GreenEyedGirl8

A/N: A little time compression. You didn't miss anything. Still stuck in Tampa. Hot and sticky and totally po'd at the yard master but I hope to be out of here by Thursday night.

Sorry for the long chapter 7 but I got carried away and the 3Js just wouldn't let me quit.

Still no betas. Still don't own Chuck. Still have an insufferably bad attitude.

Armor-Plated-Rat
Tampa Bay Anchorage
25 June 2009


Casa Bartowski
December 31
10am

Sarah rang the bell to Chuck's apartment and waited patiently. She knew Ellie was working the day shift and she wouldn't have to face the "20 Questions" she'd ask. Chuck opened the door and invited her in.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt, silk tie and suit pants. His shoes shined and his suspenders gave him the look of a successful businessman. Overall, he cleaned up nicely. She'd nagged him until he'd finally gotten hair cut.

"Got everything packed, Chuck? It all fit into the one-size-fits-all CIA bag?" She'd bought a multipurpose suit bag for him, something she knew he'd never think of himself.

"Yep, no wrinkles and everything fit. Thanks again for the bag. I don't think Armani was made to travel in a backpack."

"We're catching a government plan at John Wayne in an hour. You all ready?"

"Yeah. Just let me get my suit coat and we're good to go. So tell me again how this thing with Casey is going to work?"

"Casey is already in San Francisco. He's taken care of the rooms and a limo. He'll pose as the limo driver and our security while we're at the party. We'll be in constant communications with him and he'll be recording all our information as we report it. All we have to do is identify the bad guys you flash on and then inform the respective agencies who have an 'interest' in them. If we get the chance, we're to try and place a repeater bug in any computers we come across. Three hours, maximum, then the rest of the evening is our to do with as we please. I've only been to San Francisco a couple of times and never to Sausalito. Should be fun."

"Got it. Let's go. You'll like San Francisco."

Three hours later and they were in a cab on their way to their hotel in San Francisco.

Sarah asked Chuck to check them in while she went to find Casey and make sure of the arrangements. Chuck flashed his black AMEX card and the assistant manager of the Hotel immediately replaced the clerk.

"Ah, Mr. Carmichael, it's an honor to have you as our guest. Your suite is ready and we've included some complimentary amenities to enhance the experience of your stay with us. If you will point out your bags to the Bell Captain he'll take them to your room."

Chuck finished checking in and took the key cards and looked for Sarah. She was standing with Casey near the concierge desk appearing to be making arrangement for the limo that evening.

"Ms. Walker, your room key. I've had the bags taken up to the rooms. Any changes in tonight's agenda?"

"No, Cinderowski, you still get to go to the Ball. No changes in agenda. Just don't screw it up."

"No sweat, John. Sarah, I'll see you upstairs."

"You didn't tell him, did you, Walker?" Casey smirked.

"Tell him what, Casey?" She honestly didn't know what he meant.

"The Nerd said rooms, plural, he doesn't know his cover story very well, does he?"

"Casey, I didn't think it was important enough to bother him with it. He's an amazing, adaptable man and our cover is perfectly legitimate. If people see more into it than it was meant to, that's their problem, don't you think?"

"Whatever. You're not the one who has to listen to him at night. He's usually quiet about it but sometimes he wakes up and calls for her. Dumb ass can't seem to understand she's dead and isn't going to answer."

"Casey, don't be such a damned asshole. He's been through a lot. Cut him some slack. He's not a spy, Casey. He still has human emotions and feelings just like you used to have until the NSA trained them out of you. Who's the better man, Casey? You or him? Don't be late tonight. We have a schedule to keep. And make sure the equipment is up and ready." With a look of disgust, Sarah turned on him and walked over to the elevators. She should have told Chuck. Only one room, Chuck, a suite, but still only one bed. Part of their cover.

Chuck was quick to catch on. Their cover must be that they were more than business partners. Probably much more. He was cool with that. He'd already checked and the couch was as comfortable as it looked. The whole room was on a higher plane than the dumps he usually stayed at. Money must really be no object at the CIA. He took a beer out of the fridge and sat down out on the balcony. San Francisco was cold. Colder than L.A. but at least the damned wind wasn't howling. They had a beautiful view of the bay and Alcatraz Island. A post card view.

Sarah swiped her card and walked in. Nice room. Not as nice as some she'd stayed in but nice. She walked into the bedroom and saw that Chuck had already unpacked his things and that her bags were open waiting for her to unpack. The staff here was very professional. After unpacking it was still only 3pm. Where was her asset?

"Hey, Chuck, it's cold out there. Come in and thaw out." She was surprised to see him sitting on the outdoor couch on the balcony. She glanced and it appeared he was either asleep or just vegging out.

He replied without opening his eyes "Y'know, Casey is a real prick. A prick with ears. He's also stupid. If I wanted to, I could create a feedback loop and just let him listen to the annoying sound of my commode recycling over and over and over again. I was a computer and electrical engineering major at Stanford and completed all but 12 credits. Being expelled did not equate with being stupid. Well, it did. I was stupid to trust."

She reached down and took his beer and finished it. Then she grabbed both his hands and pulled him upright. "Chuck, I should have explained our cover before but I was concerned with your reaction. We're posing as…"

"Lovers. Yeah, I figured that from the looks I got from the assistant manager. By the way, is the back of my pants wet? He spent so much time kissing my ass I was sure his saliva would have soaked the seat."

She laughed and it made her seem very innocent and young. Younger than 27, that he was sure of.

"So, are we OK with this? I know it's awkward and uncomfortable but…"

"Sarah, I'm an adult in an adult situation and I understand what we're doing here. I'm sure Bryce would be equally as upset if he knew I was going to be sharing a bed, naked, with his girlfriend who would also be naked. But he's a pro and I'm sure he'd get over it just like I'll have to. So, no big deal."

Naked? "Chuck, I think you got the wrong idea about …" she was shocked. Not at the idea of a very naked Chuck entangled with an equally naked Sarah, no, it was his insistence that she was still Bryce's girl friend. She rather liked the mental image of them in this bed together, naked.

"Sarah, you're an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency. I can quote your file if you want but I haven't given it more than a cursory glance and don't intend to. You are entitled to your privacy both as Agent Walker and as Sarah Whateveryourrealnamemightbe. Let it go. I think I need to concentrate on the mission. First time jitters, I suppose."

She really wanted him to understand that she and Bryce might have been lovers once but that any feelings she might have for him now were not those of love but rather contempt.

First time jitters, my ass, Chuck Bartowski. You're cool as a cucumber and just giving me a chance to save face. We'll see. The evening has not even started yet.

Chuck managed to catch a nap. It was unplanned. He was sitting in the chair gazing out over the bay and suddenly Sarah was shaking his shoulder.

"Chuck, wake up. Take a shower and get ready. We're leaving in a little less than 90 minutes, OK?" She couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep! She wanted to talk about things with him and he just zoned out and went to sleep, something a trained agent had trouble doing. What else had they underestimated about Chuck Bartowski?

"Sorry, didn't mean to doze off. Guess all the excitement tired me out. Be with you in a few minutes." He didn't even notice that Sarah was wearing matching blood red bra, panties, garter belt and nylons.

Ten minutes later he was out of the shower and walked into the bedroom towel-drying his hair. Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed strapping on a holster for her knives high up on the inside of her right thigh. The sound of Velcro caught his attention.

He turned bright red and whirled around and walked quickly into the living area. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to… I mean, I'm sorry. Let me know when it's safe. I'll just take another cold shower." He really didn't intend to take another shower; it was just something to say.

Sarah laughed aloud. "Chuck, get in here. It's all right. I'm wearing more now than I wear at the beach. Get dressed. We don't want to be late."

"Yeah, well, what you wear at the beach is expected, that heart attack was not expected."

She was flattered by his reaction. More than flattered. She was encouraged.

They were ready to go in 20 minutes. Sarah came out of the bathroom wearing a black monk's robe cape with the hood over her head and she carried her usual very small purse. Chuck had wondered how she was going to cope with the cool weather and now he knew. She looked very mysterious.

She walked over to Chuck and put her hands on his shoulders and squared away his tux and retied his bow tie. The she put her hand behind his head and pulled him down and slipped an earbud into his left ear. He already had his cuff mike.

"Now, you look like Charles Carmichael."

They exited the room and took the elevator down to the lobby. Casey was standing at the concierge desk, looking like a limo driver. When he saw them coming he preceded them out the door and stood beside the door and opened it when they appeared. Chuck helped Sarah into the limo and then got in himself.

"Commo check, Casey."

"Carmichael, up"

"Walker, up"

The drive out to Sausalito didn't take long at all. Driving along the harbor Sarah commented on all the festive lights.

"People on houseboats decorate for Christmas and then boats and yachts decorate and they all light up Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. It's nice if it's the first time you've seen it."

Casey just grunted. Sarah smiled and held Chuck's hand noticing the tan line where his wedding ring used to be. 'This one should always have a ring. It's his nature.'


Sarah took the invitations out of her purse and handed them to Chuck who put them in his inside breast pocket. He checked that his iPhone was on silent/vibrate and glanced at Sarah. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover – Hot Spy Babes. He chuckled to himself and she turned and looked at him. "Nothing, Sarah, just a random thought with no bearing on the mission."

"Keep your head on the mission, Bartowski. Don't screw this up. It's a simple…"

"I know Major Casey, go in, scan and flash, report flash results to you, drop a few bugs and then see if any computers can he spiffed. Simple. Even I can remember the instructions, Major Casey."

Casey grunted or maybe growled. Chuck didn't care. He'd take care of Casey at the proper time. Not now. Sarah needed a successful mission.

The limo pulled up in front of a hideously pink mansion. The balustrade was garishly decorated and the pink of the mansion made Chuck think of Pepto Bismol. Both were nauseating.

He opened his door before Casey could get out and helped Sarah out of the Limo. Her hand was soft and warm but the palm was a bit damp. 'Nerves, Agent Walker?'

They made their way up the steps and Chuck presented their invitations to one of three thugs wearing Jacque Penay tuxes. The jackets were pulled tight over shoulder-holstered weapons. No doubt about it, they were not in Kansas anymore.

They were passed through and met by a flunky who took the invitations from thug #1 and escorted them into the main room. He announced them and a few people looked their way but most were engaged in either deep conversation or deep boredom.

Chuck looked over at Sarah and winked. She pinked up a bit and he laughed. The flunky showed them to the coatroom and Chuck helped her out of her hooded robe. And almost dropped it.

Sarah Walker was wearing a red backless gown that plunged down almost to her fanny but covered her entire chest but somehow seemed more revealing that if she'd been naked. The gown hugged her hips and flowed down around her feet. It was slit up the side to an almost indecent height.

"My God, Sarah, you look beautiful." For Chuck Bartowski to say such a thing while in an obvious daze made Sarah's decade. She smiled her most radiant smile and leaned up and whispered "I took off the underwear, Chuck. It made lines. And I couldn't have that, now, could I?"

Now it was his turn to turn pink, pinker, red, redder… and she laughed her deep sexy laugh and just smiled at him. 'God, he's so cute when he blushes. Maybe I should have saved that line until we were back in the limo.'

A man of Middle Eastern descent who introduced himself as their host interrupted them.

Chuck flashed on him immediately. Samir Benoudiz, 44, Lebanese ex-pat, ties to Shining Path, Tupomaris, Arab Brotherhood and a major recipient of pilfered Russian arms from the Chechen campaign. Active in Bosnia, Croatia and Albania. Interpol warrants dismissed.

While he shook Chuck's hand his eyes never strayed far from Sarah's breasts. Chuck finally had enough and squeezed the man's hand, forcing knuckle against knuckle. The sudden increase in pressure caused a look of alarm on the man and Sarah immediately put her arm through Chuck's and made their apologies and excused themselves.

"Shit, what were you thinking? You don't maim the host. So what if he was looking at my boobs, that's why I wore this. It's a distraction."

Chuck spoke into his cuff mike and recounted the flash on Benoudiz.

"Sarah, you are not a piece of meat. Women with me are not meat. I do not date meat. Understand? If you want to play bubble-headed eye candy that's fine but do not disrespect me as 'Charles Carmichael'. It would not be his style. Understand?"

He was right. "Sorry, Chuck. You're right. Just don't maim the guests."

He flashed and reported several more times and they'd both had two champagne cocktails when the band played the tango. "Care to dance, Ms. Walker?"

For once in his life, Chuck thanked Ellie for insisting on ballroom dance lessons. They'd been free and had been the last thing Chuck wanted to do on a Saturday afternoon but she'd insisted and, of course, won.

Sarah was quite amazed and taken aback by his dancing. He was almost perfect. His only flaw was eye contact. He didn't. He totally ignored her as they danced. It was like she was his attachment to use as he pleased to express himself. This made her angry and she tried to get his attention using the only thing at hand, her body.

As she stalked her prey and he in turn ignored her, people began to leave the dance floor to watch. This was something rarely seen. The Tango as it was meant to be danced.

The dance was in its final phase and he struck without warning or mercy. If Sarah Walker wished to hunt then she'd better be prepared to be hunted. He caught her eyes and held them, running his hands down her body and pulling her close to him, molding her to him. He saw her pupils dilate as she realized she'd been outfoxed and the hunter was now the prey. Slowly, almost uncaring he brought his lips to hers as the dance ended.

The applause was thunderous and Sarah Walker hung limply for just a second or two before he pulled her upright and smiled. "Thanks to the L.A. Performing Arts for providing free dance lessons to the underprivileged. Did Bryce ever tell you who taught him to Tango?" He laughed at the look on her face and the almost vacant stare to her eyes. He knew what was going on. He could sense her arousal. Her scent.

They made their way through the crowd, many of whom wanted to talk but the couple ignored them and found an exit to a patio to cool down and catch their breath.

She still had not uttered a word.

"Sarah, are you alright? Sarah?"

"If you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you, Charles Bartowski." He just looked at her and smiled. It was chilly and she was cooling down rapidly. He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders and embraced her. Whispering in her ear, his lips almost grazing it, he said, "Now we're even for the underwear line, Sarah. Don't play with fire, Agent Walker. You might get burned. Now, let's go find us some more bad guys."

Within the next hour Chuck had flashed on at least a dozen more criminals, most with US or Interpol warrants.

Believing that the mission was almost over, Sarah suggested they use their cover and scout around for a computer workstation. Chuck agreed and they found themselves in what were obviously the personal quarters of the host, Mr. Benoudiz. His study door was open and there was a computer workstation on his desk.

"Sarah, watch the hallway. I think this might be our objective." He reached around behind the unit and unhooked the DSL phone line, removed a small phone jack-like device and inserted it into the computer and the DSL phone line jack into it. Mission accomplished.

"OK, we're done here. Let's say good night to our host and get the hell out of here."

They made sure nothing would tip off Benoudiz that someone had been fooling around with his computer and walked out into the corridor. They turned back to the main ballroom and were almost to their goal when they heard several voices speaking in Arabic coming down the corridor. Chuck froze. There was no place to hide, no windows to jump out, they were screwed.

Sarah grabbed him in a frantic embrace, leaned back against the wall and began kissing him. Chuck was shocked at first but realized what she was going to do and did his part. He reached around and grabbed her and slid a hand through the slit in her gown and up her inner thigh, fingers trailing lines of fire on her skin and she moaned - until he felt the holster with her knives. Fumbling around until he found the knives, he removed one and passed it to her. He removed a second one and did the same. He broke off their kiss and whispered, "I don't even want to know where you've hidden your pistol, Sarah. Some things are best left to the imagination."

She couldn't help it. She started to laugh and she just hugged him tighter while he nibbled at her ear and neck. The men walking down the corridor heard the sexy laugh and easily recognized the sex-crazed Tango dancers, laughed and passed them by. When their voices had faded Chuck tried to disengage himself from Sarah but she seemed intent on not letting him go. Finally she relinquished her hold on him and looked at him for the first time.

"Chuck, please, I know you're, aw, hell, I'm sorry. I had no choice. It was the first thing I could…"

Chuck put his fingers to her lips. "Shhh, quick thinking. I enjoy your thought processes, Sarah Walker, but next time, let's just cut to the chase and get a room."

She stared at him. 'What the hell…' Then he started to laugh and she had no choice but to join him. "Next time you dance the Tango with me, Chuck Bartowski, you'd better be serious. I'm embarrassed as hell. You sure do know how to work a girl up. I think your spy name should be 'Agent Tease'. Much more appropriate. Now, let's get the hell out of here while I can still walk."

They walked out into the ballroom just as the bandleader counted down the seconds until midnight. "3…2…1…Happy New Year!" Sarah turned, smiled, and drew him down for a sweet and gentle kiss. "Happy New Year, Chuck. This year will be better, I promise. And this time next year, well, just wait and see."

A frown crossed his face. A year. He'd never make it a year. He'd never be able to resist the siren call of this beautiful complicated woman unless she was called upon by her duty to kill him. The irony of the situation drove the frown away and replaced it with an honest grin. His Lynn must be laughing her ass off at him right now. She had always enjoyed her 'Chuck in the throes of a moral dilemma' moments. But she'd always trusted that he'd do the right thing and he knew he would. He just didn't have a clue what the right thing was anymore.

January 1
San Francisco
3am

The drive back to the hotel was mostly in silence except for 20 minutes or so that Casey debriefed the team and the time they had to pull over and allow several police vehicles in convoy with others pass them by. Someone was going to have a crappy New Year and Casey just laughed at Chuck's remark. That was a first.

If the report was to be believed, the team had identified the leader of one major terrorist cell, 1 Iranian diplomat who could not be touched, 3 senior members of a Chinese/Malaysian sex slave cartel, 4 'war criminals' wanted on Interpol warrants, 2 BOLOs and a scattering of minor players in the drug trade. DEA would have a field day with the leads they would provide. The real haul was the on-going intelligence gleaned from Sami Benoudiz' computer.

Chuck had also flashed on an American intelligence agent, Walter Abney, who had been carried on the CIA roles as 'missing presumed dead' but who was, in fact, the regional coordinator of Fulcrum for the Southwest United States. This brought the only immediate reaction from Casey while they were still at the party.

"That traitorous bastard needs to be shot. He's been responsible for the deaths of many DEA, Customs and Border Patrol agents. He funds his filthy organization with drug money. I'd love to be in charge of his interrogation."

Nether Chuck or Sarah had much to say outside of the purely mission-related facts and actions. The real debriefing would be held in their suite at 7am with Beckman and Graham and possibly some representatives of other enforcement agencies. Chuck didn't know and didn't care. He was suddenly very tired and was being lulled into sleep by the hypnotic passing of car lights in the other lanes of traffic. Only 351 days remained on his countdown calendar.

Sarah glanced over at her companion. She could do little else with Casey driving and probably monitoring everything for posterity. Her asset had rendered an amazing performance and the mission was a tremendous success. Her problem was her undeniable attraction to her asset. He was incredibly sex and she found that a surprise since she'd catalogued him on first meeting as 'not her type'. The Tango had stirred emotions in her she'd not felt for a long while, not since the initial heady days of her partnership with Bryce Larkin.

He was a bag of mixed signals. Cute and vulnerable when he'd seen her in her underwear at the hotel, awed when she'd removed her cloak in the coatroom, possessive and protective when that slug had been mentally undressing her and then sexually predatory during the Tango. When they were kissing trying to distract the Arabs in the mansion and he'd slipped his hand up her thigh she almost lost it. When his fingers traced a fiery pattern on her inner thigh she was sure she would climax and when he passed her the knives she'd been utterly devastated. Was any of it real? Well, if the bulge in his pants was any indication, yes. But was it pure biology? She didn't know.

Her kiss at midnight had been real. His response had been real. The frown then the smile and the laugh, that had been pure Chuck Bartowski.

She was so confused. Red light. Green light. Stop, go, wait, hurry, yes, no, maybe. She wanted this man emotionally, she needed what he provided. Simple fulfillment. Being with him was an incredible experience. Being away from him made her feel weak and vulnerable. What was wrong with her? She'd handled assets before. Even women. She'd never felt this unfocused and confused. She needed to get her head in the game before someone got hurt.

End GreenEyedGirl8