A/N: We're making headway. Thanks to everyone still reading! Let us know what you think. Let's just dive right back in, shall we?

Disclaimer: We don't own "Chuck", and we're not making any money from this story.

Chuck looked at himself in the mirror. Tonight he was to be Charles Carmichael, at an art auction, with Sarah Walker as his date. This was the life he could have had. Well, not with Sarah, obviously. He gazed into the mirror.

"Carmichael. Charles Carmichael." Maybe the bad British accent wasn't needed. Tonight maybe he could have some fun. At least his sister and best friend wouldn't be discussing his career possibilities, and Casey and the alphabet directors wouldn't be referring to him as the asset or the Intersect. It wouldn't even be his real name, but it was a name he chose, and an identity he came up with. He supposed that was better. He could dance with Sarah…He could dance with Sarah. A grin came to his face as he slowly nodded. Wait...did Casey know he'd have to dance with Sarah and that was why he told him about learning to tango? He left his room quickly.

"Hey, sis. Hey, sis, um... do you know how to tango?"

Ellie turned from the couch and gave him a look. "No, why?"

Rats. "Oh, no reason. I just, I have a date tonight. I thought it might come up."

Ellie looked impressed. She never looked at him with disappointment, but in the past few years he had seen very few impressed looks when it came to women and his dates. To be fair, there hadn't been that many dates so… "You're tangoing on a date? Well, that's definitely new territory. It's good to see you reaching outside of your comfort zone."

"Well, considering my comfort zone extends to the end of that couch, new territory was bound to come up."

"Did someone say tango?" Devon's voice came from the hall behind Chuck.

Chuck knew what was coming, and he didn't need the Awesome version of the tango, just the normal one would do just fine. "No, thank you, Captain Awesome, I'll look it up online." Chuck turned as he spoke, and realized Awesome was shirtless. Surely he had on...his eyes traveled down…..whew! "Would you please put on something, a robe or something?"

Nope, Awesome was in Awesomeland where no one but Awesome resided. He raised his eyebrow as he spoke in a low tone, to set the mood. "Did a semester abroad in Buenos Aires. Spent many a night tangoing my way into señoritas' pantalones." Did he not realize his girlfriend was sitting right there? Did he not care? Apparently not because a few moments later Chuck found himself in the living room, across from Awesome, in a robe.

Awesome threw up his left hand, grabbed Chuck's right, and slapped it into his. Awesome closed his fingers around his hand one at a time, somewhat sensuous. What the hell was going on? Awesome took Chuck's other hand, and placed it on his shoulder. Chuck then jumped as he felt Awesome, quite firmly, grab his ass.

"HEY!" Chuck yelled jumping back.

"Something wrong, Chuck?" Ellie asked, trying not to cry because she was laughing so hard.

"Your boyfriend just grabbed my ass," he force whispered to her. "I'd think it would bother you."

Awesome stood there, unfazed by Chuck's antics. "Chuck, if you can't stand the heat of the tango...muy caliente..."

"I can stand it, it's just...boundaries."

"When I finish teaching you the tango, there will be no boundaries left between you and Sarah." Chuck's eyes widened.

"I really don't want to hear some of these things about your past," Ellie muttered.

Awesome held up his hand. Chuck swallowed and put his in Awesome's again. The fingers, one by one closed over Chuck's hand and Chuck jumped back again.

"Seriously, dude, I'm not the one whose pantalones you're trying to get into," Chuck said.

"Chuckster." Devon gave him that reassuring smile and look of confidence that only Awesome had. "Trust me."

"Why do people keep saying that to me?" he muttered taking Devon's hand again. The music restarted, and this time when Devon pulled Chuck into him, Chuck reached down, grabbed Awesome's hand, and pulled it up to his back. They moved around the floor, Chuck feeling better until Awesome took Chuck's hand up above Devon's ear and slowly dragged it down the side of Devon's face. Chuck, in horror, looked over at Ellie who was smiling. What was WRONG with these two? He nodded, looked Devon in the eye, and put his hand on the back of Devon's neck. Soon Chuck found himself facing forward as Devon took both of Chuck's arms, made them sweep wide and then come back behind him as both hands grabbed both of Chuck's ass cheeks. Chuck's mouth fell open. At this point there was nothing he could say...Nothing. That was until Devon opened his robe, threw it to the floor, with a predatory look on his face. Chuck found himself dipped by a man in his boxers as Ellie cheered them on. As Devon spun him away, Chuck had to admit, he did pretty well.

The lesson continued until Chuck felt confident. After a shower he found himself getting ready in front of his mirror. Chuck had to admit the tux was a nice touch. He got the tie tied, Ellie helped him with the cufflinks, and when he left he felt very comfortable with his role in the mission. He was going to tango Sarah Walker so hard….well, not like THAT. He shook his head to get THAT thought out of his mind.

He stood outside as a limo pulled up. The door opened and Sarah stepped out wearing a red dress that made his jaw drop. God, she should always wear red. ALWAYS.

"Mr. Carmichael," she said with a wink. She walked over and straightened his tie. Chuck swore his tie was straight, but maybe he was mistaken. "Very dapper." She ran her hands down the shirt, smoothing the wrinkles.

"You look amazing." He had managed to make his voice work. The smile she gave him warmed him all over. "Shall we?" She nodded and they entered the limo. Chuck remembered what he had said earlier about not going to prom. This was grown-up prom, which was better.

}o{

They pulled up to the location and Sarah grabbed a box. She handed it to him. "Here." Chuck knew she was a spy, but the smile on her face….it seemed genuine. "This is for you. Inside the watch is a tracking system." He opened the box and looked at the watch. "That way you can't run away from me. And if you flash on anyone, tell me immediately and then stay out of the way."

Chuck slipped the watch on. "Absolutely, yeah. I, uh, I always run from a fight."

Casey's voice came from behind, as he rolled down the divider from his spot behind the wheel. "This isn't a joke, Chuck. No one who's ever seen La Ciudad has lived to tell about it."

Chuck looked up at Sarah, concern covering his face. "Is he being serious? Seriously? What are my chances of getting into trouble?"

Sarah glanced at Casey. "Toughen up, you'll be fine... assuming you know how to tango."

Chuck turned to him. "I did some preparation, okay? I wouldn't call myself an expert…"

A look of confusion and ….was that disgust? crossed Sarah's face. "Why would he need to know how to tango? Is that code?"

Chuck was confused. "No, not—No, he told me that I needed to know how to tango…" He watch the smile grow on her face. Casey burst out laughing...Oh. He had gotten him. Really, really, gotten him. But he didn't care one little bit. Casey could make fun of him, and make him the butt of every joke, as long as she smiled at him like that. He composed himself. "Spy humor, I like that."

Agent Walker took back over. "Come on, you ready?" They exited the limo and started toward the door. "So you learned the tango, huh?"

Chuck shrugged. "I mean Awesome taught me...in a robe….him, not me….although, does that make it better?"

Laughter bubbled out of Sarah. Real honest to goodness laughter, at least Chuck thought it was. "I'm really not sure. Why'd you do that? Learn to tango I mean."

Chuck glanced over at her. "Because if needed to, I didn't want you to be exposed out there, and I kinda think anyone who is Sarah Walker's boyfriend, cover included, would know how to tango. And do other cool stuff like that. Classy stuff."

She went quiet for a second. "Thanks, Chuck. We should get inside." He went in with her, wondering if those lessons would pay off.

}o{

"Wow." He felt her looking at him as he took everything in. The high vaulted ceilings, the violins playing, for a moment he felt like James Bond and then he looked over at the smiling angel on his left. Bond girls had nothing on her….actually would he be the Bond girl because she was the spy? He couldn't be the Bond guy….

"Chuck?" Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he realized he was standing while people were trying to make their way inside. "You okay?"

"Yep," he nodded quickly and cleared his throat. "Just taking it all in. Shall we?" He offered her his arm and she took it, giving him a reassuring smile. They started up the stairs and he saw a waiter with hor d'oeuvres. He always wanted one of those fancy little treats, and he couldn't help himself as he reached over to grab one….and immediately dumped soy sauce on his shirt.

"Oh, nice," her voice came beside him. He heard the humor in her voice, and he was confused. He thought spies were always supposed to be all business, but with her….

He slowed his walk and turned toward her. "I've been a spy all of five seconds and I already have soy sauce on my shirt."

She was smiling, that was for the cover, right? Or was she genuinely having a good time? "Well, go and wash it off." She paused and kept smiling. "And Chuck, stop saying that you're a spy."

She was smiling for the cover...had to be, right? "Right, of course."

He walked into the bathroom and began to work on his shirt. "Idiot." Was that for spilling the soy sauce, or thinking Agent Sarah Walker was having a good time? Either worked. God, she was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. He heard the door close and a man walked up to the sink beside him. He glanced at him in the mirror and he felt his brain begin to do its thing again. In his head flashed images of dead people, different pieces of art, and the dossier on La Ciudad ended the slideshow on acid. Chuck shook his head from the slight dizziness that accompanied the flash. He saw the man stare at him.

He turned to Chuck. "Do we know each other?" He had a British accent.

Chuck tried his best to keep his cool. He really tried. "No. No, not that I know of." Chuck gave the man a smile. "Sorry." With that he left the restroom. Chuck glanced back, saw the man wasn't watching and picked up his pace. He felt a little safer when he saw her on the stairs where she was waiting for him. He rushed up to her. "It's him."

Sarah turned to him. "Who?"

Chuck turned and looked from where he had just came from and Sarah followed his gaze as the British gentlemen walked back into the party. "La Ciudad." Chuck began to freak out.

He felt Sarah grab his arm, turning him. Protecting him. "Come on." They entered the ballroom at a normal gait. Chuck was trying to keep cool and reason with Sarah. "I've already identified the perp, as it were, what are we still doing here?" He kept watching her, but she was focused on something else. He tried again. "I mean, you know, mission accomplished. Time to go."

She barely turned toward him. "Chuck, go wait at the bar." And she walked away leaving him standing there by himself. That wasn't very good protection of the asset.

"Go wait... wait at the bar?" He pointed at her...she never turned around. He began to walk backwards, watching her...she still never turned around. "Okay, you go do what you do. I'm going to be at the bar, waiting there. Covering that whole area." He went to bar and had a seat.

Casey turned toward him, and he realized immediately why Sarah had him at the bar. He noticed Casey was dressed in a bartender's uniform. Driver and bartender...did he earn double pay for this? "Drink, sir?"

Chuck was irritated and decided he would mess with Casey. "Yeah, uh... I'd like a martini, barkeep, shaken and stirred. Thank you."

Casey smiled like his request was the most natural thing in the world, and lifted a cherry on a toothpick. "Would you like a cherry with that?" Who was this guy?

A voice came from beside him. "Chuck Bartowski?"

"No." He turned to Casey who was no help...not that Chuck was surprised. He tried to keep up the act. "The name's Carmichael."

"Allan Watterman. Stanford?"

Well, might as well go with it. "Hey, hey, how are you?" Chuck glanced at Casey and wasn't sure if it was respect or contempt he saw on Casey's face...eh...probably contempt. "Hey. Hey, you."

Chuck thought back to Watterman, wasn't he one of the ones who turned his back on Chuck when everything went wrong at Stanford? "Hey. I'm great. I don't know if you heard, I sold out of my software company." Oh, he was that braggadocious douchebag. Chuck glanced over and saw Sarah chatting up the man that Chuck thought was La Ciudad. Watterman droned on. "Kind of unemployed. Problem is, I'm too young to retire. I'm too rich to work."

Chuck nearly missed that Watterman was done bragging. Chuck let out a fake laugh. "That's quite a pickle you find yourself in, Watterman."

Chuck glanced at Casey. Casey looked irritated, or was that default mode, no, something seemed off. Did Watterman irritate him more than the normal Joe? "What are you doing now? Last I heard, you were, um, you were fixing computers or something?"

There it was. I'm rich and successful and you're not. Oh goody. "Yeah. You know, just kind of, uh, just kind of weighing my options right now. Uh, you know, I may be getting a managerial position at an electronics conglomerate, so, you know... all right."

Watterman had a shit eating grin on his face. "Well, I always knew you'd make something of yourself. Who are you here with?"

Oh ho ho, he chuckled to himself. You've stepped in it now, Mr Too Rich to Work. Eat your heart out Watterman. Chuck casually turned and pointed toward Sarah. "Oh, my date. She's right over there."

Watterman was stunned. "She's with you?" It was at that time the man Chuck thought was La Ciudad put his arm on Sarah's waist, and instead of doing anything to push the man away, Sarah gave him a smile. Chuck's own smile plummeted. "Ouch."

Chuck knew it was part of the mission, he knew they didn't have anything between them, but the one time he could have used the fake relationship to his benefit and not the CIA's….dastardly villainy had struck again. Chuck said the only thing he knew to say. "We have a very open relationship."

Watterman didn't even really try to rub it in...much. "Well, hey, um, give me a call. You know, if you need help with the whole job thing. I know people."

Chuck was just trying to get through this at this point. Why Sarah, why right now? He grinned at Watterman. "Bet you do, yeah."

Watterman handed Chuck his card sealing the "I'm better off than you" routine. "Yeah. There you go."

Chuck looked down at the card from Zink Link. He felt it begin and this time, this time, he welcomed it. The flash ended and Chuck continued to stare at the card as he spoke. "Insider trading and offshore accounts in the Caymans."

Watterman blinked. "What did you just say?" Chuck looked up at Watterman. He really shouldn't be smug, but he was tired of this. So tired. He gave Watterman the smarmiest look he could. "Do you work for the SEC?" He took the card from Chuck. "I gotta go." Watterman took off. Chuck turned toward Casey waiting for the big man to insult him.

Casey wiped the bar in front of him. "Good job, Kid," he grunted. Chuck looked back at the dance floor where La Ciudad was with Sarah. It didn't feel like a good job.

}o{

She took a roundabout route to put herself in the same orbit as the man Chuck had identified as La Ciudad, subtly keeping her eye on him as he looked around the room, most likely looking for Chuck.

Because when he'd emerged out of the bathroom, scrambling up the stairs towards her, he'd been everything but subtle in bringing the arms dealer to her attention. The only way he could've done a worse job would've been if he'd literally lifted his finger to point right when the guy looked up at them.

And he had looked up.

This was going to be a hard sell.

It was degrading, but stupidity tended to do the trick at functions like these. Playing to stereotypes always worked in the spy game, and while it was incredibly disappointing, she wasn't going to not use that to her advantage.

She slid in behind the man she had no choice but to assume was La Ciudad, because she'd made the decision to trust Chuck and those...flashes of his. It had saved her life a week ago. It had brought them here tonight.

Part of her wanted to just put a gun at his back and lead him out into a dark alley where she could knock him out, get the boys, and kidnap him. But if this was La Ciudad, he wouldn't be here alone. He had men all around. Where, she wasn't sure yet. And she couldn't chance scanning the room for them, for fear it'd look too suspicious.

So instead she took a few steps forward, to the side, and got herself in a position to where she'd at least be in his peripheral. And then she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. It only took a small smirk before she caught his attention. It had almost been too easy, and her guard was immediately up at that.

"What is this?" he asked, a British clip to his voice. "I spy you and your companion watching me from the top of the stairs and then you follow me, is it?"

She hadn't expected him to come right out with it. Maybe some flirty bantering and side-stepping. This was looking like it might be trouble for her. She shouldn't have gone straight in, maybe, but at least this way it took the heat off of Chuck.

"Follow you? This isn't that big of a party. And I can't help it if my...companion and I think you look a lot like Michael Bolton...after he got the haircut." She made a face, wincing. "It sounds like you're from England or something. So you can't be."

"Michael Bolton." He chuckled. "Good try."

"Sorry if I disturbed you, but I'll be on my w—"

"Oh no, please. Don't go away now that you're here." He stepped a little closer and smiled at her. It sent a chill down her spine. "I'm sure you try that with all of the men you meet. How often does it work? The dumb blonde routine?"

She saw a bit of a hardness behind his eyes then. "I don't know what you mean," she said evenly.

That made him chuckle and duck his head, and then he moved in and rounded her waist with his arm. She gave him a tentative smile but didn't dare back away or break his hold. "I already like you, Lady in Red. Why don't we head somewhere you and I can talk a bit better?"

"I think here is fine…"

"No, I insist. Please. This way." He gestured towards the doorway exiting the room and she found she didn't have much choice but to comply. Clenching her jaw, she nodded once and then walked ahead of him, not missing the quick look La Ciudad threw one of his men.

The moment she passed that man, she felt the hard barrel of a pistol against her lower back.

Shit, she thought to herself. Because this had just become an even harder sell.

Another of La Ciudad's men waited out in the hallway, and when they all stepped out, she had a moment to decide if she could take out all three of them, but then the gun pressed even harder against her spine. Almost as if her captor knew she'd try to escape just then.

"Found some back stairs up to the roof. But we need to go through the lobby," the third man said.

"Good. Lead the way."

They all moved together, down the staircase into the entryway and through a side door. As they moved past a row of doors, Sarah weighed her options for escape. At some point, they'd have to remove the gun from her back. Until then, she ran the risk of getting a bullet lodged in her spinal cord.

"We're going to have to ask who you work for," La Ciudad said, his mouth close to her ear as he leaned in while they walked to the service elevator. Sarah said nothing. "Ah. Stubborn…? Good. That's much more fun, right, boys?"

She ignored him, and then a hand grabbed her bicep tightly and pushed her roughly into the elevator. The gun was at her head now, the man standing right beside her.

"At least you've stopped pretending you're stupid," La Ciudad muttered, smirking at her as the elevator took her to what she assumed must be the roof. And when she was unceremoniously dragged out of the elevator and up another flight of stairs, she found herself pushed up onto the roof, the fresh night air much cooler there as it graced her skin. If only she could enjoy it.

The man behind her grabbed her shoulder and jammed the gun harder against her back with his other hand, letting La Ciudad and his other henchman stand in front of her and eye her warily.

"Tell me your name."

She said nothing.

"Who sent you?"

Nothing.

"I. Asked. For. A. Name." He took his own gun out from the inside of his suit jacket and pointed it right at her chest.

"Tanya Loughton," she lied. It was the name on the ID card she had in her handbag, at least.

"What is your real name?" he tried again. "And who do you work for?"

That got him a flat look. Did he think he was dealing with an amateur? And then she slid her gaze over to her exit, the door they'd come through. She just had to get their guns and she could make it to—Oh thank God. Casey.

He'd followed them and he was lying in wait at the door. She could see him through the crack, his eyes hard and steady. There was no sense in wasting time. She gave him a signal with the slightest nod and he smacked his hand against the door loudly to push it open, distracting her captors. With one quick movement she brought her hand up and knocked La Ciudad's arm to the side so that the gun wasn't pointing at her, then brought her other fist back to slam it into the man's face behind her.

As she glanced back at Casey, she saw him toss an extra gun her way. She dove for it, getting down as he took a few shots at the arms dealers. She grabbed the gun and spun from her spot on the ground, pointing it up at La Ciudad.

They were in a stand-off now as Casey barked, "Federal agents! Don't move!" Then he added a growled, "Don't you move."

"International agents!" La Ciudad said, holding his other hand out in defense. "MI-6!"

"Drop your gun!" she demanded, not lowering her weapon or letting her guard down for a second. She'd heard that line before.

"We're British secret service!"

"Lower your weapon!" Sarah tried again. Because she sure as hell wouldn't be the first one to do it.

They all exchanged looks, but the CIA agent kept her hard gaze on the leader. She wasn't willing to toss out the flash Chuck'd had just yet. "Everyone take a deep breath," the so-called MI-6 agent said. "I'm putting down my gun, and I'm getting my identifications.

Sarah slowly crawled up to her feet, gun still pointed at him as he set his gun down and went into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "Slowly," Casey warned as he pulled it out and reached out towards her with it.

Still not lowering the gun, she took the identification from him and looked at it. What the fuck?

She frowned and stepped back so that she was side by side with Casey, and then she finally eased her gun down. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said. "We've been pursuing an arms dealer through five countries."

"Lemme guess. La Ciudad?" Casey asked, his weapon still up. She wasn't going to correct him on that, just in case.

"That's right. MI-6 intercepted a painting with plutonium hidden in the frame. Rather than announce the bust, we removed the plutonium and kept the auction in the hope of luring Ciudad."

Sarah frowned deeply. "If you're not La Ciudad, then where is he?"

"She is still inside, no doubt. Waiting for the auction to start."

She…? And they'd left Chuck inside alone with no one to protect him. She spun to face Casey. "Oh my God. Chuck," she breathed.

"Oohh, come on," he growled in annoyance after she saw realization in his face, and they took off together, racing away from the MI-6 agents.

In no time at all, they reached the bottom floor, bursting into the entryway and up the staircase, but it felt like a century to Sarah. She'd told Chuck to wait at the bar, but after that she hadn't seen or heard from it. She'd left Casey to the task of keeping track of him.

"Where is he?" she barked over her shoulder as they burst into the room where she'd last been beside him.

"I told him to stay at the bar!" he barked back.

"Well, he isn't there!"

"Upstairs," he said. "They took him to a room."

God, she hated that he'd had the same thought she had. That La Ciudad had a hold of Chuck, that he'd wandered from the bar and slipped after flashing on the actual arms dealer, revealing himself to her. Sarah was hoping she was jumping to conclusions, but the fact that Casey was on the same page felt like confirmation.

"Let's go," she breathed, leading the way.

}o{

"Ah, ow! Not so tight. I have bad circulation in my fee—ahh! Okay, I lied, I have great circulation in my feet," he whimpered as a gun flashed near his face. "Go ahead and give that an extra tug, super—super tight, that's fine by me…"

Chuck was in some really deep shit.

The woman who'd asked him to dance had played on his wounded ego, almost like she'd seen it from across the room or something. But he couldn't help it, even knowing that Sarah might've been his cover date for the night, but she wasn't his real anything besides a CIA bodyguard. And watching her waltz away with La Ciudad after he'd learned to freaking tango—even though it was for the job—and having an old classmate see it happen, had felt like shit.

And yeah, maybe he was weak. Maybe he'd let this woman stroke his ego a bit, asking him to tango. And yes, maybe he'd even enjoyed the tango they'd danced together. He might've enjoyed it more if she hadn't gotten quite so handsy. She'd been worse than Awesome.

And now he realized she was probably doing some sort of weapons check. Damn!

The scar on her neck, though…The resulting flash he'd gotten from seeing it after their dance had made it quite clear this woman was La Ciudad, the dangerous arms dealer. A murderess.

He'd slipped, big time, his cover falling to pieces thanks to a beautifully timely call from Morgan. And La Ciudad and her men now had him captive in this hotel room, tied to a chair. And God, he just wanted to be at home on the couch under a blanket. Was this an appropriate situation to cry in? Would crying help him at all? Dear God…

"I have some questions for you. Let's start with an easy one," La Ciudad murmured. "What's your real name?"

"Carmichael," he said. "Charles Carmichael." He watched as she set her fingertips on the blade of a large knife set out on the table beside other weapons. And before he could even blink, she'd lifted the knife into her hand and flung it at him so that it stuck in the chair a mere inch away from castrating him. "CHUCK BARTOWSKI."

She widened her eyes, slinking closer. "That wasn't so hard. Now before you answer my next question, I want you to think long and hard about my options here," she said, taking the knife from where she'd just thrown it and replacing it with one knee, waving the knife above him. "There's the old favorite," she hummed, teasing his jaw with the blade, "yank out a tooth." She paused. "Too noisy."

Yep. Yes. Absolutely. So noisy. He'd be incredibly loud.

"Cut off a toe...that's too messy."

"Far too messy," he rushed out.

"Or we can chuck you off the balcony, Chuck."

Chuck and chuck...he got it. Should he stroke her ego a little, let her know he thought that was a good play on words? He smiled a bit manically, not quite knowing what else to do, but he was definitely about to die. Definitely. Oh my God…

"Probably land face first," she surmised. "Teeth go through the back of your head." God, she was sliding the tip of the blade along his lip as she hissed in sympathy. Was she capable of sympathy? She was just fucking with him. She was like a cat playing with her food. God, he was the food. Sarah, help…

"Not a good way to go. So, here's my question." Her goons walked around to either side of the chair he'd been tied down to. She took a few steps back, then dropped the pretenses. "Who do you work for?"

Chuck let out a huff, knowing that wasn't something he should be saying. Not to anyone. And so he tried, "No one." His chair was hoisted up into the air by the other men. "Stop! Stop! I fix computers for a living! I swear to God! I snuck into the party under a fake name to impress a girl! PLEASE, PLEASE DOWN! PUT CHAIR DOWN!"

Abject fear crashed through him as his voice got higher and higher, his chair closer to the balcony. "Goodbye, Chuck."

Oh hell no, he wasn't going like this. Not today.

"NO, NONONONO IT'S A SET-UP!" he yelled, not quite sure what he was saying.

"What is?" she asked after too long of a pause.

"The painting?" He hadn't sounded quite sure enough so he tried again. "THE PAINTING. I-I think the painting might be a fake...or something," he explained as they slowly turned him to face La Ciudad again.

"Why?"

"If you put me down, I'll tell ya."

She looked frustrated with herself as she gestured for her guys to set him back down. As he felt the chair thump back to the floor, the glorious carpet under his feet again, he let out a relieved sigh.

"I saw a photo of the painting in the LA Times, okay? But it had a different frame. So I'm assuming somebody maybe swapped it out, I don't know, but if I were you, I would not buy that painting," he explained. He'd noticed it earlier when he was looking at it, especially after he'd seen the article about it in the LA Times during his first break at the Buy More earlier that morning. The frame had been different and he'd thought that was weird.

"A fake painting?" she asked. "And you had no intention of bidding on it."

"Me? Bid on it?" he chuckled. "No. Not unless they were sellin' it for twenty-five bucks," he looked up at the guy over his left shoulder as if sharing a joke with him, "I mean that's about what I have in my decorating budget."

"Okay," she said, getting his attention by pointing a gun at him and cocking it. "Tell me how to fix a computer, Chuck."

He froze for a moment, and then he rattled off a few things, asking her what sorts of problems her computer was having, then giving her the potential fixes for those problems. He was just starting to get into his groove, when she cut him off with a, "That's enough, Mr. Bartowski, I believe you."

He sighed in relief when she lowered her gun.

"Problem is, since you've seen me, now I have to kill you."

What? No, wait...huh? "Ha-Have to? Have to? Nononono I disa-I disagree. I disagree," he ground out through his teeth. "Vehemently! VEHEMENTLY! No no nono I wouldn't say a thing, I swear to God, you don't know the things I know about people," he panted as he watched her screw a silencer onto the end of her gun. That was always bad. That was always very bad. People always died in movies when the silencer came out. OH, GOD!

"Don't worry, it'll be fast." They always said that in movies, too, and it was never reassuring. NEVER. "Goodbye, Mr. Bartowski. I enjoyed our tango."

But before she could say anything else, or put a bullet between his eyes, there was a loud thump and the unmistakable sound of a body slamming into the door to the room. Without missing a beat, La Ciudad swung the gun away from Chuck and took a few shots at the door.

Then she darted back behind her guards as they pulled gangster status automatics out and battered the door with bullets. God, Sarah was probably out there. Sarah and reinforcements or something. Or Casey. That's just what those two did because they were freaking bad asses. Oh God, oh God please...

"CHUCK, GET DOWN!"

SARAH.

Even as he whimpered, terrified out of his mind, he rocked the chair back and forth, trying to knock himself over. He succeeded, his entire right side crashing hard into the floor. If he survived this, that was not going to feel good later. But it didn't matter at the moment as he yelled, "SARAH, HELP!"

Within a few moments the door burst open and Sarah swept in first, already shooting like a beautiful angel of death who was thankfully on his side, Casey swinging in after her and also taking shots.

When the shooting stopped, she lunged for him, falling to her knees at his back and leaning over him. "Hey...Hey, Chuck, are you okay?" Her hand fell onto his hair and she stroked it gently. Overwhelming relief at seeing her and hearing her voice nearly made him cry.

"Okay? Am I okay? In two seconds, I would'a been dead! They were gonna throw me off the balcony!"

Sarah was cutting at the ties that bound him to the chair.

"You tell 'em you work for us?" Casey asked, as if that was the most important thing here.

"OF COURSE NOT. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?! WHERE WERE YOU GUYS?"

Sarah's hand fell to his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly before going back to getting him out of the chair.

Casey grunted. "You're still alive. I'd consider myself lucky."

Not helpful, he wanted to grouse. Not helpful at all.

But then his hands were free and Sarah made quick work of his feet. He just flopped over onto his side and just barely held back the urge to give up altogether and let the tears out. "Chuck, come on. We have to get out of here before she comes back. You all right?"

She lifted his arm and slung it over her shoulder, pulling him from the floor to sit up straight. "Did they hurt you?" she asked.

Chuck shook his head. "No, I'm...I'm okay."

"Let's get you up—"

But before she could do that, Casey had both of his hands under Chuck's armpits and he bodily hoisted him to his feet. "Stop bein' a lily and let's get the hell outta here. Come on!" he snapped, rushing on ahead of them, taking his gun back out.

"I got you," Sarah breathed, and he caught a bit of a hard look on her face as she peered at the back of Casey's head before he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. "I know you're in shock, Chuck, so just listen to my voice and keep moving forward. Okay? Hang onto me. We're getting you to safety."

"Okay," he breathed. "O-Okay. Yeah."

"You're doing great. Come on…"

Her voice. Focus on her voice. He was focusing on her voice. And he kept moving forward, feeling her sturdiness, the strength of her hands and arms, her upright form that she let him lean against.

And he did exactly as she said until they climbed into the back of that limo again, Casey hurrying into the driver's seat and peeling out to get them away.

Chuck didn't even spare Sarah a look as he leaned forward and put his head between his knees, twisting his fingers in his curls and taking deep breaths. He felt the warm, reassuring pressure of Sarah's hand on his back, and it didn't leave that spot for a long while.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Next installment coming soon!

-SC and DC