A/N: This story came to me while I watched The Pink Slip. And I just thought of what would happen if Chuck had gone with her, and this started flowing out of my mind. I hope you enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it! It may contain spoilers from the first episode, for those who haven't seen it yet, so just a heads up. (: theprincess1511 beta-ed this brilliantly!
Disclaimer - I will never own Chuck. ):
"We could run. Together. You, and me. Go now and we never look back."
The Prague train station seemed almost empty as he trudged onto the platform, his trench coat hanging loosely around his lanky – almost muscular, from vigorous training – frame. He tightened his grip around the handle of his leather suitcase - stuffed with enough clothes to last months on the road and enough money for a business man to be jealous of.
His lips curled into a dazzling grin as he spotted her, waiting expectantly for him on the further end of the platform. It couldn't have been more than two weeks into his training, but it felt as if he had been a spy all his life. Sure, he still had problems with controlling the flashes and such, but who needed the Intersect 2.0 when he had Sarah?
She wanted out, and he would have done anything to give her that – he owed her that much.
If it were remotely possible, his grin stretched wider as her eyes rested on him from across the platform. Her cobalt eyes danced and sparkled as the sunlight settled into them, and he had a niggling feeling that she'd be winning any arguments from then on.
As his breathing grew shallow from the overexposure to her radiant grin, Chuck took long strides towards her, his legs growing weaker as he neared her. Now he knew how Superman felt around kryptonite. "This is it,"he muttered nervously under his breath. Everything he ever wanted was standing right in front of him.
He smiled a polite greeting, his coffee brown eyes conveying every tone of love that they could muster, matching the overload of messages her ocean baby blues were sending to his.
"Here is your ticket, and your new passport. Your name is Hector Calderon," she speaks, her voice cracking from closely guarded excitement. His heart thumped violently in his chest, mostly because her fragrant orange shampoo drifted dangerously close to his nostrils; Mostly because he was about to go on the run with his super spy girlfriend who, after two years, was finally reciprocating his feelings for her. He chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow at the unusual name she had picked for him.
"Hector Calderon?" He shot her a grin, highly amused by her choice.
"Yes. Hector Calderon," she narrowed her eyes teasingly. "I'm Melissa Calderon."
"Wow, I had no idea we shared a last name," he deadpanned, eliciting a quiet laugh from his new illegally pronounced wife.
"We have plenty of time to talk on the train. Right now, we have to act fast. Trust me, Chuck. It's all going to work out fine."
She grabs his hand in hers, brushing a reassuring thumb over the back of his hand, an action that sent shivers down his spine. As she leaned forward to brush her lips softly against his, she took his face in her hands, flooding his heart with the overwhelming emotion she had been feeling – she felt it melt away with every prod of his tongue against hers.
Her fingers wrapped themselves around his tightly, never wanting to let go as they finally separated their lip lock. Her grin fell momentarily as she noticed his downcast eyes directed shyly to the floor.
"What's wrong?" She placed a soft hand on his cheek, willing him to look at her.
"Sarah, there's an entire facility here, dedicated and designed to turning me into Intersect 2.0. I mean, think about it. Think about me being a real spy, you know, living a life of adventure, and doing things that really matter…"
The dull throbbing of doubt and rejection began to seep into her heart, showing through her half-masked expression of disbelief and despair.
"It's not that simple. You don't know who you're working for, and it's complicated. Nothing is real. This - this is simple. This is a real life. We have to go, Chuck. This is it. Are you coming?"
As each second of silence went by, Sarah felt the cold, icy fist contracting tighter around her heart with each passing moment. She looked away with a tight, controlled smile, tears threatening to spill over. But when his fingers curl around her trembling hand, she's led by his arm onto the train.
Hector and Melissa Calderon settled into their seats, hand in hand. And never once did they break their heart-felt gazes from each other.
"Mr and Mrs Calderon?"
"That's us," he smiled warmly at the hotel staff of the Grand Seville, the hotel which they had once busted the entire gang of Russian baddies a few years back, in addition to meeting Casey's ex-girlfriend. With an arm wrapped around his wife, Hector Calderon planted a shower of kisses against her lips as they leaned against the reception desk of the classy five-star hotel.
"How rude!" A plump, elderly lady exclaimed, as she witnessed his overly affectionate public display. He grinned sheepishly as the woman glared at them menacingly while she stormed away, her hands clasped tightly over her grandson's eyes.
"I bet she's just itching to shout, 'Get a room!', or something," Melissa said with an amused twinkle in her eyes, sending her husband into a fit of chuckles.
"Maybe she thinks you're my escort. Not the first time that's happened…" He received a piercing glare in return, pinning him to his place.
"So, basically, you're implying that I look and dress like a prostitute, Mr Bartowski?"
He winced at the mention of his dormant name – only brought up whenever she was enraged with him, something that occurred rarely between them. For years, they had spent a better part of their time in a secluded neighbourhood in Poland, where Sarah's fluent knowledge of the language allowed them to communicate smoothly with the locals.
It had been to simply let the search for the government's top agent and their prized asset die down. The search, combined with the fact that they were on foreign soil, proved to be futile, and the Calderon's became unnoticed faces in the background.
"N-no, honey!" Hector called out to his wife as she detached herself from his embrace and stormed away in the direction of the ladies' room. "I meant to say that you're extremely attractive and very, very sexy, and uh, many men… many men would love to sleep with you!"
He hung his head in embarrassment following the multitude of blank, angry stares that he received after his comical outburst.
"Sir, here are your keys, and the bellboy will bring your bags to your room in just a moment."
"Thank you," Hector said with an awkward smile, lifting his bag over his suited shoulder.
He stood to the side, waiting patiently for Melissa to exit the restroom. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was avoiding me, he thought sadly to himself.
But as Melissa walked out, looking as radiant as ever, Hector once again pondered about how lucky he was to be married to such an amazing woman – he didn't deserve her. He never would.
Linking her arm through his, they made their way silently into the lift, waiting as the bolded numbers counted down to the first level with a ping.
"Bartowski? Walker?"
He froze at the familiar voice, as did Melissa, whose arm tightened around his. It was a distant voice, one that he had not heard in years – the same gruff, monotonous voice that haunted him for the three years during which he had served the government as the Intersect.
John Casey.
"Cut the crap, moron. I have the authority to arrest you right now, and you don't want me to do that."
"Okay, fine. But we're Hector and Melissa Calderon now. We have been for years. This is our life, Casey."
"I spent three of those five years searching high and low for you two lovesick suckers, and you mean to tell me that you fell off the gridbecause you two wanted to start a new life together?!"
"Pretty much, yeah…"
"Dear Lord, Bartowski! Do you know how much flak I got from Beckman?! We busted every Ring cell in Prague and LA trying to find you two, and eventually we figured that they must've killed you two or something!"
"We're sorry, Casey, but we knew that you wouldn't let us go if we told you."
"And you, Walker, I expected more from my partner!"
"Look, Casey, what's done is done. Hector and I are happy now, and we have been, for that past few years, without the government completely screwing up our lives. Now, if you would so kindly get out of our hotel room, we'd like to have some privacy!"
"Not a chance, Walker. You know what I have to do."
"Don't you dare."
Time seemed to slow as Melissa withdrew her old unused Smith & Wesson pistol, mirroring her ex-partner's actions, as he too withdrew a pistol that was tucked snugly in his waistband. Hector looked on in horror as his old teammates stared down into the barrel of each other's guns.
Casey cracked an ironic smile, memories of the few times that he had been pitted against Sarah Walker, or Melissa Calderon, flooding into his mind. He had never won, and he probably never would – he was simply counting on the fact that she had gotten rusty over the years.
"Put the guns down, please! No guns! Come on, guys, we're supposed to be a team!" Hector pleaded desperately for the stand-off to end.
"We're not a team anymore, Chuck. We stopped being a team when you two abandoned me."
"We didn't abandon you, Cas –"
"Well, it sure as hell felt like you did!"
"Look, look, look, Casey. Whatever it is you're here for, which I suppose is some sort of mission, we'll help you alright? We'll be a team again. We'll be Team Bartowski. But when we're done, when its mission accomplished, Melissa and I –"
"For God sakes, your names are Chuck and Sarah!"
"Alright, alright, easy buddy… When the mission's a success, Sarah and I will leave quietly, no strings attached, and you'll promise to leave us be."
Casey paused for a moment, his grip loosening visibly on his Colt, as he contemplated Chuck's offer. He dropped his arm, as did Sarah.
"Fine, it's a deal. But for the love of God, why in the world did you choose a name like Hector, Bartowski?!"
Chuck grinned at Sarah, who diverted her gaze to more interesting parts of the room – namely the floor, bed and dressing table.
Team Bartowski was back. Just for a while at least.
The objectives were simple – gather intel, confirm intel and take out the threat with guns... loads of guns. At least, that was what Casey hoped to achieve. But with the new additions to his one-man team, it was going to be a game for three now.
Casey crinkled his brow as his earpiece crackled to life, the clear and – in his opinion – highly annoying voice of Chuck Bartowski ringing through his aching eardrums. He wasn't sure if the Intersect still worked, but Chuck had assured him that he had been flashing on a few things throughout the years of his absence with Sarah.
A tip-off from one of the CIA's deep cover operatives had alerted them to their current mark, Simon McKenna, a Ring agent who led one of the dormant cells in LA. Casey had gotten the message loud and clear – McKenna wasn't to be alive after tonight.
"Walker, I've already planted the bug and the security feed is hooked up to my hotel room. You're good to go," he spoke into the mic, eyes scanning the multiple monitors that occupied the dressing table in the room.
"Copy that, Casey," Sarah's voice sounded into his earpiece.
"Why does Sarah have to do this again? I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it…"
"Because, Chuck, Simon McKenna is a straight ma– On second thought, why isn't he doing it, Walker?"
"That's real nice, Casey, and I thought we were buddies again."
"I'm sorry, Bartowski. I'm still trying to get over the fact that you two conveniently left your buddy in Prague to tidy up the mess you made."
"Will you two please just shut the hell up?"
"Heads up, Walker. Here comes Simon."
Chuck watched helplessly as Sarah made contact with the mark, immediately catching his roving eye. Rough coughing filled her earpiece as Chuck retched the excess water that had caught itself in his throat.
"Casey, get her out of there right now! Please, Sarah, you need to get out of there! We have to go now!"
"What's wrong, Chuck? What happened?"
"I just flashed. That's Simon, alright. But that's the Ring's bomb."
"Casey, what's your status?"
"I'm moving out, Walker. I'll meet you down front to take out the joker. Chuck, stay in the room," Casey called as he slammed the door shut behind him.
"Hey now, don't you think we're way past that stage? I mean, come on guys, it's been 5 years."
"Chuck, please stay put. Please. For me."
With a submissive groan and a huge amount of willpower, Chuck sank deeper into the couch, overlooking the surveillance monitors. Keeping his eyes peeled, he spotted the mark with the bomb disguised as his belt buckle approaching Sarah. Emotions coursed through him – worry being the most prominent.
"Easy, Walker... Don't spook the guy. Lead him up to your room and we'll take him down there."
"Lead him to your – our room?! You're leading Mr I-have-a-bomb-and-I'd-love-to-detonate-it into our suite?!"
"Do you have a better plan, Bartowski?"
"As a matter of fact, I do indeed have a plan. Sarah, bring him to the elevators, I'll meet you and Simon there."
Chuck carefully closed the heavy oak door, ensuring that the key card was safely in his pocket. Then, pulling out a gun, he removed its safety and re-tucked it between his waistband. Feeling the feel of the Intersect 2.0 looming overhead, Chuck's heart thumped in time to his footsteps as he inched closer toward the lift.
He grabbed the gun in his hand. Thump, thump, thump. He took a moment to glare at it, feeling the familiar nausea rushing to him in the form of a flash. Thump, thump, thump. The Intersect informed him that to kill a person, one would aim straight for the Occipital lobe or directly into the neck, depending on the person's height – it estimated Simon's to be 5 foot 4 – Chuck would have to position his gun at approximately 98 degrees and fire two rounds into the target. Thump, thump, thump.
The lift doors opened, revealing Sarah, nervous prickles of perspiration dotting her forehead and something that Chuck hadn't noticed – a gun pointed to her back. Simon McKenna smiled grimly, a hand looped casually around his belt. Chuck cracked a mischievous grin at the Ring agent, feeling the Intersect completely overwhelming his senses.
In the span of a second, Chuck's index finger pulls the trigger twice, his positioning at 98 degrees exactly. Two soundless shots ring out, as feathery darts stick out of the Ring agent's neck. McKenna falls forward with a thud, the tranquilizers spreading throughout his body at unusual speeds. The lifeless body remains ignored, as they're lost in each other's embrace, tears staining her cheeks and a glowing grin on his.
Casey grunts unintelligibly as he spots the overflowing queue for the check-in counter of the Los Angeles' airport. After the successful mission – after which he had disposed of McKenna permanently with the aid of his old teammates – he was due back to Washington for a debriefing in the General's personal attendance. Lifting the heavy duffel bag with an arm, he patiently takes a place in the line.
"Thank you, Walker," he nods with a sense of formality in his stature. "Bartowski," he nods again, with respect.
The couple exchange a knowing glance before enveloping the old Colonel in a tight, three-person hug. His eyes bulge for a minute or so, but as he realizes that they care for him, truly care for him, he relaxes into their embrace. But only for a moment, because he's pretty sure that his man parts are still in tact.
Giving them a salute and a friendly wave, he leaves in his government issued limousine. He shakes his head in awe as the car pulls away, the last image of his friends, burned into his mind – the image of Chuck pulling Sarah happily into a deep, lingering kiss, was all the reason he needed to let them go.