A/N: This is an edited version of this chapter and was done with the help of Gladius Grim.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

April 6, 1986

Langley, Virginia

Director Arnold Burrow's Office

11:00 am

Mary Elizabeth Bartowski sat outside of the CIA Director's office - Director Burrow. Her elbow rested on the armrest and her head in her hand. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, seeing as she was in a completely uncomfortable mood. There were a countless number of reasons why she didn't want to be there, but three main reasons really stuck out in her head.

Reason number 1. It was her birthday. What kind of human-being enjoyed spending their birthday in an oversized waiting room; the waiting room consisting of only her and the secretary - the secretary that looked like she had no idea who she was the secretary to.

Reason number 2. She was extremely tired since her son picked last night to be the one night that he was going to be afraid of the boogey man. She tried time and time again to explain to him that there was nothing under his bed. She even went to the extent of going under the bed herself and saying, "Charles, there is nothing under this bed. Look it, there is no boogey man eating me." His response to that was, "Mom, why would he want to eat you!" With this she got out of the bed and sighed as she wiped the dust off of her legs. Without another word she took Charles' hand and led him to her room where he would fall asleep with his mother and father.

Reason number 3. Having to get up at four in the morning to be flown to Langley, Virginia could only mean a few things. You were either getting a promotion, relocated, or fired. She highly doubted she was being promoted-she was a good agent, but hadn't done anything above average lately. Getting relocated was at the absolute bottom of her list of things that she wanted with two kids and a husband at home. And getting fired-well, no one likes losing their job, especially when it means being burned. This could lead to possible, and probable, relocation, being stripped of all your government contacts, and never seeing your family or friends again.

Isn't getting fired fun?

All these things were running through her mind when the overly bubbly secretary told her that she could go into the Director's office. The secretary flashed her a smile that so bright that it had to have been bleached that way. Mary opened the huge doors leading into the Director's office. A plaque sat on his desk said 'Director Arnold Burrow' and next to that was the CIA logo.

"Take a seat Agent Bartowski," She did so, still curious as to why she was sent on a five hour, non-stop flight California to Virginia, "I bet your wondering why you're here," She answered his question silently. Yes, that was pretty much what she was thinking. Unaware the Director contined. "The agency, and me included, believe that your location is compromising your ability to succeed on your given missions."

Mary just sat there staring at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Agent Bartowski...Mary, I know this is going to be hard on you, but you need to understand that is in everyone's best interest. Your situation at home is interfering with your life as an agent. We can't have our agents turning down missions because of personal events they have going on. You're starting to do this on a weekly basis. This is why we are relocating you to one of our CIA bases in France. Paris, France to be specific. You have the rest of today and tomorrow to pack and say your goodbyes. By then we will have a packet with your plane tickets, new ID, and all of your cover information."

"W-wait, no...I-I need more than two days. You're asking me to leave my family, and you're only giving me two days. I need at least a week. Please," She said with a pleading look in her eyes. How could she leave her family, her kids, her husband, "Please."

The Director seemed to give this a lot of thought. With a sigh he said, "Fine, one week, and if you don't leave on that plane in one week, then I will be forced to relieve you of your duties as an agent."

"Understood, and thank you," She spoke softly as she stood up and shook his offered hand.

Well, that was one hell of a birthday present.

Mary got on the first plane that would bring her home. Even though she was forced to sit next to a man that snored like a hog on steroids, in front of a women with a baby that cried as loud as an ambulance siren, and an elderly women was giving her the nastiest looks she wasn't aware of them as her mind raced. Too make matters worse when she was able to calm herself she didn't have a window to look out, she couldn't sleep, and on top of that she was starving, but she would remind herself none of that mattered, as long as she got home to her family as fast as possible. After hours of flying in a very uncomfortable seat in coach that seemingly seemed to feel it stretched into days, she was home.

Mary ran into her house as fast as possible and managed to trip over the coffee table, hit her shoulder on a door frame, and then stumbled over a vacuum cleaner cord. She ran to her closet, yanked the door open, grabbed her suitcase and started shoving clothes, random trinkets, and anything else she could manage into it. As she was shoving items into her suitcase, a large hand gripped her arm and stopped it from moving. She looked over her shoulder to find her husband staring down at her.

"Mary, what are you doing?"

"I, um, I can explain, its just-," she was quickly cut off by Stephen Bartowski.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Come sit down and explain to me what's going on," he led her to the edge of their bed and gently pushed her down.

"I, uh-," eh, screw it she told herself while looking at her husband. "Stephen, we need to pack and we need to leave. I...I'm a CIA agent and they want to relocate me. To Europe without you and the kids. I just, I can't do it. I can't leave my family! They gave me a week to say goodbye and pack, but if we get ready and leave now we can just go. We can run and go to some place tropical and-and be done with all this."

He just sat and stared at her for several seconds that seemed to go by slower than years. Finally he decided to break the silence, "Finish packing, I'll go tell the kids to get together a suitcase of their stuff and we'll leave."

"We can't leave just yet, I need to get us all new ID's, plane tickets and a car and-," she was once again cut off by her husband.

"I have ID's for all of us and we can get the tickets at the airport," he said as he was leaving the room.

"Wait, why do you-" Mary was in shock as she looked at her husband wavering between fear and relief…relief won out.

"I'll explain later, right now we need to pack and leave as soon as possible," With this he left the room and told a six year old Chuck and an eight year old Ellie to pack up their most important belongings because they were going on a long vacation.

Once they were all packed they had an almost silent car ride; Chuck constantly broke the silence asking where they were going, how long until they get there, and why were they going. All these questions got answered by the same response, 'It's a surprise, Charles'. Mary couldn't get the thought that they had over a million dollars split up between the four suitcases. She had no idea how her husband had that much money, but she was dying to find out.

As they got to the airport, Stephen and Mary had quietly decided that Rome was a great place to start their new lives.

July 17, 2009.

Glendale, California

Office Building

12:00 pm

Chuck drove up to a one-story office building that sat between a grocery store and a pizza place. He decided to drive a dark sedan that would draw less attention to himself. Once he reached the building, he casually got out of his car, walking confidently to the door. His mother always reminded him, 'If you act like you're supposed to be there, then people will believe it'.

As he reached the door, it took him about two minutes to hack the network and unlock the door. Chuck slowly moved into the office and spotted two desks, each with a computer on it. Looking around he silently strode over and decided to use the desk to his right.

As the computer was turned on, all Chuck could think about was how creepy he felt sitting there. The dark office was probably soothing in the daylight with quiet music playing and the windows allowing light into most of the room. Right now, the office was dark, quiet, and mysterious. He knew this was a cover location for Project O Mellor's secret base. The project had all the information on the Intersect that the government had in that base. It contained everything from data, statistics, and parts for the Intersect 1.0. Yet all they had on the Intersect 2.0 was the information that his father's old partner had leaked to the CIA. Once Orion found out, he had quickly got rid of that partner but the damage was done.

Once the computer had finished starting up, Chuck went to work using some of what he learned at Dartmouth University over five years ago. Chuck had earned his bachelor's degree in computer engineering. His fingers flew quickly over the keyboard even though he constantly felt as if a spider was getting ready to jump onto the back of his neck. Swatting reflexively at his neck, Chuck would feel nothing. There was never a spider, that's just how freaked out he was to be there. This was his first real mission he'd been on without either his mom or dad with him. Before he had left his mother told him, 'remember to use everything I've taught you over the years. It's time for you to act like a spy now, Charles'. His father then just kept repeating the steps on how to hack into the CIA's mainframe. even though Chuck didn't need that advice, he appreciated it, none the less.

Something cold and metal was pressed to the back of Chuck's neck. Suddenly broke him out of his thoughts, his fingers froze above the keyboard. He tensed almost instantly and squeaked out, "Don't shoot, please, just don't shoot me."

"I'm going to back up and then you're going to turn around, slowly, with your hands in the air. Try anything funny and I'm going to shoot you and enjoy it."

Chuck started turning slowly and he saw the gun pointed directly at his head. His eyes rolled back in his head as he flashed. Bingo! As he was turning Chuck quickly launched his right leg up kicking the gun out of the huge man's hand. Now that Chuck was face to face with his offender, he could see that the stranger's face matched his gruff and terrifying voice. Chuck managed to throw a punch to the side of his assailant's jaw disorientating him for a mere second. The next thing Chuck knew, he was flying through the air slamming into the desk on the farthest side of the room. Its computer went crashing to the floor and the lamp did so as well.

It took Chuck longer to get his mind back in one place than it did the giant brick of a man. Chuck slid off the back of the desk so he had a barrier between him and the moving angry brick. He rushed over to his attacker and sent a kick to the man's stomach and side swept the bricks legs. He went stumbling down and landed flat on his back. Chuck quickly found the pressure point in the giant man's neck and saw him slip into unconsciousness. Sighing in relief Chuck strode back to the undamaged computer to finish his job.

As he was typing, he spoke into his watch, "Dad, I just put down an agent, and quite frankly. He was huge."

A familiar voice chirped into his earpiece, "Good job son; and it looks like that was...Agent John Casey. NSA. There are three other agents involved in Project O Mellor."

"Thanks. I'm getting into their mainframe now, and will be in the base in about 1 minute."

Chuck easily got into the program and unlocked the doors to the CIA base. Once he got passed the door, he made his way down the stairs and went directly to the computer. His fingers started flying over the keyboard as he tried step by step, tried to open the Intersect files.

He might have had time to fight the giant brick, but this didn't give him any time to defend himself. His shoulder smashed forward into the desk and he stared at the blood oozing from his shoulder. That alone, was enough to make him pass out.

July 17, 2009.

Glendale, California

CIA Base Under the Office Building

12:36 am

Chuck woke up completely unaware of where he was. He found himself on a cold, hard floor looking up at a gray, metal ceiling above him. A bench sat behind him, mocking since he wasn't on it. The room was lit so bright that it bothered his eyes at first, until he was able to adjust. A large, transparent door sat in front of him, but no one was behind it.

Realization shot through Chuck so fast and hard that he didn't understand why he had forgotten in the first place. His shoulder was throbbing with so much pain, it was almost unbearable. He felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing his shoulder and he suddenly knew why. He'd been shot on his mission. He must have passed out and one or more of the agents had thrown him in a holding cell. This cell was probably in the CIA base that he had broken into to delete all the intersect files from.

Casey and Shaw were sitting at the conference table as they waited for the rest of their team to arrive. Shaw earlier had sent them a warning message letting them know that someone had been trying to get into Castle. Sarah was the first to come arrive asking what happened.

"Casey, what's going on? Who tried to get into Castle? Where are they now?" she asked in one long, rushed breath.

"Don't know who he is yet. Shaw shot him in the shoulder and he passed out." Casey grumbled.

"Wait, you shot him? Why?" Sarah asked looking at Shaw.

"Casey's, turn around slowly approach didn't work, so I figured my way would turn out easier. It did." Shaw shrugged.

"Where is he?" Sarah asked looking around.

"What? Why?" Shaw asked with a frown.

"You shot him so someone's got to look at his wound." Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious reason.

"It was through and through, he'll be fine. We also found a tracker and an earpiece on him. We tried to trace where the signal was coming from, but it bounced right back to us. Whoever he's working with must be pretty damn good." Casey growled with a grimace.

Sighing Sarah walked quickly to a cabinet grabbing the medical field kit. "I'll go stitch him up and see if I can get any answers out of him." With that, she left.

Walking down the hallway of the holding cells Sarah soon reached the one containing their intruder sitting who was sitting on the floor next to the bench. Studying him she saw a man with curly, brown hair that was plastered to his skin and held a sheen of sweat. His now red, but what she believed used to be a white, button-up shirt was soaked with his blood. Sarah frowned as she now noticed on closer inspection that he was sitting on the floor with his hands cuffed to the bench.

She punched in her code and opened the door, "What's your name?" She asked without preamble.

"Mmmm. I don't think…I'm supposed…to tell you…that," he had to stop several times in that one sentence to catch his breath as he grimaced in pain.

"Well, if you want me to fix you up, you're going to have to tell me your name." Sarah held up the medical kit.

He sighed and thought about it for a few moments, "Charles Carmichael. You can call me Chuck."

She opened the medical kit and grabbed a gauze pad, "So, Chuck, why'd you try to break into Castle?" she said as she pushed the pad against his wound and applied pressure.

He moaned and tensed as she did this, but still managed to answer her question, "Telling you would probably get me shot in other areas I would just as well keep in one piece."

She sighed and applied a little more pressure than necessary, "I wasn't exactly asking you to tell me what you were doing in here, I was telling you. Now why the hell did you try to break into a CIA base? And how the hell did you know it was a government building?"

He once again moaned at the added pressure and yelped out, "I-I can't t-tell you."

"Chuck! You think that the big guy that shot you is bad, well just wait 'till you get me mad. It's not going to be fun for you, Chuck. Me, on the other hand, I'll have a shit load of fun, but you...not so much. So tell me how and why, Chuck. Make it easy on yourself."

He just sat there and slowly shook his head. Chuck closed his eyes ready for what was to come.

She jabbed the pad into his wound until he yelped and said, "I-I can't tell you that, sorry!" he apologized and winced as she applied extra pressure again.

She noticed that the blood flow was very small, so she kept the pad on with one hand and she grabbed the rubbing alcohol with the other, "Here's your problem, Chuck. I was going to give you some drugs so you don't have to feel the painful part of this cleaning, but you keep telling me that I should let you feel every bit of pain. Is that what you want, Chuck?"

He shook his head and met her gaze with his huge, brown eyes. Those eyes look so innocent. They didn't look like they belonged to a cold hearted killer. She put the rubbing alcohol down and picked up a small pair of scissors. His eyes widened and a terrified look was plastered on his face.

She sighed and said, "No, I'm not going to cut you. I need to cut open your shirt if you want that bullet hole fixed."

He gave her a small nod, but his eyes still revealed how petrified he really was. She cut open his shirt and noticed his rather muscular chest. The chest could be one of a killer, but the eyes. The eyes couldn't. She felt those eyes staring at her and she noticed that she'd been staring at his chest for a little longer than necessary. She cleared her throat, "Tell me why you're here, Chuck. Tell me what you know. Tell me everything and I'll go easy on you."

He stared into her crystal blue eyes for several long moments before he looked down and blushed. This was another thing agents didn't do, blush. Who was Charles Carmichael?

After that blush all he did was shake his head. She really didn't want to do this, it was completely inhumane and it was going to hurt more than getting shot did. She grabbed the rubbing alcohol, took the pad off his wound and said, "One more time, Chuck. Why are you here?"

He just closed his eyes and bit down awaiting what was to come. She un-capped the bottle and poured half of it directly on Chucks bullet wound. He shouted a line of expletives so loud that she was sure people outside could hear it even through the soundproof walls of Castle.

Sarah continued to clean his wound and stitch it up without any drugs to soothe the pain. She would continuously ask the same questions and get the same answer, nothing. She almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.