This morning, all Chuck had wanted was a passable dinner with his family, to introduce Sarah and to make his sister proud of his life choices. Now, all Chuck wanted was for them all to survive dinner without getting poisoned. His new mission was to hide Sarah's souffle and not make anyone in his family think he was freaking out any more than absolutely necessary.

The latter part, on reflection, Chuck was not exactly excelling at.

"We, uh- we never made a toast," Chuck heard himself say, only a half octave higher than his normal voice. "Which, you know, I'll do now." Chuck reached forward for his wine glass, desperately searching his mind for something normal and totally not poisoned souffle related to say. "I'd like to propose a toast. To my sister. To my wonderful sister and a meal that looks so, so great. And Devon, you're great."

Awesome smiled, accepting the praise as his due.

Chuck nodded, only slightly frantically, hoping upon hope that at least one of the terrifying superspys at the table would pick up on his unsubtle cues. "And Sarah for a great dessert. And to John Casey and his mini quiches, which are equally as great."

"And what about me, Chuck?" Morgan asked, mouth full of quiche.

"For what?" Ellie muttered in a carrying aside.

Out of the corner of Chuck's eye, he saw Bryce smirk into his pot roast.

"To Morgan, for his great comic timing," Chuck continued, turning his gaze finally onto his smirking college best friend. "And to Bryce for being just a big a nerd as I am, but being better at hiding it."

Bryce raised his water. "Why, thank you."

"Cheers!" The spies dubiously sniffed their wine, but otherwise the toast was finished as non-poisoned souffle related ones were.

"That souffle looks delicious," Ellie announced, Awesome making a move for it with his fork. Chuck caught Bryce's questioning gaze and shook his head as subtly as he could.

Almost faster than Chuck could see, Bryce had spilled Casey's wine onto the souffle. He feigned shaking hands, apologising profusely to everyone at the table.

"I'm so sorry," Bryce repeated, staring at Sarah with sorrowful eyes. "I don't know what happened."

Sarah mutely shook her head, Ellie stepping in to assure Bryce that everything was fine and that accidents happened.

"At least it wasn't my fault for a change," Morgan offered in an unusual display of solidarity. "Have a quiche."

Bryce looked at the plate of mini quiches like they were grues coming to eat him. "No offense, but I don't trust anything Casey's cooked." Chuck narrowed his eyes but Bryce only smiled like an angel. "He might try to kill me. Again."

"Bryce." Chuck glared out of the corner of his eye, pasting a smile on to his face for Ellie. "He still has to watch what he eats for a while."

"Of course," Ellie nodded, falling easily into Doctor Mode. "Chuck said you were recovering from surgery. What was it again?"

"Gunshot," Bryce said succinctly, tapping the air over his chest with a still trembling hand. "Robbery. Wrong place, wrong time." He shrugged. "It's why I left New York. It's also why Charles is acting like a mama bear."

"What did it feel-"

"Morgan!" This time Chuck didn't bother hiding his glare. "Not cool, man."

A soft chuckle came from Bryce. "It's okay, Chuck." Blue eyes turned towards Morgan, a tiny sparkle of amusement glittering within. "It stung a bit." Bryce shrugged his right shoulder, eyes flashing briefly towards the resident NSA agent. "It could've been worse. The guy who shot me had really bad aim."

Chuck swore he heard Casey's teeth grind.

"Well I, for one, am glad that he did," Ellie smiled, warm and affectionate as she had always been. A soft spot for strays of all kinds, the Bartowski siblings had always had.

"Funnily enough, I feel the same way," Bryce replied, flashing his Hollywood grin. It faltered a second later, his right hand coming up to rub at his chest. "Will you excuse me a minute?"

"Of course," Ellie agreed, Chuck rising to his feet with Bryce.

"I'm fine, Chuck," Bryce said, not even needing to turn back to see him. "I just forgot to take my pills. I'll be back in a second."

Reluctantly, Chuck sank back into his seat, meeting Ellie's concerned gaze with a helpless shrug. "He's very stubborn."

"I'll check on him," Sarah offered, already on her feet. "Sometimes a woman's ear is helpful."

There were no words for how little Chuck wanted to let that happen, but Awesome and Morgan were announcing that was a good idea and Casey was glowering at Chuck, promising severe bodily harm if he so much as had to use the bathroom. So, Chuck pasted a smile on his face and pretended to fall into conversation with Morgan.

.

.

Sarah emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, announcing she had fun but had to go. Bryce, paler and with features more pinched than they had been moments before, followed soon after, making an excuse about being tired. Casey, because he wasn't an idiot, immediately said his goodbyes too. And Chuck, even though he knew it was a bad idea to get in between spy stuff, found himself making a comment about checking on Bryce and hightailed it outside in their wake.

By the time Chuck made it outside, Sarah was already out of view, Casey and Bryce almost by the gate.

"Casey!"

Sarah's urgent cry was silenced by two muted shots.

Casey, Bryce and Chuck rushed to the gate in time to see a man - the not dead Doctor Zarnow, apparently - close the boot of his car. Zarnow shot Casey with his tranq gun, Bryce bodily hauling Chuck behind the fence.

"We were wrong," Casey admitted, words slurring. Chuck looked over Bryce's shoulder, judging that making the protective spy move right now would not be in his best interests, and had to break away in time to catch Casey.

"You could have let him fall," Bryce remarked, taking great delight in watching the NSA agent slump to the pavement.

Chuck ignored his attempt at distraction, easing Casey to a seat. "He's got Sarah, we've got to save her."

"Brilliant deduction, Nancy Drew," Casey growled, trying to see the dart. "Now pull out the tranq dart!"

"Chuck doesn't like needles," Bryce announced, coming to a crouch beside them. A quick motion of his fingers had the dart out of Casey's arm. He slipped it into his pocket, rocking back on his heels. "We have to move, Chuck."

Each taking one of Casey's arms, Chuck and Bryce hauled the tranquilized NSA agent towards Chuck's Nerd Herd car. They settled him in the backseat, Bryce taking the wheel with a grin and a reminder that he was the trained operative here.

"Where are we headed?" Chuck asked, hoping Bryce had a better idea than just driving vaguely in the direction Zarnow had headed off in.

"Towards the water, I think," Bryce replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Chuck turned wide eyes on him. "You think?!"

"Chopper," Casey cut in, his head appearing between the driver and passenger seats. "I'd use a small airfield near the water, closest I could find."

Bryce inclined his head, silently agreeing. With his free hand, the CIA agent unlocked a computer, waving Chuck towards it.

"Satellite search?"

Bryce nodded once, meeting Casey's gaze in the rear view mirror. "Get ready. We'll be going in hot."

"You're not cleared for field duty."

"I've got news for you, Casey, you're not exactly at fighting fitness yourself," Bryce snarked, pressing harder on the accelerator. "Sarah is in danger because we didn't trust her. I hardly think a healing gunshot should stop me from having her back."

Casey pulled his gun from out of thin air, nodding grimly. "Agreed."

.

.

Bryce pulled the car to a stop outside the Port of Los Angeles, Casey arming himself in the back seat. Chuck looked between the two agents, watching them find places on their bodies for weaponry he didn't even know his car held. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to go in there, rescue Sarah, arrest the doctor, and kill anyone that gets in out way," Casey announced, Bryce inclining his head in agreement with the plan.

"And what am I going to do?" Chuck asked, having a feeling he already knew the answer to that.

Casey and Bryce shared a look. "Stay in the car."

"Be back soon, buddy." Bryce clapped a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Let's do this."

Chuck watched the once rival agents run off into the night. He stayed in his seat, scanning the port and feeling ants crawling over his skin with every passing second. He began to fidget with his seatbelt, the onboard computer, then turned and saw Zarnow emerge from a door marked Harbor Master Office.

That had to be where he was holding Sarah.

And Casey and Bryce had headed off in the other direction.

"Stay in the car. Stay in the car. Do not leave the car. The car is your safe space. No leaving the car." Try as he might, the affirmations didn't seem very useful. In fact, he was still muttering them as he crept across the slick asphalt towards the office.

.

Sarah was cuffed to a pipe, duct tape over her mouth and around her ankles, a fine sheen of sweat covering her upper body. Muffled protestations and orders for Chuck to go back to safety came from beneath her duct tape gag, Chuck ripping it off as gently as he could.

"Chuck, you shouldn't even be here," Sarah said, eyes burning holes in him. "I have this well in hand."

"Uh-huh," Chuck muttered dubiously. "It looks like you have it well in hand."

Sarah shook her head. "Just find me something to pick this with."

He found something metal just in time to replace the tape and hide behind some machinery.

Zarnow strutted in, crowing about helicopters and last chances and really awful threats of torture. Chuck hadn't even been properly introduced to him and he already agreed with Bryce that he wasn't a fan. In fact, Chuck kind of hoped either Bryce or Casey would come in and shoot him, just a little.

Unfortunately, Zarnow pulled out a wicked looking needle gun, threatening Sarah.

"Oh crap," Chuck uttered, feeling his nausea rise at the sight of the needle. He really hated needles. "Oh crap!"

Panic crested on the next breath, adrenaline pushing him to make a run for it. The tranq gun thudded into the door above his head. He turned and met Zarnow's gaze, flashing on his nasty history.

"You've been passing American science to North Korea for years," he accused, watching Zarnow reloading his tranq gun. Zarnow monologued about his plans - as evil dudes tended to do, Chuck was quickly learning - and it began to hit him, how screwed he was.

Sarah was chained up. Casey and Bryce were God knows where. And crazy traitor doctor was going to shoot him with a tranq dart. And did he mention, he really hated needles?

.

.

Chuck came to in the back of a helicopter, hearing the pilot say something about a fifteen minute flight. His old friend panic was there for the ride, keeping him company as he often had. But, underneath it all, Chuck felt calm. Well, as calm as he could be in a helicopter with a crazy scientist who wanted to sell him to the highest bidder. Casey, Sarah and Bryce weren't there, but he knew what they would do if they were. They'd perform some wicked hand to hand and take out the pilot and Zarnow and then pilot the helicopter back to safety.

Chuck couldn't fly a helicopter or do more than the Morgan in an emergency situation, but he didn't need to. Right in front of him, conveniently within reach, was Zarnow's tranq gun. He picked it up and pointed it at Zarnow.

"Don't move!"

Zarnow turned, a despairing expression on his blank face. "You must be kidding."

He made a grab for the gun, Chuck squeezing his eyes shut as he grappled Zarnow for it. There was a sound like a pop, then the helicopter began bleeping dangerously.

"You shot the pilot, you idiot," Zarnow cursed.

They carried on grappling, tossed to and fro with the motion of the helicopter. Zarnow nearly had the upper hand, his hands near Chuck's throat, when the helicopter jolted upright. Zarnow's head hit the ceiling and he crumpled to the floor. Taking his chance, Chuck scrambled into the front of the helicopter, grabbing the controls and trying his best not to die.

Chuck's phone rang, his nervous fingers fumbling his Bluetooth earpiece into his ear.

"I told you to stay in the car!" Casey barked, and Chuck did not have time for his lecture. He already knew he was going to cop it when he was back on solid ground. His current predicament was getting there first.

"You know what, Casey, forget about the car. Tell me how to fly a helicopter."

"All right, there's a collective in the cyclic control."

Chuck was a professional nerd and even that made no sense. "What?"

"One's the stick. One looks like an emergency break. Grab 'em both."

Chuck hurried to do as he was told. "Okay. I got it. I got it. I got them." The helicopter spun around him and he almost couldn't breathe. "Oh my God. Oh my God! This is not working!"

"Push the stick just a bit forward while doing the same thing with the emergency break."

Chuck did so, but the ground was coming up far too quickly.

Casey's voice rang urgently in his ear. "Pull up! Pull up! Pull up on the emergency break! Level off! Level off!"

Chuck tried. Honestly, he tried so hard. But he didn't know how. Nothing he did was working and the ground was coming up and - oh God, he was going to die. He was going to die in a helicopter and Ellie would never understand and-

"Listen, moron," Casey called in his ear. "You wanna die?"

There was a slight scuffle on the line, Sarah's voice briefly telling Casey that he wasn't helping.

"Okay," Bryce's voice filled his ear, calm and soothing. "You're going to be fine, Chuck. But I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?"

Chuck did as he was told, feeling a hint of calm in an ocean of panic.

"You and Morgan ever play any flight simulators buddy?"

"I've done those, yeah."

"Any helicopter ones?"

"Apache Chopper Patrol."

"That's a good one."

"Yeah."

"Right now, buddy, that's just what you're doing. You're back in your room with me and we're playing that game. None of this is real. It's just a game. Just fly the helicopter."

"It's just a game?" Chuck repeated, nodding a little. "It's just a game. I can do this."

"Of course you can, just ease to the right a little," Bryce directed, Chuck following the soothing order almost instinctively.

The helicopter shuddered around him, but it landed safely on the rain wet ground. Hysterical laughter burst from his lips, Chuck forcing his white knuckled grip on the controls to loosen.

.

.

Casey clapped him on the back, moving in to secure the doctor and the pilot. Bryce and Sarah stayed back, identical glares on their faces and steel in their blue eyes.

Sarah stepped forward first. "What the hell we're you thinking?!" she demanded, an angry crease forming between her eyes. "The secrets in your head are incredibly important! You compromised everything when you stopped trusting me."

"And when you got out of the car," Casey added, his own glare joining the ones already being shot at Chuck.

"Listen, I know I messed up-"

"Yeah, you messed up," Sarah agreed bitterly. "Don't ever accuse me of betraying you again." She turned on her heel and strode away, Casey following her a moment later.

And then it was just Chuck and Bryce.

"I should have cuffed you to the steering wheel," Bryce growled, eyes flinty and seriously pissed off.

Chuck felt his shoulders slump, guilt and worn off adrenaline dropping several tonnes on his back.

Bryce stepped forward, crushing him in a hug that was two parts relief and one part enthusiastic pride. "You did good up there."

Touched at the rare praise, Chuck hugged his friend back as tightly as he dared. "Thanks, buddy."

Bryce pulled back, eyes soft and warm again. "Just don't ever scare me like that again."

That much Chuck could easily promise. "Believe me, pal, I don't want to get in another situation like that any time soon."

Bryce stared at him, a considering frown on his lips. "You know, I think I might have to schedule you in for some time on simulators," he said, leading him back to the car. "Just in case."

"Really?" Chuck blinked, trying to work out if that was a terrifying gesture or a sweet one.

Bryce shrugged. "Yeah. And in the meantime, we're playing Apache Chopper Patrol until you can fly a helicopter in your sleep."