A/N: Thanks so much for your comments and reviews.

Chuck vs The Bodyguard

Chapter 4

Chuck felt exhausted and let his weight rest against the elevator wall. He had hardly slept over the past three days. Three nights ago he'd been in the hospital for observation after his car crash and concussion. The next night he'd been at home but found it difficult to stay asleep as he nursed his headache and the aches from the bruises on his shoulder and chest. And last night he'd ruminated over Beckman telling him he'd be getting a bodyguard the next morning. He really didn't think he was in danger. But he couldn't easily dismiss Beckman's opinion and expertise and despite his outward resistance, he was a little freaked out that someone might actually be trying to kill him.

What he hadn't counted on was the fear gnawing at his gut that if an assassin made an attempt on his life, Sarah Walker could die trying to protect him.

"You alright?" Sarah asked.

Chuck looked up and nodded. "Yeah. Just … really tired."

Sarah turned her attention back to the floor indicator lights as the elevator dropped to the parking garage.

Chuck had no doubt Sarah would do anything to protect him - not because of who he was - but because she was a dedicated professional and the best of the best at this type of work. He'd learned a lot about Sarah Walker during Beckman's briefing to Stansfield and Blackbriar.

She'd been recruited directly from San Diego State University into the Secret Service. She advanced quickly, showing an aptitude for protective work. After three years she was assigned to the elite detail protecting the US President. After that one year post she'd been assigned to protect a special Whitehouse Middle East negotiation envoy. After one year on that detail she'd left the Secret Service, coming to the Seattle Police Department where she'd distinguished herself as a detective in the Major Crimes Division for the past five years. Definitely a real live badass.

The elevator stopped and the bell chimed. The door slid open and Chuck began to step out. Sarah's arm shot out smacking him hard in the chest, pushing him back behind her. His bruises flared white-hot.

"Ow! Crap." he said and glared at her. "What was that for?"

"You really don't get it do you," Sarah said.

"Get what?"

Sarah shook her head. "I go first and clear the area. You stay put until I tell you it's safe."

Chuck huffed out a breath and rubbed his chest as Sarah leaned out the elevator door, her right hand under her blazer, probably on her handgun. She did a quick scan of the parking area. There were only a few cars present, providing few places for an assassin to hide. Looking satisfied, Sarah stepped back and nodded at Chuck to move forward.

"All clear," she said.

Chuck took a step toward his rental car.

"Wait," Sarah said.

"What?" Chuck yelped as he jerked to a stop and whipped around toward Sarah, almost smashing into her she was so close behind him.

They both froze, faces inches from each other. Chuck could sense the heat from her body. He smelled the faintest scent of lavender. And, once again, her eyes completely disarmed him, sucking every coherent thought right out of his brain.

Sarah cleared her throat and stepped back. "My car. I'm driving."

Chuck forced his brain back on track. "Oh … yeah … okay," he said. He followed Sarah as she made her way to the far wall of the garage.

When Sarah reached her black convertible she activated the key FOB and the Porsche chirped. She tilted her head toward the car. "Get in," she said.

Chuck stopped for moment, admiring the car. "Nice ride," he said.

"Thanks," Sarah said. "I like it."

Sarah's casual response cut through some of the tension he felt between them and Chuck let himself relax a little.

"Yeeeahhhh," he said. "What's not to like."

Chuck saw the hint of another smile on Sarah's face. She eyed him for a moment, then said, "Come on. Let's go."

Sarah made sure Chuck was belted-in and a minute later she pulled the Porsche onto the street.

"So, this bodyguard thing means you have to drive me around?" Chuck asked.

"That's part of the job," she said.

"Wow. My own chauffeur. Was that included with the basic bodyguard package or did we have to upgrade to the platinum plan?" he said with a tentative laugh.

Sarah blinked.

This is new. Humor. From the nerd. Interesting.

She gave him a sidelong glance, saying nothing, then turned her attention back to the road.

In the mirror Sarah monitored the silver SUV three cars back that she'd noticed a few minutes ago. She wasn't sure if it was a tail. Probably not, given that the possibility of Chuck being an assassination target was practically nil. Nevertheless, she switched lanes, watching the SUV closely. Her pulse jumped when a few seconds later it matched her maneuver, still maintaining its distance.

"So," Chuck said, "I'm kinda hungry. I imagine you are too. How about we stop and get some dinner?"

Sarah pulled her eyes from the road and gave Chuck a look. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

"Not that I'm asking you out … to dinner," Chuck quickly explained. "I just thought we could stop somewhere. You know - get a sandwich, something to drink. Bodyguards need to eat too. Right?"

Sarah flicked her eyes to the mirror. The SUV was still there. She moved to the right lane. The silver car continued in the left lane not gaining or losing any distance between them. She licked dry lips, her shoulders tight.

"What do you think?" Chuck asked. "I'll even pay for extra pickles."

She turned her attention to Chuck for a moment. "No public places," she said.

"What? Oh, come on Detective, just a quick stop. I know a great sandwich place."

"You go there often?" Sarah asked.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. Great food, craft beer, you'll love it.

"If someone's trying to kill you, Dr. Bartowski, they will have surveilled you. They'll know your habits and behaviors. They'll know the restaurants you frequent, the gym you go to, when you go to bed, when you get up, the type of toothpaste you use. My job is to protect you, not make you a sitting-duck."

Sarah downshifted the Porsche and brought it to a stop at a red light. The SUV was still several cars behind them. Her sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel like a vice. She needed to do something to determine if this guy was a tail, and if so, shake him.

The light turned green. Sarah eased the Porsche forward, checking the traffic to her left, making ready for a quick lane change so she could rabbit and see if the SUV followed. If it did she'd need to lose it and get Chuck out of danger.

Traffic picked up speed. The high-performance engine whined as she let the RPMs climb. She took in a breath, held it, clamping down on the steering wheel with one hand, the gear shift with the other. Leaning forward she tensed her foot against the gas pedal ready to slam it to the floor. She took one last look in the mirror.

The SUV signaled and turned right, disappearing down a side street.

Sarah blew out a hard breath, relief flooding through her. She sat back, trying to force her muscles to relax but the surge of adrenaline had spiked her heart rate and her breathing was shallow. She'd forgotten how much she hated this feeling. When she'd started with the Secret Service she'd loved the rush. But she had been young and stupid then. And she hadn't lost anyone yet.

Sarah realized Chuck had gone quiet. She glanced over at him. He was staring at her, his lips pressed tight.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"You okay?" Chuck asked. "You look kinda … I don't know … tense."

Surprised that she'd let her emotions show so easily, Sarah redoubled her efforts to calm her body. "I'm fine," she said as she continued to guide the sports car through Seattle streets. "It's just the traffic."

Chuck nodded but didn't look convinced. After a moment he turned and faced forward, his hands in his lap.

Internally Sarah replayed what had just happened and cursed herself. She'd been lazy, thinking there was no credible threat against Chuck's life. Whether or not there was an actual threat, wasn't the issue. The issue was she needed to act like there was. The SUV had rattled her. And although it had turned out to be a false alarm it had reminded her that people who cared deeply about this nerdy, quirky, brilliant scientist had asked her to take on the responsibility of keeping him safe. He deserved more from her than the half-assed attitude she'd had throughout the day.

Chuck was a genuinely nice guy - a rarity in Sarah's world - and she was beginning to understand why he engendered such respect and was liked so much by those in his life. She was a little suspicious that she was beginning to like him too. And that was a serious problem.

Sarah couldn't effectively protect Chuck if she was concerned about him as a person. That was the reason protection professionals referred to their client as a package. Objectifying a human being - turning them into an inanimate object in your mind - made it easier to do whatever was necessary to protect them. It removed feelings from the equation and allowed for clear thinking and precise action in life and death situations. To be an effective bodyguard your emotions had to be completely locked down. Otherwise you were a liability, not an asset, when it came to protecting someone else's life. No one knew that better than her.

And right now Sarah was an emotional basket-case. She was frustrated with this job and angry with her Captain for putting her in this situation. She was struggling to keep the fear and pain of the past buried deep inside. And she was beginning to care about what happened to Chuck. All of this, she realized, was a recipe for disaster.

Sarah decided right then that if Charles Bartowski was really in danger and was to have any chance of survival, she needed to pull herself off this job. Casey needed to put someone who wasn't emotionally compromised in charge of protecting Chuck. A plan took shape in Sarah's head. She'd get Chuck home where she could more easily protect him through the night. In the morning she'd call Casey and convince him that she needed to stand down.

Sarah knew this was the right thing to do. But it went against the very grain of her essence and she couldn't help feeling like a coward and a failure.

Get a grip, Walker, Sarah thought. Better me eating crow than Chuck eating a bullet.