Author's note: Okay…College. That's all I have to offer up as my lame excuse. Im so thankful for all the support and I'm especially thankful to Maverick41 for all the amazing beta work. Big thanks and cheers guys.


CHAPTER THREE: Breaking the Vow

"Sir, there's been no signal in Agent Walker or Larkin's cell phones for the past two days now. According to my records…they're long overdue." The analyst squinted at his data on the computer in front of him desperately. He couldn't afford mistakes around Graham.

"You think I don't know that?" Graham sounded tense. Like a father who'd found out his child was suspended again, he sighed. He knew it was inevitable, but a shot was worth it.

"Well, s….sir, It is my job to report their work over the course of-"

"I know, Tim." Graham responded.

The analyst raised a brow. Director Langston Graham knew his name?

"It's just that…Never mind." Graham knew it. They were running. And he had no idea where. Bryce was crafty enough to get them across the country in hours. And Sarah…he didn't want to think about her. But why would they save him? What could've happened, could've changed?

"Raid her apartment…send out team 6. Then Larkin's. Search for clues to their whereabouts."

"Sir, that goes against code 3-"

"They've committed treason. The code doesn't apply to fugitives." Graham stated coldly.

"You've no proof that they-"

"Tim." Graham smirked. "Do you like your job?"

"Why….yes sir."

"Then let's try to keep it." Graham retorted. He was wasting time. They needed the best. John Casey, also known as Rambo in his book; that was just the man he had in mind.

"Put General Beckman on line 4, Tim." Graham stated, leaning back in his seat. "I want it a.s.a.p."

"Sir." Tim nodded and sent out the message to another analyst. Within the minute, the job was done.

Graham leaned back in his leather seat, sighing as he did so. How could something so orderly and so structured fall apart within seconds? He picked up the phone on the edge of his desk.

"General Diane Beckman, NSA." It was clear that Beckman was unaware of who she'd been so rushed to speak with.

Graham cleared his throat immediately upon hearing the General's shrill, and frankly, brittle voice. He had to swallow his pride for this plan of his to work…no matter how it pained him.

"Diane, this is Langston." He began, trying to gain momentum as he spoke. "We've received word that-"

"Your plan didn't go as …planned?" she stated coldly. He swore he could hear her smirk if that was at all possible.

"No." He sighed and bit back his retort. "I sent out our best for these scenarios, team six is on the case. I think we need an extra push, as Walker and Larkin are an incredibly destructive duo…I think we need-"

"John Casey." Beckman was surely smirking now.

"I need him ALIVE." Graham began immediately, often hearing that Casey only came with the word death, and it wasn't his own.

"What?" Beckman took in a breath. "Do you mean to tell me that-"

"The boy, Bartowski-"

"-the mark." Beckman commented dryly.

"The mark, the boy, whatever you want to call it…he may have possession or knowledge of the intersects whereabouts. Until we find out for certain, they're ours for interrogation."

The gunshots never ended; there was never a cease fire. Not in Sarah Walker's mind. She replayed the scene of Bryce falling, over and over again. The wound, his last words….Chuck. Chuck had the god damn program in his mind, and from the looks of it….he wouldn't last.

Bryce was left on the floor to die. This was never the burial Sarah wished her career long partner and friend. Hell, she'd never really thought about him dying anyway. She figured she'd always be the first to go; as was the theory behind espionage and spy work in general. So now, if Bryce was way off in Burbank…where was she?

The road seemed endless, and undeniably familiar. She had probably looped the area…or maybe she was simply descending into madness. Whatever the case, she found that she'd soon fall asleep behind the wheel if she didn't stop within the next half hour.

What had she done? She was plan-less, acting on pure instinct alone. It took all her will power not to pull gun on herself and wake up from the seemingly endless nightmare before her. Lost in her thoughts, she sub consciously decided on a motel. Where had she gone? Glancing up, she found herself at her newest safe haven: Barstow Motel. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with the man waking slowly beside her, she may have commented on its less then desirable look.

Her blue eyes scanned the area, taking in any tails and threats. Once they were cleared, she returned her eyes back to his face, only to meet his chocolate pools, disoriented and widening. Her breath hitched.

"Agent Walker…" Chuck mumbled at first, then fell back, clutching his head in agony. He cried out in pain and Sarah bit her lip. She'd witnessed torture, sometimes even on her own account, but never something like this. It looked as if something was tearing his brain inside out.

"Here…" She recovered; too busy to figure out why she suddenly felt as if she were choking, staring at the man who'd caused her life's ever so sudden changes. She reached down and grabbed two things she'd smuggled from his home before they'd left; a water bottle and pack of Advil. She knew Advil couldn't force the pain to completely subside, but even a dull throb would be acceptable.

"Thanks…" Chuck found his throat too dry to speak. He thankfully accepted the drug and water, praying the effects be positive. He leaned back against the window, weak. "Tell me this is a dream. This has to be a dream…" he sighed, eyes finding hers. He suddenly y found himself trying harder to breathe.

"No, Chuck…" Sarah pulled the key out of the ignition, pocketing it. "I don't know how much you remember…but it really happened…"

"And Bryce….Bryce is-"

"He's gone, Chuck…" Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, the pain stabbing, strong.

"No, no….." Chuck squeezed his eyes shut.

Sarah, not finding the proper amount of strength to reply, simply rose and came to Chuck's side, aiding him in getting out of the car.

"Where the hell are we?" He finally asked, seeming to lean on Sarah for support.

"It's probably better if I don't tell you…But look at the sign."

"Barstow?" Chuck gasped. "I've been out that long?"

Sarah merely nodded, watching his thoughts cloud his mind.

"What….what about Ellie and Devon…and work? Oh , god. Sarah, why are we running?" Chuck began to fret, his fears taking over.

"Chuck." Sarah began, her voice seeping into his deepest worries. "I'm here. You're not alone…."

"Oh…" Chuck croaked. "Have you done this sort of thing before?"

That brought the smallest hint of a smile to Sarah's placid and beautiful features. "Treason….? Maybe, once or twice."

That left Chuck silent for the remainder of the walk to their room.

"Agent Walker…." Chuck began, once he'd plopped himself down on the bed and she'd leaned back on the cheap dresser holding the decade old tv on it.

"Call me Sarah, Chuck…"

Chuck paused momentarily. "Sarah…" he began, testing it out. "Here, you should sit-"

"I'm fine, you're the one who-"

"Really, I insist…" Chuck guided her back to the bed, where she sat back, appreciating the softness.

Chuck, though in much pain, was highly observant as Sarah quickly noticed. He really seemed agent material. "You're hurt." He stated gently, noticing the ever so quiet wince she made as she sat.

"Flesh wound…" Sarah shrugged. Chuck moved her jacket, revealing a somewhat deep and bloody gash on her arm.

"Oh….oh my god…" Chuck immediately rose.

"I'm used to this, Chuck." She reminded, feeling somewhat flattered in the oddest way. Bryce, knowing how tough she was, never once bothered to care for her in the slightest.

"No, come here!" Chuck gently took her hand, immediately removing it with reddened cheeks, feeling a jolt like feeling. He guided her to the bathroom, instructing her to sit on the counter.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to return the smallest favor…" Chuck stated, taking her hand. Sarah felt an odd warmth spread through her, but tried to shrug it off as he gently dealt with her wound, washing away the blood. He reached for the towel, going to wrap it firmly around the wound.

"You're pretty lucky, no stitches necessary…" Chuck noted gently. "But not so lucky in a sense that this is all my fault…." He added quickly.

"Chuck, I…." Sarah sighed. "How do you know this?"

"My sister is a doctor…maybe my file didn't mention….?" He tried, finishing with her arm.

"I guess I just…Thank you, Chuck…" she told him, rewarding him with a split second long, sweet smile.

"Thank you, Sarah…" Chuck replied, feeling some of the cold, ice like weight in his chest melt away at her smile.

"I wouldn't thank me just yet if I were you…There's a lot of work to do."

Author's Note: SUPER SHORT,I know, but I really had to get something up. Next chapter will be longer I promise, and it WILL be on time. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, I can't wait to hear your opinions.