The Nerd and The Banker
When all hell breaks loose at Walker Banking Co, young Sarah is tasked with finding a new security system by her father, whom she desperately wants to prove herself to. When she calls upon Chuck Bartowski of Carmichael Security, she unknowingly changes both of their lives. And when he comes to oversee the install, passions grow, sparks fly, tensions thicken, and hell really does break loose.
A/N: (LLC): Hey everyone. I can't thank you guys enough for checking this out and constantly supporting my FF endeavours. I really wanted to do an AU without any spy elements, and I figure UKC was my best chance at a partner, since I'm absolutely insane when it comes to stories. This has been a blast to write so far, and we promise regular updates. Please, don't hesitate to drop a review or PM us with any questions you've got. We love hearing from you and we love feedback. Enjoy.
A/N: (UKC): Hi everyone! :D So this should be fun, right? :). One thing I do have say is that we've twiddled (yes, that is a word) with the timelines, so that Chuck and Sarah were born later. This means the whole story can be set in 'present day,' rather than 2007. Also, bear in mind Chuck and Sarah are coming straight out of graduation in this one ;).
—SARAH LISA WALKER—
—MAY 2011, CAMBRIDGE, MA—
"So Walker," Carina said seriously, though the shot in her hand and the grin plastered across her face told a different story, "this is it."
"This is it," Sarah agreed solemnly, tossing back an ounce of the dangerously red liquid and stiffening as it burned along the insides of her throat. She swivelled around on the chair, causing her black graduation cloak to billow out slightly and sending the tassels on her mortarboard hat swinging into her face, until she was facing the mass of people screaming and jumping up and down in complete pandemonium that passed off for dancing in one of these clubs. "Where're you off to now?" she asked, blinking through the sharp lasers, outlined by clouds from a smoke machine, and bright strobe lights flashing over the dance floor.
Carina mirrored Sarah's movement, and snorted. "That first year final club guy is cute," she replied, pointing at a blonde guy with a face reminiscent of a statute chiselled by Michelangelo himself.
Sarah watched the guy laughing with a couple of other guys who she recognised from her Financial Management lectures. "Really, Carina?" she replied, turning to the person who had become her unlikely best friend over her years here at Harvard, rolling her eyes, "one last conquest?"
Carina gave her a look of mock-horror, before relaxing as a mischievous smile played along her lips. "Oh, sorry Walker, let me pick one out for you as well," she paused, ignoring Sarah's own look of true-horror, as she lifted her hand to her chin and feigned thinking, "that guy's pretty hot," she said, pointing at a tall, raven haired man, with hair that was slicked back like a 1980's movie villain.
"The guy who looks like he's walked straight out of Charlie's Angels?" Sarah laughed, tipping her head back and allowing her hat to slip backwards. "I don't think so."
"Come on Sar, where's your sense of adventure?"
"It died when you dragged me into a fresher's bar straight after the ceremony, still dressed in my robes and this stupid hat," Sarah replied, struggling to keep a straight face (the shots were having an effect). "And don't call me 'Sar.'"
"Well then," Carina smirked, "I'll just have to take both of them for myself." With that, Carina stood up, and sauntered across the packed dance floor towards the two guys, who really had no idea what they were on for.
-0-
"You never answered my question Carina," Sarah asked, as she perched herself on the edge of her bed and scanned the empty room for anything she had forgotten the pack. It looked weird. Weird to have the room, that was normally covered with clothes and books and papers and all manner of other clutter, completely and utterly bare; with everything neatly packed away into a few small suitcases.
"Meh," Carina shrugged as she knelt down on all fours to check under the bed, "not a clue. What do you do with a major in Language Studies anyway?"
Sarah let out a laugh; that was typical Carina. Do a degree, and have no idea why you did it, or even what job to get with it. "I wouldn't know, you know where I'm going..."
"Of course I do, as does the whole of the rest of the world, Miss 'I'm the heir to the Burton Banking fortune.'"
Sarah scrunched up her jumper—the only thing other than what she was wearing that hadn't been packed away—and threw it at Carina, whose bottom and legs were all that were sticking out from underneath her bed. "I never said that!" she protested, sighing simultaneously; she knew it was useless. Half the school thought she was just some spoiled rich kid anyway. It wasn't like she wanted to be stuck in banking for the rest of her life, but what else do you do with an Economics and Financial Management joint major?
"But it's true, right?" Carina carried on, crawling back out, holding a pair of bright pink socks that she had pulled out from under the bed. Sarah was surprised she didn't emerge with panties, after knowing Carina so well.
"I am going to work for my Dad, yes..." Sarah began warily.
"And?" Carina prompted.
"...And I'm getting fast tracked straight to CFOO," she acknowledged with a groan and a wince. This was when the 'spoiled rich kid' stuff usually started. It was why she tried to avoid telling people her last name, and avoid any 'future' related questions.
"There you go," Carina replied with a grin, before standing up and glancing across the room. "It's been a good few years, Sarah."
"Yep," Sarah agreed, standing up and walking over to Carina with her suitcase in tow.
"Don't forget your old roommate when you're rich and famous."
"I'd never forget you, you're kind of unforgettable," Sarah laughed thickly, before pulling Carina into a quick hug, and checking her watch. "My taxi's here, Carina, keep in touch?"
Carina nodded, as Sarah made her way over to the door, looking over what had been her home for the past three years. She had so many good memories here, she didn't ever want to leave.
—EIGHT MONTHS LATER: WALKER HQ BOARD ROOM—
"And these are the particular areas of sudden growth that we are interested in investing in," Sarah finished, standing stoically next to the projector screen on which a slide with a big mind map of different investment areas was projected.
The were a few disjointed claps from Walker Banking's ten top investment bankers, who had been seated around the long meeting table in the board room, listening intently to Sarah. However, mostly they just nodded and stood up, shuffling their papers, and snapping folders shut as they filed out of the drab blue-grey room.
"Sarah," she heard a smooth voice behind her.
"Yes, Mr Larkin?" she replied with a sigh, turning around to face his chiselled face and floppy fringe.
"I don't know how many times I've asked you to call me Bryce," He replied, smiling playfully.
"And I lose track of the number of times I've asked you to call me Miss Walker, or boss," she replied, maintaining a stoic expression.
"Well then Miss Walker," He began, emphasizing her preferred name, "how would you like to go out for a cup of coffee?"
"Mr Larkin—" she began.
"Bryce," he interjected, causing a scowl to briefly cross her face.
"—You've asked me out on a date fifteen times now, and I've said no every time."
"And I'm going to keep asking you until you say yes," Bruce replied, now adding a flirtatious dimension to his smile. "Anyway, this isn't a date. I want to know more about investments in Government-funded super computer technology."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. Not a date, like hell it wasn't. Still, it was her job to explain these things to people, and if she said yes, he might stop asking. "Fine," she huffed, "the Starbucks across the road, twelve thirty."
—CHARLES IRVING BARTOWSKI—
—STANFORD UNIVERSITY, PALO ALTO, CA: POST GRADUATION—
Chuck packed his boxes with an air of finality, a grin plastered on his face. He had officially achieved the impossible, and he'd managed to throw some Zork in along the way. He'd passed and mastered the prestigious technology courses Stanford offered, and he'd finally freed himself of the shackles and chains that were his textbooks and boring professors. He was finally moving on with his life. At that moment, everything was surreal.
"Hey! You never did tell me your plans…" Gary, his long time friend and room mate asked with a smile, watching as Chuck packed away a picture of them at the football game. They were both grinning in the picture, red lines painted under their eyes, plastic cups of beer in hand. Stanford couldn't have treated him better.
"Ah," Chuck laughed, taping the box with a rueful smile. "You sound like my mom… or Ellie…." He flipped the tape gun smoothly, trying to imitate all the movies he'd seen with some mild success.
"Sorry," Gary laughed along, clearing his side of the room, which ended up being far dirtier than Chuck's, "but you can't avoid the question," he reminded with a wry smile, lifting a lone sock that made it's way under his now bare bed.
Chuck nodded, sitting on the bed. He glanced up and around at the bare, white washed walls, as they'd been stripped of their posters one bye one: Tron, a Stanford wall flag and banner, and finally: Heroes. One of his newest and most beloved shows, one that he managed to squeeze time for with his busy college schedule, Zork being the only other exception.
"I—" Chuck began. "I think I'm going to follow my dad's advice. He thinks my skill set would be perfect for a security company. He says that's where all the money is these days…" He spoke as if he were trying to convince himself as well as his room mate. Security? He'd always imagined himself designing the next "Call of Duty" or "Halo" games. But his father knew best… and he was very persistent.
Gary nodded thoughtfully. "Security, huh? Sounds good to me. Just don't end up like that guy…" He motioned to Officer Matt Parkman on the Heroes poster, Chuck immediately picking up on the inside joke with a smile of his own.
"It's been a good couple of years, Gary," Chuck rose, giving Gary the official fraternity bro hug. Ellie always made fun of him for that, but she seemed to have an attraction to frat boys herself. Maybe one day she'd find one for herself… Chuck laughed at the idea, bidding Gary farewell as he loaded his boxes into his car.
Once his room was cleared and ready to be abandoned, he stepped out, leaning against the wall one last time. He was leaving behind so many memories, but he felt as if he was heading toward greener pastures. It all began now.
He couldn't wait to get out of Palo Alto and back to his home, Burbank.
—ONE YEAR LATER: OFFICIAL OFFICE OF CARMICHAEL SECURITY—
"Dad," Chuck sighed in exasperation, "not one call for two days now." He sat behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Patience is key, Charles." His father smiled, leaning back in a chair across from his son's desk. "Rome wasn't built in a day."
His sage advice only seemed to feed Chuck's aggravation.
"Dad, I know, but—"Chuck drew in a quick breath. Arguing with his father never got him anywhere. After all, the business was his idea. He couldn't forget that, not now, not ever. "I know what you mean, but I'm the supposed captain of this ship…" Chuck motioned to the light filled office that surrounded him, plants and photos filling the extra spaces. Papers were strewn on his desk and his phone book was out, his desk phone on the line beside it. He couldn't really afford a secretary yet, but that didn't mean they didn't have productive days, "and I don't want her to go down, as long as I'm here."
"First of all, you're not the supposed captain, you're the captain, Charles," Stephen Bartowski glanced at his son with his tell-tale smile, one that simply radiated warmth and reassurance.
"This company only exists because of your more than generous loans, Dad," Chuck replied graciously.
"That's my job, son," Stephen smiled; glad to see his appreciative manner never faded.
"And secondly, what makes you think she's going to go down so soon; we just opened up," he pointed out calmly, crossing his legs. "Just because you haven't gotten three calls a day like you're accustomed to—"
"—no calls, dad. None whatsoever." Chuck tried to intervene and quell the rant, but it was too late; it'd been unleashed. He immediately regretted the moaning. This was where it got him.
Stephen waved his protest off casually. "Like I was saying… it happens. They're called slow business days, and every company has them, Charles," he spoke as if he knew very well.
Chuck sighed, absently tugging at his own tie. "What if we have a slow week, or month? How could I possibly pay for everything then?"
"What you offer is a state of the art, never before seen or used security system, specific to this company only," Stephen smirked, "I'd say that's pretty damn impressive," he added with an air of pride and finality.
Chuck allowed a smile, leaning forward to see his father's eyes. "Thanks, dad. You always seem to know what to say."
"That's because about thirty years ago… I was in your seat, son, and I promise, things get easier. Patience is key." He smiled, taking a sip of the coffee Chuck had offered him.
"So what's the status on the latest and greatest project… what was it called again?" Stephen spoke up curiously.
Chuck smiled, hands revealing the blue prints. "Project Omaha."
"Why do we call it that again?" Stephen smiled, taking the blue prints with great curiosity.
"That's where the majority of the parts were designed," Chuck laughed at the idea, waiting to hear his father's valued opinion.
"So this… this is nothing short of remarkable, Charles," Stephen finally admitted, only after his eyes had pondered every inch of the design. "Lasers, Thermals, Cameras, Sensors, Mines… this is impossible to breach."
"Unless someone does it from the inside," Chuck nodded with a smile. "What do you think, dad?"
"Chuck… this is incredible!" Stephen smiled. "But how much was this entire project?" he asked, wondering if his loans were nearly enough.
Chuck grimaced. "I'd really rather not say." His eyes averted his father's gaze, fixating on the ficus plant in the far corner of his small office. "It pretty much puts Stanford's tuition to shame."
"Then I feel sorry for the poor bastards who have to buy it," Stephen chuckled, raising a brow and sipping his coffee once more.
"They'd have to be high rollers," Chuck nodded, and then sighed. "I don't think we'll ever see those kinds of names around here, though."
"Don't be too sure, Charles," Stephen smiled."We're Bartowskis… it's in our blood to do great things."
Those words would follow Chuck through the rest of his career, and even his life. But for now, there was work to be done.
A/N: (LLC): So, hopefully you enjoyed it and want to see more? Please let us know what you thought and if we should keep going? Thanks a million for reading and reviewing, I appreciate every single word. As always, Have a great one guys.