A/N: A huge thank you to all the readers and reviewers. You lot are awesome! And a warm welcome to the new followers.

In my address to the reviewers I stick to the ones for the last chapter, so if you review an older chapter and don't get mentioned, it's absolutely nothing personal. Please, don't let it keep you from reviewing older chapters though, :-). It's just me trying to keep organized. Still, shortpinoyguy, thank you for the review of chapter 1 and I'm not telling on Bryce's preferences, ;-P.

ChuckFanForever: It was a little nod to FireFly indeed. The Sarah & Carina sparring match? Hmmm, I don't know, not like I've been setting that up or anything, ;-).

fezzywhigg: The dynamic sure is different, which makes writing a bit challenging from time to time, which is a good and a bad thing. Bad because it could send me into a writer's block, good because it might make me think of story options I wouldn't have thought of beforehand.

Jimmy144: Thanks.

RABCentralIL: The plan is that Sam is going to be a ninja spy girl, but how she will get there, I can't really tell since that would be spoiling. As far Sam being a little more bumbling, she'll have her moments of clumsiness, but I didn't want her walking into walls every step of the way.

Molotov & Nomadic Nerd: A bit of a spoiler, but there will be one explanation in this chapter. There are more, but I like to keep a few cards up my sleeve and not give away everything at one and the same moment. That would be a major spoiler.

As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Alright, alright, I'll freely admit I like reading them since it gives me insight of how the chapters have been perceived and where there's room for improvement on my part.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck'.

"CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI!"

His sister's voice resonated against the buildings surrounding the courtyard. His full name, that did not bode well. Before he could do or say anything, she had stormed up to him and had grabbed painfully him by the ear.

"Watch the -... Hey?... Ow!... Ow!... Ellie?" He yelped when she dragged him away from Carina.

He glanced at his temporary partner, a silent request for help, but all Carina did was mouth 'Irving?', shrug her shoulders and smirk. She seemed to find the situation amusing and was not going to do anything to stop it.

"Chuck," Ellie growled while she shook her head warily. "Have you lost your freaking mind?"

Maybe he did? He was not sure.

"Not only did you disappear without a word, you come back with... with that woman?"

It began to dawn on him; his big sister had no idea that Carina was only a colleague, and with Sam.

"That's Carina, she's... she's a colleague," he answered, not wanting to get into details.

"So where's that colleague staying?" Ellie did not ease up on the anger in her voice.

"At Maison Twenty-Three, the agency booked her a room there."

Finally he could see his sister ease up a little, but he was not fooled by it. In a split second her anger with him could be back full force. All he had to do was give one wrong answer. Now Ellie was studying him, and he wondered if she would grill him over why Carina was here. Already he had begun to come up with lies and excuses, most likely explanations, in case he would need any one of them.

"A colleague? Really?"

He nodded slowly in confirmation.

"Do you have any idea how it must look to Sam?"

A deep frown creased his brow. What did Sam have to do with it? The cover, he could smack himself for overlooking that part.

"You really are oblivious, aren't you?" Ellie rolled her eyes.

It stung that his big sister sided with Sam, but with how things looked now, there was something to be said for it. Right now he looked like a real ass.

"Carina's nothing more than a colleague. She was in town and decided to tag along and meet Sam," he twisted the truth.

Ellie gave him another stern look, finally letting go of his ear, before she shook his head: "Really, Chuck... What were you thinking?"

The anger was gone from her voice and posture, replaced by a deep disappointment. He did not know which he preferred to face though. With one last angry look, without another word, she turned on her heels and stalked back to the apartment.

"Damnit, Walker!" Casey roared after he dodged a vicious blow to the head with the pugil stick. "Stand down!"

She was too angry to control, too out of control to not be dangerous, and he had a pretty good idea as to why. What the hell had his idiot CIA-partner been thinking? Bringing Miller, of all the agents in the world?

Sam backed away and carelessly but furiously tossed the stick aside. It crashed against the bench next to the mat. The look on her face was still murderous but he would have a better chance against her unarmed. In her current state of mind, with the blinding rage consuming every fiber of her being, anything that could act like a weapon was deadly in her hands. Even something as ordinary as a pencil.

She growled an inaudible curse under her breath, stalked over to the bench and sat down hard, crossing her arms while she glared at him. He shook his head wearily; she was acting more like a teenage girl whose boyfriend got stolen than an adult woman who was in a fake relationship.

"Done raging?" He grunted.

She huffed. 'Apparently not,' he concluded.

Not wanting to risk life and limb for the CIA-nerd, he decided to call it a day: "Be out in five, or you can walk home."

The idea seemed appealing; the long walk might give her the time to cool off, but it could also sort the opposite effect, and she would be angrier than ever before. He decided to take the safest option.

"Fine," she hissed as she got up to clear away the practice materials and gather her things.

"Walker, wait!" He barked when a better idea popped up in his head as he eyed the heavy bags.

Her knuckles were sore and raw, and her shins and feet were in no better condition, but she had managed to blow off a lot of excessive aggressive energy working on the heavy bag. At least now her muscles trembled with exhaustion and no longer with restrained rage.

Fresh from a shower and ready for bed, she looked around for a book to read. Her mind was still in a tailspin from being confronted with Chuck's double standards like that. A good book was what she needed to take her mind off other things, that is if she could find one and then keep focus on it.

Her cell phone chimed, causing her to frown confused. Curiosity took over and she looked at the display. She rolled her eyes when it was from Chuck. Now he remembered that he had a responsibility for her? She deleted it without reading.

In hindsight that was a mistake, because curiosity was now gnawing at her mind. She slipped into a sweater, sweat pants and sneakers before climbing out the window. Bryce was still up and she did not feel like explaining herself.

He was sitting on the edge of the fountain. A warm smile formed on his face when he caught sight of her, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Thanks for meeting me," he said in a soft voice.

Deciding the text had most likely been a request to come and have a talk, she stopped a few feet away from him and crossed her arms demonstratively.

"I owe you an explanation," he continued in the same voice. "Walk with me?"

She raised her eyebrow sardonically but kept quiet all the same. They walked out of the courtyard in silence and a few yards from the gate he took a deep breath and began: "I needed to take care of a few things. Of national importance."

"I am of national importance," she reminded him in an unfriendly tone.

He nodded slowly: "You are... And so am I."

A deep confusion sank in, but she managed to mask it with indifference.

"The Intersect-file Zondra sent you?" He paused for a moment. "It was meant to go into my head."

A few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Off things that now started to make sense.

"I should start at the beginning," he said while they walked down the street towards Echo Park Lake. "I was recruited into the CIA at Stanford because of my retention rate of subliminal images. I was the perfect candidate for Project Omaha. With my personal life going nowhere, I wanted to make a difference in the world, so I agreed."

She could tell that he was picking his words carefully, and since she had yet to flash on anything he had said so far, he was trying to avoid triggering one. A weird feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It could not be, could it?

"Project Omaha was aimed at developing the perfect soldier for the military, and the perfect operative for the agencies. With my natural dislike of weapons, the CIA argued that my 'education' should be that of a spy. I had other skills they could use and justify, so I would not be a complete waste of time and money in case the project would turn out a bust."

"You're an Intersect," she concluded, unsure whether to feel betrayed, angry or sympathy.

"Suppressed," he sighed. "The last update, it did not take as it should have. It was glitchy in more ways than we had anticipated, so we went back to the basics and started on the new one. The one Zondra so helpfully sent to you."

Zondra had been CIA, Chuck was CIA. Suddenly she needed to know.

"I know that you and Zondra worked together, but how close were you two exactly?"

"Zondra was my partner on a few missions when the Intersect was active, but we were never more than friends, if that's what you're asking. We'd grab a beer after a hard mission and talk about it. Get it out around someone who saw the same things."

Though the anger had not completely subsided yet, there was a sense of relief coming over her; at least Chuck had not fallen victim to that bitch.

"But why are you telling me this now? Why not wait until tomorrow?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her: "Because I owed you at least one explanation."

"It explains nothing, Chuck. You left me on my own, and without Casey, I'd have been a sitting duck," she growled as her temper began to rise again.

His luck was that she was too tired to physically act on her anger. It was not a sufficient explanation, far from it actually. She could tell that he was thinking about his next words as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, which was either a poor fish impersonation or a sign that he was not sure what to say.

"You're right," he finally agreed. "Tomorrow we'll get a mission, where Carina and I will take the lead, and you and Casey will have a supporting role... I wanted to tell you about the Intersect upfront, instead of letting you figure it out by what the bosses will say tomorrow... I needed clearance for this, from the top because of national security... Telling you without it... Best case scenario would have been being dropped in a bunker... There were other matters I needed to tend as well, but I can't say anything about those... Not yet."

"Well, isn't that mighty decent of you?" She stated, making sure that the sarcasm was not lost him,while trying to keep her anger from reaching boiling point for a second time that night.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said genuinely.

The silence falling between them was heavy and no less awkward than if they had been on good terms, she realized. Minutes went by as they simply stood there, on the side of the road. She had no idea what to say or what to think.

"Trust me, Sam," it sounded like he was pleading with her, almost.

"You're asking a lot, Chuck," she said in a harsh voice. "On blind faith. With all the secrets and lies, mirrors and smoke screens," she grumbled. "I... I need to think on this."

His answer was a single nod, and she got the impression that he understood and would give her the time and space. She realized that maybe any other person would be impressed by his honesty.

"Let's head back. Work and a briefing tomorrow," he said with a hesitant smile.

They walked back to the apartment complex in silence. Her conflicting thoughts consumed her. She wanted to trust him, but he had proven that she should not, despite the fact that she-. She cut off the thought before it was finished. If she allowed her mind to go there, it would complicate matters even more. He wanted to maintain a professional relationship, in spite of their cover, and she would go along with it.

Sleep had eluded her once more and it had taken her more coffee than usual to finally feel awake enough to deal with the new day. With hardly any sleep, she had been happy with Casey's foresight to give her today off from training.

Shortly after her alarm had gone off, she had received a text message from Chuck, which had been cause enough to roll her eyes again, to meet him out in the courtyard in thirty minutes. Now she stood waiting by the fountain. The clicking of heels on tiles drew her attention and she turned to see the leggy redhead enter the courtyard. Immediately her hackles went up.

"Sam, right?" The redhead asked with a measured smile.

"Hmm-mmm."

The redhead appeared to be amused by her lack of a real response and let her smile grow.

"So you're the new gal? Chuckie told me that you're an analyst."

"Hmm-mmm."

She tried to read Carina, but there was nothing she could work with. Except that the DEA-agent was scantily clad and looked like an expensive hooker in her navy business suit with miniskirt. Nevertheless looks could be deceiving,and she was not going to make the same mistake as she had with Chuck. She was not going to be that trusting around agents of the agencies that so far had done nothing more than ruin her life,and keep in her in a constant state of fear and paranoia.

A malicious smile replaced the pleasant one on the redhead's face: "So... What are you analyzing? Chuckie?"

She snorted haughtily before shaking her head.

"I know it's supposed to be a cover, but," Carina did not relent.

"But nothing," she snapped. "We work together, that's all."

"Touchy," the redhead smirked. "Well, it's good to know it's nothing more. It will make this mission a lot easier," she added cryptically.

She managed to keep a straight face during the mission briefing as she watched dark clouds pack together over her appointed rival's head. Obviously things were not going as Sam had hoped for, and she would take great delight in making the dorky woman sweat.

Because of the risks involved, Sam had been assigned a supporting role, along with Casey. No one knew what La Ciudad looked like. The man, or woman, she did not discriminate, was a ghost.

"So we're clear on the assignments?" General Beckman asked from the TV-screen.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey was the first to answer.

A cruel smile appeared on her face when she looked from Sam to Chuck and acted on the first play that came to mind. Two steps and she had draped herself around her pretend husband, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Aw, don't be like that, Mr. Anderson," she laughed while she ruffled Chuck's hair at the back of his head, the grunts of disgust from both Casey and Sam not lost on her.

"Carina," he sighed, shaking his head as he disentangled from her arms. "Save it for tomorrow night."

"Why, sweetie? It's been a while since I did a cover mission like this, so I'm a little rusty," she said with a faux pout.

"Save it," he muttered, moving to a safe distance.

'Hmm, interesting,' she noted in thoughts when she caught the quick glance Chuck sent Sam.

This was certainly something she could use to her amusement. It was bidirectional, something she had expected yesterday but only saw it confirmed now.

"Agent Miller, try to stick with the script this time. We all know you like to improvise, but that makes you a liability in this mission," Director Graham remarked.

She faked a bored yawn. There was absolutely nothing fun about following script. At least improvising would liven up the party. Besides it would not be the first time she would say one thing and do the complete opposite. If she was right with her suspicions, there would be trouble,and she loved trouble.

"Miss Miller, can you step outside for a while?" Director Graham asked her.

"Why?" She countered.

"Because the next part of the briefing is above your pay-grade," the CIA-director grumbled. "You'd need special clearance for it."

"Fine," she muttered annoyed and took her leave.

"As you might have suspected, Major, agent Bartowski is not simply an agent or analyst."

He snorted with contempt and swallowed an insult, convinced that their superiors would not appreciate the sentiment.

"As part of the Omaha Project, Bartowski volunteered to be a test subject for the Intersect. Without the ability to remove the program entirely, it has been put in suppression. The Intersect Agent Rizzo so carelessly sent to the asset was intended for Bartowski."

"In short, he is an Intersect," he said through gritted teeth, keeping an eye on the asset to gauge her reaction.

She was not the least bit surprised, and it pissed him off. It meant that she knew already. He started to feel like the guy that always gets picked last. Team Sam's little fat kid, and it was adding to his growing rage. The two superiors nodded in unison.

"Just not a working one," General Beckman explained.

So his suspicions were right. What he had seen when the CIA-agent had met Doctor Zarnow, had been a flash. The headache, the conviction that Zarnow was evil. Anger raced through his veins. The idiot was supposed to be his partner, even if he was of another Agency, and partnerships were built on trust. Sure, he thought that Bartowski was a moron, an idiot, a completely incompetent ass and whatever other insult he had given him in thought and word, but it did not change the fact that his so-called partner had not trusted him enough to tell him himself. For a man with his sense of honor and duty, that did not go down well. At all.

"You little," he growled barely able to control his rage, grabbing Chuck by his tie and yanking him towards him.

"Major Casey, let go of Agent Bartowski right this instant!" General Beckman barked beyond annoyed.

With a dark grunt, he pushed the other agent away from him. Oh, he would so love to kill the little sneak! The feeling so overwhelming, so present that he could almost taste it. To see the life light go out in those supposedly innocent eyes, he growled with delight at the fantasy.

"Thank you," Director Graham said.

He got in Chuck's face again: "If it weren't for your status, I'd kill you," he growled furiously. "But it doesn't mean I can't do this."

With lightning speed, he had the CIA-nerd in a headlock, slowly increasing the pressure to cut off the air supply. Chuck gurgled and struggled for a short while, before he surprised him with a counter-move which broke the headlock and had them both ending up on their backs on the floor.

"Huh!" He grunted amused, the tiniest bit impressed that the moron was not entirely defenseless after all.

"Are you two done?" The General snarled. "This is not kindergarten!"

Chuck was the first to get to his feet and stood holding out his hand to him. It was a peace offering. One he had to take if he wanted to stay assigned to his mission, he was well aware of that. He let Bartowski help him up, only to give him a light jab under the ribs as a thank you.

"Before you decide to kill your partner, Agent Casey," the Director cut in. "It was not his decision to make. The clearance had to come from way up top."

"'Cause that makes it better," He grunted, still annoyed but a little more understanding as to why his partner had not come clean in the first place.

A cocktail waitress? She rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. At least it was not as provocative as it would have been if she had gotten the role she had secretly hoped for. The part that had gone to that redhead who had immediately wrapped herself around Chuck.

In spite of its dangers, this was supposed to be a watch-and-learn mission for her, as everyone was so keen to remind her of. As the mission came closer and closer, she had started to feel more and more nervous, and with that she had become increasingly clumsy.

Oh, this was going to be a disaster, she was sure of it. As a cocktail waitress she would walk around and flash on potential threats. At least that was the idea, but she was unsure if she could pull it off. There was a better chance that she would do something utterly stupid like drop a full tray or an expensive bottle of wine to draw unwanted attention to her, and then what?

She glanced at her reflection once more, shook her head in misery,and let out the deep breath she had been holding while her mind had taken her for a spin. Was she fooling herself? Other than that she wanted to be able to defend herself in case there was no one to rescue, why was she really doing this? Unwilling to acknowledge the answer, she turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.

Casey was waiting for her. He would be tending the bar tonight while Chuck and Carina would work the room,and try to get La Ciudad to step out of cover. That was the plan.

"Ready?" The NSA-agent asked gruffly, not even giving her a second look.

She answered with a single nod, though she was far from ready. Already she felt exposed and she had not even begun her 'shift'. This was really going to be complete disaster.

"Just serve the drinks, watch and come to me if you flash, got it?" Casey instructed her.

"Got it."

Casey was not the coddling kind, which indirectly added to her increasing nervousness, so she scanned the lobby for the one person who might be able to put her at ease. A strong, sharp stab of emotion pierced her when she caught sight of him, with that obnoxious tart hanging on his arm as a gaudy accessory.

"Get your head in the game, Walker," Casey growled as he marched towards the bar.

She was happy for the comfortable shoes she was allowed to wear because she could easily keep up with him now.

"Scan the room," he told her while she waited at the bar for the first tray to be loaded with glasses of champagne. "See if you flash on anyone already."

Thankful she was not holding anything yet, she did as she was told, but the signs of a coming flash did not present themselves. She wondered how she was able to flash without causing a scene one way or another.

"Nothing."

"Yet," he reminded her. "There you go," he said while he held out the full tray to her.