Chuck vs. the CIA
Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own any of the characters in this story...sigh.
A/N: Chuck/Sarah, with plenty of verbal abuse from Casey. You've gotta love him, right?
"Hey, hey, buddy! A little help here?" Morgan wheezed, in the death grip of Casey's fingers.
"Casey! Put him down!" Chuck whisper shouted, eyes practically bugging out of his head. "We all know you'd just love to kill Morgan, you don't have to prove it!"
Casey slowly lowered him down, and Morgan collapsed. A small smile of malicious contentment lit up his face.
"Okay, okay, what did he do?" Chuck asked, in soothing tones, Casey's eyes still glaring with hatred at the motionless lump of scum laying on the Buy More floor.
"It talks." Chuck rolled his eyes, and left the murderous Casey to his own demons.
He walked out the door, heading over to the Wienerlicious. He paused a moment before entering, when he caught sight of Sarah, in all her glory, in the demeaning ethnic outfit, rotating burnt hot dogs. God, was she ever perfect.
"Hey," he said, casually walking into the restaurant. Her eyes lit up for a moment, and she smiled, happy as ever. Remembering the professional side of her job, she cleared her throat, and tried to look down to business.
"Is something wrong? Did you flash?" she asked. For once, Chuck wished there was something else she could ask him first.
"No, but I'm allowed to get hungry, right? I've been in the mood for some gourmet… erm… wieners," he said, eyeing the burnt pieces of God knows what, on the verge of setting off the smoke alarm.
"Then why in the world would you come when I was on the cooking shift?" Sarah asked, the warm gleam entering her features again. Thank God. Nothing was wrong.
"Yeah, you might wanna take those little buggers off the high heat now, huh," Chuck suggested, and after smiling at him, Sarah turned around and groaned.
"Oh my God! Ugh! That's the third batch I've ruined today," she said, her head in her hands. "You'd think the number one agent in the CIA could at least manage to roast hot dogs without burning the store down." Chuck took her hands in his, not thinking. She laid her head against his, feeling his cheek. She became suddenly aware of a customer in the store, and broke away, flushing. Chuck awkwardly stepped back, and avoided the eyes of the man now buying hot dogs. Instead, his eyes fell on the pin attached to the vest pocket of his black leather jacket, and images rushed to his eyes without warning. A table of people in formal outfits… an explosion… a fake passport with several different identities… a safari scene in Africa, and a man thrown from the top of a building…
Sarah became aware of the glazed over look in Chuck's eyes, and her mind began working on high speed to create a distraction. When the man looked down at his watch, she flung the ketchup across the floor.
"Oh, no! Please excuse me, one moment. Mr. Carmichael, will you please help me reach get some more ketchup?" She cast a meaningful glance toward Chuck.
"Hey, lady, I'm on a tight schedule. Skip the ketchup, and get going." He checked his watch again, and glared at Sarah. It was all she could do not to point a gun to his head then and there. Wow, she thought, I must be pretty strung out if I'm thinking like Casey.
She did her best to smile innocently. "I'm sorry, sir, but the Wienerlicious is dedicated to complete customer satisfaction. I'll have your ketchup ready as soon as possible." She dragged Chuck into the storage room. He was eyeing the man with such fear, she knew it couldn't be good. "Spill it."
"Edward Blonning." Chuck shuddered. "Major assassin. Works for whoever, reportedly has no soul. He just returned from Africa, and has orders to eliminate a board of diplomats in Sacramento."
"Who hired him, Chuck? Chuck?" Sarah's harshness turned into concern.
"I'm- I'm really not sure, it was unclear, I saw but it…" he looked down. He really wished he was better at lying. Sarah obviously saw right through it.
"The- the CIA."
--
Leaving Chuck in the closet, Sarah crept into the front of the store. From her vantage point, she could see Blonning, but he couldn't see her. He looked extremely irritated. "Hey, lady, cut the makeout session, and gimme my damn hot dog." Sarah had meant to attack immediately, as was obvious from her stance, and the way her glock was pointed directly at Blonning's head, but she was lost in thought. Her original plan was to cuff him, and somehow smuggle him into the home theater room, but she wondered if she should just kill him on the spot, and discretely deposit the body somewhere. But why would the CIA hire an assassin the kill Californian diplomats? There had to be an underlying meaning, but to use a rogue killer? She sighed. And then she realized she really shouldn't have sighed. Blonning shifted to the right, a puzzled expression on his face. They locked eyes, and the fight began.
--Chuck had been shaking in the closet, wondering why he couldn't be the teeniest bit more stable after being so caught up in federal agencies for so long, when he heard the first loud noise. Was it a chair being broken over someone's head, or maybe a table being thrown across the room? Oh God not Sarah…oh, God, not Sarah… he kept chanting those four words in his head, he didn't even notice when he started saying them out loud.
--Sarah and Blonning stopped dead when they heard the desperate whispers in the closet. Blonning had had leverage, but Sarah gained her ground back until they were even- walking delicately in a circle, guns out.
"So, what about your little boy toy, Mr. … what was it? Carmichael?" Thank God I didn't give out his real name, Sarah thought thankfully. "Is he in on this, too? And how did you recognize me?"
"I don't recognize you. I just prepare myself when people carrying 9 mm pistols come into my store."
"Who are you, and who do you work for, Blondie? And don't say Wienerlicious, we both know you're much more than a hot dog seller. As for me? I'm a world famous assassin, who sold his soul to the devil for a dime." Blonning laughed darkly. "Well, now that I think of it, I remember it being much more than a dime."
--Chuck noticed the silence. Already, he could picture Sarah's dead body, and Blonning walking out of the store triumphantly. What if Sarah was in trouble? And he was just sitting in the closet? But then again, he couldn't really do anything but screw everything up, since that's what he tended to do whenever he left the safe spot he was supposed to be in. It always ended up okay, though, he reassured himself, and got the courage to open the door a crack…
--Sarah had just swung a powerful roundhouse kick to the back of Blonning's head when he suddenly grabbed both her arms behind her back and, grimacing at his major headache, twisted them up until her gun fell. He was about to grab it, when both agents stopped at the sound of a door creaking open.
"Shut the damn door, before I go over and shut it for you!" Sarah growled, as Blonning, laughing at the terrified face that peeked out, lost control, and Sarah had just enough time to shove her knee up into his groin, and land a couple of well-placed punches.
"Run, Chuck!" she screamed. "Get Casey!"
-- "Get Casey, get Casey, get Casey, get Casey!" Chuck repeated to himself as he shot into the Buy More, and began running in circles until he literally ran into the wall of an agent.
"Watch it, Bartowski," Casey growled, glaring at the pathetic little nerd that stood before him.
"Emergency, Casey, major emergency!" Chuck screeched, stuttering. Casey's eyes widened.
"Hey, Chuck, we've got a problem," Big Mike boomed from three aisles down. "I don't care about whatever it is you're screamin' about, but we've got a customer and only two useless boneheads to help her." Lester and Jeff cleared their throats, and Big Mike rolled his eyes.
"Wienerlicious," Chuck choked out, and Casey jogged out of the store heroically.
"We aren't totally useless boneheads," Lester told Chuck. "Give us another hour and a manual of basic computer programming, and it's a possibility we could actually solve this puppy."
--Casey stared at the Wienerlicious in amusement and horror. It was a bad decision the executive store manager made the day when he hired Sarah. The entire store was in disarray- tables cracked in half, windows broken, chairs split over counters, and rubble everywhere, covered in a thin layer of hot dog grease. Sarah sat on the front step outside, her head in her hands. She only had three words to say, and Casey already knew them even before they were out of her mouth.
"He got away."
This is my first fanfic, and I don't really think I captured the characters very well, but I'm working on it. Hopefully, my Chuck writings will improve in later chapters. Thanks for reading!