I don't own Chuck et al. (I do own a stuffed baa lamb called 'Barley' but that's not important right now)

Wepdiggy owns Sam. So before the 'cease and desist' order arrives, let's squeeze in a new one, hey?….

All the cool kids are inserting some sort of a quote, so here goes mine…

"Plagiarise, let no one else's work evade your eyes" – "Lobachevsky" by Tom Lehrer

The Summer Cold.

Set during Season two (the funnest season). This is a sort of sequel (or hopefully, an interlude) to 'Sarah vs The Fan Fiction.'

It really wasn't Chuck's fault. An innocent mistake. A single warning would have changed everything.


"Ag... Mister Montgomery, what are you doing here in…"

"Just passing. Are you telling me that you and our young Miss Walker haven't …. consumat…"

"….it's…our situation is ….complicated"

"Surely you jest? All you had to do was turn up basically vertical and breathing." Montgomery surveyed the Buy More, as though he was looking to make sure there really wasn't a bar. The results did not please him.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Roan. And for what was possibly the worst night of my life."

"So, let me get this straight. You are an analyst?"

"With a bit of asset thrown in."

That threw Roan slightly "An asset? But that should make you the perfect bait. Agent Walker has a …tendency with her partners"

"I'm not really a partner …."

"Charles. You are the forbidden fruit. I've seen the caged heat between you two. Forbidden. Fruit. Now, unless you want to spend the next year or two waiting before you have the chance to shoot the bad guy when he's got her drugged, and dangling off a bridge somewhere…."

"And with my luck the bad guy will be her ….. um, just a minute … drugged?"

"Charles, surely that is the only way our delectable young Miss Walker is going to end up dangling? You know that."

"Agent Montgomery, I think you've watched too much TV. That sounds like the episode where Sam saved Claire."

"Having fun?" the two of them jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice. Sarah silently advanced on the pair with a wry smile. She was enjoying their discomfort.

Chuck, because, well, she enjoyed teasing him. A lot. Probably way more than she should. But...

And Roan? How often can you catch out a legend like he was a school boy caught thumbing through the Victoria's Secrets lingerie ('Desire' collection) catalogue?

"S….Sarah! Hi! There you are….we were just…..discussing … TV. Did you know that ... Mister Montgomery is a fan of Sam?"

Roan's expression showed that he had no idea who the hell Chuck was talking about. But he was suave about it. He kissed her hand so lightly, he was almost inhaling her scent. "My dear. How are you? How is the cavorting proceeding?"

Morgan interrupted, but not before Chuck thought Sarah was blushing – just a little bit. "Chuck, I can't stop them, man."

"What? Stop who, Morgan?"

"Jeff and Lester, who else? You didn't see the…"

"…Oh God. What?"

"They've set up a bikini car wash out in the car park" supplied Sarah in a flat tone.

"And by the use of 'bikini' I assume you are referring to the three middle aged women, who have led … forty something, difficult years. While dining at the Scottish Restaurant with some regularity. And your use of the word 'bikini' implies ... more fabric than what is ..." Roan ended with a delicate shudder.

Chuck looked at Morgan in horror "Jeff's sister gave him a discount…?" Morgan nodded. "What the hell was big Mike thinking?"

"It's for charity" added Casey as he slid past.

"If you define 'charity' as 'beer and/or hooker money' depending on how much they get" declared Chuck from his new position of face first onto the counter. After a four foot thud.

"Sorry Chuck?" asked Morgan.

Chuck straightened up "I said, ouch."

"No, no, after that"

"Casey!" Chuck spotted a large wall of green polo shirt nearby "Can't you do something about the …" words failed him. Jeff and Lester had excelled themselves this time.

"Sorry, they're covered by the constitution."

Chuck looked aghast "The constitution. Of the United States. Of America. That constitution. Which amendment?"

"Well, the little kosher curry muncher can be pretty articulate when he wants to be" muttered Casey.

Chuck's forehead made another thud onto the counter, this time accompanied by a moan. Sarah rushed to his side, and inspected the damage. "Are you alright?" concern written all over her face.

Roan shared a smile with Casey. If you listened carefully, you might have heard him mutter "Vertical be damned, breathing will do it."

Chuck gazed up at Sarah, who was cradling his head. "I know it's only like ten o'clock. But I think I need to go back to bed. Maybe try getting out the other side."

"Children, if I may. Dianne asked me to pop by, and find out how you were going with her little 'project'" Roan check his cuffs were perfect. Casey took the opportunity to vanish.

"Roan. There's nothing to find. I tried a search engine I created. And it found more ….. results than there are fictions."

"Charles, a word if I may? Sorry, Sarah. Man talk. You understand."

Sarah gave her former instructor a look. A look that implied death by yogurt, if he wasn't careful. She let go of Chuck with a softer look, yet one that still implied pain and (possibly) yogurt.

"Now, Charles. These fictions."

"The TV show, Sam. It's about….."

"Yes, I've been briefed. Basically, a romantic 'chick' show, with some comedy, revealing costume and action to keep the male viewers happy. And you've been writing some fictions about the show. Along with …. Sarah?"

"There's no covert data in the fictions. The inters …. A different computer program would have brought that to my, to our attention."

"Yes, yes. May I say, though. Bravo."

"B…. What?"

"Well done Charles. Getting Sarah to indulge in normal healthy female …. urges. Why do you think "Pride and Prejudice" has been remake so many times? Ah, Mister Darcy ... Women love weepy romances. I sometimes suspect that the tear ducts are connected to their breasts."


"Get her to write the most romantic, and by romantic, I mean ro-man-tic" waggle eyebrows "story that there is. Just make her think it was her idea." More eyebrow. "Oh, and fix that search thingy of yours. Dianne needs that report in writing before next Friday. Once Sarah's done her magnum opus, just be standing within three feet of her. It should be worth your while."

Roan failed to mention that if Chuck's written report didn't turn up, Dianne hinted that Roan might find himself assigned to the DVD department of the Burbank Buy More. In a green shirt. Green? The worst possible color for him. And he suspected it was polyester too.

Chuck went to the front door to survey the damage. The car wash was quiet for some unknown reason. So Jefster were performing to try and attract attention. That may have been one reason it was quiet. Jeff's sister was applying soapy water to the belly of another woman (or the other way 'round – honestly, Chuck didn't care) was probably the main reason.

"My eyes! My eyes!" cried Chuck as he stumbled back inside the store, blinking furiously.

"Man up, Bartowski"

It was interesting to note that Casey found the rear of the store more interesting than the car park, and all the horrors contained therein, but Chuck couldn't see that.

Chuck's eyes were watering.

By lunch time, his nose was running. Constantly.

By the afternoon, the back of his throat was sore as well.

Despite all the evidence (used tissues overflowing from the bin, and all the staff staying ten feet from him), Chuck insisted that he didn't have a cold.

The coughing hurt his ribs, and his nose was red raw. But he didn't have a cold. He couldn't, it was summer. You don't get colds in summer.


Casey refused to let Chuck ride in the Vic with him (actually all Casey did was sneer at Chuck and say one word – 'diseased'), so Sarah took him home.

He felt miserable. And tired. And miserable. Sarah offered to stay, and check with Ellie, to make sure he was alright. Chuck laughed, and then coughed as a result.

"Don't make me laugh like that, it hurts ... I live with two doctors. Believe me, you have to have bits falling off before you get medical attention. And it's not a cold."

"Right, Chuck" was her doubtful reply.

He just wanted to get some sleep. In the end, Sarah gave up, and went back to her hotel, leaving Chuck to wallow. Ellie agreed - Chuck just needed rest, so Sarah left.


Casey checked the video feed around ten o'clock that night. Normally, if the moron was home, at this time of night, he'd just be getting started on some sort of computer game, and could keep going way past Casey's bed time. Not this time.

"Aw crap."

Chuck'd kicked the sheet off, and was curled into a naked ball. Casey could see the sheen of sweat on Chuck, and he was obviously shivering, and moaning.

If he went across the courtyard, how do you explain to a protective sister that you've just seen her naked brother shivering in a fever? Without looking like a stalker.

He called Walker, told her what was going on.

Sarah was on her way down in the lift a micro second after the words "Chuck" and "fever" left the earpiece of her phone. She didn't bother to change clothes.


Ellie looked at Sarah standing in the door way. It looked like she'd just gotten out of bed, and raced over here in that expensive, over-engineered German machine of hers. Probably broke the speed limit to get here.

"Sarah? What's ..."

"I was on the phone to Chuck, and he started sounding delirious" Sarah invented. The fear she showed looked honest, because it was.

"Let's go check." Not much scared Ellie, but Sarah seemed to get pretty intense about protecting Chuck. Devon tagged along as they trooped into Chuck's room.

"Chuck!" cried both Sarah and Ellie. "He's freezing" said Sarah after she cradled him.

"Body heat" declared Devon. Sarah nodded, and began stripping down to just a tiny pair of panties.

Being a cardio, Awesome had seen more than his fair share of breasts. But they were usually older, and flat on their backs, unconscious – and so flowing into the armpits. Some were even female.

The glimpse he caught (before rapidly volunteering to leave the room, and get a hot water bottle) made him doubt his belief that Ellie's were perfection.

Sarah wrapped herself around a cold, wet shivering Chuck while Ellie covered them both.

"Keep him warm, I'll be back later to check on him. Both of you, OK?" Ellie asked after the hot water bottle was in place at Chuck's back. She paused at the door to add "Thanks, Sarah"

"No problem." Sarah answered over her shoulder before returning her attention to Chuck. He was still curled, tucking his face and hands into her chest. "Chuck, honey? You need to straighten out a bit."

She managed to get one of his arms to drape over her, and he instinctively straightened his knees, as she held him closer. His breath shivered into her shoulder for a while, before Chuck slept while still shivering.


Chuck knew he was freezing. And boiling at the same time. "Freezling hot" he had once described it to his mother. That became a family expression. For a while.

And then something that felt wonderful and warm happened. He knew she would smell wonderful too, except for this stupid cold blocking his nose. Sarah was wearing a green bikini top as she sat opposite him in the life boat. There was no water, because they were floating in the Buy More. There was no floor either, all the display counters were impossibly long, stretching down into the darkened bottomless pit the life boat floated over.

Chuck missed the actual wedding ceremony. And somehow Sarah had removed her bikini top. Chuck knew that even though this was a dream, and he had never seen Sarah's breasts, this was what they looked like. When he looked up, Lester was staring at him from the floating nerd herd desk. Dressed as a priest.

Had Lester just married the two of them? How did Sarah get her bikini top back on? Why did Sarah look so bored?

"Charles, if this were a dream, don't you think it would end now?" asked the Lester priest.

The tableau stayed long enough for Chuck to doubt it was a dream. Chuck was confused. It was dark, Sarah was in his arms. What time, what day was it? God, he felt like recycled dog waste.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep, Chuck" Sarah whispered "Its alright, I'm here. You got sick after I dropped you off."

Chuck moved a little, and then froze. All he could feel from Sarah was bare skin. Um, and he, himself was naked.

"Casey saw you were feverish, and called me. I used my body heat to keep you warm. You were frozen when I got here" she held him tighter "You scared me, Chuck. I don't like it when you're sick like that." She whispered into his neck.

"Sarah, maybe we should put some clothes..."

"Leave it until morning. I'm tired"


"Shhhh. Tired. Besides, its late Chuck."



Chuck did fall asleep. Eventually. Dreamlessly this time, to his later disappointment. Sarah, on the other hand, had a rather nice dream. There was no weird Lester priest in Sarah's dream. Or green bikini top. Or much clothing at all.

She held him tight during the good bits. When she sighed, Chuck would later swear it was like her golden hair was flowing out like an aurora.


"You gave me your cobd."

"It's not a..." her look silenced him.

"You are cobding in sick. I'll candcel the bission about the Lidyans."

"Sarah, we can still..."

"No bissions when sick. You can biss somethig imbortant. It slows you down. How many bad guy have we caught with Ross River Fever, hmmm?"

"All right."

Sarah's phone ran out of battery as she started her call, so she borrowed Chuck's. Being unsecure, she called Casey to pass on the cancelation.

"Put some clothes on. Both of you. The lenses into those cameras aren't free you know. All that pale skin of his, buggers up the light balance."

"Thangs Casey." She replied and hung up.

While the Libyan's couldn't listen into Chuck's phone, they had been able to identify some of the in and out calls. Chuck's phone hit their radar by accident – while on a stake out, he'd ordered take-out. Sizzling Shrimp the first time. Pizza the second time. It was later, when the Libyans reviewed the video and signal logs, they realised an unsecure phone was in the van that seemed to be observing them.

Using Chuck's phone, Sarah inadvertently triggered the Libyans into reacting. They realised that something was afoot. They made plans. Kill this agent.

Being as secret as Team Bartowski was, that meant they had to keep secret from the good guys as well as the baddies. Neither the CIA or the NSA were aware that the FBI were observing the Libyans. Or vice versa.

FBI agent Ian Walker (no relation) determined the cell number the Libyans were in a tizz about. Some civilian in the wrong place (twice) at the wrong time. He examined Chuck's life. College failure. Stuck in a dead end job. Lives with his sister. Recently found a girl. The girl was in a nothing job too. God help him, Ian Walker was supposed to protect slobs like these two.

He couldn't know that in order to protect Chuck, his records had been left as untouched as possible, in order to avoid any red flags being raised about why an ordinary civilian suddenly disappeared from government records, or was being watched by not one, but two (very) secretive government agencies.

Walker began drawing plans to save Bartowski and his girlfriend. Tentative agreement was begun for sticking them into the Witness Protection Plan. Hope he likes quiet country towns, because Buttphuque Idaho, here you come.