Summary: In a very alternate universe, up is down and down is up. Chuck is an agent, and Sarah's old friend Jill has sent her the Intersect. And since we switched it up, we're on the east coast now. Eventual Charah.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or any of the characters from Chuck. The mere fact that I would bastardize the story like this should be evidence of that.

A/N: Okay, I said I needed something else to write for right now, so we're going with this. In the Challenges and Requests thread on the TWoP Kicked Us Out but We Still Love Chuck forum here at FF, ArnabBarua suggested someone pick up a story in which everything in the Chuckverse was topsy-turby. So this is my attempt at making Chuck into Sarah, Sarah into Chuck, and everything as we no it flipped completely on its ear. I'm mainly writing this so that I don't get bogged down in too much angst writing my Ashes fic, because I don't want to go down the depression spiral over just writing. So I'll get my fluff out here. What does that mean for all you shippers out there? It means there should be a butt load of Charah. I got someone to look over this, but I didn't give them much time, so all mistakes are my own. Now, please enjoy chapter one of Sarah vs. The Alternate Universe.

Cast in order of appearance

Chuck Bartowski.........Zachary Levi
Director Graham.............Tony Todd
Devon Walker.........Ryan McPartlin
Sarah Walker...Yvonne Strahovski
Anna Wu...........................Julia Ling
Jill Roberts..........Jordana Brewster
Alex Forrest.................Tricia Helfer

Agent Charles Bartowski's Apartment
Washington, DC
September 25, 2007
1:08 AM EST

Looking around his sparse abode, Chuck found it difficult to escape the memories of Jill that still hung in the air. Ever since being paired together, they'd had their little squabbles, but every fight had always been worked out. He didn't know what had gone so differently this time, but whatever it was had caused Jill to pack up everything she had in his apartment and move it out. So is it for good this time?

That thought, and many more almost just like it were the reason for the bottle of Wild Turkey 101 that rested in his hand nearly half empty. He looked down to the glass appendage he'd adopted to try to forget the pain. Well, a little more than half empty now, he thought grimly as he took another long pull of the bourbon.

His reverie was broken by the sound of a phone ringing. Damn that phone and its incessant ringing. Can't it see I'm busy here?

Reluctantly, Chuck picked up the device and stared blearily at the display. In his drunken stupor it was hard to make out the numbers. Eventually he registered that it was work calling. Can't those assholes wait until the morning? When the hell am I supposed to get sloshed if they're calling at all hours of the night?

Finally, against his better intoxicated judgment, he picked up the call.

"Bartowski secure," he muttered into the receiver.

"Graham secure." Dammit, it's Graham. Now I can't even hang up if I don't want to talk. "Agent Bartowski, I need to see you in my office immediately."

"Immediately? Director, do you know what time it is?" The alcohol was talking in ways Chuck knew he'd never talk to his superior. He certainly wouldn't talk like that to the man who'd once saved his life by recruiting him into the agency.

"Now, Bartowski! It's urgent. It relates to Agent Roberts." Goddammit! What the hell has she gotten me into now? Well, if it is that urgent and it involves her then I suppose I have no choice.

He heaved a deep sigh and rubbed his face to try and clear the cobwebs. "I'm on the way Sir."

One hour and forty-five minutes later, Chuck knocked on the doors to the office of the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. "Enter," he heard from the other side. And so enter he did. He strode across the room with a dignity and grace that had only become his through hours of training.

"What the hell took you so long," boomed the imposing African-American man sitting behind the desk.

"Don't blame me; blame these cab drivers in our nation's capital. They made me late." Okay, it wasn't the best excuse ever, but Chuck was having a difficult time conjuring up anything else in his current state.

"And just why the hell did you take a cab? I believe you have a car Agent."

"Because…I'm drunk Director. And although I've been out of country for most of the past four years, I don't think they've legalized drinking and driving." If his words had not told the story, his one squinted eye, accusatory finger pointing, and slightly slurred speech would have done it for him.

"Well you need to get your shit together. We have a major problem. Jill stole and destroyed the Intersect."

"What is the Intersect?" It almost seemed like he should know the answer to this, but better to ask and know exactly what he was being bored with.

"The computer? Has all the secrets in it?" Chuck's face was still one of confusion. "The entire basis for Project Omaha?" Apparently that did it as a show of recognition passed over the agent's features.

"Oooohhh. Now I gotcha. So what does that mean for me?" It's not that he wanted to be belligerent to his boss, but it was late and he was drunk.

"Well Agent Bartowski, the NSA suspects you to be involved as well in the rogue action." That got Chuck's attention. He hadn't seen Jill in almost a week when she'd walked away from him, but if he was being considered a possible accomplice…

"Well what the hell are we waiting on? I need to find Jill and get back that Intersect thing so I can clear my name!" This was not good. The NSA wouldn't hesitate to put out a sanction on him, no matter how good of an agent he was.

"That won't be necessary Chuck." Graham met the other man's questioning stare and his features seemed to uncharacteristically soften. "Jill's dead."

"Jill's dead?" His mouth moved to form the words, but now sound emitted from his lips. How can she be dead? "Then, what am I going to do?"

"We have solid intelligence on where the Intersect has been sent." The Director was back to his stoic and commanding normal personality.

"I'm sorry, sent sir? She had time to Fed-Ex the package and no one caught her?" This was getting weirder and weirder for Chuck.

"No, it was sent in an e-mail Agent Bartowski. We believe it to be headed for her college roommate." Graham tossed a dossier across the desk to the waiting agent.

Chuck began flipping through the first few pages of the report. "Well, makes sense. Says she was on the recruitment track at Columbia. She had a 4.0 GPA. Seems like an excellent student." He continued flipping through her history. "Oh, wait here we go, was kicked out for cheating. Well, I don't know that we have that much to be worried about."

"What now?" Graham was flabbergasted by that last comment.

"I don't think I ever got caught cheating at Yale." Chuck smiled up at his boss. "And if this girl can't even keep some college prof from figuring her out, what chance does she have against me? I'm the best agent you have Graham." He looked back down at the dossier, looking intently at the attached photo. His earlier drunkenness was all gone now. It was mission time. "Sarah Walker, you're in for a world of trouble."

West Village
New York, New York
September 24, 2007
10:30 PM EST

"Sarah Walker, you're in for a world of trouble if you don't get back out here." She felt bad that her brother had gone to all of this trouble for her, but really, it was unnecessary. She hated these parties. A bunch of people she didn't know and had nothing in common with wasn't her idea of an enticing social gathering. If he'd only asked her in advance, she'd have let him know that she would have a miserable time. Now it was getting late and she had to open the store tomorrow. Besides, if she still wanted to sulk over losing Bryce and getting kicked out of Columbia, then that was really her right. She was an adult. Okay, she still lived with her brother and his girlfriend, but so what?

Besides, she had Anna. That's all she needed. She didn't need some romantic relationship. She didn't need some debonair gentleman to come strolling in one day to sweep her off her feet. Okay, it would be nice, but it wasn't something she needed. Well, she wasn't going to admit she needed it anyway.

Speaking of Anna, she'd been awfully quiet. The small Asian woman turned to her friend. Whoops, spoke too soon. "So, Devon still giving you crap about being hung up on the Bryce and Jill betrayal?"

"Ugh," Sarah groaned. "God yes. I mean, Bryce was the love of my life, and I really thought Jill was my friend. Why is it so had to understand that what they did would screw me up a little?"

Anna knew this situation. She'd helped her friend get over the events of Columbia since day one. It felt good to have something she could help Sarah with. Growing up, Sarah had always been the one to bail Anna out. This seemed like one of those times that changing the subject might be the best way to go.

"So what's Jill doing now anyway?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. She appreciated her bestfriend trying to take her mind off the situation, but that had been a pretty weak attempt. "I don't know, I think she's a drug rep."

Secret Intersect Facility
Washington, DC
September 24, 2007
10: 40 PM EST

Jill Roberts, who most certainly was not a drug rep planted the C4 on the side of the Intersect computer. The data had been stored properly on the hand-held computer she carried. Alright, Jill. Now all you have to do is escape the facility and get this information to Sarah. That should be easy enough. It's not like the NSA has this place surrounded or anything.

The timer on the bomb clicked down to 4…3…2…and Jill began to sprint towards the door to the vault. The explosion ripped the door from its hinges and shot Jill out into the hallway with it. The force of the flying door knocked three agents to the ground and allowed Jill a clean escape at least for the moment.

Peering around a corner, she saw three more NSA goons approaching rapidly. She removed a laser activated mine from the virtual mobile armory she'd stowed in her jacket and set it at the bottom of the wall that the pursuers would have to pass. Moving a safe distance away, Jill waited and listened. Sure enough, seconds later there was a loud explosion and the sound of three bodies hitting the floor.

Regaining her position, Jill was pleased to find that her plan had worked better than anticipated. Not only had she ridded herself of three more assassins, but she'd managed to blow a hole in the wall leading to the outside of the building. Quickly stepping through the new portal, she began to type furiously into the small device that stored the Intersect data. Quickly enough, she found the contact she was looking for. Alright, now to add an encryption code. What will Sarah get? Then it dawned on her what she needed to protect the e-mail with. She typed in the first part of a very inside joke and set the opening mechanism to be the punch line.

Everything was ready to go. All Jill had to do now was hit…

A crackle was heard through the night air, and the brunette agent felt a sharp pain pierce her shoulder.

"Don't move," Jill heard a voice say. Footsteps then approached her.

Looking up into the eyes of her would-be killer, Jill used her last ounce of strength to hit the send button on the device. "You're too late Forrest," she choked out before collapsing back onto the cold asphalt.

West Village
New York, New York
September 25, 2007
7:01 AM EST

"Sarah? Sarah, are you alive?" The blonde woman woke up to her bestfriend's face hovering over her own. But why does her voice sound so distorted?

"My God Sarah. How much did you drink last night?" Was it a drunken stupor she'd awoken to? It certainly felt like a hangover. She'd experienced plenty of them in college, and it was exactly this same 'your head's gonna explode' throbbing that she was experiencing now. She didn't remember drinking that much however.

"I don't think I got drunk. Unless…" She cast an accusatory stare at Anna. "Did you spike the punch again?"

"Why is it always my fault? You never fail to blame me for something like this do you?" Anna seemed truly indignant at being held responsible for her friend's condition. But then, she could never lie very well to Sarah. "Yes I did," she admitted.

Sarah moved toward the bathroom. A long hot shower might wash the crappy feeling away. But more than likely, this headache is here to stay for the time being. It is going to be a really long day, she mused with annoyance.

A/N: Okay, I really just wanted to write this first little part to see how it would go over. I think we all know the story for right now, but what all will change? What I really want to know is, will you guys read this story? Is this something that interests you? Yay? Nay? Give me some feedback and let me know how you feel. I'll continue it if there is enough support for the continuation. Any feedback is appreciated. Thank you very much. You guys are awesome. Peace.