A/N: Ah, it's time for the episode many of my prereaders say is their favorite. Strap in, this one's a ride friends. This is a little something we like to call, A Connecticut Yankee in Burbank.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck


Sarah sat in a fancy restaurant, looking out over the water.

"Sarah?" The voice sounded far away. She realized she was lost in her head, overthinking something. "Hey, Sarah?"

Sarah turned to Chuck and gave him a smile. "Sorry. I think the champagne's going to my head," she told him. Something… something wasn't right.

"That must mean you're relaxed. And believe it or not, I think that is a good thing," Chuck told her.

"Yes, I suppose you're right about that," Sarah admitted. She studied him for a moment. "How did we get here?"

"Well," Chuck began, laying down his fork. "We, uh, got in a shiny car. You pressed on the thing that makes it go, and..."

She swatted at him and chuckled. "No, I mean, how did we find our way from where we started, to... this?"

"Oh, that," Chuck said. Sarah nodded. "Well, I think it was a combination of things. Some very good luck on my part, and some extremely bad decisions on yours."

"This doesn't feel like a bad decision," Sarah told him.

"Well, if that's the case, then maybe we should make another one," Chuck said, wiping his hands on his pants. Why were his hands sweating. Her eyes went wide, as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box… a ring box.

"Chuck, you can't be serious!" Sarah said. She was one part scared, and one part… excited. She was excited. She knew she loved him, but that… that took her by surprise.

"Look," he said, smiling. "I know it hasn't been long. I think we both know where this is going, and I figure, why not make it official?" Chuck opened the box, and inside there was… a bullet. She looked up at him and he began to cough. Small drops of bright red blood were on his lips as he coughed.

"Chuck?" she said, concern growing on her face as a spot of blood appeared on his shirt. "CHUCK!?" He fell off the chair, as the box rattled on the table, the bullet falling out.

Sarah looked down, her hands were covered in blood. Chuck was dying in front of her, and she was covered in blood. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, her eyes popped open. She was in a dark room, and she couldn't move.

She looked down and her wrists were strapped to a gurney. Sarah looked up and saw the nurse from earlier.

"I gave you a dose of Atracurium, it's a paralytic," the nurse told Sarah. The nurse held up the needle. "And this… this is Ketamine. It helps treatment-resistant depression. It's one of the big reasons we keep all the drugs locked up."

Sarah was listening to the nurse, but she was focused on what she saw behind the nurse. No, not what… but who. Sarah tried to speak.

"Oh, you're probably having hallucinations," the nurse told Sarah. "You're probably seeing your biggest fear." Zondra was staring at Sarah, as Zondra slowly moved close. "Since you won't give me the information that I need, I'm afraid it's come to this. Everyone's gonna think that you faked your identity to come in here and get high, and unfortunately, you took too much."

Sarah stared at Zondra as the nurse held down Sarah's arm with one hand, and prepared to give her the drugs with the other.

}o{

That's later, this… this is now

"Chuck?" Sarah called out as she entered their house… she like the sound of that. Sure, on the paperwork it was hers, but it was really theirs.

"I'm in here," she heard the tired voice of Chuck calling back to her. She walked in and saw him playing a baseball game on his Xbox. That was something she hardly ever saw him do. "This is one of those free ones, you know?"

"I mean, I think we can hack it if you want to buy a new game, Chuck," she said, coming around the couch to sit beside him, plucking his hand from the controller. She pulled his arm around her shoulders, putting his hand back on the controller. "Rough day?"

He hit pause on the game, tossing his controller off to the side. "It was hell," he muttered. Sarah winced. "I love the guy, I do, but Sarah… Sarah, he doesn't take anesthesia well."

"When you say well…"

"So let me paint the picture," Chuck began. Sarah smiled and snuggled into Chuck. "First, I picked him up this morning, and he looked very unhappy. The entire ride to the appointment, he told me about this drink he had to take called, GoLytely."

"GoLytely?"

"Yes," Chuck said, nodding. "All he kept saying was that drink must have been ironically named because there was no going lightly." Sarah snorted. "I will spare you the graphic descriptions he gave."

"I knew I loved you for many reasons," Sarah said.

"We got there, and they took him back," Chuck continued. "I had a few comics on my tablet, and began to read."

"So, sounds okay, so far," Sarah said.

"I don't know what sadist made the chairs for the waiting room, but they were uncomfortable as hell," Chuck continued. Sarah couldn't help but giggle. "After two hours-"

"Two hours!?" Sarah said, sitting up. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Chuck growled, making Sarah widen her eyes. "Let's just say he tested my patience a bit today."

"Go on," she told him.

"Apparently, he had to be there thirty minutes early, and apparently once they knocked him out… well… he's hairy," Chuck said.

"Oh, Lord," Sarah muttered.

"There was some grooming that had to be taken care of," Chuck continued.

"I get it," Sarah said.

"Also, there were a few nurses there training," Chuck told her. Sarah tried to hold in the laughter. "When they asked him if they could observe the procedure, he asked them if they could sue him over anything they saw."

Sarah burst into laughter. Chuck smiled, looking down at her, and squeezed her shoulders.

"God, I needed to hear you laugh," he told her. She hummed softly. "So, when I got called back, he had been in recovery for a half hour, and… well… he was high, Sarah. As the kids say, high AF."

"Is that really what the kids say?" Sarah asked. Chuck shrugged. "I'm just asking to make sure of the authenticity of this story."

"I appreciate you fact checking me," Chuck muttered. "Anywhosel, they told me that they had told him what had been found, and the instructions."

"Wait, can you tell me this? Is this breaking HIPPA?"

"I could give a damn, at this point," Chuck told her.

"He has you a little upset," Sarah said. Chuck just shook his head. "Go on."

"The little bearded jerk did NOT tell me the truth about this colonoscopy." Sarah's smile left her face. "Apparently there has been some… blood."

"Oh no," Sarah said, worry on her face.

"They took some polyps, one of them kinda big," Chuck continued. "Also, some of the lining has begun to… turn, is the best way I know to put it."

"Do they know why?" Sarah asked. Chuck's face looked like a thundercloud. "Chuck?"

"Because the idiot is on too many NSAIDs," Chuck said.

"What is he doing?"

"Well, you know he has gout," Chuck began.

"At his age?"

"Some of it is hereditary, but he also eats terribly," Chuck told her. "He's taking four Advil every morning, and four in the evening."

"What for?" Sarah asked.

"When he worked long shifts at the Buy More, we both popped them like candy to get through being on our feet all day," Chuck told her. "He just never stopped. And then, he takes Naproxen on top of that, whenever he has a headache."

"Okay, that's a bit much-"

"AND."

"Oh Lord, there's more?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.

"You know he was on that softball team?" Chuck asked. Sarah nodded. "Well, when he got hurt, they gave him some stuff, and didn't know how much of everything else he was taking."

"When did you find all of this out?" Sarah asked.

"Today, while he was high," Chuck told her. "He was telling everything he took. It was eating the lining of his insides."

"So, what do they want him to do?"

"Quit taking all of it," Chuck told her. Sarah winced. "Yeah, he's gonna be sore."

"I mean, that's not terrible," Sarah said. Chuck gave her a look. "There's more, isn't there?"

"They had me get the car and pull it around so they could load him up. Morgan told me to take him home, and his mom would take over."

"Sounds like a good plan," Sarah said.

"He was hungry," Chuck told her. "He was hungry, and he wanted to stop for Animal Fries."

"In that condition?"

"Exactly," Chuck told her. "We finally compromised, and I told him he could have a burger and fries, but not animal style." Chuck was silent for a moment. "We got the food, and he wanted the fries right then, because if he didn't get them then, they would be cold. So, he leaned forward to get the fries out of the bag, hit his head on the dash, and fell back. When he did, his feet flung out, hitting the bag, and fries flew everywhere."

There was silence for a bit. "You went back and got him more fries, right?"

"Of course I did," Chuck said, shaking his head. "I'm not a monster." He was silent again, and when he spoke, frustration filled his voice. "He insisted on cleaning up the fries. He picked up the box, and began to pick up each, individual, single fry… slowly, and put them in the box. We were in line waiting, so he opened the door to get out, to pick up fries."

Sarah was trying not to laugh. It was obvious that Morgan had stepped on Chuck's last nerve with all of this, but the entire situation was just comical.

"I had to tell him to get in the car or I was going to leave him, which then hurt his feelings," Chuck said. "I'm so upset with him for not telling me about the polyps, for not telling me about the medicine he was taking… he kept asking me how I knew, and I had to keep reminding him that he told me."

"You know there's a good chance that he won't remember any of this, and you'll have to tell him again?" Sarah asked. Chuck slowly turned to her. "Oh, you do know, and that's why you're frustrated."

"Yep," Chuck replied. Sarah reached over and picked up the second controller on the table. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna kick your ass on this game, because this is probably my only chance to do so, with you all upset," she told him, proudly.

"That's low-down, Walker," Chuck replied, picking up his controller. "You gonna leave your skill rating on zero?"

"Where's skill?" she asked him. "All I see is ego."

"Yeah, it's a thing this game does," Chuck told her. "They make your ego the skill rating. You do know your batting, right?"

"Fire away, Chuck," she told him. Chuck threw an inside fastball that Sarah didn't swing at. "You trying to brush me off the plate?"

"Nope, setting you up for this," Chuck told her, grinning. The pitch came in at eye level, and then fell to end up at her knees. Chuck grinned, and then the grin disappeared. "NO YOU DIDN'T!"

Sarah just grinned as the ball flew out of the stadium. "Maybe your ego's just too high." Chuck looked at her, grinning. "You can turn it down if you want."

"You're toast, Sarah. Toast."

}o{

Thirty minutes later, Chuck was looking up at the ceiling. He had just struck out to end the game. "How do you throw that slider so well?"

"Lack of ego," she told him. She squealed as he pounced and the two fell back into the couch. "He worried you," she said softly.

"Yeah, he did, and I'm going to have to apologize to him," Chuck admitted.

"Well, chances are, he won't remember any of it," Sarah reminded him. Chuck began to kiss her, and she gently pushed him away. "Baby, we need to talk about work, and if you do that…"

"Can we not talk about work later?" Chuck asked her.

"I need a man with a certain set of… skills," she said, teasing him.

"God, please let me have these skills."

"Oh, Baby, trust me, you have them," Sarah told him. They were silent for a second. "Chuck, I realized what I just said, but we really need to work."

"I know, I just need my brain to reboot," Chuck admitted. "So, what's going on with this case?"

"So, the client is a Bruce Anderson, and his girlfriend committed suicide," Sarah began. "But, he doesn't think she did." Chuck made a face. "I know, I know, but I warned him, that we might not find anything."

"What did he say about her?" Chuck asked, nodding. He knew they were taking the case, he just worried what this might do to this Bruce guy, if it was discovered his girlfriend committed suicide.

"He told me her name was Kayla Hart," Sarah began. "Do you want to hear it all?" Chuck nodded. Sarah sighed and continued. "He told me she was the kindest woman he had ever met. Bruce said he had done things he wasn't proud of. He was alone, had no friends, and no family, until one day he met her."

"Man," Chuck said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he worked out of state, and they had been doing the long-distance thing for a while," Sarah continued. "He would fly here; she would fly there."

"Where was he?" Chuck asked.

"Connecticut," Sarah told him. Chuck nodded. "She didn't come into work one day, and they sent someone to her home to check on her. She was an orderly at Smiths Grove psychiatric hospital."

"That job can be hard on people that work there," Chuck said. Sarah nodded. "You're seeing people at their worst, their lowest point. When their mind is terrorizing them, and for most if not all patients, it's not something they have done that caused this. Hell, it's usually something being done to them."

"Exactly," Sarah agreed. "So, Bruce said there was no note, no warning signs. She was happy. They had made plans for the next few weeks on how they would meet, where they would meet."

"What about someone that wanted to hurt her?" Chuck asked.

Sarah shook her head. "Not that he knew of, but as he pointed out, he didn't live here. When they were together, he didn't know of anyone that would."

"How serious were they?" Chuck asked.

"Apparently she was thinking about moving to Connecticut," Sarah told him. "Bruce said he couldn't leave because of his job, but she had found a place in Connecticut to work."

Chuck was silent for a moment. "Sarah… do you think he could be guilty?" Sarah looked confused. "You know the saying, It's always the significant other."

"I don't," Sarah said. "He was… he was hurt. He was also distracted. I don't think he was telling me everything, but I don't think he did it or knows who does."

"What's so special about Connecticut?" Chuck muttered. Sarah shrugged. "Any ideas?"

"I will say that healthcare is a very high-stress job, and sadly, suicides are not entirely uncommon," Sarah replied. "They found the car still running, her dead, so she hadn't been there that long. I don't know, Chuck, I feel like something is off on this being a suicide."

"Well, that's good enough for me," Chuck replied. "What do you need me to do?"

Sarah smiled at him.

}o{

Zondra opened her door, and Dan walked in. "Did he see you?" Zondra asked.

"No," Dan told her. "It's as we thought, he's hired Castle Security."

"Has Chuck seen him?"

"No, apparently his friend needed to have a medical procedure and Charles, being the good man that he is, drove him there and back home after it was over," Dan replied.

Zondra paced the floor. She rubbed her neck with her hands. "I'm going to have to get involved, aren't I?"

"Is this where I tell you what you want to hear, or the truth?" Dan asked. Zondra glared at him. Dan stood up and walked to the door. "This is where it could all blow up in our faces."

"Yeah, because of Bryce Larkin," Zondra growled. Dan nodded, opened the door, and left.

"Fuck!" Zondra swore.

}o{

"You know what he said to me at the end?" Sarah asked. Chuck lifted his head from the computer. "He said, 'Please... I just lost the love of my life, and I need to know why.'"

"Seems like that's the type of cases we do anymore," Chuck said.

"Do you have anything?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Well, I haven't yet found anything in Kayla's financials or in her phone records to suggest that anyone wanted her dead, but a few days before she died, a friend of hers texted her to ask about an opening at the hospital where she worked. Kayla told her not to take it." Chuck spun the computer around where Sarah could see it. "Look."

Something shady's going on here.

"Sounds like there's trouble at work," Sarah said, after looking at screen. She straightened up and was silent for a moment, thinking. "Well, over the years, there have been loads of scandals at psych hospitals. I mean, you hear stories of horrific abuse and squalid conditions."

Chuck nodded. "So, either the job was so tough that it pushed Kayla to commit suicide, or whatever that shady thing was, maybe she knew too much about it. And that got her killed," Chuck offered.

"Yeah, maybe," Sarah agreed. "Either way, the best way to find out what's going on is to get inside that hospital... undercover."

"Ooo, we're going undercover?" Chuck asked excitedly. Sarah gave him a look. "Fine, you're going undercover, and I'm hanging back as tech support."

"Don't pout," Sarah told him. "We both know if you tried to work in a psychiatric hospital, you'd feel so bad for everyone that you'd start trying to help them solve all their problems and wouldn't get the actual job done."

"True," Chuck admitted. "Plus, I probably need to be around when Morgan does finally clear his head from the anesthesia. He and I need to have a long talk about his health."

Sarah came over and kissed his forehead. "Are there any job openings?" she asked, laying the side of her head against his.

"Let's see," he said, typing away on the computer. "Well, Otis's position has already been filled, and it looks like the hospital is fully staffed." He typed a bit, and changed screens. "Oh ho! What is this?"

"What?" Sarah asked, grinning at his enthusiasm.

"It seems the hospital administrator recently had a phone interview with Dr. Rachel Kesey, who's the new psychiatrist, and she is due to start tomorrow." Chuck turned and looked Sarah over. "Can you do Rachel?" Sarah raised her eyebrow at him. "Got it." He spun back around and continued typing. "So, I send Dr. Kesey an e-mail from the hospital saying that the start date has been delayed..."

"I can go in as her," Sarah finished for him.

"Exactly," Chuck said. "Let me guess." He turned to her. "You have a major in Psychology."

"Oh, God no," Sarah told him. He turned back to the computer. "A minor." Chuck looked back at her to see if she was joking. She shrugged.

"I can never tell if you're joking or not," Chuck admitted. She gave him a peck on the lips. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"There was a part of me that wanted to be a Psychologist, if I hadn't been in the CIA," Sarah admitted.

"See, you always wanted to help people," Chuck pointed out.

"Counterpoint," Sarah said. "I could have wanted to just sit in a chair, while people talked about their problems, pretending to listen while I doodled on a notepad."

"No, you're not a sitting and doodling girl," Chuck told her. "You're more of an action girl."

"You like me being an action girl," Sarah pointed out.

"What red-blooded person in their right mind wouldn't want their significant other to be an action girl?" Chuck countered.

"Oh, I don't know… while you can take action, you're also very deliberate, thoughtful, considerate, and just damn charming."

"You like that?" Chuck asked.

"No," Sarah said, now playing with his curls. "I love it."

"Sarah, is there anything else we need to do for this case tonight?" Chuck asked.

"No, why?" Sarah replied.

"Because I was thinking about going to bed early, it's been a long day," Chuck told her. She stared at him. "I'm sorry, Morgan has just worn me out."

"I am heavy-duty flirting, and you're thinking about going to bed… to sleep?"

"Sarah… he scared me and made me mad," Chuck admitted.

"I know, Baby," she said, hugging him tightly. "Come on, let's go to bed. I'll let you be the little spoon."

"And you won't try and spork me?" Chuck asked.

Sarah pulled back, looking confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea, my brain is tired," Chuck admitted. Sarah laughed, kissed him gently, took his hand and led him to bed.


A/N: Next time:

"Who told you I'm taking that? They're lying," Morgan insisted.

"You did, yesterday," Chuck reminded him.

"Don't remember it, didn't happen," Morgan replied.

"Also, it was on your chart, that you pointed out to me," Chuck added. Morgan sat there, quiet. "Morgs, you're hurting yourself," Chuck said gently.

Morgan burst out in tears. "I'm so sorry!" he bawled. "I'm a drug addict."

"Uh, Morgs, I'm pretty sure Ibuprofen isn't addicting," Chuck said, confused.

"Don't sugar coat it, Chuck. I have a problem." He reached over, grabbed a tissue, blew his nose in the way that sounded like a goose honking, and looked up at Chuck. "I'm gonna get clean."

"Again, you really can't get clean from Ibuprofen," Chuck told him.

Morgan stood up, and just paused, as if not sure what to do. "I know I've disappointed you."

"What? No," Chuck said.

"And I know I've disappointed Ellie," he continued.

"She has no idea," Chuck told him.

"You don't have to hide it from her, she deserves to know," Morgan insisted.

…..All aboard the crazy train to Morgantown!