relationship. She had called him a few more times, had sent him a couple of texts, since he had left, but no answer had ever come. What was the point of maintaining a pretend relationship when there was one person involved? What was the point of the other half was unreachable?

At least Casey was around, was trying to help her out, in spite of his gruff behavior and harsh words. Too bad the same could not be said of Ellie's brother. Chuck seemed to know about the Intersect, a lot more than his NSA counterpart, and there were countless questions she needed, wanted answers to.

However, he was not there. Shining in absence. Feeding the deeper, darker side of her soul. Emotions she gathered, bottled up and released whenever her mentor thought it was a good time to taunt her mercilessly in training.

He read the status report over once more, making sure all the relevant information had been included, and clicked the 'send'-button. Though he would never admit it out loud, the asset had been most impressive in her drive to become more than a backseat filler. She seemed really committed, which was admirable since she had been thrust into this game of shadows and mirrors only days before.

He turned to his bonsai and gently touched the branches. It would need some pruning soon and maybe a copper wire or two to redirect its growth. His computer chimed and he turned back to see his superior appear on the monitor.

"Ma'am," he nearly jumped out of his seat to give her the proper respect.

"At ease, Major," she told him with a sour smile. "Is the report correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

General Beckman nodded thoughtfully, pushed a few stacks of paper back and forth and looked at him sternly: "Good. Though I am still convinced this is simply a waste of time, carry on... A heads up, Major Casey, Bartowski is on his way back."

Without giving him a chance to react, the screen went black immediately; no further instructions other than to carry on. He nodded in agreement and looked over the practice schedule. This week was all about building up endurance and resistance, the next week the asset would learn about weapons. Soon he would take her to the firing range and find out her preferences.

"Gorrammit," he growled when he realized he had not gotten to asking if he had already been cleared to read the unredacted Bartowski file.

He cracked his knuckles. Though he was not sure what he thought he would find in the complete, uncensored file, he was convinced that it would confirm his suspicions. At least the most burning one. It would be handy if he knew whether he was dealing with one or two Intersects. With Bartowski coming back, maybe he would not need the file and he could simply 'persuade' the CIA-nerd to share all the information he wanted.

She was starting to get used to Casey's rigorous regime. Getting up at five in the morning for the early training session, yet without a big mug of strong coffee first, she still was not much of a morning person. Matching Casey in grouchiness was not a smart choice, she had discovered early on when he had quarterdecked her a few times for grumbling a reply instead of showing him the proper respect.

Another late training session after she got home from work, after a light but healthy dinner. With the day she had had, the compliments and the lewd comments, she was itching to work it all off with a good pugil stick fight.

Now it was five to eight in the evening and she decided to go out into the courtyard to wait for Casey. He seemed to appreciate her earliness. She had only set one foot outside her door when she suddenly heard the voice she had wanted to hear for a few days now, not for days ago. A strong feeling welled up inside of her, one barely controllable, one that wanted her to storm up to him and, 'What? Hit him? Hug him?' She rolled her eyes at the suggestions her mind gave her. It was just pretend! His voice was met by another voice, unfamiliar, female. Her temper rose another notch.

"Carina, be nice," Chuck told his companion as they entered the courtyard.

"I am nothing but nice, Chuckie, you know that," the woman identified as Carina countered.

With a little time to kill, she decided to stretch a little already, creating the circumstance in which she would meet this newcomer. She brought both her arms up over her head and heard a pop in her shoulders. A leggy redhead, with her arm hooked through Chuck's, dressed in a business suit that still left nothing much to the imagination of men, entered the courtyard.. 'Must be the Company whore,' she thought bitterly.

Without warning, her mind began to tingle before it was pulled under in a hard tug. A torrent of images flooded her thoughts. Pakistan, Maria Elena Alberti, Argentina, DEA, Carina Miller, career agent, Colombia; the Intersect had provided her with all available information on this woman.

"Tsugh," she breathed, shaking her head to clear her mind from the shreds of images and information.

'Great,' she rolled her eyes once the fogs of the flash had lifted. 'Another agent. Thanks, Bitch.'

This Carina was quite the looker, most certainly compared to her. At that very moment she regretted pacing herself in her big decision making and following up on those.
So this was why her so-called boyfriend had gone off the grid? To spend time with this clingy escort pretending to be a spy? When Chuck had told her about the restrictions in their relationship, she had not expected that it would be limited to only her.

"Sam?" Chuck stammered, immediately distancing himself from Carina.

She raised an eyebrow in suspicion and gave him her deadliest stare, which he answered with a confused frown.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your plaything?" She asked with much bile to her voice.

The redhead looked at her curiously, a foreboding smirk playing on her lips.

"Uhm, yeah," Chuck stuttered. "Sam, Carina. Carina, Sam."

The handshake was a lot firmer than she had expected.

"Nice grip," the redhead smiled.

"Carina is here to assist with a few missions," Chuck went on to explain.

A loud disgruntled growl drew all of their attention and they turned to see Casey looking ready to start World War Three.

"Casey," Carina said pleasantly. "Managed to get out of Prague, I see."

"Bite me, Miller," Casey growled.

"As tempting as that sounds, Casey... Been there, done that," Carina countered with a smirk.

"Walker, you ready?" Casey asked gruffly.

"Yeah, sure."

Though she was curious about the Prague-incident, she knew better than to ask him about. Instead she focused on her anger and decided to store it to unleash it when her coach was taunting her again. Because she knew for certain that he would, and deep down she really hoped that he would.

"What was that about, Chuckie?" She asked curiously.

"Hmm?"

She had dealt with fake couples before, but none had acted like this weird pair. Most of the time neither of the partners had cared about the other was up to. As it was supposed to be. Was this really as fake as they pretended to be?

This Sam had clearly been dealing with a green-eyed monster, no matter how hard the woman had tried to hide it from her expressions. The voice could have been used for bystanders, but it was the body language that had made this encounter so damn interesting.

If she was right, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was, it could not hurt to help them a little, just not in the most conventional way. She did not do the mushy compliment road; she called it as she saw it.

The La Ciudad mission would be perfect. Casey and Sam would be there in a supporting role, as to where Chuck and her would take the lead. For Sam, as she had understood it, this was a watch-and-learn mission. And all she had to do was tap into that jealousy. She smirked with delight; there were certainly benefits to not following all those boring rules. Her sub-mission had just gotten a lot more interesting.