Lovein3parts1

A/N: I've incurred writer's block on GEG and Kappa. Serious blockage so I'm letting them gel for a while. I've had GEG done but I absolutely hate it and so does the Nik.

So, here is my latest tripe offering since I cannot do much more than moan and drag my ass around Chez Armadillo. No more booze and she's taken to counting the damned Vicodin. It's dark in the 1st third, light in the middle third, and gloriously and disgustingly Charah in the final third. Think of it as 'gestation'. Nik says it's 'chick flic material'. That means guys will hate it.
APR

Part One - Death

The cell phone chirped and a nearly breathless voice said, "Answer that phone, Bartowski, and you're a dead man." This was followed by a series of short giggles and then a whimper. The coverlet on the large bed began to move and then…

The chirp sounded louder and seemingly more insistent. "I have to answer it. I'm the on-call tech tonight. I couldn't find anyone to take my place. You made a last minute change and…" his words were muffled and then swallowed by a kiss.

The chirping, it seemed, grew insistently louder and louder until finally, "Go ahead and answer the damned thing. It's distracting you from your duties. Go ahead, but make it quick…" She pulled the coverlet off them and he crawled over her to reach his cell.

With devilish intent, she reached down and held his rigid shaft, giving it a tweak and giggling at the look on his face. "I've grown accustomed to that, woman, so please…"

More giggling and then "Chuck, answer the damned thing. You've got me right where I want me so please…" The last 'please' was breathy and sexy and…

"This is Chuck, on-call tech. What's the problem?" Professional but friendly was the Buy More Nerd Herder motto. Unofficially, that is.

He looked at Sarah and made writing motions with his hand. She sighed and got up, gloriously bold in the way she walked across the room to retrieve a pad and pen. She gave her hips a delicious sway that made her firm breasts jiggle as she padded back to him. She sat beside him on the bed and handed him the pad. Her hand crept between his thighs and she fondled him, enjoying his distraction.

His voice raised an entire octave when he asked the customer to repeat the address and he said he'd be there in 30 minutes and ended the call.

"Chuck, 30 minutes?" She was disappointed but wasn't blaming him, well, not exactly. She was disappointed but his dedication to his tasks, be it the Buy More or the intersect was one of the things she'd come to love about him.

"Chuck, one of the things I love about you is your dedication but baby, this is our time…"

"One of the things? You mean there are more?" He was trying to dress and kiss and fondle her soft parts without accomplishing either very well.

She hesitated. She needed to be more careful. She needed to maintain distance and…shit, who was she kidding. She looked up as he was pulling on his socks and slipping into his shoes.

"Chuck, stuff here stays here, remember? The sleepover is for public consumption, and the public includes Casey. Our feelings stay here in this hotel room, Chuck. It's the way it has to be."

"I love you, Sarah, in this room, out of this room, wherever we are, but I understand your…position. It's OK. You don't have to say anything. I understand. You're a spy, I'm an asset, and ne'er the twain shall meet, right? I got it."

"Chuck, it's not like that." She walked over to her jewelry box and pushed through rings, bracelets and earrings until she found what she was looking for.

"Yes, it is, and I'm OK with it. Really. Now, kiss me goodbye and I'll be on my way."

"Chuck, lean down here. Take off your chain and hand it to me, please?" She slipped a tiny charm, given to her by her mother when she was 5. It was very special to her.

"Wear this for me as a sign of my feelings. It's not much but it comes from 'before the CIA' time. It's mine, not a prop. Wear it for me, please?"

If she couldn't bring herself to say it she could damned sure show it.

She slammed him up against the door and began to ravish his mouth hungrily, almost desperately, with hers, finally stopping and twisting him around so that she was against the door. She reached down, turned the knob and opened it enough to let him out.

"I love you, Sarah. Always and forever."

She pushed him out and immediately felt alone. She'd never felt this way before, ever. Not with Bryce or any of her other lovers or affairs. This was…oh, shit. She'd fallen in love with her asset, really in love. Not the enthusiastic buddy sex; no, they'd made love. She knew the difference from the first time but never thought about it. Four months of bliss and she knew that she could never go back to the way it had been. Or with anyone else.

She threw open the door and walked out into the hallway, naked and uncaring, just as he was stepping onto the elevator.

"Me, too, Chuck. Me, too." He gave her a gigawatt smile and got on the elevator.

The panic button on Chuck's phone sent an automated alarm code to the Castle and to John Casey who was asleep. Grumbling about clumsy nerd morons he checked the GPS transponder locator and found Chuck's location across town not at Walker's where they were 'working the cover'. He didn't believe that for one minute but as long as it stayed out of the workplace he didn't care.

He called Walker, hoping he'd wake her and he did.

"Why isn't Bartowski in your bed, Walker? What's he doing way across town at this time of night? Another lovers' tiff?" He zinged her as often as possible, making her pay in some form for her transgressions. He really didn't care. He just loved her responses.

"He's the on-call tech and he got called out. Why?"

"Panic button on his watch, I'm going to get dressed and check it out. You're on the way. Pick you up in 10 minutes."

Unknown Location

He verified the address and then stepped out of the Nerd Herder onto the dark street. The house at the address he'd been given was for sale and vacant. He was cursing people who found joy in calling in false on-site calls when he was grabbed from behind and forced to kneel beside his Herder. Chuck had wrestled a hand free and pushed the panic button on his CIA watch twice and then allowed his captors to handcuff him and put a bag over his head.

He knew that construction in this new development had stalled due to lack of funds and buyers. He should have followed procedure and called the number back to verify the trouble call but he'd been distracted.

He heard glass breaking and then a door opening and he was half-dragged through a room into the house and then downstairs into a basement. There was power to the home since the lights were on in the basement. Someone pushed him against a support pole and recuffed his hands over his head to a hook. The bag was left on his head. He could stand easily so there was no real weight on his cuffed hands.

There was no sound at all for the first few minutes. All he heard was his harsh breath in the confines of the canvas sack over his head.

The first blow was to his stomach and knocked the wind out of him. Still, no one spoke. He could hear the sound of shoe soles scruffling across the cement basement floor. Then another blow took him by surprise. This one was to the kidneys. He gasped and then sagged on his cuffed wrists.

He'd heard Casey once talking about interrogation and he'd said that as long as you didn't offer the first word you could last longer. How much longer Chuck didn't know.

Where was Sarah? Where was Casey? He'd pushed the panic button twice. Someone should be tracking him down, knocking down the door and rescuing him. It was what they were supposed to do, wasn't it?

This went on for 10 minutes although he had no way of guesstimating the time. No sound. Sudden pain. Recovery. No sounds. Another sudden pain somewhere else. Recovery.

Finally, gasping, he broke silence.

"What do you want? Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"So, now the fun begins. Make it easy on yourself, Mr. Bartowski. Tell us what we want to know and you're free to go. Where are Bryce and Sarah Larkin, Mr. Bartowski? That's all we want to know. We know he's been to see you. Tell us where he is. Or tell us where Sarah Larkin is. Our employers need to speak with them about something they...borrowed from them. Simple as that and then you can go on about your business."

"I don't know where Bryce is. I haven't seen him since he got me kicked out of Stanford."

Another blow to the stomach, this time with something rigid. He heard the metallic sound as it scraped his belt buckle.

The same questions brought the same answers and more pummeling. Finally Chuck just shut up.

"Mr. Bartowski, things are going to get nasty soon. I have a schedule to keep. Now, you've been seen with his wife, Sarah Larkin. Don't lie to me. It could get very nasty very quickly."

"I've been seeing Sarah Walker, not Sarah Larkin. Your information is way past incorrect."

"That's a shame, Mr. Bartowski. A crying shame. Bryce and a blonde named, coincidently, Sarah Walker, were married 2 1/2 years ago in Cabo, Mexico." He nodded to his associate who was holding an aluminum baseball bat.

"At long last you get to use your toy, Arnold. Break his kneecap." Chuck tensed and then screamed when the bat struck his kneecap. He couldn't believe the pain and he almost threw up.

"One more time, Mr. Bartowski. Where is Bryce Larkin? Where is Sarah Larkin? If you don't tell us, we'll just keep on hurting you until you do or until you die. So, one more time. Where are the Larkins? Where is Bryce Larkin? Where is Sarah Larkin?" His associate tapped Chuck's injured knee and giggled when Chuck screamed.

"I – I – I don't know. I haven't seen him in more than a year. I don't know…please…She's not married, she's not. Not to him."

The man pointed to Chuck's ribs. The bat made a whooshing sound and then Chuck screamed again.

The 'talker' picked up Chuck's cell phone and pushed speed dial #1. "Maybe we can get someone else to convince you. Who's Number One in your life, Mr. Bartowski? Hmmm?"

They were four minutes away from where Chuck had signaled a code black situation. GPS showed that his wallet, cell phone and watch were all in the same place so they hadn't figured out the GPS transponder. Sarah's cell rang and she saw from the caller that it was Chuck.

"Chuck? Where are you? Are you OK? Chuck, answer me!"

"He's busy right now, all tied up as a matter of fact. So, are you his girlfriend? His mother? He could use his mother right now."

She could hear Chuck sobbing in the background and saying 'please, not Larkin, anyone but him'. The phone was on speaker and she had to be careful what she said. "I'm his girlfriend. Please don't hurt him. I have some money if that's what you want. I can sell my car."

"We're looking for a couple of friends of ours and your 'young man' knows where they are but just won't tell us. Doesn't that beat all? Break some more ribs. Put your back into it this time. I want to know where Bryce Larkin is."

The bat struck him low in the side and he knew he was in trouble. He couldn't control the scream and he was ashamed that Sarah heard him begging.

"Please don't hurt him. I – I know where Bryce Larkin is. He's in Colombia trying to get on with a Cartel there. He was here last week to finalize the divorce arrangements. That's all I know. Please, Chuck doesn't know anything. I filed for divorce before I met Chuck…please, just let him go."

'She's really selling it', thought Casey, 'but why muddy the waters with this 'married and divorced crap?' He held up two fingers indicating two minutes until they arrived but the look on his face said 'we will talk about this later!'

"Where exactly in Colombia and who is he going to work with, Mrs. Larkin? Chuck, maybe you'll get out of this alive after all."

She hesitated, delaying a response as long as possible. Each second of delay meant being closer to his location and a delay in his pain. Finally when Chuck had been struck again and screamed out her name, she rattled off the name of a small town outside of Bogotá and some small-time dealers she'd run across.

"That's interesting. Well, Chuck, we're done here. Missy, you've been a big help. Sorry about your boyfriend. And don't worry about the divorce. We'll make you a widow. And as for young Chuck here", he turned to his associate and said, "Kill him."

Sarah screamed into the phone and then said clearly, not caring that Casey was sitting beside her, listening, "Chuck, listen to me, baby. Always and forever, Chuck, I'll love you always and forever."

She closed the phone just as they pulled up in front of the house. She opened the car door and ran to the back of the house leaving Casey far behind, on the phone following up on the cleaner team and ambulance who were one minute out.

She found the broken glass, opened the door and ran in, listening intently and finally seeing the light from the basement under the closed door.

She ran down the steps and shot the man who was again in mid-swing at Chuck's head but the blow still struck him. She heard Chuck scream her name and then there was a sickening sound like an overripe cantaloupe striking the floor and he was silent.

Casey was behind her and caught her when the man holding Chuck's cell phone fired at her, hitting her in the shoulder and neck.

Casey emptied his entire magazine into the shooter and then tried to stop the arterial blood spurting from her neck and gratefully passed her off to a qualified medic who'd followed them into the vacant house. He walked over to where other medics were working on Chuck just as they cut him down with bolt cutters and pulled the canvas bag from his head.

She was mouthing "Chuck" over and over but heard Casey gasp and mumble "Oh, Chuck, I'm sorry we didn't get here in time" and her last thought before she lost consciousness and her world ended was 'always and forever, Chuck'.

Casey rode in the ambulance with his partner going to a secure facility for treatment. Chuck's body was in another ambulance. He'd been torn between his duty to his partner and his duty to the intersect. Sarah was alive. Chuck was dead. Duty to his partner won out.

"Beckman, secure."

"Major Casey in Burbank. 'HARD DRIVE' is dead. 'BARBIE' is borderline. The asset was the on-call technician and responded to bogus service call. Unknown parties took control and beat him to death with an aluminum baseball bat. We were on speakerphone almost the entire time. They were looking for Bryce and Sarah Larkin. He did not give them up. He did not break. The perpetrators are dead, killed by Agent Walker and myself. She took one in the chest and one in the neck. I don't think she'll make it."

"And the asset?"

"Body has been taken by cleaners. Considering nature of injuries inflicted, they're staging a road accident. I plan on remaining in place until the funeral. Walker will be in the LA facility. Instructions?"

"Submit a more detailed written report, Major Casey. Remain on station, attend the funeral and then close out Burbank Station. If she survives, I'll have her transferred to a facility nearer her home of record and family as soon as it's medically sound to do so. You're sure they said she was married to Bryce Larkin?"

"Yes, ma'am, supposedly in Cabo, Mexico 2 years ago. She said she'd filed for divorce and that's why he was there 2 weeks ago. To finalize the paperwork.

"Major Casey, find Larkin and tell him to get the hell out of town. He led his pursuers to Bartowski. Considering their history, I'm astounded Bartowski didn't give the bastard up before the first blow was struck."

She hung up.

Casey held Walker's hand while the medics fought to keep her alive. He'd miss Walker. For a CIA puke, she had been a good partner, probably the best he'd ever had.

He concentrated on her now. He'd handle his feelings for the dead later. The living took precedence. But he intended to find out who hired the thugs and then there'd be payback. He owed that to Bartowski.

After he took care of Chuck's killers, he was going to have a long talk with Bryce Larkin the next time he slithered out from beneath whatever rock he was hiding under. Larkin and Walker, married? Unbelievable that she'd string Chuck along for…compliance. Honey trap whore. He shook his head in disgust.

A/N: Setup for the 2nd and 3rd parts. More confusion, backstabbing, double dealing, betrayals, twists, turns, tweaks and general mayhem. I love Nicole's Vicodin. Push the button. Pretend it's an election year. Vote early – and often.

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