A/N: ….I got nuthin'

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck

"You're mad," she said, getting no response. She sighed. "Come on, Chuck, I need you to do this."

"To do what?" he asked, irritation in his voice. "You got us into this without my help."

"And you're going to hold that against me?"

"You swore you were done chasing Diego!" Chuck retorted.

"I thought I was," she insisted. "And then I saw him…and you know what he called me," she reminded Chuck. She grinned hearing the low growl out of him. "He makes me feel things…I don't like to feel things, Chuck, except the things I feel for you. Emotions are messy."

"I think you're confusing feelings with paint," he replied. "I need to know something."

"Anything," she said.

"Did you bring us here to die?"

"Obviously," she replied, rolling her eyes where he couldn't see.

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or serious," he muttered, and then sighed. "What can I do?"

"Okay, move your hand to your left," she began. "Whoops, my left. That's it, right there, now scratch my back."

"What?!" Chuck asked. The two were tied up, back to back in an old dungeon.

"My back itched, I needed it scratched so I had time to think," Sarah replied.

The door swung open. "Diego," she hissed, seeing him.

"I have you," he said, proud of himself. "Now, you will apologize."

"I'm sorry your a piece of shit," Sarah said, smiling at him.

"That does not sound like an apology," Diego said.

"Bite me," she replied, still smiling. Diego pulled out a gun. "Wait, what are you doing with that."

"I'm going to shoot him," Diego said calmly. "In the groin."

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry."

Diego looked down at Chuck. "I don't need your apology, I need hers."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said. Diego smiled, and put the gun back in it's holster. He started to turn, when he tripped over Chuck's foot.

"I'm sorry, please don't shoot," he said.

"Fools, didn't tie up your feet," Diego muttered, shutting the door and locking it.

"What did you do?" Sarah asked.

"Got him to drop the key," Chuck said proud of himself. He stamped his foot down, and the key flipped into the air, landing on his knee. "That actually worked!" Chuck said, impressed with himself, now I just need to figure out how to get to it."

"I got it," Sarah said, pulling her arms out of the rope.

"Wait, what just happened?" Chuck asked, feeling the pressure of her against him leave.

"Well, they didn't cuff us to each other, and they didn't get my hands cuffed where the rope would catch as I pulled them up," she said, bringing her cuffed hands along the back of her legs and then pulling her feet back, letting her hands be in front of her. She stood, reached down, and picked up the key, unlocking herself.

"Why did I have to scratch your back?"

"Because I like it when you scratch all my itches, baby," Sarah replied unlocking him.

"Hmmm, when you put it like that, I guess I can forgive you," he said, as she gave him a peck on the lips.

"Now or in six years?" she asked, as he stood.

He rubbed his wrists and gave her a long look. "I'm not sure," he admitted.

She looked around the cell. "Why did Graham do this, why did he think I could be diplomatic? Does no one remember when I started that war? Or the time I started that other war?"

"They were more skirmishes than wars," Chuck pointed out. She blew out a frustrated breath. "Any ideas?"

"I may have a solution," she began.

"Great!" Chuck said, spinning toward her, happy.

"It involves fire," she continued.

"Absolutely not."

"What's more relaxing than setting something on fire?" she insisted.

"Lots of things," he countered. "Sweetie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but don't you realize that is insane? You can't constantly burn things down."

"Why not?" Sarah pouted.

Chuck began to answer and then stopped. "How would we get out of here if you set the place on fire?"

"They'd let us out," she said, like he had lost his mind.

"Or, and go with me on this one, they are evil, and they might let us burn to death," Chuck pointed out.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly. "So you're not willing to risk it." He gave her a flat look and she raised her hands in defense. "Sorry, got it!" He mumbled something under his breath. "Damn right I'm pretty," she said, smiling.

"Petty, I said, you're petty…but you are pretty," Chuck told her. He looked around the cell. "This is bad."

"You've said that," Sarah reminded him.

"I think in this case, it bears repeating," Chuck replied.

An explosion shook the prison, and the two looked at each other. A few minutes later the prison door swung open. "Carmichael, Walker," Graham said.

"Director, why are you here?" Chuck asked.

"You think I'd let her negotiate a peace treaty?" Graham asked.

"That's my wife you're talking about," Chuck said, drawing up and walking toward Graham.

"Chuck, he's right," Sarah said, grabbing his arm.

"I mean, I know but he didn't have to say it that way," Chuck told her.

"I had you two followed the entire way. I told everyone to be on the lookout for fire."

"I told you we should have burned the place," Sarah told him.

"If we had they may not have gotten here in time to save us!" Chuck reminded her. Sarah pouted a little.

"Diego got away," Graham informed them. His eyebrows went up at the string of curse words that flowed from Sarah's mouth. "Wow."

"You ought to see her when she's angry," Chuck told him. "Can we please get out of here?"

The three started outside. They got to the entrance when they noticed Sarah wasn't with them. "Where's your wife?" Graham asked. Chuck turned, and saw Sarah running out of the compound.

"Run, Director," Chuck shouted, as he took off, Sarah grinning as she ran by them.

Graham began to run and the explosion began. "WALKER!" Graham yelled.

A/N: These. Are. Insane.