Many thanks to anon4utu for his excellent beta work on this one-shot.

Written for Timewalker05, who asked me to dabble in the Buy More Boss universe he created at the end of his wonderful fic, Chuck vs. the Buy More Bomber. You don't have to read Bomber to get what's going on necessarily, but if you haven't read it yet, you are missing out big time! Hope you enjoy it, TW!

Chuck vs. the Freight Train

Chuck Bartowski, Chairman and CEO of Buy More Corporation, forced a smile as she joined him and took hold of his offered arm before entering the lavish ballroom of The Hilton. They were tracking an ex-Mossad agent for hire who had recently conducted some business with Fulcrum. Same old mission, same old cover, Chuck thought, scanning the room full of guests. He had hoped for something different; hell, it had been something different, for a little while.

"West wall." Casey's voice came through clearly in Chuck's earwig; it was decided that the ex-Mossad agent might spot such devices on Sarah, so she would rely on Chuck for communication. Chuck turned to look where Casey had suggested, and Sarah followed his gaze.

A numbness erupted from the base of his neck, traveling up the back of his skull and into his eyes as the Intersect came forward into his mind. Well accustomed to the patterns within the Intersect imagery, Chuck was able to discern the information within seconds. He felt Sarah grip his arm tightly as he wavered for a moment with dizziness and darkened vision. He nodded his head. "That's him," he said, indicating the sharply-dressed man browsing along the perimeter of the room. They moved down the curved staircase into the room.

Sarah spoke into Chuck's transmitter. "Moving in." She let go of Chuck's arm and moved into the crowd, stopping here and there to admire a painting or sculpture, all the while angling closer to the agent. Chuck took a seat at the bar and ordered a martini. The charity art gala had drawn quite a crowd, but he could easily track Sarah. She wore a blue evening gown tonight. She's stunning. He sighed and took a sip of his martini.

Six months ago, while Sarah recovered from a gunshot wound at the Twin Oaks Rehabilitation Hospital, he had been told, no wait, he had been ordered, to stay away from her. No explanation was offered. When he questioned Beckman about it, he had learned that it was Sarah's preference. Discharged six weeks later, she rejoined the team and they worked hard to establish themselves as the best covert operative team the CIA had ever known. Although Moses Finkelstein, Founder and former CEO of Buy More Corporation, had been killed during the Bomber mission, his personal assistant, Amelia Forbes, had intimate knowledge of the secret base known as Level Ten. Under Amelia's tutelage, Team Bartowski learned how to best use Finkelstein's extraordinary intelligence-gathering equipment, assembling an impressive dossier on all things Fulcrum. General Beckman assigned missions based on the information gathered, and Team Bartowski had become a major thorn in the side of Fulcrum.

He watched as Sarah walked up beside the ex-Mossad agent, admiring a painting displayed on the wall. "Contact with the mark," Chuck said softly, speaking into his transmitter. He took another drink of his martini, draining the glass. He tapped the bar with two fingers, and the bartender set a fresh drink in front of him.

"Roger that," came Casey's voice.

Chuck turned a casual eye toward Sarah briefly, not wanting to attract any undue attention. It probably wouldn't matter, as nearly every man in the room found some opportunity to look in her direction. It used to be that he was assaulted by reporters when he attended these events, but much of the hoopla surrounding his rapid ascension into the Buy More Corporation had finally simmered down. A woman passed in front of him, giving him a close once-over. He smiled slightly and shook his head; she walked on.

Returning his gaze to Sarah, he watched her laugh at something the agent said, and she flashed the guy a warm smile. Chuck narrowed his eyes and took another drink from his glass. This wasn't how he imagined things would turn out. He was supposed to be Chuck Bartowski, Chairman and CEO of Buy More Corporation. And Sarah was supposed to be his girlfriend. But now it was just another cover, another job, another barrier between him and what he wanted most of all.

Sarah and the Fulcrum mark began to walk toward a doorway on the far wall. There was a procession of guests ahead of them, making their way from the art displays to the dining room, and they stood still for a moment as the line moved slowly through the doorway. The agent had his arm around Sarah's waist, and he pulled her close, trying to kiss her. She brought up her arm to create space, but he gripped her tightly, trapping her arm between their bodies. She laughed, but it was not the easy laugh she had given him earlier.

Chuck stood up and set his glass on the countertop, moving to one side to keep Sarah in his line of vision as more guests joined the procession.

"Easy, Bartowski." Casey's quiet warning startled Chuck, and he removed the earwig, dropping it into his jacket pocket. He took a few steps closer to Sarah, paying no mind to the people who bumped against him as he moved forward without taking his eyes off her.

She said something to the agent, with a half-smile, and he said something in return. His free hand roamed her body, and then he kissed her forcefully. She leaned back and managed to break off the kiss, and then she looked away, searching.

Chuck moved more quickly, closing the distance between them. He saw her searching, and then her eyes rested upon him. The intensity of her gaze was like electricity shooting along a copper wire. He knew immediately. Something's wrong.

She coughed. Twice. The signal for Chuck to leave the area and call for back-up. But he never saw it. Instead, he was already shoving his way into the crowd, pushing people aside with frustration as he ran to her. The crowd stirred, and people began to back away from Chuck, allowing him a clearer path. The agent, who had twisted Sarah's arm behind her back, looked up as Chuck approached, but it was too late. Chuck ran full force into the man, bowling him over backwards. Someone in the crowd screamed, and people began to flee the room, racing up the staircase in a panic.

Unable to compete with his own momentum, Chuck also skidded to the floor, knocking into a pedestal. A ceramic sculpture fell with a crash; the pieces flew in every direction. The agent recovered quickly, scrambling to his feet and racing for the stained-glass windows along a portion of the south wall. Chuck grabbed at the man's legs as he ran by, and the man fell on top of him. They struggled for a moment, and then the man broke free and stood up, drawing a gun.

"Walker!" Casey bellowed from the top of the stairs and Sarah looked up. The Fulcrum agent looked up as well, pulling the trigger. The shot was loud, even over the din of the crowd surrounding them. Casey tossed a gun down to Sarah and then started down the steps, trying to push past the onslaught of people climbing upward. She turned to aim it at the agent, but he had fled to the south wall, shooting out the glass in front of him as he made his escape. She ran over to Chuck, who was struggling to his feet.

"Are you hit?" she asked, her eyes scanning his body for wounds.

Chuck shook his head. "No, he missed," he said, catching his breath. "Casey must have distracted him." He ran his hands over his chest to make sure. "Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"What the hell was that, Bartowski?" yelled Casey, coming up to them.

Chuck just blinked at him.

"Get him out of here, Casey," said Sarah, pulling out her cell. She walked away, speaking to someone on the phone.

Casey grabbed the back of Chuck's tuxedo jacket and pushed him up the steps and out of the hotel, dodging photographers. They got into the limousine and waited for Sarah.

Chuck watched with amazement as nearly every LA cop car arrived in force, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Oh crap, he thought.

The door opened and Sarah climbed in.

"What the hell is going on?" Casey demanded, his blue eyes flashing.

"I don't know," Chuck said softly, staring out the window.

Sarah's phone beeped and she picked it up and listened for a moment. "I'll send someone over," she said into the phone.

"Chuck," Casey started.

"Casey," Sarah interrupted. "I asked the local PD for help. They collared him six blocks from here. You can pick him up at the station."

"Fine," said Casey, glaring at the back of Chuck's head. He got out of the car.

"Buy More Corporate Headquarters," Sarah told the driver.

They rode in silence. Chuck never turned from the window.

***

Casey pushed his way through the small crowd of people around the police station. Some were reporters, shouting questions like "Is it true that Chuck Bartowski, Chairman and CEO of Buy More Corporation, killed a man at the art gala today?" and "Can you tell us if Chuck Bartowski, Chairman and CEO of Buy More Corporation, is the long lost son of the deceased Moses Finkelstein, Founder and former CEO of Buy More Corporation?" Casey rolled his eyes.

A pair of officers guarded the steps leading into the station. Casey flashed his badge at them. "FBI," he said curtly. They let him pass and he entered the station. He looked around at the chaos; clusters of officers filled the room, talking excitedly about the incident. A pair of hookers cuffed to a bench whined about being hungry. A man dressed in a trench coat was arguing vehemently with a woman behind the desk.

"My neighbor's dog crapped in my yard for the last time," he was saying. "If you don't do something about it, I'm going to shoot it!" He pulled out his gun. The woman ducked behind the counter, every cop in the station drew their weapon, and one of the hookers screamed. "What?" said the man, "I gotta permit!" Two of the officers grabbed him and wrestled him to the floor, disarming him and cuffing his hands together.

Casey watched the scene with amusement, and then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and was surprised to be looking down at none other than Captain Anders. She had helped them with the Buy More Bomber case, and for some reason, had taken a shine to him. Casey groaned inwardly.

"I'm just here to pick up. . ." he began.

Anders squinted up at him, inhaled deeply of her cigarette, and blew a puff of smoke up at him. "Well, well, well," she said in her raspy voice. "If it isn't sweet cheeks himself. Mr. F. B. I. We got your perp," she said consolingly. She pointed down a hallway. "After you," she said, stepping back to admire him from the rear. "Mmmm, hmmm," she said.

Casey turned around and raised his eyebrows. She flashed an innocent smile at him, and then gestured for him to continue. They turned and entered a room with a holding area. The ex-Mossad agent was sitting on a bench in the empty cell.

"That's him," said Casey.

Anders took a clipboard from the small desk and thrust it at him. "Sign on the dotted line and he's all yours," she said. "You want some back-up on this, sweet cheeks?" She smiled up at him, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "I mean, apparently this guy is pretty slippery, eh?" She laughed hoarsely, and then coughed.

Casey narrowed his eyes. "Smoking is hazardous to your health."

"Aww. I didn't know you cared, sugar lips."

Casey gritted his teeth, signed, and handed her the clipboard. She unlocked the cell and, as he herded the agent toward the backdoor of the station, Anders gave Casey's left buttock a good squeeze. He whirled around, his eyes wide with shock. Anders stood a few feet back, her blue eyes crinkled with laughter. "Don't be a stranger, Johnny," she said.

Casey stared at her for a moment, his face slightly red. "Right," he grunted. He rushed the prisoner out the door and into the waiting car. I'm gonna kill Chuck for this.

Anders leaned in the doorway, watching the car leave. She took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. That's one fine man, she thought, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her boot. I gotta get me some of that.

***

After Sarah had updated Beckman on the mission status, she joined Chuck in the oval office of Level Ten, the new headquarters for Team Bartowski. He was standing, looking up at the large portrait of Moses Finkelstein, Founder and former CEO of Buy More Corporation. He turned as she entered the room, giving her a small smile. "I miss him sometimes," he said quietly.

Surprised by his statement, Sarah said nothing.

Chuck sighed and then he hiked himself up onto the massive wooden desk, swinging his legs as he sat there with his head hanging down. "I can't do this anymore."

Sarah stepped closer. "Chuck," she began.

He interrupted her. "No, listen, Sarah." He looked up at her. "I'm not going to just stand by when you might be in trouble. "

"Chuck. . ."

"I'm not the kind of guy who can stay in the car, Sarah, and I never will be," he said quickly. "And there's something else."

Sarah braced herself, wondering what he was struggling to say. He looked so damn vulnerable, with his jacket off and his tussled hair. She wanted to touch him, but stopped herself.

He took a deep breath. "You know how much I care about you, and I know that you care about me, too. But these last few weeks. . ." He looked away. "I feel like I'm losing you."

Losing me? Why would he think that? She frowned, thinking. She had been focused on work lately. And maybe, she was using that as an excuse, now that she thought about it. An excuse to avoid expressing how she felt about him. She had never been very good at that; it went against her training, and even more, it went against her own sense of security. Does it have to be so complicated? Suddenly, she realized that it didn't have to be, and she knew what to do.

"Chuck," she began. "Thank you."

Surprised, Chuck looked at her. "Thank you?"

Sarah climbed onto the desk and sat beside him so that their shoulders were touching. "Yes. The mark made me, Chuck. He tried to hide it by pretending to make a move on me. He searched me and told me that he was taking me outside, and that if I put up a fight, he would start shooting the civilians."

Chuck gritted his teeth.

"I did give you the signal to get back-up, but by the time Casey would have come. . . I might have been in some serious trouble, or innocent people might have gotten hurt." She paused. "I wanted you to do something, Chuck, and somehow, you knew it." She laughed softly. "Of course, I didn't expect you to run him over like a freight train."

Chuck smiled, and felt the tension melting away. "Well," he said, somewhat bashfully, "you know how I like to make a grand entrance."

She smiled back at him. "And you're right about things being off between us. I think I can fix that," she said, taking his hand in hers. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment.

Casey entered the room. "All right, Bartowski, what happened out there?" He pulled up short, looking at them.

"He did what he always does, Casey. He saved the day," said Sarah, smiling.

Casey narrowed his eyes and grunted. "Beckman just called. We're to interrogate the prisoner and report back to her tonight."

Chuck groaned.

"No," said Sarah. "Chuck and I have other plans."

Chuck looked at her. "We do?"

She raised her eyebrows and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Uh, yeah. We do," Chuck said.

Sarah jumped down and pulled Chuck after her, still holding his hand.

"But Beckman wants it done tonight," Casey repeated, a little less certain.

"Nope. Other plans." She led Chuck past Casey toward the door. Chuck gave Casey an innocent look and a shrug of his shoulders.

It's about time those two got back on track, Casey thought after they left. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to working over the prisoner. Well, he decided. If they can have other plans, so can I. He pulled out his cell phone and entered a number. Sarah's doctor had given him her personal phone number, in case he had any concerns about Sarah's surgery or recovery. He remembered her smile, and the way she had looked at him.

"Hello?" a voice asked over the phone.

"Hello Doctor, this is Agent Casey. . ."

The End