A/N: I don't own Chuck, I don't own these characters, I'm not making any money off this

Castle

"Two months and no plan." Casey protested, to the team assembled around the Castle conference table. He turned his head, to look at the tall, curly haired man sitting across from him. "Chuck, what about that cellphone tracker program you were working on?"

Chuck shook him off. "It's a dead end. Even if we could track all of them, and we can't . . . It's like I was saying before . . . these people, they're innocents. We can't kill them. Besides . . ."

"Besides what?" Casey prompted.

Chuck breathed deep. "We've gotten reports, well . . . the Intersect has processed data . . . people around the world doing incredible things. People who were nowhere near any of the download sites." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Sarah interjected. "We think there might have been subsequent downloads that we missed. Either that or . . ."

Casey got the gist. "They're converting people. Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

Chuck peaked his head up. "You, with the sci-fi reference?"

Stephen Bartowski shushed everyone down. He got up and started to pace, his movements erratic. "There's another way . . . a way to end all of this. Peacefully. I removed the Intersect from Charles' head once. I think I can do it for everyone. . . for the whole world. Whomever might be infected."

"How?" Casey asked.

Stephen began rubbing his chin as he continued to pace. "A satellite upload. We tap into all the major communications systems . . . we broadcast a frequency at intermittent bursts . . . every TV, every monitor, every electronic billboard on the planet picks up and transmits our signal . . . presto, no more Intersects."

"Dad, that's amazing! Can you do that?" Chuck asked.

Stephen turned around and began pacing the opposite direction. "I think so. But there's a problem. I don't know what's in this new Intersect. What we retrieved from Nevada. It's given me a head-start. But the code was corrupted. There's a lot missing. If I tried to design a removal program now . . . I wouldn't know what to remove. And if I get it wrong, the effects . . . they could be catastrophic." He began pulling his hair out. The stress had gotten to him.

Casey probed. "How so?"

"We're talking about doing this to the whole damn planet," Stephen commented. "If I get it wrong, there could be brain damage on a massive scale. Plus there would be . . . consequences. Epileptics, people with other conditions . . . My program needs to be perfect. And, to do that, I need a pristine copy of the source code they implanted in everyone."

Morgan turned towards his best friend's father. "Can't we just yank it out of a captured Ring agent?"

Stephen kept pacing, now looking up at the ceiling. "It doesn't work like that. The Intersect is download-only into humans. Not upload. Always has been. We need the original code that they've been sticking in people."

Casey grunted. "Where are we going to get that?"

Stephen's pace became more frantic, his movements even more turbluent, as his arms began shaking. "This is the part of the plan you won't like it . . . I don't like it. . . there's only one place to get that code."

Casey groaned then grunted again. "The Ring. Their HQ."

"Do we even know where that is?" Chuck asked. "I mean, if we did, wouldn't we have just bombed it ages ago?"

Sarah responded. "What about Roan? He's been undercover for years."

Chuck shook his head again. "The last time we asked, he said he didn't know . . . besides, he hasn't returned my calls for weeks. We have to assume that his cover his blown. For all we know, he could be dead."

Casey expressed his frustration. "So our best plan requires us to launch an assault on Ring HQ, but we don't know where to assault?"

With that, Castle's monitor sprang to life. The image of a bespectacled, light-skinned African-American man with close-cropped hair and grey eyes appeared on screen. He appeared to be in his mid-50s, and wore the outfit of a two-star United States Army General.

"I believe I can help with that," General David Mills stated.

Casey turned around and saluted. "General. I didn't know you were watching."

The General, newly appointed as head of the NSA, nodded at Casey. "We're always watching. In any event, we've recently intercepted Ring communications which we believe identify the location of Ring HQ." The General looked like he was tapping on a computer. Castle's monitor suddenly pulled up satellite imagery of the Caribbean. The General pressed a few more buttons, and the image zoomed in on a small island off the coast of the Virgin Islands.

"Hobbes Island," the General explained. "It's a small uninhabited nature preserve about 50 miles east of Little Tobago. Based on the intercepted communications, and geothermal readings that shouldn't exist, we believe that it houses an underground Ring base."

Morgan, who had been quiet throughout the briefing, suddenly picked up his ears. "So you want us to assault an underground island hideout. AWESOME. What are we talking about? Air strikes? Full invasion?"

The General grimaced, looking irritated. "Far from it, Mr. Grimes. Hobbes Island is part of the British Virgin Islands. That makes it allied territory. We've contacted that British Government. They are opposed to any form of air strike or large-scale invasion of their island. I can't say that I blame them. Just think of the media coverage. However . . ."

The General paused as he studied his team. He had only worked with them briefly. But this was the kind of direction he hated to give. "The British informed us that they would be willing to overlook a small expedition . . . no more than a handful of people. A team small enough that a landing wouldn't get noticed . . . or, if noticed, would facilitate plausible deniability as a training mission gone array."

Casey breathed deep. "How small General?"

The General looked intensely at Casey. "Small. About the size of your team, maybe a few more. The Human Intersect's abilities would be invaluable on such a mission, as would Orion's computer expertise. I might be able to convince the British to let us send two or three Marines for backup support."

"Just to be clear . . ." Chuck commented, interrupting. "Your grand plan is to send us against an island fortress of Ring operatives, hope that we can somehow find an entrance to their secret underground lair, break-in, steal the Intersect source code, maybe plant some bombs or explosives, and get out without all of us being killed?"

The General responded with deadly seriousness. "Yes, that about sums it up."

"And this doesn't strike you as a monumentally stupid plan?" Chuck asked. "I mean, even if it wasn't an obvious trap, do you realize the odds we'd be facing?"

The General face turned sad, somber. "We are aware of the odds, Captain Bartowski. This isn't a mission that I'm going to order you, or anyone, to accept. But we believe it represents our best hope. Besides, your concerns about conversion . . . we have reason to believe they are valid. Reports keep popping up from around the globe. Senior military and intelligence officials, politicians, doing weird things. As if they're being controlled. Captain Bartowksi, Chuck, I know we haven't known each other very long . . . but if we don't act now, we might not get another shot."

Chuck scanned the table. He saw the faces of Sarah, Casey, his father. His mind raced, filled with images – not Intersect images, just memories – of the people he cared about. Ellie. Awesome. Even those idiots at the Buy More. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the Great Seal of the United States displayed in the upper-right corner of Castle's monitor. He thought back to what Sarah had told him almost a year before: "How many times do you have to be the hero, to realize that you are that guy?"

For a year, since the Intersect download, he'd been fighting it. He told himself that he downloaded it on a lark, or to save his friends. He kept protesting to them, to Beckman, to Walt, but most of all, to himself, that he didn't want to be a spy. In his heart, he believed, he still didn't want to be one. But what he wanted was irrelevant. What he had chosen is what mattered. And, most importantly, what mattered is the task ahead of him. The mission that only he and his father had a chance of completing successfully.

"Ok then," Chuck said. "I'm in."

Everyone stared at him blankly.

Office of General David Mills

General Mills ended the transmission. Immediately, his eyes turned glassy. Within two seconds, a disoriented expression conquered his face. He stared blankly at his computer screen, as his right hand, operating on auto-pilot, grabbed his phone from his pocket and made a video call.

Mary Bartowski soon appeared on his screen. "Report, General," she asked to her unwitting disciple.

General Mills failed to make eye contact. His glaze remained fixated on the wall. He responded in a monotone, without a hint of emotion. "It is done as you instructed, Ma'am."

Mary smiled at him. "Good. You are free from us, for the time being." She snapped her fingers and disconnected the call.

Back in his office, General Mills blinked rapidly and shook his head. He glanced down at the time on his computer. He was running two minutes late for his next meeting. He shook his head again. "Must have spaced out there for a moment," he thought to himself. He made a mental note to take a coffee break after his next appointment ended.

Castle

"Chuck, wait," Sarah called, as she grabbed him by the arm, while he was leaving Castle. Casey, Stephen, and Morgan walked up the stairs, exiting their underground base.

"Chuck, what you agreed to do . . . it's a suicide mission," she said, her vocal tone mixing anger and pleading.

Chuck moved his head slightly from side-to-side. "I know."

Chuck paused, as he scanned around Castle, avoiding her eyes. He tried to look at her, but couldn't. Eventually, he found a comfortable wall decoration to zoom in on. "That's why I don't want you to come with me."

"Excuse me?" she demanded.

Chuck babbled a bit, trying to compose himself. "What I meant is, there are only two people who are essential to this mission. Me and my father. You, Casey, you're awesome. You're amazing. You've saved my life more times than I can count . . . it's time I returned the favor. There's nothing you can't do on the island that we can't find Redshirts for."

"Redshirts?" she asked, quizzically.

Chuck shook his head. "Never mind. My point is, if we manage to save the world, I want you in it, living in it . . . even if I'm not here. And the only way to ensure that, is if you don't come."

Sarah's eyes burned with rage, as steam lifted from her head. "Like hell I'm going to let you assault an island stronghold without me, Intersect or no. I'm coming with you . . ."

Chuck exhaled slowly. "And I can't convince you otherwise?"

"Till death do us part," she answered.

"Is that a proposal?" Chuck replied, smirking, "or a prediction?"

"Shut up," she answered playfully. She brushed his shoulder with her palm, and pulled him in for a tender, elongated kiss.

A/N: So I promised three more chapters. I guess I broke that promise. I decided to split the next intended chapter into two parts. In short, like a spy cliche never used in the series, this story culminates with the team assaulting a secret underground island lair. However, things don't go quite as planned. . . Any guesses as to how it ends?

A/N: There is some heavy stuff coming up. My writing has probably suffered a bit from not having a Beta. Anyone want to volunteer? Please let me know in a review or PM. And, as always, I love reviews and feedback.