This is a special fic in honor of Poa. Friend, editor, collaborator and rabid Casey afficionado. You know why, Poa.
CHUCK VERSUS THE MYSTERIOUS BEHAVIOR
It was, as usual, a slow day at the Orange Orange. Sometimes, Sarah wondered why no one ever questioned how the yoghurt shop could stay in business with its dearth of customers and the fact that it tended to close at odd times (when Team Bartowski was called away on a mission). Of course, the 'closing at odd times' might be the very reason there weren't very many customers. After all, why head over to the local yogurt shop when there was a fifty-fifty chance it would be closed for the day.
Sarah spent the time, as usual, wiping down the counters. The shop had to have some of the cleanest counters in all of Burbank. The sound of the little bell on the door snapped her out of her reverie and she glanced up quickly while reaching under the counter for her Smith & Wesson 5906. She relaxed upon seeing that it was Chuck, her cover boyfriend and slid the weapon back behind the container of chocolate sprinkles.
Sarah grinned. It was hard not to smile upon seeing Chuck. Chuck radiated 'happy' the way her NSA counterpart, John Casey, radiated 'Get-out-of-my-face-or-I-will-break-every-bone-in-your-body.'
"Hi, Chuck," Sarah said, dropping the towel and coming around the counter to give Chuck a little peck on the lips. "You're early. I thought your lunch shift didn't start until 12:30?"
Chuck blushed a little at the kiss and smiled that goofy, heartwarming smile of his. "It was slow so I snuck out early. Besides, I couldn't take any more of Emmett's Halloween decorations. The whole store is orange." He paused, looking around at the light blue and orange decor of Sarah's workplace. "Not that there's anything wrong with orange," he said. "Orange is a very happy color that, um, reminds me of a very tasty breakfast beverage."
Sarah laughed and walked back behind the counter. "So what'll it be today, sir? The mango raspberry swirl with apple chips?"
Chuck laughed and held up a bag. "No offense, Sarah, but I'm all yoghurted out for the week. I got us a couple five dollar footlongs from Subway, if that's okay."
"Chicken teriyaki with sweet onion and extra pickles?" Sarah asked hopefully.
Chuck handed her the bag. "And jalapeño Sun Chips," Chuck said. "I know what my sweetie likes." He froze, realizing he had just caused Sarah his 'sweetie' in a non-cover situation.
Sarah, looking a little embarrassed herself, smiled and accepted the bag from Chuck. "Thanks, sweetie," she couldn't help teasing.
"Upstairs or downstairs?" Chuck asked quickly, trying to gloss over the awkward moment. He nodded toward the freezer that held the entrance to the Castle, the CIA secret facility underneath the yoghurt shop.
"It's probably best for our cover if we eat up here," Sarah said. "I was just thinking that I have to close the shop too often. Beside," she added with a sly smile, "it can't hurt to have people seeing me having lunch with 'my sweetie'."
Chuck blushed again, and quickly began emptying the Subway bags on one of the yoghurt shop tables. Sarah grabbed them two bottles of water from the shop's cooler, placed one in front of Chuck and one at her own place, then sat down opposite Chuck, a broad smile on her face.
They began their repast, with each glancing up occasionally at the other, then glancing down quickly when it appeared the other might look up.
"So how are Ellie and the Captain?" Sarah finally asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.
"Thur fune," Chuck said quickly, and then swallowed his mouthful of sandwich and started over. "They're fine," he said. "That reminds me. Ellie wanted me to see if you wanted to join her book club."
He looked up at Sarah hopefully. He really wanted Sarah and Ellie to get along. When the look on her face told him that Sarah was going to say "no", he quickly cut in. "Oh, it's not some snooty thing. They aren't reading War and Peace or anything. In fact, I think this month they're reading Janet Evanovich's One for the Money."
Sarah looked at his hopeful face and sighed. "We'll see, Chuck," she said.
They ate for a little while more in silence.
"Any more word on when the new Intersect will be up and running?" Chuck asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Sarah shrugged. "Last I heard, sometime in March. Although there were some rumors they could be ready for a test run at the end of this month or the beginning of November."
They ate for a little while longer in silence.
Finally, Chuck spoke up again. "I'm worried about Casey," he said.
Sarah set down her sandwich. "Excuse me?"
"I'm worried about Casey," Chuck repeated. "He doesn't have any friends. He doesn't go out. I think when he's not at work or on a mission, he's sitting at home watching the surveillance from my apartment. He's got to be lonely."
"Chuck," Sarah said, a note of caution in her voice. "I don't think you should..."
"Maybe a pet," Chuck continued. "I was thinking of getting him a bird. Do you think he'd like a cockatiel?"
Sarah stifled a laugh. It was hard to imagine the cold school killer John Casey with a pet. Unless maybe a cobra he milked for its venom to use on some unsuspecting Fulcrum agent.
"Chuck," Sarah tried again. "I don't think Casey is really a pet kind of guy."
"Well, we have to do something," Chuck protested. "It's not normal for a guy to be alone so much. Know anyone we could fix him up with? Jeff said he met this really nice police captain during his last arrest that he said seemed like Casey's type. He said she seemed like Casey's type. And by that I think he meant scary."
"Chuck, if Casey find out you're messing in his personal life, he'll... Well, let's just say I don't want to see you in traction."
Chuck frowned. Sarah sighed. Chuck wasn't exactly the kind to let something like this drop. Especially for someone he cared about and as much as neither one wanted to admit it, Chuck and Casey had developed a real brotherly bond. An image popped into Sarah's mind of Chet, the scary older brother from that movie Morgan made them watch the other night, Weird Science (Morgan had speculated that Chuck built Sarah on the computer like Lisa in the movie) and Sarah's unsuccessfully stifled another laugh, sending water up her nose.
This made Chuck laugh at seeing Sarah trying to look like the tough CIA agent while wiping away the water coming out of her nose.
After a couple minutes of reflexive giggles, they calmed down and Sarah asked, "What brought this on, anyway? This sudden interest in Casey's personal life?"
"You mean lack of a personal life," Chuck said. "He's just been acting strange lately.' At a quizzical glance from Sarah, he amended, "Okay, stranger than normal, if I can use the word 'normal' in the same sentence with Casey."
The smile quickly faded from Sarah's face. She hadn't noticed anything and it was her job to notice minor details and things out of place. She had come to trust and respect her partner, Casey, but there was still that niggling little piece of her that constantly reminded her that Casey was an NSA assassin. Not only was he trained to kill and incredibly good at it, but he seemed to actually enjoy it. At least he did B.C. - Before Chuck.
"What do you mean 'stranger than normal'?" Sarah asked.
"Well, he's been talked on the cell phone more in the last couple days than usual. And when he takes the calls, he always excused himself and goes somewhere to be alone. I mean, he always used to take calls from Beckman... or any mission-related calls... in front of me. And, I guess, he still is. But he's talking to someone... or several someones... and doesn't want me to hear." His eyes went wide and he suddenly broke into a wide grin. "Hey, you don't think Ilsa's in town, do you?"
Sarah shook her head. "I think the CIA would notify us if a French agent was in town." She paused and thought for a second. She didn't like it. Could Beckman be trying to cut her and the CIA out of the Intersect Project?
"I'll look into it, Chuck," Sarah said. "Just promise me you'll stay away from Casey as much as you can in the meantime. Don't try looking into this on your own, okay?"
Chuck frowned.
Sarah reached across the table and laid a hand on Chuck's. "Please, Chuck? Let me handle Casey?"
Chuck sighed. "Okay," he grumbled. Although Sarah couldn't see that he had his fingers crossed behind his back.
***
Two days later, October 19 to be exact, Chuck and Casey were both working at the Buy More. Chuck noticed that, from the start of his shift, Casey seemed nervous. He seemed to be glancing at his watch every few minutes. Chuck considered calling Sarah, but waited. Maybe he was just imagining it? Besides, Sarah had told him to stay away from Casey. What would she say if she knew he was spying on Casey while he was working?
Chuck bided his time, but continued to watch Casey closely. At one point, Casey went back toward the large appliances, out of Chuck's immediate view from the Nerd Herd desk. Chuck 'casually' made his way out from behind the Nerd Herd counter and 'casually' strode down the far aisle to continue his non-surveillance. He slowly leaned around the aisle end-cap and snuck a peek back at the appliances.
"What the hell are you doing, Bartowski?" he heard a deep voice behind him. Chuck practically jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of Casey's voice behind him.
"Nothing! Nothing!" Chuck said.
Casey grunted. "Have you seen Big Mike?" he asked. "He hasn't been in the last couple days. I have something I need to ask him."
"Um, ah," Chuck stammered, trying to get his heart to quick trying to jackhammer its way out of his chest. "Big Mike went on a fishing trip with some of his old football buddies," he said. "Didn't you get the email?"
Casey just grunted.
"Anyway, whatever it is, couldn't you ask Emmett?"
Casey grunted something that sounded like 'as if' and strode off. Chuck let out the breath he was holding and watched Casey's back disappear around the end of the aisle. 'Okay,' he thought, 'something really is going on. He didn't even say a word about me trying to spy on him.'
Suddenly, Casey's head popped back from behind the end of the aisle. "And Bartowski," he barked. "Leave the spying to the professionals."
Not, of course, that he did. He still tried to keep an eye on Casey without seeming to keep an eye on Casey.
The later the evening got, the more agitated Casey seemed to grow. Finally, about 7:30, Casey strode over to the Nerd Herd desk and glowered at Chuck. "Cover for me," he said. "I have to leave."
"What's up?" Chuck asked. "Is it a mission?"
"None of your business, Bartowski," Casey said. "Just cover for me. I'll be back in tomorrow."
"Um, yeah, ah, sure, buddy," Chuck stammered.
Casey narrowed his eyes. "Never call me that," he said. "You call Morgan that, I don't want any guilt by association." Then he turned and strode out the back of the store.
Chuck blinked in surprise. That sounded remarkably like a joke. Casey told a joke?
He shook his head and looked around. Casey was just disappearing through the door to the back of the store and the loading dock. Chuck looked frantically around. "Morgan!" he called. "Hey, Morgan, little buddy! Come here!"
"Hey, Chuck. What's up?" Morgan asked.
"No time to explain," Chuck said quickly. "Code red. I need you to cover for Casey and me with Emmett. We need to go."
Morgan frowned. "You and... Casey? Is there something you need to be telling me, Chuck?"
Chuck grabbed the keys to the Nerd Herder and started out around the counter. "Morgan, please. I don't have time to explain. Just cover and I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure, Chuck," Morgan said, as Chuck hurried to follow Casey. "Cause that's what best friends do, they cover for each other," he called after Chuck's retreating back. "Best friends," he emphasized. "Chuck and Morgan. Morgan and Chuck."
By now Chuck was out the door. "Who are you talking to, Grimes?" Emmett asked, sauntering up to the now-empty Nerd Herd booth.
"Um, ah, just myself, sir," Morgan said.
"Where's Bartowski?" Emmett asked.
"Video install," Morgan said.
"Oh really?" Emmett said. "What about John Casey?"
"Well, it was a really big install and Chuck needed some extra muscle," Morgan explained.
"Why wasn't I consulted?" Emmett screeched.
"You were, ah, busy. Looking for Jeff. To, ah, yell at him for leaving beer bottles in the install bay again," Morgan said.
Emmett frowned. "I was?"
"Yeah," Morgan nodded.
Emmett looked down and his eyes darted quickly left, right, left, as if he was trying to process this information. Then he looked up, spun around, and bellowed, "Barnes!"
***
Chuck climbed into the Nerd Herder and fired it up. He glanced over quickly. Casey's dark blue Crown Vic was squealing out of the parking lot. Chuck looked up at the Nerd Herd roof and muttered, "What were those tailing rules again? Thirty feet? Thirty yards?" He watched the vanishing Crown Vic taillights. "Oh, the heck with it."
He threw the Nerd Herder in gear and gunned the engine to follow Casey.
Traffic, fortunately, was heavy so it was easy for Chuck to keep the Crown Vic in sight. To Chuck's surprise, Casey headed straight for his apartment. He pulled the Vic into his parking spot, jumped out, and practically ran inside. Chuck parked down the block and cut the engine, but waiting in the car. For some reason, he had the feeling that Casey would be back out soon.
Of course, Chuck lacked the patience every real spy needed for a true stakeout. He waited all of seven minutes before he opened the car door and started to get out. Just then, Casey came running out wearing khaki slacks, a white button down and a blue blazer. Chuck dove back into the Herder before Casey spotted him.
Casey made cursory glance around before climbing into the Crown Vic and taking off once again. He drove right past the Nerd Herder while Chuck ducked down low in the seat.
Chuck popped up, started the Herder, and threw it in gear. He spun around, barely missing a taxi driving past and the Herder's tires squealed as he weaved down the street in hot pursuit of his NSA handler's car.
Again, heavy traffic meant that Casey couldn't get too far ahead of him and it was easy to keep a couple cars between the Nerd Herder and the Crown Vic. Fortunately also, it was a short drive before Casey pulled into the parking lot of an old warehouse. Light shown through the high, dirty windows. Several cars and a van with handicapped license plates were parked in front of the warehouse. Casey pulled up at the end of the row of cars and got out.
Chuck quickly pulled in to a lot across the street and shut off the Nerd Herder's headlights. Casey glanced around again, but apparently didn't see Chuck. He walked over to the front of the warehouse. There was a brief flare of light as he opened the door, which was extinguished again as he stepped through and shut the door behind him.
Chuck frowned. What was Casey up to? What kind of clandestine meeting was this?
Chuck pulled out his iPhone and scrolled down to Sarah's number, and then paused. What could he tell her? 'I know you said to stay away from Casey, but I trailed him to this creepy old warehouse and now he's meeting with the Russian Mafia or a Fulcrum cell or God knows what.'
He slipped the phone back in the pocket of his Buy More windbreaker and got out of the car. Maybe it was something completely innocent? "Yeah," Chuck muttered to himself. "It's his weekly poker game, which he holds in an abandon warehouse because it has such charming ambiance."
He 'stealthily' crept across the street and looked over the imposing warehouse. He couldn't just barge in the front door, and the windows were up too high to look into. He frowned in frustration and walked around to the side of the warehouse.
"Aha," he muttered. There was a stack of crates piled against the wall of the warehouse. They reached up as high as the windows.
He walked over the crates. They looked old and rather dilapidated. He pushed on one. At least it didn't immediately crumble into dust. With a sigh, he started climbing.
"Ow!" he yell-whispered halfway up as he felt a splinted bury itself in his palm. "Dammit," he whispered, sucking on his palm and shaking it. He looked back down at the ground and then up at the window. It seemed a lot higher up once you were halfway up a rickety stack of old packing crates.
"Come on, Chuck," he chided himself and started climbing again. He hadn't gotten but another two or three feet when he heard a groan and the pile started to shift. He squealed and flattened himself against the crates. "I'm gonna die," he moaned.
"Bartowski," a voice boomed from below. "Not that this isn't entertaining and it might be rather fun to watch you fall and break your neck, why don't you come down from there?"
Chuck looked down. Casey was standing at the base of the crate pyramid, shaking his head, his hands on his hips. He was flanked by two rather large men in black military gear, their hands resting on the large guns in holsters on their hips.
Chuck bit his lip, sighed, and then started to climb back down.
He finally reached the ground and stood before Casey, head down, eyes firmly fixed on Casey's spit-shined black shoes. Casey turned to the men to either side. "It's okay, guys, he's a friendly... sort of. I'll take it from here."
Casey turned and watched the two men disappear around the corner of the building, and then turned back to Chuck. There was long silence as Chuck waited for the inevitable explosion. He kept staring at Casey's shoes, his shoulders hunched against the coming wordstorm.
Then he heard the last thing he expected. A snort. He glanced minisculely up and looked at Casey. He was laughing!
"You know, Bartowski, you're the worst spy ever. You couldn't tail my grandmother. Haven't you paid any attention at all?"
Chuck licked his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat, but remained silent. He was guessing it was a rhetorical question.
Casey sighed and shook his head. "Why the hell I didn't bother to lose you, I'll never know. But you're here now, so you might as well come inside."
"Listen, Casey," Chuck stammered. "I can forget I was ever here. Whatever you're doing here, as far as I'm concerned it never happened. I can just jump in the Herder..."
Casey held up a hand. "Stop and take a deep breath before you wet yourself, Bartowski. Yes, you are going to forget you were ever here. And yes, I'm going to flay you to within an inch of your life for breaking protocol, and no doubt Walker's explicit instructions, and following me here. But first, you can have some cake and meet my Mom." He turned and started walking toward the front of the warehouse.
"Your... Mom?!?!" Chuck managed to choke out.
Casey stopped and turned back around. "Yeah," he said. "She's been wanting to meet some of the people I've been working with out here. I guess you'll do. Now come on."
"Your Mom?" Chuck gasped again.
Casey grabbed Chuck by the arm and pulled him forward. "I wasn't hatched, you know. And let me make this clear. Any questions to any of these people about me, or my past, and I will end you. Is that clear?"
"Yeah," Chuck squeaked. "No questions. But, who are these people?"
Casey stopped and took a deep breath. "My family and friends," Casey said. "It's a party." He started walking again. They reached the door at the front of the warehouse and Casey paused again.
"What kind of party?" Chuck asked.
Casey yanked open the door. A blast of light and music washed over them.
"My birthday party," Casey snarled, and then pulled Chuck inside.