Hi. Name's definitely not Chuck. Here are a few things you might need to know.

Chuck passed out. He's still really good at that apparently. I hope this chapter answers one or two of your questions, but certainly not all of them. I still have to come up with a passable plot, establish some rising action, and reach an appropriate climax, unless, of course, this is a multi-fic story, in which case I can end it where I please. If there are any questions about plot or details or anything that are fuzzy, please make them known. I realize I'm not the best and it definitely shows in my writing. Thanks for the reviews and feedback so far!

Disclaimer: Chuck is owned by the U.S. government, which constantly reminds him that he could be put in a bunker...or worse.

Chapter 2

Real, Live Women

Sarah waited, rather impatiently, for just the right moment to make her entrance. It was getting late, or maybe it was early, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she'd been waiting for what felt like forever. She checked her phone. 2:14 a.m.

It was that time of night when everyone and everything was asleep. The time after the crickets stopped chirping and the raccoons stopped rummaging through the trash. Everything was still. Even the clouds in the sky had seemed to stopped moving.

So quiet were her surroundings, Sarah had to suppress a yelp of surprise when the upstairs lights of an apartment flickered into life. Through the window, she saw a rather attractive brunette woman stand up, stretch, and head downstairs into her living room. Just the sight of her seemed to bore a hole into Sarah's stomach. She hated brunettes.

The lights on the main floor of the apartment illuminated her more fully than those of the upstairs. Odd. Who gets up at this hour? Why would she bother to turn all the lights on? Sarah slipped back into the comfort of the shadows as she contemplated those issues.

A small wave of nostalgia hit her. That had been Casey's apartment. She settled deeper into the shadows that populated the corners of the courtyard, and waited. At 2:18, the lights on the first floor went out. At 2:20, the lights on the second story were extinguished. At 3:20, exactly one hour later, to account for the various times it takes for people to fall into a deep sleep, Sarah stole away from the corner she had been occupying all night, or morning, and made her way to that all familiar window.

3:21. She looked in the window at what she thought was the sleeping form of the resident of the building. He looked so peaceful. Serene, almost. She was about to take all that away from him. Again. God Damn U.S. government, she thought. Couldn't they understand? Why do they want to ruin his life again?

3:22. Sarah took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. The taste of bile filled her mouth, but she willed it down.

3:23. She put her hand on the window. Ready to push it open and enter the room.

3:24. It was locked. God Damn it!

3:25. No. She couldn't start crying now. Not now. Not now.

3:26. Fuck! She couldn't stop crying now.

3:27. She managed to halt some of the tears.

3:28. Now or never. Still crying, she tapped on the window. He didn't look up. He didn't acknowledge her. It looked like he was ignoring her. He shifted so that his back was toward her. Yep. Definitely ignoring me. She tapped again. He pulled the blankets tighter against him in response. Damn it! Why do you have to make this so hard?

She tapped again. The response wasn't quite what she had hoped for, but she still couldn't help feeling good when he rose and saw her.

"What the fuck do you want!?!" he bellowed.

Sarah stood there, crying, smiling, and laughing all at the same time. She watched as his expression become softer. His eyes grew wide in shock and his teeth were no longer bared in a snarl. Unfortunately for Sarah, the moment ended as suddenly as it began, with Chuck passing out on his bed.

"Sorry, Chuck."

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Ellie, I'm telling you, it was her!" Chuck screamed into the receiver. The only sound evident in his apartment were his manic ravings. "I saw her with my own eyes!"

"Chuck," she said softly, "I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"But, Ellie, it was her!"

"You know, sometimes our minds tell us things are there, when nothing really is. It's not all that uncommon actually."

Chuck recognized that voice. His sister thought he was crazy. She was doing her best to pass off as a caring sibling, but was remaining clinically detached. "I know what I saw. I didn't imagine it."

She waited awhile before speaking again. "Chuck, you haven't been sleeping. You said it yourself."

"Which is why I saw her! If I had been asleep I don't think I could have!"

"Sometimes, these things can be brought on by exhaustion, too," she said.

"Fine. I'm crazy. Or schizophrenic, or whatever the FUCK you want to call it!" Chuck was getting really flustered by his sister's apparent lack of disbelief with his tale, but how could he blame her for that? He had kept so many things secret from her. Was this God playing with him? Who's fault was this? If there is a God, he has one fucked up sense of humor.

"I'm not saying your crazy. It's just that sometimes the brain misinterprets things around it, especially when were stressed or experiencing emotional turmoil." She paused. "What's wrong, Chuck? You've been really different ever since-"

"Nothing. I'm fine," he deflected. "but I know what I saw."

"I know that's what you think, -"

"It's what I saw!"

"-but please, little brother, don't get your hopes up."

Chuck hung up the phone. No conversation was worth being institutionalized over, and Chuck had a hunch that Ellie would end up steering the conversation in that direction. She'd already called him crazy, hadn't she?

It didn't matter. He knew what he saw. Chuck wasn't crazy. He couldn't be crazy. Could I? he thought. On second though, I probably am. I mean, who would want to go on life threatening top-secret missions? Yep, I'm definitely crazy, but I'm not schizophrenic. Hell no.

The rest of Chuck's morning was spent doing the usual. He ate his Fruity-O!'s. He glanced at the paper. This one said January 8, 2010. He loosely wrapped his tie around his neck, and, last and most certainly his least favorite, he crammed himself in the four foot tall Toyota Yaris he called a car and drove to work. Yay. Work.

It was becoming something of a daily routine for Sarah Walker. Every day, she lay prone on top of the now vacant Orange Orange, watching as Chuck drove into the plaza. Just knowing that he was safe was a blessing to her. Knowing that he got the life he always wanted, a life without her, hurt like a knife. Some part of her had hoped that maybe he wanted to include her in his post-Intersect days. The other parts of her wanted to rip Beckman apart for not letting her stay.

Chuck sat behind the Nerd Herd desk, eyes glazed over in what anyone passing by would think was boredom. In reality, Chuck was listening to the music on his phone. He had replace his Jill '03 mix with an even more depressing Sarah '09 mix. Normally, Chuck didn't try to revel in the fact that the best part of his life was behind him and he would never get to go back.

Today, though, was different. He had seen her, outside of his window, and now he couldn't stop thinking about her. Ellie had called him crazy, but she was Ellie. What else would she say? It's not like I can readily explain to her why I do…he glanced around at the Buy More…this. I can see that conversation right now. 'Yeah, Ellie. The reason I got kicked out of Stanford was because Bryce Larkin didn't want me to get recruited into the CIA. But then, on my 27th birthday, Bryce sent me all the government secrets and I became a CIA agent. Sarah is my cover girlfriend and John Casey is.. John Casey. They're my bodyguards.' He chuckled at the ridiculous conversation that would ensue after this confession. Ellie would almost definitely have him institutionalized after an 'episode of that magnitude'.

"Bartowski! Look sharp! The evaluator's gonna be here in twenty minutes! Those geeks better be in tip top shape!"

"Always are, sir," he replied noncommittally.

"Good." Big Mike paused. "And one more thing."

"S'that, sir?" he slurred.

"Take those damn things out of your ears!"

"Mmm…"

Chuck removed the buds that had been inhabiting his ears that morning. He switched the music on his phone off, and, as he did so, he noticed that he had one new message. From… Jenny… Again. This one was just like all the other ones; she was asking him out to lunch.

He replied with a cool, but not necessarily apathetic, 'Sure'. After all, he had to get his mind focused on something, and one Jenny was, hopefully, better than no Jenny.

Chuck met Jenny at the new place in the Buy More Plaza, after the evaluation was over. It seemed, to him at least, that this was the only restaurant that she would eat at. She'd never wanted to eat at the Weinerliscious, but Chuck couldn't really blame her for that, after all, Scooter was still in charge. She never even asked him to Lou's Deli, which surprised him, because although he was unofficially banned from that place, everyone seemed to really like her sandwiches. Shouldn't Jenny like her sandwiches, too? Apparently not.

He didn't really like this new restaurant, but, apparently, a lot of people did. It was the fastest growing fast food chain in the country, which didn't really surprise Chuck. It wasn't like the food was terrible, and, if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that it was quite good.

The thing that bugged him the most was the fact that there was no secret base or hidden computers in the restaurant. It was completely on the 'up and up', and, try as he might, Chuck just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with that. After all, the CIA owned the Orange Orange company, and used it as a front for covert operations. It just didn't feel right to him because there was nothing 'wrong' about it.

"Chuck?"

"Hmmm?"

"Chuck, what's wrong? You've been sitting there, staring at your food for the past fifteen minutes? Do you not want to talk to me?"

He looked around. Sure enough, his food had been left unmolested, while hers had been dutifully disposed of. He looked up into her eyes. They were brown, like his. "Huh? Oh no, no, no. It's not that. It's just…-"

"Listen, Chuck. You can tell me. I want to know. Maybe I can help?" she said, perhaps a bit to eagerly for his liking.

"It's just…well…," he trailed off, not sure where to begin.

"Go on," her voice implored him.

"Okay, well, you know about my last girlfriend that I was telling you about?"

"Yeah. Sarah Walker."

He was a little annoyed at how casually she spoke her name, but continued anyway, "Well, last night," he paused. What if she thinks I'm crazy, too? Wait, why should I care what she thinks?, "I saw her."

"Chuck, that's impossible. You told me she died. In a car crash."

"I know," he said, trying to retain his composure, "but I saw her."

Her words were little more than whispers when she next spoke, "That's impossible."

"No, it's not! I saw her!"

"Where?" That was not the question Chuck was expecting to hear.

"Outside of my window. Why?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as to why she would want to know such a lame detail.

"Chuck," her voice sounded sympathetic, "you didn't see her."

"Yes I did!"

"Listen. You didn't see her. You identified her body, right? You saw her dead. You went to her funeral. You didn't see her."

"Do you think I'm crazy, too?" he asked vehemently.

"No. I think it's been hard on you," she stated simply. "You've had to go through so much. Your parents leaving you, that whole Stanford debacle, and now this. Not exactly the tastiest icing on the cake."

"But I saw her!"

"Chuck, you saw her dead. You were imagining it." She stopped speaking as she noticed his clenched jaw. In an effort to disarm the situation, she reached out with her left and grasped his. As she drew her thumb back and forth across his knuckles, she said, "Chuck, I know this has all been hard on you, but you need to move on. I'm here. Right here. Right now. I'm ready to help you move on."

He looked up at her, saying nothing as he stared into her brown eyes.

"I want to help you. Come with me. I'm a real woman who wants to help you live. Let me help you live."

He grasped her hand in his, and said two words, "Thank you."

"Hey, what are friends for? Especially friends that are girls?" She smiled coyly at this last statement.

Chuck opened the door to his apartment and stepped over the threshold before he was furiously attacked. He fell on top of the couch in the living room, the only piece of furniture Ellie and Awesome hadn't taken with them. Before he could regain any amount of control, he was thrown onto his back. Someone jumped on top of him. Oh, God! he thought before he lost almost all cognitive thought.

Jenny pressed her lips against his, furiously trying to make Chuck forget. What Chuck was having trouble remembering, however, was what he was trying to forget.

His hands went up around her back, pulling her closer to him. He could feel her heart beating in her chest as she drew back and settled across his hips. Unwilling to let that be the end, Chuck responded in turn, flipping her over so that she was on beneath him. Her hands went up into his hair, stroking the long curls that adorned his head as he began to work down her neck.

A moan left her lefts as Chuck found a particularly nice spot to suckle.

"Chuck?"

He stopped. Pulling back, he looked at her. Before he had a chance to question what just happened, she threw herself at him, smashing her lips against his. They fell to the floor, but neither one felt the jarring impact.

She seemed impatient, haphazardly throwing herself to him. It reminded him of something else. Something… different, but he couldn't quite place it.

He threw the thought aside, or rather, forgot it, as she pulled his white Nerd Herd shirt off over his head. She was on top of him now, topless except for a rather revealing piece of lingerie.

She stood up and motioned toward the bedroom before running off into it. Chuck followed, almost eagerly.

She was sitting on the bed when he walked in, arching her back seductively and grasping at the sheets. He stopped. On his nightstand was a picture. The picture. The one where he had his arms wrapped around Sarah. They looked so happy together. What the hell happened? he thought. Oh right, I fucked up and the God Damn CIA arranged her death.

"Wait. Stop."

"What's wrong, Chuck?" she purred.

"I…I can't do this."

"But, Chuck," she pouted, "I thought…I thought…"

"Me too." He sighed. "Look… I'm really sorry. I just can't. Not yet. I'm so, so sorry."

"Fine," she said stiffly as she sat up. "I understand."

Was that hurt in her voice or am I crazy? Both, he decided.

"I'm really, really, really sorry," he pleaded.

"Save it, Chuck. Obviously I was wrong. You can't move on. I'm sorry I tried to help," she said as she put her blouse back on. "I'll see you around," she said coldly before she slammed the door, leaving Chuck all alone in his empty apartment.

"Thank God. I thought I was gonna have to listen to you get it on."

Chuck spun around, facing whoever it was that had spoken.

"You!?! What the FUCK do you want!?!"

And there it is. Chapter 2 is out. Uh...I'm kind of running out of lines from the show that I can use as titles. Does anyone have any ideas? Anyway..please read and review! Thanks!