A/N: This is my first fanfiction in this 'verse to be published here. I did have a couple of other stories on here but I took them down since they have their 'home' somewhere else.

Though I am sure that the idea is not new at all, I wanted to see where it would go if certain roles were switched and/or altered. So Sarah will start out as a rather geeky Sam and eventually become Sarah. At least that is the plan, but the problem with plans is that they tend to go sideways so easily.

Since this is an AU, which will follow some of the main arcs of canon, there will be quite a few twists and turns along the way. And... There will be Charah, of course. And puppies! Oh, wait, no puppies... Awww.

Fair warning: English is not my first language, so any mistakes in word or sentence structure is completely unintentional or the accidental result of a translation failure.

Oh, and yes, reviews will be much appreciated. Even if you think the story sucks, which I hope not.

Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck' and there's absolutely no copyright infringement intended.

Sam sat behind the desk, bobbing her head to the beat of the song on her iPod. So far it had proven to be an uneventful day at the Burbank Buy More and she was happy for it.

With her best friend Bryce staying out of her way for most of her shift, she could focus on getting rid of the backlog. Still something told her that something was up. Normally Bryce would stop by at the Nerd Herd desk a few times during his shift, but he had made himself scarce today.

She honestly hoped he was not planning something silly as a surprise birthday party. It was just another year, in which she had successfully managed to hide herself from the real world.

"There she is."

Speak of the devil. As if he knew that she was thinking about him, he came up to the front of the desk, with his boyish smile and evil glint in his eye. It no longer caused her heart to skip a beat, like it had done in high school when she had not known the truth about her best friend. When she had thought they could be possibly more than just best friends.

"Bryce," she sighed, not liking the look on his face. "What did ya do?"

"Nothing, hun," he answered a little too quickly.

She rolled her eyes. He seemed to forget that she knew him like the back of her hand. He had tells and right now it told her that he was up to something.

"Bryce, I told you-"

"Yeah, and I heard you," he smirked.

"But you didn't listen, did you?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he chuckled.

Leave it to Bryce to throw a surprise birthday party. She had to admit that he had outdone himself in inviting eligible bachelors, but she was nothing too sure if it had to do with her or with him. So far none of the male party guests had caught her attention, or was it the other way around? That was more likely the case and thus after an hour of trying she had managed to sneak away to her room, to the safety of her books.

"Sam, will you come out and mingle already," Bryce said with a hint of annoyance to his voice from the door opening. "What's a birthday party without the birthday girl?"

"A party?" She offered, glancing at him over her book.

"Com'on, Sam. You can't hide in here forever," he sighed.

"I can certainly try," she retorted.

"No cake for you then, missy," he stated, the annoyance now clearly present in his voice. "And no beefcake either," he added with a wink.

A fierce blush crept up her neck and cheeks.

"Oh well, all the more for me then."

She really wished she could bring herself to say that he was so easy in a less conventional way, but that was not like her so she simply gave him a faked look of shock. His answer was a simple shrug of his shoulders and a posture that told her that he was not leaving where he stood until she came out with him.

"Fine," she grumbled while she put her book aside and got to her feet.

He was not the man to spew profanities so freely like that, but right now Charles Bartowski, or simply Chuck to his family and friends, was cursing like a sailor. All CIA station and substation chiefs had been recalled to their respective bases of operations, all over the world, on an Alert Crimson. In his case, it had been at nearly half of the drive from Bakersfield to Burbank.

For a short moment he had contemplated to simply continue driving down the I5 and call in when he got to Burbank, but an Alert Crimson meant a matter of international importance. So he had taken the next exit and was now driving back to Bakersfield.

He had been looking forward to visiting his big sister and her boyfriend for quite a while now. A deep sigh passed his lips now that he was done cursing. At least it had gotten him out of meeting this girl his sister was dying to introduce him to.

Not that he expected the girl to be some hideous creature or something, his sister knew better than that. The simple truth was that he was not over his ex-girlfriend Jill just yet, though it had not kept him from pursuing another relationship once or twice without any success. Something his best friend and assistant Morgan failed to understand. And of course, he was well aware of the fact the relationship had ended abruptly over five years ago, but it did not change the fact that he was not quite ready to move on.

His line of work did not leave him much room for an active social life either. He had been recruited right out of Stanford into Project Omaha, a joint agencies top secret operation, and he had been the exception to the rule upon becoming a spy without actually having to pass the so-called Red Test. After his downright refusal to kill another human being and the recognition by the CIA that he possessed some unusual but highly appreciated skills, Deputy Director of Operations Langston had personally instated him as a spy with the highest clearance, thanks to his involvement in Project Omaha.

His Red Test had come eventually; involuntarily, unintentionally and unforeseen, but it had been his absolute last resort in a mission abroad gone completely sideways. The act of killing, even if he had been left no other choice, had made him physically ill for over a week and he had vowed to only take a life if all his other options were exhausted. Something that had only happened twice since then.

Bryce had left her in the company of four rather attractive looking men, which only seemed to work counterproductive. She was well aware of the fact that she was a nerd and a bookworm, and looked and dressed the part, and to be surrounded by good-looking guys like these caused her to withdraw into herself even more.

"So, Sam," the tall blonde, introduced to her as Sean, addressed her. "Tell a little bit about yourself."

"Euh," she searched for the words, feeling put quite in the spotlight. "I like to read?"

"Read any good books lately?" Sean asked more out of politeness than actual interest.

In her mind it was a stupid question, and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. From what she gathered so far, Sean was muscle and not brains, but he was making an effort.

"Just finished The Godfather," she answered with a shy smile.

"After the movie?"

Sean's question confirmed her suspicion and immediately made her wonder how many of the male guests were actually smart. It certainly would not be the first time that Bryce would try and set her up with an airhead of a jock. Though she appreciated his effort, she simply wished that he was cease his attempts to either get her a boyfriend or get her laid.

She felt a hand come to rest on her forearm and turned to see her other best friend and neighbor Ellie: "Can I borrow the guest of honor?" Ellie asked with broad but obviously fake smile.

"Morgan? Change of plans, buddy," he said the moment he heard his best friend answer his call. "Heading back now. ETA: thirty minutes."

"Better floor it, Chuck. It's complete chaos over here, and no one knows what the hell is going on. Do you?"

He had expected no differently and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. His car jumped forward and the environment started to blur. This was the first time in his career with the CIA there was an Alert Crimson. And it meant that every station, every agent was on the highest alert. Still only the agents with the highest clearance would be briefed when deemed necessary.

"No. Listen, buddy, I need you to run a system check first and then enter Processor Protocol 21," he instructed.

Processor Protocol 21 was a program he had written in his last year at Stanford, right after the initial contact with the CIA recruiter. It was designed to shut down access to the networks for all computers at the station, except for his. Any attempt from within or outside to send or retrieve data would be flagged and a message would pop up on his screen notifying him of the severity of the breach, the data, which computer had been used and who was logged in at that moment. Depending on the nature and severity of the breach, it was something to be dealt with in proper time.

"On it. Anything else?" Morgan asked.

"Could you call Ellie for me and apologize?"

"You want me to call Ellie?" His friend sounded surprised.

"I know she was really looking forward to seeing me after all this time, and now I have to disappoint her yet again. But I really need to focus right now,"

"Of course, Chuck," Morgan still sounded surprised but with a hint of excitement to his voice as well.

"No funny business this time, Morgan," he warned him. "Just apologize for me and tell her that I will try and call her later. Nothing more."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks, buddy. ETA: twenty-five minutes."

Without so much as a goodbye and assuming that his friend would follow his instructions without diverting much this time, he ended the call and was about to toss his cell phone on the passenger's seat, when it chimed.

It was a secure text message, telling him that Alert Crimson had been updated to Iota status. It sent an icy shiver down his spine. Crimson Iota referred to the Intersect and Project Omaha.

"What the hell?!"

Project Omaha, and with that the Intersect, was on a need-to-know basis. It was an experiment to greatly increase the efficiency of agents out in the field, but it had yet to be tested out in the field. Or so the brass thought.

However the upgraded status meant that all stations would return to normal status of operations, even the one he was currently heading. Alert Crimson Iota only concerned those directly involved so the whole first alert would be spun by the higher-ups as simply a glitch in the system, a false alarm. He knew better though.

He was not a fan of the use of the f-word but now it seemed very appropriate so he did not think about it: "FUCK!" He yelled as he hit the top of the steering wheel with the ball of his right hand.

"Thanks, Ellie," she sighed after they had retreated to a quieter spot of the courtyard.

"Don't mention it. It looked like you needed saving," Ellie smirked.

She nodded affirmatively, happy to have been saved from a conversation that would have gotten awkward real quick, though it had come as a surprise that Sean had actually seen the movie, or at least had heard of it.

"Again," she finally said with a sigh.

For the past five years, ever since she moved into the apartment complex in Echo Park with Bryce, she had been saved by Eleanor Faye Bartowski at least once per surprise birthday party. She remembered the tall brunette saving her from a groups of jocks like Sean on her very first birthday here. In fact it had been how they met. Apparently Ellie, as she preferred to be called, had seen the look of distress on her face and had come over to get her away from them.

Ellie simply laughed: "Seems to be a recurring theme on your birthday. Oh, Devon told me to tell you happy birthday and he's sorry that he had to miss the party but he has the graveyard shift this week. And I'm sorry about my little brother. Still hope he's simply running late, but I doubt it."

"I'm sure he's just busy, Ellie," she sent her friend a sympathetic smile in return while patting her forearm gently.

Truth be told, she had mixed feelings about meeting Ellie's younger brother. On the one hand she was looking forward to finally meeting him face-to-face, having heard so many great stories, and on the other hand it felt a little like Ellie was setting them up. As luck would have it, the one time he had been in town to visit his sister in the five years she lived here now, she had been out of town visiting her father in San Diego.

He sounded like a great guy, but it was a sister's prerogative to embellish and make her brother look great, but Ellie was not really someone to exaggerate. When she had just moved in with Bryce, Ellie had shown her the most recent picture she had of Chuck when they had gone over for coffee. Taken in his last year at Stanford; a bit of a nerdy looking guy with a goofy look on his face and a toothy grin. He was not classically handsome, like one could call Bryce, but he was quite attractive in his own right. With his curly, brown hair and his warm and kind eyes. He seemed approachable. That photo plus the Chuck Tales, she would be lying if she said that she was not in the least bit intrigued.

"Well, there's always next year," she added with a warm laugh.

Ellie went to say something but was cut short by her cell phone ringing. She looked at her friend curiously when she saw her face fall.

"That was Morgan. He's not coming," Ellie said with a mix of sadness and disappointment. "Work. As always."

Oddly enough that came as a relief to her. What if he had indeed shown up and had been nothing like she had been told or had imagined? Or maybe even worse, if he had been everything and more? Suddenly it felt like she had dodged a bullet.

"So you understand the gravity of the situation, Chief Bartowski?" Director Graham asked.

He nodded at his superior on the screen: "Yes, sir," he answered slowly.

He understood perfectly well; the security of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence had been breached and the latest Intersect was gone.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is to be our next step? Do I need to come in?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Yet. So you sit tight for now. At least until the prelim is finished and I have spoken with Beckman of the NSA, since it was our joint project."

Barely able to suppress the groan rising at the back of his throat, he nodded again. He was not a fan of General Diane Beckman, but of the whole lot she was the most tolerable. Unlike that insufferable Merriweather. Over the past five years the man had done more harm than good to Project Omaha, questioning every decision along the line. In his book, having Beckman in charge of the NSA part of the investigation was a silver lining.

However, no matter whom he would be dealing with concerning the retrieval of the Intersect, it did not change the fact that no more than two hours ago an enemy operative had successfully infiltrated the research facility housing the Intersect Room and had stolen the most current Intersect. And had blown up the room after that before almost escaping.

"Sir, you said that Agent Casey shot the perp. May I ask if we know who the enemy agent is, uh, was?"

Director Graham appeared to be surprised by his question and he was obviously thinking about whether to answer the question or not.

"It was one of our own, Chief Bartowski. Her name was..."

"Zondra?" She pondered aloud when she saw the name pop up in the list of received messages.

It had been a long while now since she had last thought about her former roommate and friend. And she had preferred it that way. To her, one Zondra Rizzo was nothing more than a bitch.

She had been stupid back then, confided in Zondra about a guy she liked and Zondra had betrayed her. Intentionally. One late afternoon she had returned to their room after a long day of classes, only to find her friend and the guy in bed together.

What had made matters worse had been the unwillingness of Zondra to apologize or to explain, except that she had brought it on herself which had confused her even more. Her high school teenage years had been quite awkward and had made her the butt of many a joke by the popular kids, with her unconventional way of dressing, her lanky tall build and her love for books.

Upon going to Harvard, she had hoped for a change. One that never had really come, not even after Zondra had taken her under her wing initially and had introduced her to a variety of people. She had still stood out, adding to her insecurity, so she had kept to herself most of the time and had poured herself into studying. Needless to say she had graduated top of her class, but that was just a small consolation.

After graduation she had declined a few job offers from big international companies and had moved back west instead to hide away from the big bad world in the safe company of Bryce in a dead-end job where she would not stand out all that much. She observed life from a distance and was sociable on a to her acceptable degree, so she was not a complete recluse.

Still it was odd that Zondra would send her an email after all these years and on her birthday no less. Curiosity got the better of her. Maybe it was a long overdue explanation or apology? She opened the email. No words, only an attachment, a huge one judging by the number of bytes behind it.

Again curiosity overruled any caution and she double-clicked the attachment to open it. The screen of her computer went black for a second before a question appeared.

"If forty-two is the truth, then twenty-one is...," she voiced the words onscreen.

A light chuckle escaped her. Zondra had not been an avid reader, but when she had suggested 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' to her, she had devoured it. Twenty-one had been a common inside joke.

"Only half the truth," she said while she typed the answer.

Images flooded the screen, following each other in rapid succession. Instinctively she knew she had to look away, but she could not; her eyes glued to the screen.