A/N: I'm doing something I never do. This ep isn't finished. I've been working on a Christmas fic and my brain…I just can't write the amount I use to. But a lot of people have asked for what's next so I'm giving you the next chapter with the understanding that this ep isn't all written yet. Next chapter is done, but that's it. Fanfic has been a mess, I know, but I do hope you're all still enjoying it. Take care, see you soon. Welcome to Part One of Flying the Not So Friendly Skies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

Chuck and Sarah were on the couch together. Sarah was staring at the TV, gripping the controller, while Chuck sat there, watching. "I think you need to pull up," he said gently.

"I'll have you know that I've just completed four successful landings in a row, and I do not need you pestering me," Sarah said. "Sorry… I'm telling you, flying an actual airplane is easier than this."

"Oh, I believe you," Chuck told her. "I don't know why you're bothering practicing, though."

"Chuck, this job can make us a lot of money," Sarah reminded him.

"We don't need it," Chuck countered.

"You know that, and I know that, but what we doneed is our name out there, so that we can become even more selective," Sarah said.

"Again, we don't need money, so we can be selective," Chuck told her. "At least… you don't."

She turned to him. "Is that what this is about?" Sarah asked him.

"Is this what what is about? Sarah, I don't have the money, you do." He glanced at the screen. "Uh, I don't think you're supposed to nosedive like that."

Sarah whipped her head back to the screen and pulled the plane up from its dive. "I would have felt that," she muttered.

"I believe you," Chuck told her.

"About the plane, or that we don't need the money?" Sarah asked. She glanced over at him, and he seemed confused. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Well, I feel like I'm in an Elmer Fudd cartoon with Daffy and Bugs, and you just got me, being Daffy, to say it's Duck Season, and now I'm about to get my beak blown off," Chuck replied.

Sarah turned back to the plane, thought about it, and paused the simulation. "What?"

"I was the one arguing that we didn't need the money, when the truth is we don't have the money-"

"Yes, we do," Sarah cut in.

"No, we don't," Chuck told her. A second later, he was pinned against the couch, his fiancée in his lap. "Listen, as hot as this is, it doesn't change anything."

"If you marry me, it will be fifty-fifty," Sarah reminded him. He pressed his lips together, to keep himself from talking. "Chuck," she said in a warning tone.

"I don't get to make decisions about your money," Chuck replied. She groaned, rolling her eyes, and got off him. She resumed the simulator and went back to flying. "I said the wrong thing."

"No," Sarah replied.

"No, I absolutely did, because that's the first time that you have gotten off my lap when you got me in that position and my clothes have remained on," Chuck pointed out.

"It can't be the first time," Sarah countered.

"It is," he confirmed. "So, tell me about our job."

"It's an airplane leasing company," Sarah told him. "They want us to locate and repossess a plane."

"Repossess a plane?" Chuck asked, looking at the screen. "Also, you're about to overshoot the runway."

"Damn it," Sarah muttered, trying to get control of the plane. The two watched as it went into a roll and crashed. "I swear I can fly better than this."

"I believe you," Chuck told her. "Now, why are we repossessing a plane?"

"Well, it seems that one of their customers submitted fraudulent information in order to lease a Gulfstream G150," Sarah began. "They have attempted many times to talk to the customer. All attempts at communication have been unsuccessful, so they want us to locate and return the plane ASAP."

"So, did you tell them of your experience as a member of the CIA, where you had to procure airplanes, but leave out the CIA part?" Chuck asked, grinning. Sarah pulled her lips between her teeth and looked away. "Sarah…"

"I may have told them that we've had ample experience with recovering lost aircraft," Sarah replied. "Which, I have procured many an aircraft over the years."

"How many came back with no damage?" Chuck asked her. She thought for a second. "Sarah, did at least one of the aircraft you… procured," and she nodded, "did at least one of them come back without damage, or at least it wasn't damaged while you were procuring it?"

"I mean, I didn't do the damage," Sarah insisted. "There may have been some gunfire…"

"Gunfire?" Chuck asked.

"Chuck, why would there be gunfire with this mission?" Sarah asked.

"You just called it a mission," he pointed out.

"Freudian slip," Sarah insisted. "Listen, do you want to talk about my past, or possible other slips of the tongue?"

Chuck started to answer, then stopped. "Whose tongue would be slipping?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "I think there would be mutual slippage."

"Hmm, that is something we do have ample experience with," Chuck admitted.

"Now, I confess I may have bent the truth about my ample experience with recovering aircraft," Sarah began.

"Bent?" Chuck asked.

"Do you really not want to make out with me? Because everything you say makes me think you don't want to."

"Listen, I've been through a traumatic experience being shot, and I may just blurt out nonsense," Chuck told her.

"Listen, after the last case, I just want something to go right. Something easy," Sarah admitted.

"You think this is going to be easy?" Chuck asked her.

"FAA records indicate that the plane is somewhere in Del Norte County," Sarah explained. "We find it, we fly it from point A to point B, and we collect our money. I mean, it shouldn't take more than a day? Two tops, right?"

Chuck nodded. Sarah gave him a look. "Listen, I'm just uncomfortable physically, that's all." She didn't look convinced. "Maybe I need some tongue slipping."

She grinned, stood, and offered him her hand. He got up and followed her to the bedroom. The whole way he had to get out of his mind that they were going to retrieve a plane that was just north of the Emerald Triangle. He was sure there was nothing hinky at all about having to repossess a plane that was close to what used to be the largest marijuana growing area in California.

}o{

"Sorry to have to leave so early," Sarah said, as Chuck yawned.

"No, we have to, for normal people it's a twelve plus hour drive," Chuck told her.

"Are you saying I'm not normal?" Sarah asked.

"Absolutely not… No, you're not normal," Chuck replied. He looked over at her. "Caring, compassionate, funny, wicked smart, and hotter than a two-dollar pistol."

"A two-dollar pistol?" Sarah asked.

"Not a George Jones fan?" Chuck asked. Sarah shook her head. "He was singing about a corvette in 1963."

"So, by hot, you mean stolen?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, guess the compliment doesn't work if I have to explain it," Chuck muttered.

"You think I'm a thief?" she asked, grinning at him.

"You stole my heart," Chuck said with a shrug.

"I'm going to need you to quit talking about your opinion of me, or we're going to be late for our plane repossession," Sarah told him.

"Oh, that won't do," Chuck told her. He grabbed his laptop and opened it. "See, I've linked the Gulfstream to a series of numbered companies and shell corporations based in the Caymans."

"When did you have time to do this?" Sarah asked.

"I had a little trouble sleeping last night," Chuck admitted. "I want this case to go well and you to get out of your head."

"I'm not in my head," Sarah argued.

He gave her a look.

"Fine," she huffed. "I am in my head, but back to this plane… The Caymans? That's not sketchy at all."

"It gets worse," Chuck told her. "In the last year, the registered owner, Alex Dorian, has been making regular trips between there and LA."

Sarah frowned. "Why do I think think there's a But wait, there's more!?"

Chuck looked back down at the laptop. "According to ADS-B, the last reported location on the plane was here, on a private airstrip." He paused.

"Bring it home, Buddy, I know you have more," Sarah told him.

"According to a flight plan logged with the FAA, it's due to take off at 0645, tomorrow morning."

Sarah pressed her foot down. "We've got to get this plane tonight, or we're going to lose it." She looked over at him. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I trust you to fly the plane and land it safely," Chuck told her.

"Yeah, but any hinky feelings?" she asked.

"Hinky…? I don't think so," Chuck told her. "Do we have the full story? Definitely not."

"No, there's no way we do," Sarah agreed.

"Uh, there is a problem," Chuck began. "How is your car getting back?"

"Well, I thought with the money we make off this return, we fly back to Crescent City and take a leisurely drive back down the coast," Sarah told him.

"You trying to seduce me, Miss Walker?" Chuck asked.

"Is it working?"

"It's always working, you know that," Chuck told her. She grinned at him.

"You know, I don't want to sound like I'm disappointed, but sometimes it doesn't take much to seduce you," Sarah pointed out.

"Oh, it takes a lot," Chuck told her. "It takes you."

"Chuck, I thought I said none of that talk?"

"Thinking of those slips of the tongue again, aren't you?"

"Zip it, Bartowski," Sarah said, a grin on her face.

}o{

"That's it," Sarah said, ten hours later.

"Thank God," Chuck said. "Did we hit warp factor eight?"

"Listen, I don't have time to flirt with you about Star thingies, okay?"

"Sometimes your words really hurt, Sarah," Chuck told her. He looked at the laptop, then back to the plane. "Tail number matches. How did you know that it wouldn't be at the normal airport, but this private one?"

"Really, Chuck?" Sarah asked, getting out of the car. "You and I both think this plane is being used to smuggle drugs."

"I mean, it does stand to reason," Chuck told her. "Hope you brought some bolt cutters." They stood in front of a locked gate.

She snorted. "Of course I didn't." Sarah pulled something out of her pocket, and in seconds, had the gate open. She turned to him. "Cutting the lock would be destruction of property, Chuck."

"And breaking and entering is okay?" Chuck asked. Sarah shrugged a single shoulder as she walked in.

"I don't see any cameras, so it's my word against theirs," Sarah pointed out.

"What about my word?" Chuck asked. She stopped and turned to him, an eyebrow raised, an amused smile on her face. "I mean, I could rat you out."

"No, you couldn't," Sarah said softly.

"No, I couldn't," Chuck agreed. "But it is bothersome how you don't even question it."

"You find that bothersome, that I know you won't?" Sarah asked. "Chuck, I know you. I know you wouldn't. Now, if I did something truly criminal, you would, but this, picking a lock to repossess this plane…" She shrugged again. "It's like I know you better than anyone."

"Are you reproposing to me?" Chuck asked, making her giggle.

"Come on, let's get this plane home," Sarah said. The two started across the tarmac and, after quickly walk around the plane and removing the wheel chocks, climbed aboard. Sarah secured the hatch behind them. "See? Easy peasey."

"For the love of God, woman. Are you trying to get us killed?" Chuck asked, following her into the cockpit. He sat down in the copilot's seat as she took the pilot's seat. She strapped herself in, and began to throw switches. "I have no idea what you're doing, but it feels very Han Solo-ish."

"Should I have worn a black vest?" she asked. She heard no response, and looked over at him. His fist was in his mouth, his teeth on his first finger. "Seriously, you have a problem."

"Yeah, the problem is me having to imagine you in the Han Solo outfit doing all of…" He gestured toward the instrument panel. "…That!"

"Okay," she said, slipping on the headset, and was glad to see he was doing the same. "Once we're in the air, I need you to call the client and let them know we're delivering the plane."

"Will do," Chuck replied. "Sarah, next time we repo a plane…"

"Chuck, I can't be cosplaying while we're doing this," she told him, as the engines began to spool up.

"Right," Chuck said, nodding.

"But maybe I can find us a plane we can use as a prop…" She grinned and stopped her repartee, because she feared he might pass out. Then the grin fell as she saw a black SUV heading their direction. "I don't think that's the welcome wagon." She pushed the throttles forward, and the plane began to move towards the runway.

"That's gotta be security, right?" Chuck asked. They watched the SUV come to a complete stop on the runway, and the driver and passenger door open. Both men were carrying automatic weapons, and wearing ski masks.

"Pretty sure security would not be wearing ski masks," Sarah replied.

"Sarah, I need us to get up in the air now." Sarah looked over, and saw the panic on his face. She had heard it in his voice. Sarah pushed the throttles to the firewall, and the plane surged toward the SUV.

The men opened fire.

Chuck ducked down in is seat as the bullets clanged off the plane. "Sarah, pull up," he said in a small voice.

"I'm working on it, Chuck, I'm working on it."

The nose rotated up, and the plane began to lift off the ground. It soared over the men, who turned and continued to fire at the plane.

"Chuck, talk to me," Sarah said, looking over at him.

"I'm okay," he said. "I mean, I'm not, right now. I mean, I'm not shot, and my heart is racing, but I'll be okay. I think. Someday."

"I'm so sorry, Chuck," Sarah said.

"You didn't shoot at us," Chuck reminded her. "You think one of those shooters was the owner, Dorian?"

"If so, that seems to be a bit extreme," Sarah replied. "I think we were right. They were using this plane for drug smuggling."

Chuck nodded, and began to calm down, sitting back into the seat. He bolted upright as a buzzer went off, with a corresponding annunciator light on the top of the panel. "Master Warn? Sarah, what is that?"

Sarah pushed the light, resetting it. "It seems we're losing hydraulic pressure, and both engines are rolling back," she replied. They must have hit hydraulic lines on the main gear, and put a couple of rounds into the intakes."

"Sarah," Chuck said as the plane began to descend. "Sarah, we're dropping."

"I'm aware, Chuck," Sarah told him.

"Sarah, I need you to do something," Chuck told her. More alarms were going off, and Chuck saw Sarah set her jaw.

"Chuck, I need your help," Sarah told him.

"Anything, you name it, anything," he said.

"Tighten your straps." She looked over at him. He swallowed, nodded, and did so quickly. "I love you. We are going to make it through this, okay?"

"You sure?" Chuck asked.

"Chuck you are going to die at a ripe old age, at my hand in bed, because your heart gave out from exertion."

"Promise?" he asked. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Brace for impact, baby," she said. Sarah descended towards a trail between the trees and began to flare for landing. They slowly lowered, and then began to careen back and forth as the wings impacted trees. After what seemed an eternity to Chuck, the plane skidded to a stop.

}o{

Sarah shook her head gently, feeling no pain. She looked around and saw foliage everywhere out the window, which somehow hadn't shattered. She looked over to find Chuck was breathing, and his eyes were open. "Can't get my seatbelt open," he told her, preternaturally calm. She nodded, disconnected hers and grabbing a knife that she always had on her, made two quick swipes.

"Come on," she told him, heading back to the hatch. She fought with it for a moment, and it finally fell open to lay on the ground, half-deployed. She gingerly stepped over the hatch, then reached back to help Chuck. The two stood there and surveyed the scene; the battered fuselage lay on its belly on the ground. There were pieces of the plane everywhere. The tail section had departed the aircraft somewhere in the process, and lay several hundred feet behind the fuselage, the engines smoking but not burning, as the fuel to feed a fire would have been in the wings. The wings… the wings were gone, having sheared off early in the crash.

"Sarah," Chuck said quietly.

"Yeah, Chuck," she replied, looking back at him.

"I hate to say it, but I don't think we're getting our fifty-K on this case, for the retrieval of the plane," Chuck told her.

She rolled her eyes and walked forward, trying to get her bearings. She was still looking around, when her eyes saw something that caused her heart to leap into her throat.

"Chuck, you're bleeding," she said, moving toward him swiftly, but gently. She moved him to a clear area, helping him to sit. "Let's see what's going on," she said in a measured voice. She ignored the fact that he was watching her instead of his wound as she gently untucked his shirt. She stared at the wound for a second and the blood that oozed from it. "Your stitches opened up."

"I'm okay," he assured her, taking his overshirt, wadding it up, and pressing it against the wound.

"Chuck, I need to know something: Did you have a hinky feeling about this one?" He started to reply. "I need the truth."

"Well, I did, but was it because I was dealing with a gunshot wound. And maybe because I knew that you needed a win, I ignored what I was feeling?" Sarah blew out a breath. "Although I will hand it to you, you were right." She looked at him. "The sim isn't the same as actually flying. According to the sim, we should be in a fireball somewhere back there. But because of your flying skills, you managed to put us down in the one place that would give us a chance."

"Yeah, well, the comms on board are out, thanks to the antennae being on the belly of the plane," Sarah told him. The Emergency Locator Transmitter will be activated in the tail section, down there. But it may be hours before anyone gets up here." She pulled out her phone, took a look at it, and put it back. "And of course, no service."

"Listen, there may be a small problem that you aren't aware of," Chuck began.

"You mean, it gets worse?"

"Hey, I'm just the messenger," Chuck said, holding the hand up that wasn't holding the shirt to his wound.

"Tell me," Sarah said.

"Well, what do you know about the Emerald Triangle?" Chuck asked.

"Is that from the Wizard of Oz?" Sarah asked.

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head. "At this point, a yellow brick road would be nice," Chuck told her. "So that way, the way we came, North, are the bad guys, right?"

Sarah nodded. "To the West is the coast, and that's the way we don't want to go, because that would limit our ability to hide from those with weapons," Sarah added.

"Right, which means, if I'm the bad guys, I come at us from the East and North, trying to drive us South…" he trailed off.

"What's South?" Sarah asked.

"That drives us deeper into the Emerald Triangle," Chuck told her. She was looking at him, waiting for him to finish. "Back in the sixties, during the Summer of Love, the area became a cannabis growing haven." Sarah stared at him. "It was the largest pot farm in the United States."

"But growing cannabis is legal now," Sarah told him. Chuck was silent a second. "Growing is, but selling it out of state…"

"Bingo," Chuck told her. "Also… people pretty much keep to their own business up here, and if you should present a threat to theirs… Think of it like being in the Appalachians during prohibition. Moonshiners don't take to revenue agents…"

"Oh shit," Sarah said. "So, what you're saying is, we're basically on our own."

"Yeah," Chuck told her. "We can't wait around for rescue."

"I know." Sarah said. "And the guys who shot us, they definitely saw where the plane went down." Chuck nodded. "I'm thinking there's something on board they didn't want us to leave with."

"So, we're agreeing that it's drugs?" Chuck asked.

Sarah nodded. "Trafficking would explain the plane's shady paper trail, and all the trips to Hawaii." Chuck nodded again. He pressed harder against his wound and grimaced a little. "If it is drugs, and they get them back, maybe they'll leave us alone. But that's not a chance I'm willing to take."

"You don't find drug runners to be benevolent?" Chuck asked. Sarah snorted and shook her head. "So, where do you think we are?"

Well, judging how long we were airborne, I'd say we're about five to ten miles from the airport… and civilization?" Sarah said. "And by civilization, I mean not in the Emerald Triangle."

"Yeah," Chuck agreed. "Wouldn't be shocked if one of the reasons we don't have cell phone coverage is there are cell phone blockers here." Sarah nodded. "So, if we head due south, it'll be, what? Two… three hours?"

Sarah studied him. "In your condition, it could be four or five."

"I would say that hurt, but it can't hurt as much as my side does right now," Chuck admitted.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she said earnestly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's this life we chose," he said melodramatically. She snorted. "So, what's the plan?"

"You wait here," Sarah said. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Chuck asked. "I mean, if you want to leave me behind, I totally understand."

"Quit being stupid," she said standing. "We're not gonna get far with you in that condition." She turned to the plane… or the fuselage of it. "Let me see if there's a first aid kit in there."

She entered the fuselage and started looking around. Reaching behind one of the seats, she found a flare gun. She pulled it out, opened it and looked at the payload. She jumped as Chuck appeared in the doorway.

"I hope you're not planning on using a flare gun," Chuck said. "It will only indicate our location to the men who shot us down."

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked. "I told you I have it, and for you to wait."

"I'm not the best at staying in the car," Chuck said with a shrug.

"I love you, but I may kill you," Sarah told him.

"I hear you," Chuck replied. "But, I can help." He took off to the other part of the plane, leaving Sarah shaking her head. She searched some more and found some painkillers.

"Here," she said tossing them to him, while he was near the back of the plane.

"Thanks," Chuck said, catching them. He turned around and looked aft. "Look at this. This area is usually reserved for carry-on storage, but this has been retrofitted… sealed off."

Sarah walked up to the wood paneling and gently pushed on it, looking at it. "Well, if there are drugs on board, I think you just found them."

A part of the panel popped open, and she shared a look with Chuck. Pulling the panel caused it to swing out like a door. Inside lay a man, his eyes closed.

"Or not," Chuck said. She gave him a look, and he just shrugged.

A/N: This is fine, right?

Next time:

"What are we doing, Chuck? We don't have to do this stuff. We could have a normal life."

Chuck came over, and gingerly sat down beside her. "Is that what you want? A 'normal' life?" he asked, using finger quotes.

"It would be safer," Sarah began.

"Sarah, do you enjoy what we do?" Chuck asked. She was silent for a moment and nodded. "Do you enjoy us doing it together?"

"You talking about work?" she teased. He chuckled. "Yeah, I do."

"Every day, millions of people go to work, their jobs being dangerous," Chuck told her gently. "Now maybe in the future the two of us taking on drug runners is not the best idea…" she chuckled softly at that. "But, we're good at this. And we enjoy it."

"Yeah we are," she said softly. She was quiet, studying the forest. "I think I'm gonna need you to marry me."

"You've already proposed, and I've said yes," he reminded her. She looked over at him, her eyes dancing, dangerous, a wicked smirk on her face. "Oh, you mean it is time, right now, for me to become Mr. Chuck Walker."

"I also need you to quit getting shot and to quit crashing planes," she told him.

"That last one you'll have to take up with my fiancée,"

Oh my. See you soon.