A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I wanted to get the next chapter of Story Night done and posted. Been spending a lot of time on this one and figuring out just how to get it right. Hope it ends up worth the extra wait. I decided Sarah needed her moment in the sun after the whole unleash the Casey message in vs. the Gravitron. Still don't own Chuck.

Chapter 8: Unleash the Walker!....and Bartowski?

7:30 am

"Sir, we have hostiles at the front and rear, plus a third agent already inside the building. What are your orders?" A subordinate called from his security station.

Crossing the room in a rush, Leader's eyes flicked from one screen to the next. "Looks like they're trying to change the rules of the game. They really shouldn't have done that." Raising his voice, "Sanders, get a message to Abel. Tell him that Miss Roberts has outlived her usefulness. Jennings, call second squad back from the entrance and tell them to engage Agent Walker. Once they are inside the perimeter, initiate lockdown. Let's see how they handle that."

Standing unnoticed in the corner, Tommy had eyes for only one person. Even through the grainy security feed, there was no doubt in his mind that Bryce Larkin was part of the assault. He'd been dreaming of this moment since they broke him out of prison. A hole that Larkin had helped toss him in to. Now, it was time for some retribution. Leader thought he was in control, but Tommy knew better. Nothing seemed to work out as you would expect with Bartowski involved. A concept that mystified him to no end. He left the control room. Tommy knew where Larkin was headed, he would be there waiting for his old friend.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sarah bent over the last of the bodies, scavenging for ammo. A spare pistol was already nestled at the small of her back, but, so far she'd found no additional clips. It sure didn't speak well for Fulcrum's training practices. She gave up looking as the sounds of approaching footsteps grew louder. Hopefully, there were some better equipped agents to kill. As much as she wanted to vent her anger and frustration on every one of the bastards that was between her and Chuck, Sarah needed to keep moving if there was any hope of saving him. The confusion and distractions could only last so long before Fulcrum would decide to cut their losses.

Recalling the building's layout, she ran through her best path, noting likely danger spots. Not trusting fully the information gained from Colt's henchman, she added her own tactical insights. A Fulcrum operative appeared from the hallway, barely able to scan half the room before a pair of holes blossomed in his chest. With a rattling breath, he crumpled to the floor. Sarah didn't like her chances of getting through the large training room that stood in her way. Twirling as she crouched low, her mind racing through a number of possible ambushes and counters in such an open space. Squeezing the triggers again, bullets punched through a closed door, separating this office from the next. Still considering her options, she leapt over the dying agent. Sarah was already sprinting down the hallway before her second target finished his lifeless tumble to the carpet.

With the few seconds available, she popped the clips from her pistols and reloaded. It would be a grave error to hit more opposition and be nearly empty. Only leaving her with one other worry, did she bring enough? Casey would be the first to say, you can never have enough ammo, or enough guns for that matter. Slowing her approach, Sarah stepped silently to the next bend in the hallway. More enemies were closing in, two agents by her estimation. She had to time this just right. The attack was a guess, albeit, an educated one to be sure. She let fly with a round kick aimed at throat height for an average male. Her target made the corner at exactly the expected moment, colliding with her powerful strike.

Fortunately for him, the agent was a few inches shorter than average. Instead of a crushed windpipe and slow, suffocating death, he was gifted with a broken jaw and unconsciousness. Sarah's hand came up with a blade at the ready, fallen enemy already dismissed from her list of hazards.

His partner, on the other hand, was in the normal range for height. Her follow up knife attack was on target. Unable to stop his forward momentum in time, he impaled himself on three inches of gleaming steel. Frantic breathing turning the blood red and frothy as it poured from his pierced trachea. Clamping his hands tight around his leaking throat, he met gun sights and emotionless eyes staring back. The muzzle flash wiped all that away.

In a controlled and noiseless dash, Sarah was rapidly nearing the too open space of the training room. She knew someone was in there. They would be stupid to not have an ambush set up. Anyone trying to enter would be framed in the doorway and easy pickings for those waiting within. The passing seconds grated on her nerves, each one ticking off like a countdown on Chuck's life. What made it worse, nothing was coming to mind to solve the current dilemma. Whirling as a door handle rattled behind her, Sarah tip-toed nearer before pressing to the wall, gun at the ready.

Clutching his laptop to his chest, Laszlo rushed through the door. Upon seeing the two downed agents ahead, he stumbled to a halt. He considered going the other way, but those thoughts were interrupted by a gun barrel pressed to the back of his head. "Oh god. Don't kill me, please don't kill me. I'm not one of them. I just do science stuff." Words tumbling out as he babbled in fear.

"You seemed pretty capable when you shot a defenseless man last night." Sarah purred.

He recognizes her voice, knees begin quaking. "I was ordered to do whatever was necessary. That guy Tommy was watching. He's crazy. I was afraid of what he would do to me if I didn't capture Chuck quickly. You've got to believe me. I never wanted to hurt anybody."

"Make up for it. Show me where Chuck is." Tapping his head with her pistol to emphasize each word.

"Yes, yes, of course. I can do that." Spinning around quickly, bumping into her gun barrel. He sees the tension in her trigger finger at his sudden movement. "No...no....I'm not armed, was just taking you to Chuck. Please don't shoot." His entreaty is accompanied by a warm wetness that spreads across the front of his pants.

Sarah's lip curls in disgust as Laszlo pees himself. She steps aside, motioning him forward with a wave of her gun. "Tell you what Laszlo, help me get to Chuck and I'll forgive you for shooting him." She notes the slight grin and flick of his eyes to the room ahead as he passes. Confirmation that there is something waiting for her that she won't like. Well, she's ready for it now. Reaching behind her back for the spare firearm, Sarah safes it and follows Laszlo closely.

A couple of feet from the open doorway, she taps Laszlo on the shoulder. He turns with a questioning look that shifts to surprise when she tosses him a gun. As he gets a grip on the firearm, Sarah gives him a powerful shove, propelling him towards the room ahead. "Casey, Chuck has to be this way." She yells out and sends Laszlo through the doorway in a stumbling rush. She ducks back as guns blaze. Laszlo performs a macabre dance under the withering hailstorm of bullets. All the while, Sarah studies the impacts to build a picture on the number of shooters and their locations within the open area.

"Cease fire...crap...cease fire...he's one of us. What the hell." Confusion evident in his voice. Sarah's belief that these are newly trained agents is reinforced. Maybe they've been hitting Fulcrum harder than they thought. The gunfire stops and, in the scant seconds of uncertainty that follows, she makes her move. With two short steps, she dives into the room, rolling to her back in mid air. Arms outstretched, she depends on her peripheral vision to the right and left. As two of her opponents pass through her sights, Sarah fires a paired double tap and puts them both down for good.

The ground comes up on her faster than expected. Landing with an outrush of air, she fetches up against Laszlo's corpse. Simultaneously trying to draw in a new breath as she lifts Laszlo for a makeshift shield, Sarah hears the first bullet whiz by. The third shooter is back in the game.

Thuk! Thuk! Thuk!

His shots plow into her improvised barrier. Biding her time, she need only wait until his already partially spent clip is exhausted. The click of an empty chamber is her cue. Sarah pops up from behind Laszlo's corpse, squeezing off a shot that obliterates the agents forehead.

Climbing to her feet, Sarah performs a quick survey to make certain they are all no longer a threat. Sparing a glance for Laszlo. "Thanks for the help, I forgive you." Automatically, she ejects the clips from her weapons and slams home the last two she has. Just as she steps forward to the opposite door, the echoing footfalls of more Fulcrum operatives reach her, coming from all directions. "Damn it. Hold on Chuck." She regards both doorways, ready to make a stand.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Keep your head down Larkin." Casey yelled in frustration. They were pinned down and getting nowhere fast. Not good for what was needed, not good at all. He just wished he'd thought to bring some grenades. Grenades are good. They're your friend at a time like this. The reception area had two large entrances from the interior of the building which were currently controlled by Fulcrum. It was a substantial crossfire that was keeping them pressed tightly to the large desk/counter that would normally be occupied by building security. One benefit, the lobby had mirrors that allowed them a clear view of encroaching enemies. Of course, they were fully visible as well. Fulcrum had tried rushing them twice, leading to a few dead bad guys and nothing else, so far.

Casey noticed a drop in intensity of the incoming fire. After a careful scan of the room, he was not a happy man. Opposing agents had pulled back from one of the hallways and were no longer visible. Bad would be, they were setting up some kind of sneak attack in order to overrun their position. Or worse, Walker was going to soon have a lot more company. It was time to do something if they had any hope of getting Chuck back. First things first, one at a time Casey shot out the mirrors in the reception area, effectively blinding both sides.

"What are you doing Casey? Now we won't know if they're massing for another rush until it's too late." Bryce hissed at the Major.

"We need to break the stalemate and quickly. With those mirrors, they were getting just as much intel as we were. Are you going to cry about it, or back me up? We're getting out of here right now." Putting his back into it, Casey pushes against the counter. It flexes with a creak, but doesn't break free from its moorings. "Well, you just going to watch?" Pressing again, his legs straining, the counter groans in obvious distress. Bryce and Ilsa join in, adding their strength to his. Cracking and popping, the counter tears free. They propel it across the floor, a now mobile shield from Fulcrum bullets.

The agents push forward until they have the desk jammed into the hallway entrance. No longer protected by standing back from the corner, enemy agents begin backpedaling quickly to find new cover. As one, Bryce, Ilsa and Casey rise up from their position and rain gunfire on the hapless men. Once the last opponent falls, Bryce sprints for the other hallway.

Casey halts him with a shout, "Where do you think you're going, Larkin?"

"They're trying to flank Sarah, we have to help her." Bryce yells back.

"Not happening. We stick with the plan. And right now, the plan is go this way, kill every Fulcrum stooge we meet and see if we can beat Walker to the moron. She started out closer, but if Colt's thug was right, we have a straighter shot to the holding area. Besides, she can handle herself just fine." Casey slips his gaze to the third member of their little group. "Ilsa, you ready for round two?"

Vaulting over the counter, she flashes a smile over her shoulder. "Can you two keep up?" Jacking a round into the chamber of her Glock.

"Damn, she really looks good with a gun." Casey grins.

XXXXXXXXXX

Snatches of gunfire could be heard echoing from the alleyways. "Hurry it up, they're playing our song." Ted Adams watches with pride. Consummate professionals, his team deploys rapidly and with surgical precision. In a handful of heartbeats, they are ready to assault the rear of the building. "Staxx, bring me 'the Scope'. I need to know what's in there. DoubleD, get Big Mama warmed up and in her Sunday best. The rest of you form a perimeter."

Jackson "Staxx" Stackhouse drops a case to the ground at Ted's feet. Popping the latches, he pulls out a megaphone shaped device. He deftly plugs a cord into a matching port in the case and flips a couple switches. He is rewarded with a slowly increasing hum of power. Shortly, a screen in the lid flickers to life. Pointing the bell end at the cinder block wall and steel door of the building's rear, he adjusts knobs below the panel. The miniaturized millimeter wave radar projector paints a picture of what lies behind the wall. "Skipper, looks like six maybe seven bogies thinking they're gonna have an easy night on guard duty."

"Roger that." Ted tilts his head to Diana "DoubleD" Dixon. "I think it's time we introduced ourselves. Let'er rip."

Grinning as she massages the trigger, DoubleD listens to the sweet sounds of six barrels rotating up to speed. Big Mama, her pride and joy, is a gyro and gimbal mounted mini-gun which is currently loaded with armor piercing rounds. "Good thing I remembered the invitations, right boss?" Depressing a secondary trigger, the night is shattered by the nearly continuous shriek of hungry lead. Guided by the picture Jackson is providing, DoubleD sweeps the scythe of destruction back and forth like a master. Cement block is powdered as the bullets slam through to find softer targets within.

Staxx signals Ted to let him know all the targets are down. In turn, Ted delivers the cease fire message. Diana lets the barrels continue spinning to cool them down, patting Big Mama affectionately. She ignores the amused grins of her compatriots.

"All right, we're using attack procedure Echo-5. Cap and Junior, blow the door. The rest of Striker Alpha squad be ready to hit the room running." His men already in motion as the orders are leaving his mouth. "We need to make this noisy. There's a man in there, needs rescuing and our job is to keep these guys off balance while another team does the extraction. Carmichael's the name. You might remember him from the bio-attack at the Sheraton Conference Center back around Thanksgiving." He observed their heads nodding in recognition. Everyone knew the story of what the agent did that day, running in to help a group of infected scientists with no regard for his own safety.

Breaching charges set, Cap gives a thumbs up as he backs away, Junior on his heels. Striker Alpha approaches in single file with weapons at the ready. "Remember men, no empty seats for the bus ride home. Failure is not authorized. Time to rock and roll. Cap, hit it." Ted brings his own gun up as he joins formation with Striker Bravo. Sharp pops echo off the nearby walls. The steel door groans as it topples, barely touching the ground before being trampled by booted feet.

XXXXXXXXXX

Every day, people are literally bombarded by sights, sounds, smells and other sensations. Resulting in an often overwhelming amount of input for the brain to deal with on a second by second basis. Survival is dependent on screening the majority of it through a complex filtering mechanism, giving the conscious mind only as much data as it can reasonably handle. For Sarah, the current situation called for a modification to that system. Chuck liked to call it her 'spidey sense'. After years of practice and meditation, she could reduce those filters to a degree, putting herself on the razor's edge of sensory overload. Sarah breathed deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Things were about to get serious.

Editing out her own heartbeat and breathing, Sarah drew in all the data she could absorb. Swiveling her head back and forth, she cataloged her surroundings. Sporadic gunfire spoke of the progress of her allies. A staccato thrumming from an out of balance ventilation fan was ignored. The scent of spilled blood thick in her nostrils, almost covering over the other scents associated with death. Tuning out the extraneous inputs, Sarah began sifting between actual footfalls and their echoes. Five men from the front, seven coming from the rear.

She smiled a smile no one would find reassuring or friendly. Her estimation of their arrival times offered an opening gambit. This was going to be really interesting. Now, if only her good fortune could hold throughout the entire fight. Turning to present her profile to the opposing entrances, she stretched out her arms with guns at the ready. Fulcrum agents darkened both doorways at exactly the same instant. Perfectly timed, she sprang backwards, narrowly avoiding the volley of bullets. So close, she could feel her skin prickling at the heat of their passing. The lead agents slumped to the floor, victims of their own weapons fire. Two down, ten to go and she was just getting started.

Time seemed to move more slowly for Sarah. Visual and auditory cues from her adversaries screamed for her attention. Telegraphing their movements so completely, she appeared to be reacting before they took action. Another bouncing hop backwards keeps her difficult to track. The roar of her own pistols adding to the raucous music of combat. Easy targets as they push through the doorway, two more agents meet death most certain. Swirling into a 180, Sarah leaps at the nearby wall, only to kick off into a flip that sends her back the way she came. Bullets spang and zing off the floor and furnishings as they chase her around the room.

Whirling dervish-like, she charges the larger group of assailants. The opponents at her back stop shooting to avoid more casualties from friendly fire. One man falls to her deadly accurate gunfire. Sarah's rotations add force to a lethal kick, dropping another Fulcrum agent. All while holstering her second sidearm, drawing and throwing a knife. A third agent folds around the fatal blade, pained wail fading quickly to labored breathing. Disengaging, she is buoyed by a new sensation, the greasy stink of fear from her attackers. The bodies piling up make it difficult for the rest of the enemy agents to push into the room.

Firing over her shoulder, she empties one of her pistols. It forces the two remaining agents to hop back into the hallway for cover. Momentarily clear from attack in that direction, Sarah charges headlong into the three combatants that block her path to Chuck. Sweeping her arm, she pushes a gun aside before it can be fired. Sidestepping to place the agent between her and his companions in the now close range conflict. Spent pistol holstered again, Sarah's hand shoots out, shoving him hard to collide with another of her adversaries. Upon drawing back, a knife buried in his chest glints under the fluorescent lighting.

A scuffing of shoe leather and rasp of metal on metal is her only warning. Gripping the wrist of her nearest opponent, Sarah twists it into a painful arm lock while pulling him around. His mouth an 'O' of pain when the bullets slam into his back. Releasing him, his fall reveals the shocked faces of his companions across the room. Flickering at the edge of her vision, a shadow presages another attack. The remaining Fulcrum member had disentangled from his dying partner, raising his gun. Almost casually, Sarah lets her arm swing back in an underhanded arc. She squeezes off one more shot.

Her last opponent blocking the path to Chuck falls, a gout of blood testament to the large hole in his chest from an equally large bullet. Sarah throws herself in a diving tumble away from the doorway. Luck finally giving out, she is hammered in the side by a snap shot from across the room. Out of control, she slides to an abrupt stop against the wall. Pushing to her feet, she forces herself into a shambling run. Brushing her hand along her side, it comes away dry. The Kevlar had held, but, the twinge in her torso could be a cracked rib.

Ducking down, Sarah faces back the way she came. One of the remaining agents pokes his head into the hallway and is rewarded with a hot lead love-tap. Backing quickly, wondering how brave the remaining assailant would prove to be, she makes her way closer to Chuck's cell. Senses still on overdrive, she's becoming dizzy from the effort. Sensations are leaking through and becoming a distraction. Wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she stretches to her limit, looking for any sign of nearby dangers. Thankfully, the remaining Fulcrum agent appeared to be in full retreat. He didn't have the stomach for any more combat. No other enemies were near. Letting her filters slam down again, she fights off the lingering aftereffects, slogging forward to her goal.

Running faster, Sarah denies the existence of the stitch in her side. There would be time for moaning about it later. She knew he was close now. Her moment of joy was nearly her undoing. Barreling around a corner, she came face to face with a trio of Fulcrum agents. Surprise was shared equally as the enemy forces were looking worriedly back the way they'd come. Earlier, Sarah had noted weapons fire from something much heavier than rifles or sidearms. Apparently the FBI had broken out all of their toys. Once this was over, it might be nice to send them a thank you card.

The first agent was dead instantly, her last two bullets making short work of him. Sarah shoved her gun into the holster, both now useless. Bringing her hands back up into a defensive posture, knives had magically appeared at her fingertips. She blocked a punch from one opponent on her forearm Kevlar plate, sending it wide. A short, jabbing kick to the gut had the second man doubled over and gasping. Her follow up strike left a knife protruding from the base of his skull. Squaring off against the remaining Fulcrum operative, she evaluated his skills in the way he held himself at the ready and followed her weaving blade. Drawing a second knife, she feinted right, then left. This guy was a cut above the men she'd met so far, but, overall a disappointment.

With a quick slash, she forced him to jerk his head back. A simple flick of her wrist sent her other knife straight down to imbed itself in his foot. Reflexively, he leaned forward and raised his foot in pain. Sarah grasped his shoulders, leaping upward to drive her knee into his chin with a satisfying crunch. Stowing her knife, she patted herself down for a quick inventory. Two knives left, no ammunition for her guns. Squatting down, she ran her hands expertly over the bodies. To her surprise, she found no weapons, at all. They must have these guys jumping at their own shadows to be in such a hurry they forgot to arm themselves. Recovering her knives from the bodies of the agents, she would have to be satisfied with that.

XXXXXXXXXX

So far so good, Ted had watched his men penetrate deeper into the building using standard two -by-two advance and cover tactics. Opposition had been light. A husky, feminine voice sounded in his ear, "Skipper this is Angel-eyes. I have visual on a pair of bogies leaving the building. Looks like rats from a sinking ship. What are your orders?" It was Angela "Angel-eyes" Rodriguez reporting from her rooftop perch. She was his very competent lead on the sniper team. And against all the rules, she was also his wife. So far, neither felt the FBI had a 'need to know' on that little tidbit.

"Angel-eyes, this is a zero tolerance op. Enjoy the target practice." He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded with a roger that. Giving those orders, Ted had basically declared it was Christmas Day to his snipers. His attention was drawn forward by an odd sound. A very solid-looking security door slammed down to block their path. "Pull back men, form up on me. Cap, can we blow it?"

Stanley "Cap" Czapliewski made a careful study of the barrier. Cap was the team's old dog. He'd seen and done pretty much everything in his long career. Now, Cap served as the lead demolitions man for Striker Alpha. "We might have better luck going through one of the walls. Except, any one with half a brain will have reinforced those as well. No worries Skipper, I have just what we need back in the van. Come on Junior, you can be my pack horse."

"On your six, Cap." Timmy Macdonald piped up smartly. He hated being called Junior, but, as the new guy, he hadn't earned a proper call-sign yet.

Ted looked around at the remaining members of his team. "Smoke'em if you've got'em. Looks like break time."

XXXXXXXXXX

Casey was starting to get worried and he really hated that feeling. With the exception of one small firefight, they'd encountered no further resistance in a while. The three were advancing from doorway to doorway in short hops, two covering one until reaching the new position. Leapfrogging their way through the building in a rapid but precise manner, the trio made good time. He was about to voice his concerns when the reason made itself known. Skidding to a halt, they watched a thick, metal door drop snugly into place.

Stepping up, Casey tapped his pistol on it, producing a chiming ring of steel on steel. "I don't think they want us to see what's down this hallway. Any ideas?"

Bryce flips his pistol, using the butt to smash a hole in the wallboard. He is dismayed when more metal reinforcing is revealed. "Well, I had to look."

"Thank you Captain Obvious. Now, does anyone have a real plan?" Casey trades looks with his partners.

Ilsa motions to one of the nearby offices. "If the computers are all on the network, maybe we could hack into their security system and raise the door."

"How are your hacking skills, Bryce?" Casey asks.

"Who do you think taught Chuck everything he knows," flashing a cocky grin. Bryce drops into a chair and prepares himself by linking his fingers and giving them a quick stretch. Casey rolls his eyes, having seen Bartowski do the same thing a number of times.

XXXXXXXXXX

Things were not going according to plan. Frustrated, Leader looked on as the assault teams attempted to breach his stronghold. To make matters worse, Walker was cutting down his agents and nearing Bartowski's cell much too quickly. He needed to take control again.

Sanders stepped up smartly and addressed Leader. "I've just received word from Abel. Jill Roberts has been terminated. Actually, she took care of the job herself. One hour ago, she was found hung by her own bed sheet. There was even a note, begging forgiveness for her actions concerning Mr. Bartowski."

Leader allowed himself a smile at the good news. "Excellent. Sanders, take your men and retrieve Chuck. I can't wait to inform him of the sad fate of mother and child."

"Yes sir!" Barking out smartly, he joins his team. They cross to a heavy door set in the rear of the control room.

Impatient, Leader snaps out. "What are you doing? Get Bartowski up here now!"

Sanders turns confused. "We're drawing weapons from the armory."

"Six against one? And a bumbling, injured analyst at that. Just go get him. He won't put up a fight." Exclaims leader, throwing his hands up in the air.

"But Sir, what about Agent Walker?"

"What about her? Trust me, if you control Chuck, you control her. She's developed feelings for her asset. Feelings we can use against her. Now get moving!"

The men trade uncertain looks before jumping to comply with the orders. Leader watches them leave and bemoans the lack of good help these days.

XXXXXXXXXX

One, two, three, four. This is it. Sarah stopped in front of the nondescript door. Pulling out her lock picks, she made short work of the mechanism. Re-stowing her kit, she turned the knob and swung it open with a knife at the ready. She took in the space with a quick glance. There was a small table, no chairs though. The back wall had a mirrored window like you see in most cop show interrogation rooms. Her heart begins thudding loudly in her chest as she spies a familiar mop of brown curls. "Chuck!" Sarah cries out as she runs to a cot tucked along one wall.

He rolls over to face her, face shining in delight and relief. "It took you long enough. I've been listening to the gun play for almost 5 minutes now." Swinging his legs over the edge and holding up his hand for assistance.

Sarah grabs his outstretched limb and pulls him to his feet. "Sorry about that, I stopped for coffee. I can come back later if you're not ready to leave." His response is smothered by the kiss that Sarah launches at his lips. She is engulfed in his embrace, whimpering when his squeeze sends a spike of pain from her abused rib.

Breaking free, Chuck's eyes are instantly serious. "Sarah, you're hurt."

"I'm fine Chuck, just going to have a good bruise in the morning. You should see the other guys." Filling her voice with assurance as she leans in to him, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment.

"I think I'd rather not, actually. Keeps the nightmares to a minimum." His tone sliding to light and playful. "So, you mentioned getting out of here. Is that still the plan, because, I missed breakfast."

"I'm afraid you're going to miss lunch also." The harsh words interrupt their reunion.

Sarah spins quickly, placing herself between Chuck and the men entering his cell. All in all, six enemy agents take up positions between them and the doorway. She wonders where Casey and the rest of the team is. Honestly, she could use the help about now. Spent from the earlier fighting, she studied their new opponents and gathered her remaining energy. Chuck finally at her side, she would not fail after coming this far.

"Leader wishes to see the two of you. He's very impressed Agent Walker. That was quite a display back in the training center." At his signal, the men spread out into a half circle.

"I'm sorry, but Chuck and I already have dinner plans. Can you tell him we'll take a raincheck?" Sarah gauges the opposition with a practiced eye. Taking in such cues as how they carry themselves and wariness in their expressions as they evaluate her in turn. Sorting them by apparent skill level to produce the order they need to be taken down in. It would be too easy for them to overwhelm with their superior numbers if she can't neutralize a couple of them right away. But, she also can't let them get between her and Chuck. If they threaten him, she knows in her heart she'll have to surrender. She can see only one way out. Pulling Chuck with her, she moves them to the center of the wall, mirror at their backs.

"Chuck, do you trust me?" She meets his eyes, speaking in earnest.

Nodding, "Of course I do, Sarah. With my life."

Smiling warmly, Sarah whispers. "Good. I need you to trust me now more than ever when I tell you that we can do this. Remember the training we've been doing in Castle for the last few months?" Sarah places her hand on his shoulder, fingers tapping a steady beat. She holds her other hand up as they face each other.

Confusion filling his reply, "Yeah, you've been giving me dancing lessons." His own hands moving on instinct, one to her waist, the other linking with hers. "Do you think they're going to let us waltz out of here?" Chuck's head starting to bob to the rhythm as he grins.

Allowing herself a short laugh at his joke, Sarah responds with a nod. "In a sense, yes. Let me lead." Guiding him into a sweeping turn, she takes the opportunity to fix the positions of each enemy agent in her mind and finalize her plan. "Just like we practiced Chuck, and, I promise you this will work."

The Fulcrum operatives watch with amused expressions as their captives do the unbelievable and start to dance. "This really isn't the time folks. I enjoy a good tango as much as the next guy, but, we have our orders. Get them!" Moving forward, they advance on Chuck and Sarah.

Marking time on his shoulder, Sarah unclasps her other hand from Chuck's to run her finger in three quick circles on his palm, ending in a short tap before taking his hand again. They perform another rotation. Sarah using it to aim at their first targets. She squeezes once for the go signal. They break apart into a shuffling slide-step, eating up the distance between them and two of the bemused Fulcrum agents. In a well timed exhibition, they perform a spinning hop, then another, and a third. A yelled warning comes too late for their foes. Legs snapping out in synch, they catch the two agents open mouthed and flat footed. Sarah's kick is expertly aimed and devastating in effect. On the other hand, Chuck's strike is not the most aesthetically pleasing, but, his long legs, greater weight and momentum prove no less disastrous for his target.

Stumbling as he lands, Chuck recovers quickly. Sarah and Chuck reach for each other, hands returning to their starting positions. He can't keep the grin from his face. "We're pulling a 'White Nights' aren't we? How long have you been planning this? Ooh, that makes me Baryshnikov."

Sarah rolls her eyes but can't hide her growing smile. They flow smoothly across the room as Sarah presses more instructions on his palm. Turning hip to hip, the pair throw out a front kick, propelling the table into a screeching slide. Enemy agents dive from its path. One takes a blow to his thigh and tumbles awkwardly to the ground. The maneuver buys them a little time to hopefully put down another two agents and make the odds nice and even. "Don't go buying your dancing shoes quite yet, Mikhail." Sarah teases, bringing them around and opening up a little room with a chain of scissor steps that place them by the mirror once again. "Ever since you mentioned that movie, it's been rolling around in my head. The whole idea seemed ludicrous at first blush. That was before I realized how hard it was to keep you out of trouble."

XXXXXXXXXX

"See, I told you I'd get that door open." Bryce said, sounding very pleased with himself.

Casey, wanting to bring him down a notch, had to comment. "Bartowski would have done it in half the time. You sure it was you doing the teaching back at Stanford?"

"Men!" Ilsa spits out. She'd become increasingly annoyed with their constant verbal sparring. "Don't we have something important to do? Casey, where are they holding Chuck?" Tapping her foot impatiently as she tries to get them back on mission.

"I'm sorry, Ilsa. You're right of course." Taking a moment to run through the layout in his mind, Casey glances right and left before setting off down the hallway. "We're close. Just up there actually. We simply need to get to that intersection", pointing for emphasis, "and cross to the next hallway over."

At that moment, the black suited members of the HRT come in to view. The two groups close the distance, Ted moving up front to shake hands with Casey. "Fancy meeting you here, John. Any sign of your boy?"

Grinning, "Looks like the FBI training isn't as bad as I thought. Your team made pretty good time to get here only a little after we did. Of course, that means you're buying. Carmichael should be right on the other side...of.....what the.....?" Having turned as he gestured, Casey was staring into a room and through a large window, most likely a one-way mirror. Leaving everyone guessing at his strange behavior, he walked in to get a better look. Ilsa, Bryce, Ted and the members of Striker team crowded in behind him.

"Are they?" Bryce whispers.

"Looks like it." Ilsa adds.

"I've never seen...." Casey says, eyes wide.

"....anything like that before." Ted finishes.

Bryce shakes off the shock first, "We should get in there and....Oh wow! Did you see that!"

The room is filled with softly spoken commentary as the assembled agents witness something they will be talking about for years to come. No one thinks of helping the couple as they dance through the opposing forces.

Ilsa is the first to notice. She tugs on Casey's sleeve. "John, we might need to get in there after all. Look at his leg."

Now that it's been pointed out, the rest spot a growing patch of blood on Chuck's thigh. It explains his stumble after the first maneuver. Casey wonders if the painkillers are still working at all. "Hold on kid, you and Walker can do it. It's just some stitches. It's only pain." Urging him on, wanting to see Chuck and Sarah succeed. Despite his words, everyone is slowly bringing up their weapons.

Surprise lacing his hushed tones, Bryce speaks. "They're really good together."

"In more ways than you can imagine." Casey replies, hoping Larkin will finally get the hint and leave his partners alone.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Don't give me that look Mr. Bartowski. Yes, I said keeping you out of trouble." Feeding him what she wanted for their next move, Sarah continued her story. "It was becoming obvious that making you stay in the car was pretty much hopeless." Turning her back to Chuck, his hands sliding down to her waist. "Teaching you to fight is actually more dangerous than you might think. People tend to feel a false sense of confidence after learning only a few moves." Pressing back with her left hip, she hops up while Chuck lifts. He spins them to their left as she slices a kick to the temple of an oncoming agent. Fulcrum loses another operative to the dancing team of Walker and Bartowski.

"With you already jumping feet first into every situation, that would make things worse. I needed a way to keep you with me and safe, but still make you useful, part of the team." Returned to her feet, they sway towards the mirrored wall, her back still to Chuck. With three enemy agents remaining, Sarah decides it's time to go on the offensive. "That was when your movie comment actually made some sense. I could teach you combat moves under the guise of dancing lessons. And, best of all, to use what you've learned, we need to be together. Hopefully, that will mean no more flying solo for you." She turns within the circle of his arms to face him once again.

"Admit it. You just needed more Chuck time." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Sarah groans but can't hide the twinkling in her eyes.

With the lead, Sarah sends them at the lone agent. The other two Fulcrum operatives taking up flanking positions. Their assailant launches a punch at Chuck's head. Using their linked hands, Sarah brings up her arm to catch the blow. Continuing the motion, they execute an inside turn. Their free hands firing into his midsection with stunning force. The duo rotate fully, coming face to face. Snapping out twin side kicks to finish the maneuver and the agent. Chuck's leg nearly buckles before he can get both feet under him again. Sarah studies him carefully, noting a tightness around his eyes before glancing down to find red staining his jeans.

He cuts off her question. "I'm fine. Just tell me what to do next."

Sarah wasn't fooled, he was anything but okay. She had to end this now. "I'm sorry Chuck." Hating herself for what she was about to ask. "Finale." Leaping up, Sarah extends her arms straight out from her sides. At the command, Chuck ducks enough to wrap his arms tightly around her thighs, just above the knee. He straightens back up quickly, but not without a momentary wobble. Their last two opponents stop and stare at this new maneuver, neither detecting the blades in Sarah's hands. In one smooth gesture, she tosses them with uncanny precision. Tilting her head down to meet Chuck's upturned face, she smiles as his grip loosens. Sarah slides down through the circle of his arms, their lips passing so very close before her toes reach the floor.

The last two agents defeated, Chuck and Sarah only have eyes for each other. Finishing the move Sarah had dictated, Chuck performs a dip to the left, holding her there for a beat. Then up, a dip to the right and hold for a beat. Up again as she turns to nestle in the curve of his arm with her head on his shoulder, holding for another beat, and end. The two could swear there was applause coming from somewhere nearby.

"Bravo. Bravo. That was very impressive and ever so unorthodox. I have goosebumps, honest."

Looking over Sarah's shoulder, Chuck recognizes the speaker, gasping out his name. "Tommy!"

"How well does that work against a gun? Let's find out shall we," raising his weapon.

Sarah reacted instantly, throwing herself at Chuck and bearing him to the ground. The first bullet hit Kevlar, too near the previous strike. Sarah cried out in pain, rib broken for sure now. The second shot was a punch to her shoulder blade, but again, the bullet was stopped by her suit. Empty-handed, she desperately searched for a way to save Chuck. Tommy's third shot tore another scream from Sarah as blood splashed hot on Chuck's cheek. Sick with worry, he never felt the impact when they crashed to the floor.

Tommy wasn't allowed a fourth shot. With Chuck and Sarah clear of the line of fire, the mirror exploded as multiple guns returned the favor. A myriad of impacts lifted him bodily from his feet to toss him like a broken doll into the hallway.

"Sarah! Sarah! Are you okay? Speak to me, please. Man down....Casey, if you're there, Man down!" Chuck called frantically, his own pain forgotten.

"Chuck. It's okay. Don't worry about me." Sarah spoke weakly. Smiling at him when he turned to her.

"You just got shot, what's there to smile about?" Chuck had to ask.

"I finally got to do my job without you messing it up." Her head drooped to his chest, eyes closed.

"Yes you did Agent Walker. A fine job it was." Chuck kissed her forehead.

"Not....agent.....Sarah. Always...." She mumbled.

Raising his voice, "Casey, if you made it through all this without a scratch, I'm gonna be really upset. Where's the team spirit, buddy?"

Sarah snickers, "Ow...stop that, no laughing.....hurts."

A/N: Wanted to thank SLWF and Wepdiggy for the good beta help on this chapter. Also corrected a glaring oversight that was brought up by FL. No mention of Jill's plight. I also tried to add in better reasoning for the last group of agents being weaponless with some Leader time.