A/N: Hey, guys.
It'll likely come as a shocker given the title and summary, but this story was meant to be posted on Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, I couldn't finish it on time for the holiday, mostly because it was only supposed to be a ficlet and it turned out to be a lot longer. In any case, I'm posting it now, and hopefully you'll still enjoy it out of context.
I want to thank Frea O'Scanlin for inspiring me to start this story two months ago. Thanks also to BDaddyDL, whose pre-reading and support has been a great help to me. And thank you to beta extraordinaire mxpw, who's awesome, yadda, yadda, yadda. Truly, though, it wouldn't be the same story without his work, insights, and advice. It wouldn't even all be English, so... Thanks, Maximus!
I'm only posting the first half of the story today. No worries, though, the second half is written, beta'd, and ready to be posted. The story won't be left incomplete.
Thanks for reading!
Chuck vs. the Valentine (1/2)
"So, lover boy, what are your plans for the evening?"
Chuck Bartowski, Nerd Herd supervisor, spun slowly around inside the Buy More aisle where a customer had just left him. He narrowed his eyes at the green shirt salesman, who smirked in return. For the next three seconds, Chuck contemplated a life without John Casey tormenting him. Considering how many times the NSA agent had saved his life ever since Bryce Larkin—Chuck's former college roommate/CIA operative—had sent him the Intersect, a life without John Casey would in all likelihood mean that Chuck was dead. So he dismissed the thought quickly and looked around; nobody was in earshot.
"You don't know?" Chuck asked Casey in a serious tone. "I thought Sarah told you. It's all cleared up with G-Becks and Grah'ms." The big guy wouldn't care about the CIA Director, but shortening General Beckman's name was always an assurance to irritate Casey. "I'm taking to dinner a woman that I've met without your knowledge," he went on, "and who can't in any way officially be my girlfriend—because I have a CIA cover girlfriend—but she's totally okay with that. We're going to a restaurant where we can have no privacy whatsoever, you know, being monitored by the government for the entire evening and all. Monitoring, that of course, includes said cover girlfriend and her charming NSA partner. That's you, by the way. Because spending V-Day dinner with you listening and watching my every move is just my idea of fun, Casey."
Chuck's NSA handler grunted—and scorned. "V-Day, eh?"
Naturally, that's all Casey would say. Chuck rolled his eyes.
"You done, Bartowski?"
"Are you?" Chuck trudged back toward the Nerd Herd desk. With Anna having the day off and Skip gone on an install for the majority of the day, he couldn't wait for the—albeit slow-going—day to end. Where the hell had Jeff and Lester disappeared to this time? On Valentine's Day? Surely Chuck's colleagues didn't have plans. No plans that any women were aware of, at least.
Chuck didn't have plans. Casey perfectly knew that. It wasn't a surprise; Chuck hadn't had Valentine's Day plans for the past five years, aside from that one time Ellie had tried to set him up with a pretty brunette doctor from the hospital. She'd never called him back. He didn't blame her; he'd been a total bore. In hindsight, the doctor hadn't been that interesting either. This year, however, his lack of plans annoyed Chuck more than he expected.
"Tux's waiting in the home theater room," Casey said, trailing behind Chuck. "We're leaving as soon as your shift's over."
That hadn't been the sort of plans Chuck had hoped for. It might kind of be, but… "And where are we going, pray tell?"
"Walker's stopping by to brief you," Casey replied.
"Oh?"
"Brief you on the mission," Casey said, as though Chuck had insinuated anything. "Don't get any ideas."
I hadn't! Chuck thought.
"Be ready on time." Casey left.
How come Casey could leave? Where was he going? NSA agents had all the luck, Chuck decided. He changed his mind instantly because, as announced, Sarah appeared at the main entrance in her Wienerlicious uniform. Fine, he had to admit to himself, as far as cover girlfriends went—and cover girlfriend's cover job uniforms—Chuck had indubitably lucked out.
"Busy day?" his CIA handler asked when she reached him, amused. He'd been staring as she approached. Again.
Chuck averted his eyes and tried to shrug innocently. "Um, what's that I hear about tonight?"
Though he hadn't seen any of his co-workers around, Sarah leaned on the desk to greet him the way a real girlfriend would. Chuck met her halfway to smooch a kiss. Leaning back, he resisted the impulse to lick his lips as he watched Sarah seize the end of his tie that had fallen on top of the counter. She started playing with the grey material. His perpetual clumsiness notwithstanding, which Chuck felt was only legitimate when being around a woman as remarkable as Sarah Walker, sometimes he thought that they actually looked natural together.
"It's about yesterday's flash," Sarah told him, her voice low. On his way to a customer's the day before, the Top Secret governmental computer database inside Chuck's brain had caught sight of an arms dealer. Chuck had passed the information on to his handlers, then had kept on with his day as ordered, his job done. Or so Chuck had thought. "Robert Innhood is going to be at the Arrowed Hearts gala tonight."
"The Arrowed Hearts gala?"
"It's a Valentine's Day gala organized to raise awareness of heart disease. We think Innhood might go there to meet with a client."
"But, another gala?" Chuck asked. "This is ridiculous. Is that all bad guys do? Going to galas, or art auctions, or…cocktail soirées?"
The real ridiculous part was that Chuck's only chance to spend the day of St. Valentine with his girlfriend was to spend the evening on an espionage mission for the U.S. government. Granted, Sarah wasn't actually his girlfriend, but it irked all the same.
"We need you to go, in case you recogniz—"
"Yeah, yeah," Chuck cut Sarah off. "You need the Intersect to flash. I get it." Sarah frowned slightly. It was her adorable frown, not the annoyed one. Since he wasn't sure why she did it, Chuck carried on. "Who goes to a gala for Valentine's Day, anyway? Talk about intimate setting."
"I guess criminals don't care about a commercial holiday about dating," Sarah said. "Color me shocked."
Chuck tilted his head to the side, conceding the point. "At least Ellie will be thrilled," he said.
Sarah grimaced. "Do you have to tell her?"
Chuck felt his eyebrows go up. Sarah didn't ask Chuck what he had to tell his sister, she told him what he had to say. He couldn't help but smile; Chuck's family and friends overwhelmed her, he knew, even if Sarah didn't let it show very often. And with the recent engagement of his sister, it wasn't going to get any easier. Captain Awesome and Ellie weren't in a hurry with the wedding and would take their time to plan the big day, but that only meant more hours discussing family, acquaintances, dresses, flowers, decoration, etc., and ultimately, it meant more trouble for Sarah—and for Chuck. Not that he could ever hope to have a better date for the wedding—if it'd been remotely real.
It wasn't.
"We're going as guests, right?" Chuck tried not to think about the dress Sarah had worn at the last shindig they'd been to together. She'd looked stunning, even more than usual, if that was possible. Then he remembered the Lon Kirk debacle: Sarah's flirting with the billionaire philanthropist/counterfeited money launderer—for work—before she and Chuck could talk about the kiss they had shared a few days previously; their fight on the subject and the way Sarah had called what had happened between them "a mistake"; and the "let's be friends" agreement they had come to afterwards. Things were fine at present, water under the bridge, and after the risks Sarah had taken for Chuck so he wouldn't get bunkerized following a security breach a few weeks ago, he knew for certain the kiss had meant something. Whatever that was. Nevertheless, Valentine's Day wasn't the day to reminisce on the events. Chuck pushed the thoughts away. "I mean, you and me?"
"Mhm," Sarah hummed, in that non-committal way she had. It sort of infuriated him. It was adorable, sure, but he could never tell what she was really thinking. That was undoubtedly the entire point.
"Then, knowing about your boyfriend," Chuck said, "your friends insisted on you canceling your previous engagement with them"—the one she supposedly had had for months, saving she and Chuck from celebrating the couple's holiday together—"in light of the invitation for the gala you received from some acquaintances of yours." He frowned to himself. That was a perfect cover story for Ellie and his best friend, Morgan. Sometimes, he was getting way too good at this lying game to his liking. Chuck turned his eyes back to Sarah, who was looking at him strangely.
"Yes," she said, her face recovering a neutral expression. "That's…good."
"Bartowski!" Big Mike called out. "Does this look like a dating office to you, son?"
"No, sir," Chuck replied, shaking his head at his boss in what he hoped was an apologetic gesture. Not that he was sorry. There weren't any customers around, and it was Sarah he was talking to. Big Mike would berate him more if he didn't chat from time to time with his unbelievably gorgeous girlfriend, who just so happened to work next door.
Sarah looked down at her watch. "I'm gonna wait in the home theater room," she said.
"You closed the Wienerlicious?"
"Nah, Scooter's still there. And I'm not going back."
Chuck let out a light chuckle. "Bad day?" He moved around the desk to walk with her. It wasn't any more productive to wander around the store than chatting at the Nerd Herd desk, but Big Mike had already gone back to his office anyway.
Sarah shrugged. "The usual."
He hadn't seen her at lunch because Chuck had managed to free his morning in order to get some sleep. He was so tired sometimes. Nerd Herd by day and secret agent by night was not the most restful of jobs.
"I'm sorry." He wasn't just sorry about her day, he was sorry she had to work at the Wienerlicious at all. What a waste of her time and skills. Also, he was sorry that he wasn't sorrier. He couldn't say he wanted her out of there—out of his life.
"It's not your fault that I'm terrible at frying stuff," Sarah said.
"You know," Chuck said and opened the door of the home theater room, "if you didn't call the food you have to fry, 'stuff,' maybe it'd help."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"
Chuck lifted his palms in front of him defensively, but he was smiling. Even better, Sarah was smiling back. "I'm just saying…"
"Uh-huh."
A disgusted grunt interrupted them.
"Hey, Casey," Sarah said, unfazed. Her partner gave her a nod.
"How'd you get in here?" Chuck asked. Casey had swapped his green shirt for a nondescript black polo shirt. "You just left."
The NSA agent gave his asset an apathetic look. "I'm a spy, moron." He shoved a file at Chuck's chest.
"Ow," Chuck said. Casey loved to give him paper cuts. It was a lot more painful and annoying than it sounded, too. "What's this?"
"Info on the gala."
The flash slapped Chuck in the face.
"What did you see?" Sarah asked, before he could grumble about the surprising appearance of Top Secret information in his mind. She had an uncanny ability to know when he'd flashed, even when she didn't see him flashing. Kick-ass-secret-agent power, he figured. Or she was simply being Sarah Walker.
Chuck blinked. "That guy's Joel Le Golas," he said, pointing at one picture. On it, an African-American man in his late thirties with an imposing physique, evoking images of linebacker, had ignited the flash. "He's some kind of businessman, never effectively proved to be involved in criminal activities, but he's been suspected in several crimes. Lately, it's been rumored that he's been looking for—" Chuck raised both his hands and curled his fingers into quotation marks "—'the Valentine.'"
His handlers shot Chuck two blank looks. They waited, presumably for more, eyes darting to one another in question.
"What's 'the Valentine'?" Sarah asked.
Chuck shrugged. "No idea."
"Well, let's find out," Casey said, moving around the coffee table. "Grab your tux." He threw him a black garment bag that Chuck had no chance whatsoever to catch. For one thing, he still had the Arrowed Hearts gala file in hand, and for another, it was him and his reflexes. Had Chuck been ready for it, he might not even have caught the suit. The bag flapped in the air slightly—not much, because Casey hadn't held back his strength—until it unceremoniously landed against Chuck, flattening and sending papers flying.
A shriek left Chuck's throat before he could contain it.
Casey smirked at the mess.
Though her eyes twinkled with what Chuck interpreted as amusement, Sarah shook her head. "Go change when you're done," she told him. "I'll wait for you here while Casey picks up the van."
The NSA agent grunted unhappily.
This time, the smirk came from Chuck.
—o—o—o—
Chuck's earbud crackled to life. "No luck with the geeks at Langley," he heard Casey say.
"Guess we'll have to find out ourselves what the Valentine is," Sarah replied next to him. Both she and Chuck wore microphones—Sarah in the pendant around her neck, Chuck in his bowtie—and they didn't need to activate the communication system to be heard by Casey. Although, they could turn their respective mic off with a switch of their watches if need be. There probably wouldn't be a need for that, sadly. Chuck glanced at Sarah. "How are you doing?" she asked him.
"Fine," Chuck said. Sarah gave him a lopsided smile. "At least, there's free booze," he added, sipping on his martini. He inwardly winced. He really should give up on martinis. So what if Charles Carmichael didn't like James Bond's drink? James Bond didn't have the monopoly on spy drinks. Sarah didn't drink martinis either—he wondered if it was because of the olives—and she'd kick James Bond's butt anytime. Chuck's spy alter-ego should choose his very own spy drink, he decided. "It's more than my evening would have had at home."
Plus, he was technically spending Valentine's Day evening in a tuxedo with Sarah and her immaculate, dark blue cocktail dress. The date wasn't real, but the dress most definitely was, and that was by far better than his original plans.
"Uh," Sarah said.
"Right." Chuck placed his glass on a waiter's tray nearby. "We can have free booze afterwards."
The comm clinked. "Bartowski, I'm not staying to babysit you, so you can get drunk on someone else's money."
"I'll stay," Sarah said. It earned her one of Casey's grunts.
Chuck glanced back at her. She just smiled at him, floatingly. For the life of him, this woman was a mystery. What did she mean by this!? As per usual, he was going to ask just that, because she sure wasn't going to extrapolate on her own initiative.
Sarah beat him to it. "He's here," she said. "Let's move to the bar."
Chuck didn't spot Robert Innhood immediately, but by now he knew better than frantically searching for someone in public. Unless he was freaking out, of course, but he wasn't, he was following Sarah's lead.
Once the arms dealer was well positioned in their field of view, Chuck looked around the ballroom with a little more scrutiny than upon entering. Trying to look natural in his tuxedo was demanding enough in itself, and that was without counting the distraction from Sarah's dress—and Sarah was always a factor, whatever she was wearing. In fact, her gown, though sumptuous and magnifying her eyes, was relatively simple. The cleavage wasn't extravagant; the bodice was fit but not too suggestive; the knee-length skirt flared slightly outward from the waist down and didn't show off too much of Sarah's mile-long legs. Admittedly, it did lead Chuck to wonder how much it would swirl if they were to dance, but it was Sarah. Chuck would wonder the same thing if she was wearing a pant suit. She was that distracting.
As expected, the theme color for the ballroom's decoration was red—in all its hues. Little Cupid statuettes were adorning the giant staircase that led to an overlooking mezzanine area and the rest of the hotel hosting the event—it was one of those that started at the same point on the upstairs level and separated in two curves of stairs right and left. There were roses everywhere. On the tables lighted by chandeliers, white marshmallows and small pink candies were accompanying chocolate pieces. Multiple cocktails had been concocted for the occasion, with lots and lots of cherries. Heart-shaped balloons were hanging from the ceiling, heart-shaped napkins were given out with drinks and food, even heart-shaped confetti were complementing the loving atmosphere, lulled by soft classical music.
It could have been romantic, except that the guests weren't acting any differently than they did at any fancy gathering Chuck had been to since he was involved with the government. They were mingling—not necessarily with their dates either—conversing, boasting about their last weekend in Tahoe, the last painting they bought, or their last multi-million-dollar business deal.
"This is a strange way to spend Valentine's Day," Chuck concluded.
"What is?" Sarah asked. "Being on a mission?"
"No," Chuck said, "that's the usual. No, I'm talking about this party."
"Ah," Sarah said. Her eyes seemed to sweep the room then, as if watching it in a new light. "I guess it is."
"You don't think so?" Chuck asked. "Have you ever been to a Valentine's Day party like this before?" Sarah's eyes flicked away. It was brief, but he caught it. "Oh," Chuck heard himself say as he felt his stomach churn, regardless of the unromantic impression he had of the party.
She had been. Likely with Bryce.
"I have," Sarah admitted. "Though, yeah, never as a personal thing. I was working."
"With Bryce," Chuck said. It was totally her former boyfriend's scene, after all.
"No," Sarah said. "Not with Bryce, actually. But you probably have a point, because aside from the shooting part, it was boring as hell."
Relief, that he didn't have any right to feel, swirled through Chuck's belly and he let out a nervous laugh. "Guess Cupid missed his shot."
"Guess so," Sarah said. "But come on, there isn't one Valentine's Day that you'd rather have spent here than what you actually ended up doing?"
Chuck conceded her the point on that one.
"Free booze, remember," Sarah added.
"I guess today's supposed to be about the company, anyway," Chuck said. "Otherwise, what's the point? Unless there's some shooting."
"Damn right," Casey chimed in. "You two schoolgirls done prattling? Tonight's company's on the move."
Chuck wasn't sure where Casey was, but the agent was right. Innhood had excused himself from the group of guests he'd been discussing with since he'd arrived. He was now circulating the room like everyone else, with a bodyguard pretty much at his arm. They were both white men well in their forties, but where Robert Innhood was of average height and a bit stocky, his escort was as tall as Chuck and athletically slender. The man could have passed for Innhood's date in Chuck's opinion, but Casey and Sarah had noted that he'd been scanning their surroundings in a thorough, regular manner, indicative of professional training.
For the second time that day, Chuck's brain became a highway for Top Secret information as a petite, lovely woman joined the two men. "Um," he said, blinking.
"You flashed?"
"Yeah. The woman's Kate Dennis. She's some kind of chemist. Lost her job at a pharmaceutical firm after an internal scandal two years ago."
Sarah wrapped a hand around Chuck's arm and moved them to a moderate proximity. "It might be just a coincidence," she said.
Over the comm, Casey informed them that Dennis wasn't registered among the hotel's clientele.
"Guest list for the party?" Sarah asked.
"Checking," Casey replied.
Chuck tried to observe the three partygoers with discretion. "Maybe, she's his Valentine," he said, but Sarah flung him a skeptical look. "Innhood met her at a bad guy convention, but before he could know her name or where to find her, she was gone. And today, after a long, laborious search, they finally reunite on Valentine's Day."
Casey growled.
Chuck smiled to himself and decided to keep on aggravating the big guy. It was only fair, Casey was always taunting Chuck about one thing or another. "Love isn't dead for everybody," he said, as he sensed Sarah's fingers squeeze his forearm. He squinted at Dennis in the distance. "What's she doing?"
"She's sliding him a card key," Sarah said.
"Not on the guest list either," Casey confirmed.
"She must be using an alias." Sarah pulled on Chuck's elbow so he would follow. "Or someone else rented the room for her. She's going up."
"I don't know how I feel about spying on them," Chuck said. Innhood had let her go alone, but Chuck figured Sarah assumed the arms dealer would meet Dennis in her hotel room using the card key. "What if they really are, you know…"
"What?" Sarah's attention didn't leave Dennis, though she somehow managed to stir she and Chuck unobtrusively through the crowd. "Lovers?"
"Yeah."
"Lovers or not, we need to know."
"Walker, you need to stall her." Casey's voice sounded loud in Chuck's ear, in comparison to his and Sarah's whispering. "I got the room number from the video surveillance."
Chuck felt a familiar stress-induced heat fill him. "Stall her for what?" he asked.
"So Casey can bug her room," Sarah told him. From her facial expression and the way her eyes seemed to be discerning a million details around them, she was presumably putting a stalling plan together, even as she and Chuck started up the stairs. "You're gonna have to do it."
Or maybe not. "What?"
"Go ride the elevator with her," Sarah said. "And start a conversation."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Chuck said, trying not to trip.
"Talking is all you do all day, Bartowski," Casey said. "For once, make it useful."
"Talk to her about what?"
They didn't answer him. Instead, Sarah pushed something plasticky into Chuck's hand and she shoved him as soon as they reached the floor. "Go!" she said. "Don't freak out, you're gonna be fine." And she disappeared.
Don't freak out.
Right.
His CIA handler had just ditched him, and to add insult to injury, she'd ditched him in order for him—babbling nerd Chuck Bartowski—to initiate a conversation with a beautiful woman. Had Sarah learned nothing about her asset during the past five months? And what happened to her favorite instruction "Stay in the car"?
"Ask Dennis for dating advice," Chuck heard in his ear. Casey wasn't hiding is amusement. "That should give me plenty of time."
"Ha-ha." Chuck cleared his throat and took a deep breath, telling himself that Sarah must have had a good reason for what she'd done. He walked quietly to the elevator and realized that what Sarah had handed him was a card key, similar to the one Dennis had given Innhood. It wasn't a room key like he'd assumed, however, but a magnetic key allowing use of the elevator. Fancy hotels, Chuck thought. He smiled and hoped it didn't look too constipated. What the hell was he going to talk to the other woman about?
Kate Dennis gave him a polite nod while they waited, before a high-pitched outburst over on the mezzanine caught their—and everyone else's—attention. Chuck's gaze followed the sound, seeing two guests engaged in a heated discussion. From the way the woman's eyes shined with unshed tears, whatever they were talking about wasn't going well. When the man, who Chuck assumed was her date, tried to pull the woman close, he was rebuffed and his peace offer ignored. He continued trying to explain himself, but whatever he was saying didn't work. The teary-eyed woman's slap rang throughout the mezzanine, making Chuck winced.
"Ouch," he said in sympathy.
Dennis traded a look with Chuck, returning his wince. She chuckled. "I guess Valentine's Day can't always be a win."
The elevator doors slid apart.
"Go to the eighth floor," came Casey's voice. The amusement seemed gone, and as it happened, Casey was being sensible, using a lowered tone.
"Yeah," Chuck said, motioning for Dennis to step inside first, "tell me about it!" He asked her floor as he moved to push the buttons. She was going to the seventh. Once done, Chuck stepped back and looked down at his shoes. The sweat he felt appearing on his back urged an edgy stretch out of him. The couple's quarrel they'd witnessed had broken the ice, but what now?
And the dreadful elevator music chirping through the speakers wasn't helping.
"Rough night?" Dennis asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Chuck looked up, surprised. "Um." He forced out a laugh. "Does it show that much?"
She smiled back. Her smile was pretty, her light-brown-skinned features were attractive, and her dark eyes sparkled behind her glasses in the artificial light of the elevator car.
Her petite figure reminded him of Lou a little, but the resemblance was likely the result of a residual Valentine's Day "I'm single" heartache talking. As a matter of fact, with her cute glasses and her scientific background, Dennis reminded Chuck of another of his ex-girlfriends as well. Except, Jill didn't hang out with the kind of bad crowd Dennis did. And besides, he should stop right there. These sorts of thoughts were exactly the ones he didn't want to dwell on tonight. He had spent way too many Valentine's Day thinking of Jill as it was.
More notably, Dennis seemed like a nice person; he wouldn't have pegged her for someone that associated herself with arms dealers.
"Kind of," she said.
Chuck scratched his forehead in what he intended to be a nervous gesture, stalling the inevitable lie he'd have to come up with, and raking his mind for what he could possibly say. "I'm not having the best night," he said. Keep it as simple as possible, Sarah always said. "A friend just disappeared on me." That was the truth. Sarah had completely abandoned him.
"Disappeared?"
"She's mad at me," Chuck explained, trying to look both charming and miserable. Odds were that he looked like a nervous jerk. "I'm hoping she's—" he pointed his index finger at the ceiling "—upstairs."
The elevator car jolted to a stop suddenly. Dennis swayed against Chuck as the light flickered a couple of times. He reached out to help her keep her balance. Her black hair smelled of strawberries and something else that Chuck couldn't make out.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking embarrassed as she smoothed her maroon dress.
"It's okay." Chuck let go of her and moved to punch the various buttons. "I'm sure it's nothing."
"Chuck, it's me, don't worry. I'll keep the elevator on halt for a little bit."
Sarah's voice had startled him, but Dennis didn't seem to notice. "Oh, elevators don't stress me out," she said. Chuck didn't reply; faking elevator phobia might be just what he needed to stall her. He pressed buttons again. "How about you?"
"Um?"
"Do elevators stress you out?" Dennis asked.
"I'm not claustrophobic," Chuck said in earnest.
"Okay."
"Sorry." He tried to look abashed as he swallowed—not an arduous task. "I don't have an issue with elevators…when they work."
"Only when they stop," Dennis said with understanding.
Chuck tugged at his collar. "Yeah."
"I'm sure it won't last long." She really was nice, Chuck thought. "So you were saying, about your friend?"
"Oh, I don't want to bother you with my problems." Chuck waved a dismissive hand.
"No, no, maybe I can help? Tell me."
Chuck paused, acting his part and looking at her as though gauging her sincerity. He would have to continue talking either way, but she did appear interested. "Okay." He forced another laugh out; it seemed to keep her relaxed and unquestioning. "So, I'm here with a few friends, single like me. We didn't have anything better to do, I guess. Anyway, April and I—I'm Charles, by the way." Chuck offered her his hand.
She took it, gently. "Kate."
"Enchanté," Chuck said. "So April and I have been friends for a long time and nothing happened between us. I mean, we were with other people when we met, then she traveled a lot, I met someone else..."
Kate nodded encouragingly.
"And lately, it hasn't been a very good period for me," Chuck went on. For his companion's benefit, he kept his speech fast as an overt sign of stress. "I lost my job, and I'm kind of trying to figure out what to do with my life, you know. But I realized, perhaps it's the atmosphere or the alcohol, I don't know—"
"You don't seem drunk to me," Kate said, amused. Chuck smiled. "So you realized?"
"Yeah," Chuck said. "I realized that…it's been her all along, you know? So I tried to kiss her."
"And now she's gone?"
"She said I was a mess. That she'd hoped I would have done this when I had my shit together. Her words. I got defensive and told her that she's always been a mess, too." Chuck grimaced for comedic effect. "She didn't like it."
He hoped that Kate didn't see any parallel with the recently released Ryan Reynold's movie—"Maybe something," Chuck couldn't remember the title. Awesome and Ellie had dragged Chuck and Sarah the week before to see it. It had been incredibly awkward at first—just like all double dating with his sister and her awesome fiancé were—but they'd eventually relaxed as it turned out the movie wasn't terrible. The kid actor had been good. Chuck was almost sure Sarah had been rooting for the redhead from the start, and at the end, Chuck's fake girlfriend kind of had that sheepish smile she had sometimes. Rarely. Sarah Walker couldn't know she sometimes had a sheepish smile and he'd deny it if she ever asked. Nevertheless, the movie was what came to mind for the elevator lift.
Considering what he was presently doing on Valentine's Day, it was no wonder that his own dating life hadn't inspired any story out of him.
Kate laughed. "I think you're fine."
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, for one thing," she said, "you're looking for her right now. And you're going to apologize…?"
"Yes! Right," Chuck said.
"And if you tell her what you just told me, I'm sure she'll get over it. If she doesn't, that's her loss. Maybe it wasn't her all along, after all."
The elevator car jolted again, this time back into motion. Chuck let out a loud exhalation. It dinged, before the doors finally re-opened.
"That's me," Kate said, just as through his earpiece, Chuck heard Casey telling him that he wasn't yet out of Dennis's suite.
"Um," Chuck said, apprehensively. "You have a good night."
"Good night, Charles."
As the doors started to close again and Kate was rummaging through her purse—how much rummaging could she really do? The purse was ridiculously tiny—Chuck glimpsed Casey's head peering in the hallway from what he assumed to be Kate's hotel room. With an arm, Chuck blocked the doors, causing Kate to spin back toward him in surprise.
"Is something the matter?" she asked.
"Ah." Chuck forced out a laugh once more, this time he went for deprecating. He stepped out in front of her. "No. I think…" Casey left the room. He wore a steward uniform and walked in the opposite direction. Kate wouldn't question his presence there. "I think I'm going to take the stairs," Chuck finished.
Kate chuckled and placed a hand on his forearm amicably. "Have a good night. I'm sure everything will work out with your friend." She smiled one last time before heading to her room.
Chuck thanked her and, walking to the stairs, he sighed heavily.
"You did great, Chuck," Sarah said over the comm.
"Who would have thought she was into geeks," Casey said.
"What?" Chuck asked.
"Then again, she wouldn't be the first," Casey added.
"What's he talking about?"
"Nothing," Sarah said. "Go to Room 815. We'll meet you there."
—o—o—o—
After almost half an hour, Robert Innhood and his bodyguard finally went up to meet with Kate Dennis in her hotel room. It became clear then that they weren't having a torrid Valentine's Day affair. Casey, Chuck, and Sarah watched the business conversation on a series of monitors inside the hotel room 815, which Chuck hadn't been aware the team had at their disposal.
Dennis's room was, as Casey had called it, more of a suite. Double doors led into a large room with a living room area on the right, composed of sofas, armchairs, a coffee table, and an appropriately expensive hotel bar. There was a dining table on the left, well lighted by the sliding doors opening on a balcony. One door on that side likely led to the bedroom and facilities, but Casey hadn't planted bugs beyond the main room.
"What do you think it is?" Chuck asked. "A weapon?"
Innhood's bodyguard hadn't come up empty-handed. Now, he was opening the suitcase that he had placed on the table.
"If you just wait thirty seconds, you'll see," Casey said. "And stop breathing down my neck!"
Chuck thought he'd been at a reasonable distance, but it was somewhat of a tight fit for the three of them to get a clear view of all the monitors. It kind of felt like a split-screen multiplayer game, except that he had to fight Casey for command of the keyboard—less fun. On his other side was Sarah and Chuck didn't want to lean too much in her direction. It was the dress, he told himself. And he was still a little on edge from his stalling of Kate. Also, Sarah was all party-pretty and she smelled really good. There wasn't much he could do against that, honestly.
On the hallway video surveillance, they could see that one man was guarding Kate's room. There hadn't been other signs of Innhood's men, but Casey didn't bet on them not being around. Though Chuck seldom came directly in contact with other government agents in order to protect his and the Intersect's identity, he had also realized earlier that, along with this hotel room, there were a couple of agents somewhere in the hotel here to support Team Intersect.
Clearly knowing what he was doing, Innhood's bodyguard methodically put together the pieces of whatever was in the suitcase.
"Maybe that's the Valentine?" Chuck ventured.
"Maybe," Sarah said. "Or the Valentine was just tonight's meeting, or something they have planned for later. Could be anything. Did you check her luggage?" Sarah asked Casey, as they watched Kate searching through a briefcase.
"Uh-uh." Casey toyed with a few buttons. "It was locked."
From inside the suite, Innhood's voice cleared through Chuck's headset. "How about a little test?" the arms dealer told Kate.
"You're not hoping to test it on me," she replied, "are you?"
Test what exactly?
"Is that a crossbow?" Chuck tipped his head forward, trying to get a better look at what the bodyguard had assembled. "Great, are they Icelandic too?"
Sarah shushed him.
But seriously, what was with bad guys and fraking crossbows? And why would Innhood test one on Kate? That would make for a kinky Valentine's Day celebration.
"Don't flatter yourself, Ms. Dennis," Innhood said. "You're not my type."
Kate visibly arched an eyebrow at that and the bodyguard smirked. She paid him no mind and instead handed him two flasks: one with a translucent liquid inside, the other with a reddish one.
"So that's it?" Innhood said, taking a look for himself.
"That's it," Kate confirmed.
The arms dealer passed the flasks back to his bodyguard, who carefully placed them both inside the crossbow's stock, in what looked like a side emplacement specifically reserved for them. Then he loaded several bolts into the weapon, each producing a distinctive click.
"The compounds automatically load into the bolts once they're inside?" Kate asked Innhood. He nodded positively. "Don't load too many of them, then."
"Why?" the bodyguard asked.
"Once blended, it won't keep for more than 72 hours," Kate said. "Hence, the separate flasks."
"What do you think?" Casey asked, back in Room 815.
Chuck was going to answer that he didn't know what to think, but Sarah spoke first. Probably best, since Casey was likely inquiring after her opinion rather than his. "Might be bio-terrorism," she said.
Casey grunted in agreement, before stepping aside, informing whomever he needed to inform. Chuck had no idea.
"They're leaving," Sarah told Casey.
Chuck watched as Kate, Innhood, and Kevin Costner—crossbow in hand—walked back outside the suite. With a few words to the guard at the doors, they strolled down towards the elevator. The team didn't have audio in the hallway, but the three partygoers seemed to be casually talking.
"You two follow them," Casey said, "in case they're going back to the gala."
"Still no sign of Le Golas?" Sarah asked.
"No," Casey said. "Agent Sterling'll keep an eye out for him."
Sarah turned to Chuck. She didn't seem stressed at all—undeniably focused, but calm. Reaching out to him, she readjusted his bowtie, before giving him a reassuring smile. No doubt Chuck didn't look as composed as she did, though he didn't feel especially anxious anymore. The stress and adrenaline were fading. His body temperature had decreased. He did feel slightly tired, but nothing of consequence. And he was getting used to "partying" with Sarah, if only she wouldn't make it so difficult to be around her sometimes by being so perfect.
"Come on," Sarah said, prompting them to exit the room. After a few steps outside, she looked back at the door, before asking, "Am I April, then?" She seemed faintly amused. "If we stumble back into Dennis?"
Casey and Sarah had been busy monitoring their target and speaking to Agent Sterling when Chuck had met back with them. Plus, they'd wanted him to see if he flashed over a series of pictures and some camera surveillance. So apart from shortly asking him how he was, they hadn't mentioned the elevator ride.
"I tried to come up with something simple," Chuck said.
"That was clever." Chuck felt an entirely different sensation than before in his stomach. Like a dizzy spell, but in a good way. Sarah's praises often did that to him. "If it hadn't been for the character's name, I might not even have noticed what you were talking about."
"Oh, so you caught it?"
"Sure."
Chuck thought back to that sheepish smile Sarah had sported, if only for a brief moment, at the end of the movie. He chuckled.
"What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"What is it?"
"You liked that movie," Chuck said. "I knew it!"
"So?"
"So, nothing," Chuck told her. "That's cool. At least, it wasn't a night completely wasted. I know couple-date nights with Awesome and Ellie aren't always pleasant."
Sarah's guarded expression switched to something more pondering. "I thought it went fine."
"Fine, yeah," Chuck said. "Ellie was delighted. But I'm talking about actually enjoying yourself. I mean, supposedly that's why people go out to see movies with other people."
"What are you talking about?" Sarah said. "It's not like it's torture to go to the movies with your sister and her fiancé. Trust me, I know."
"Ha-ha." Although Chuck appreciated her attempt at keeping the mood light, his laugh sounded ill-at-ease; he didn't like to think about Sarah being tortured. To end the discussion, he gave her a shrug, knowing she wouldn't admit to being bored with him. And anyhow, the time she spent with him was work. But even so, Sarah spent her days in that dull German restaurant of hers, and Chuck had always hoped he brought her more fun than that during their together time. Even if it would never be as exciting as "some shooting" or whatever spies were usually up to.
"Kung-fu movies with Morgan, on the other hand…" Sarah trailed off, swiping a card to call the elevator. She looked up then, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, giving him her full attention.
Chuck flattened a palm to his chest, over his heart, and faked affront. "But the sizzling shrimp!"
"The shrimp," Sarah said with a solemn nod, lips slowly curving upwards. She kept her gaze on his.
He waited.
The elevator dinged.
Chuck's eyes shut and he cursed to himself. The ding had interrupted…something. Sarah had looked like she was going to say nice things, important things, things he wanted to know! Darn it, they kept having the worst timing.
The thought didn't linger. Sliding open, the doors revealed two people being very friendly with each other. Love was in the air, tonight. Or something was, in any case, because Phil Collins was singing about it through the speakers.
Chuck recognized the woman inside as he took in the scene, before embarrassment settled, leading him to look away and trust his peripheral vision for a moment. The woman was the same one that had argued with and slapped her date on the mezzanine earlier. Glancing back furtively, Chuck assessed that the man in the elevator had been the recipient of said slap. They'd obviously made up.
The couple didn't notice the elevator stopping or the attention right away. When they did, they froze for merely a second. The woman let go of the man's shirt and tried to straighten the material, but half of the buttons were either undone or missing. Judging by the way the two of them had been glued to each other, plastered against the wall, Chuck wouldn't have put button-snatching past them. The man's hand glided back from its significantly-down-the-woman's-dress spot, causing Chuck to look away once more. Traces of lipstick dotted all over the man's face. His voice was hoarse when he apologized, circling an arm around his date's waist. They both offered embarrassed looks, though they didn't seem sorry at all in reality—Chuck didn't blame them. The hesitation gone as fast as the surprise, the couple hurried past Chuck and Sarah hand in hand.
Sarah's eyebrows were up when Chuck glanced back at her, and after hearing the two party guests giggling as they tried to open their hotel suite, Sarah let out her contained laugh along with Chuck's.
Their laughter died in an awkward silence, however, once finding themselves alone in the elevator car, descending back to the ballroom. Chuck knew; he and Sarah unfortunately weren't feeling it coming in the air, tonight.
—o—o—o—
What Chuck did feel coming in the air that night was the atmosphere growing heavier. He and Sarah hadn't encountered other incidents similar to the one with the elevator couple, but the party ambiance had definitely shifted. St. Valentine's theme was in action and guests seemed to be flirting and paying attention to their date now—or someone else's date at times. Either way, the mood was amorous.
Meanwhile, Team Intersect had lost sight of the weapon. According to Agent Sterling, the crossbow had been put away or delivered before Kate Dennis, Robert Innhood, and his bodyguard had made it back to the ballroom. The review of the video surveillance hadn't indicated where it'd disappeared to yet.
Splitting—Kate by herself, Innhood and his bodyguard together—the three of them had acted as though they barely knew each other. Kate had now gone back to her room, after mingling some more with all sorts of people, none of them especially alerting. Innhood and his bodyguard mostly stayed together without company, seemingly enjoying themselves, chatting.
After Sarah had decided for the umpteenth time that she and Chuck should change position, Chuck scanned the ballroom one more time, before he could turn to the buffet behind them. First, he selected sparkling water as his drink. How highly-extravagant of him. Second, he grabbed several hyper-sugary and strange-looking appetizers as his food—whose composition was a complete mystery to him, but darn if they weren't good. As he studied the table, Chuck accorded himself a brief moment of musing.
There was one flimsy possibility that, with a little luck, Casey and Agent Sterling would find the weapon; Dennis and Innhood would be apprehended; the team would figure out exactly what the Valentine was; and Sarah would stay with Chuck afterwards to enjoy the free booze, like she'd said she would. Not really sure of what he was doing, he smoothed a red rose from the table in the inside of his jacket.
The air suddenly filled with Sarah's perfume. She'd stepped closer and her arm went around him to place her cocktail back on a tray. Chuck twisted his neck to see why, discovering a newly-arrived group of guests crowding the buffet. Sarah laid a hand on Chuck's upper arm, prodding him to sidle away with her. In a glimpse, they found themselves cornered at the table. Chuck shuffled around to face Sarah, readjusted, and failed to give her more space.
Chuck felt flushed, yet a chill swerved down his spine.
Sarah's hair tickled his chin as he glanced down, but she didn't look alarmed; which meant that she hadn't been taken by surprise and that the large group hadn't been part of a bad-guy-diversion maneuver. Chuck and Sarah hadn't been made.
Chuck's worry shifted. Every second that passed was another second for Chuck to be extra-aware of Sarah's presence. The air felt cramped now: a mix of Chuck's own scent, Sarah's perfume, Sarah's shampoo, even Sarah's sweet breath. She was omnipresent. Because even though they were standing, she and Chuck were currently sharing as much space as they had not too long ago, when they'd been locked up inside the trunk of a car.
Rethinking about that shared jaunt wasn't a good idea. It often led to rethinking about the "mistake" that had followed: the kiss. Chuck shouldn't be thinking about kissing Sarah right now. On the other hand, Sarah was more or less pressed against him right now.
Why did this evening mission have to turn so torturous? Oh, right: it was Valentine's Day. Of course, fake spending the holiday with Sarah Walker would be torturous. She didn't even seem an iota bothered by their current predicament.
Instead, Sarah's palm slid down Chuck's sleeve, before her fingers intertwined with his. "Here," she said, not looking at him. She started to step away. Too overwhelmed to focus beyond following up on her motions, Chuck didn't know how she did it, but Sarah moved them through the crowd all the same. When he finally inhaled a clear intake of breath, Chuck's hand was clammy against Sarah's. He hoped she didn't mind too much as he sighed.
Between the party's atmosphere, the mission's uncertainties, and Sarah's…well, just Sarah, Chuck all but sagged with relief when Agent Sterling signaled over the comm the arrival of businessman Joel Le Golas. Anything to take his mind off this Valentine's Day party Chuck wasn't really attending with his girlfriend.
"Waiting on instructions," Agent Sterling said. "Should we intercept him?"
Sarah fiddled with her watch, to change the transmission channel. Though Sterling and the other agents assigned to the team could contact Casey and Sarah without problem, as a security measure to protect the Intersect, they were prevented from any communication with Chuck. "We might lose the weapon if we act now," Sarah said. "Is Dennis still in her room?"
"Affirmative," Casey said. They exchanged a few words and it was decided that Chuck and Sarah would switch their surveillance to keep an eye on Le Golas, while Agent Sterling took care of Innhood.
The arms dealer took notice of Le Golas's appearance almost immediately, though they didn't make any gesture toward each other.
The Intersect took notice as well. Le Golas's companion, a fetching Hispanic woman in her thirties, wasn't his date; or if she was, that wasn't all that she was. The flash informed Chuck that the former Venezuelan commando-trained mercenary, going by the alias of Quinn Oliveira, had many, many lines on her criminal resume. Chuck made a mental note not to, by any means, get close to her. There would be no practicing of his tango with her for sure.
Another man approached the couple and introduced himself. Surprisingly, the Intersect didn't trigger at the sight of the man's burned scar on his right temple. That kind of attribute was often a cause for flashes. But the meeting seemed harmless, like many pleasantries shared that night.
Until Le Golas was offered a small envelope right before they separated.
"Card key," Sarah whispered.
"How do you know?" Chuck asked.
She moved a shoulder. "Just a guess."
Chuck knew better than doubting Sarah's instincts on these matters. "That was one of Innhood's men, then?"
"If I'm right." And Sarah usually was.
Indeed, Le Golas and Oliveira strode up the curved stairwell, up the elevator, right to Kate's hotel suite; and unlike earlier, it wasn't long before Innhood and his bodyguard joined their new party.
To be continued...