A/N: This is angsty but I shoved it all into one chapter. Gut through it. The real angst is in the next chapter - the dreaded #10.

APR
Bayou Baptiste

Nik's Notes: Thanks to all the loyal readers who took the brief time to log in and review and to all you who selected this as a favorite or set an alert. BUT THE REST OF YOU... take, take, take, w/o any sign of appreciation. Well, enjoy the drought! I wish this chapter was a cliff-hanger.


Jennifer Burton stood in front of the full length mirror and shuddered. She'd let herself get out of shape. One of the things that haunted her was how out of breath she'd been in Cancun running out of the park in search of a cab and escape.

That stops now. No more 'I miss him – I need comfort food'. And my profile! No wonder that bitch C-Cups asked if I was pregnant! I'll spend all my free time in the gym. I need to get back to working on the bag anyway.

She hated those hollow cheeked Victoria Secrets models with their long legs and tiny waists and their ability to slip into anything and make it look good. Somewhere in her lineage there lurked a few Slavs who'd contributed to her somewhat rounded face and slightly bulbous nose. OK, so it wasn't huge but it wasn't a Katie Couric nose either. Nothing about her was 'perky'.

Chuck talks about my 'inner beauty' but I sure as hell don't see it! How did he fall in love with me so quickly? Nothing like that ever happened before. The asshole at the Mayo was just collecting scalps for his lodge pole and I believed him and even gave him my cherry. God, was I that desperate?

She only had to look at the framed photograph taken at the casino in Tahoe to know the answer. He loved her. You could see it in his face. She would not risk losing what she had to a fat ass and a pseudo baby bump.

She threw her exercise clothes in her bag and headed for the CIA gym.

She wanted to look perfect for him. Nothing less was acceptable.


CIA Training Gym
CIA Substation
Los Angeles, CA

Sarah found a female personal trainer and explained her 'issues'.

"Go into the locker room and strip down to Mother Nature and I'll be with you in a minute."

The trainer gave her assessment within 10 minutes.

"You have a fine skeletal system, not heavy in bone mass but you definitely need to work on the buttocks and your abdomen. Wear a sleep bra at night to keep gravity at bay as long as possible. Now, here's a diet and an exercise schedule. I want you to keep on working the bag and also spar with the other girls."

"Fine. How long will it take…"

"Stop right there! This is a long-term deal. You didn't get so out of shape overnight and you're not going to recapture what you had overnight. Live with it. You have your diet and schedule. You should lose the weight in 10 days or so but the toning is an on-going process. No more Ben & Jerry nights!"

The days passed quite quickly and Jenny was pleased with her weight loss. I've literally run my ass off!

She laughed and hoped Chuck appreciated her efforts. He never complained, not one time. He just loved me as I was.


USAF Hospital
Colorado Springs, CO

"Well, Chuck, you ready to blow this Popsicle stand? I imagine someone's mighty impatient to see you. Just remember the cover story and take it easy on that leg. The Colonel's laid on a plane for us. She wants to make sure you don't disappear on her."

"Yeah. Like she cares about me. She's only interested in what's in my head. I run the dailies for her and without feedback I don't know how good I'm doing. Think you could ask her for a little feedback on results? I think I can focus on more important stuff if I can weed through the crap."

"Chuck, the Dailey Briefing you get is the step below what the President gets every day. It's critical information."

"Pity the President then. 'Wheat production off 20% in the Ukraine. Truck production below estimates in new Zil plant. Spanish premier visits Italy for trade talks'. That's just the really meaty stuff."

Casey laughed and aimed a head slap at Chuck who easily dodged it.

"OK, I see your point. Maybe the operations reviews from the agencies will have some meat in it. I'll bring it up tomorrow at our briefing."

"I do have two weeks off, right, John? No interruptions. No quiet trips to the country? No 'oops, we need this nuclear warhead disarmed'."

"Yeah. Wouldn't look good if you had to hobble around. You'd kinda attract attention, Bartowski."

"Good. Let's go. I've got someone waiting for me in L.A. I'll call her when we take off and see if she's free to pick me up."

"Um, I called her 3 hours ago and told her we were taking off from DC and would be at LAX at 6pm and that's in two hours. Gotta allow for the cover, Chuck. She'll meet you at the Arrivals terminal. We've got a wheelchair and crutches on the plane."

"Make way for the cripple!"


LAX

Casey disappeared within seconds of getting off the plane. They'd long ago decided that he was never to come face to face with Jennifer. It just seemed like it should be that way. Actually Chuck was a little intimidated by the Major and figured Jenny'd pick up on it instantly and he wanted to avoid any unnecessary questions.

A flight attendant from one of the airlines took pity on him struggling to manage a bag, crutches and steer a wheelchair. It made things easier but also made Chuck feel even more self conscious.

"Well, thanks for the assist. I see my girlfriend up ahead. That's the brunette standing on her tiptoes looking out over the crowd. Thanks again."

He wheeled towards her, pissing people off left and right as he plowed through against the flow of traffic.

"Chuck!" She ran the ten feet separating them and bent down and took his face between her hands and kissed him, gently but deepening the kiss until she was ravaging his mouth, her tongue greeting his after her 'signature double tap' against his lips. She seemed desperate to get as much of her in his mouth as possible but she finally broke off the kiss and then hugged him so hard he thought he heard ribs crack.

"Where's Casey? Why the hell are you traveling alone, Chuck? You shouldn't have to carry a bag and crutches and handle a wheelchair, too. Are you feeling OK? Was the flight hard on you? Are you in pain? Where are your meds?"

God, it was great to be home.

She fussed over him a bit more and then wheeled him out telling him she was double parked in a handicapped zone but the cop gave her a break when she explained who she was picking up.

He looked at her and then at her Porsche. Maybe being home wasn't such a great idea. The wheelchair…

"Oh, crap, baby, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about anything other than getting you home." She looked at the wheelchair and then at her car. Maybe the wheelchair would fit behind the seat…

While Jenny and the break-giving cop wrestled the wheelchair behind the seat, Chuck balanced on his crutches and looked at Jenny for the first time – really looked at her. She'd lost weight. He face seemed thinner and her obviously new jeans fit her like a second skin. Has she been sick or has worrying about me made her sick?

Chuck folded himself into the Porsche while ignoring the burning in his thigh from the stress of using muscles he was told not to. Jenny got into the car and started it up and peeled out and was soon halfway to their condo before she spoke for the first time.

"OK, Chuck. I want the truth, not some bullshit line the State Department gave you to tell me. What the hell happened over there?" She looked at him and he could tell nothing but the truth would work – the truth outlined in his cover.

"Not here, Jenny, please. I want to be home and in your arms when I tell it. I still can't believe I'm not still in that stinking warehouse surrounded by all those dead and dying people. Please, when we're home and I feel…better."

He laid it on thick and felt guilty. They'd promised each other 'no lies between us' and he'd broken his promise with a line of bullshit that shouldn't fool anyone.

"Fine. But I will hear the story and you will tell me everything that happened to you, understand? Everything!"


Chuck maneuvered his way into their condo with Jenny helping him navigate the stairs. The wheelchair would be relegated to the closet once he felt more comfortable on his crutches. Two weeks on crutches and he would be on his own two feet.

He started to sit but she held onto his belt keeping him upright. "No, baby, our bedroom. I want to see what they did to you. C'mon, it's not like I haven't seen you naked or anything. If it makes you feel better, I'll strip, too."

"Jenn, you've lost weight and you look fantastic. Those jeans are so…form fitting. I'm worried. Are you trolling for a new man now that I'm out of the game?" He was kidding. She looked fabulous.

"You son of a bitch! I was worried sick about you and you think I lost weight to find another…"

He kissed her to shut her up. "I was just kidding. You look absolutely gorgeous. New hairdo, tight jeans, new boots…incredible. I appreciate the effort. You look like you could slip into a gunny sack and make it look good."

She blushed, pleased as all hell at his comment but ashamed she'd gone off on him.

"Clothes off, Chuck. I'll help with the pants and socks and shoes. I need to see how badly you were hurt and then work out a PT schedule for you. I've been running every morning and I'll just walk with you instead. I'll have you back in tiptop shape in no time at all, honey. Mmm, a project!"

She ran her hands over his legs and then helped him off with his shirt. She started cursing and touching and cursing and when she gently peeled off the dressing her language got utterly obscene.

"Those…it's a hack job if I ever saw one. The incision is sloppy and the stitching looks like a 1st week home-ec student. Chuck, you're going to have real problems if this isn't corrected. I'll ask around and find someone competent and have it redone, honey. The muscles look OK but you never can tell about adhesions. I thought Casey said you were in a hospital? This looks like it was done on the run in a moving vehicle going over speed bumps!"

She reapplied the dressing and then sat back on her haunches looking up at him.

"Spill. Details. No BS, either."

He patted the bed beside him and she sat down and held his hand. Telling the cover story wasn't all that hard and he didn't embellish it at all. It took about three minutes to cover all the pertinent details.

"Bullshit! I call Bullshit! You didn't get those bruises on your back and upper arms running through the woods. The bruises on your forearms are defensive bruises. The ones on your ribs and back are just…beatings."

He told her what had happened after he shot Casey only he worked it out in his cover as after they'd escaped but been recaptured. He didn't think she'd appreciate knowing that a bunch of NSA strikers had beaten the shit out of him thinking he was a Hound. That wouldn't fly any better than it had with Beckman.

"Major Casey, didn't the team know what Bartowski looked like? How did this happen to my asset?"

"Well, he was wearing a balaclava and a crewman's helmet and in their defense, Colonel, he did shoot me when I approached him."

"They could have tranked him instead of beating the stuffing out of him. Didn't they see he was wounded?"

"Colonel, I stopped them as soon as I could catch my breath. He hit me with a 9mm at close range – 20 feet – right in the heart. If I hadn't been wearing a vest, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Well, you're home now and we've both got time off so after I carefully screw your ears off we'll work out a schedule. I missed you, honey, and when Casey took my call and told me what happened I almost died! No one told me. No one would have told me if anything happened to you."

"Shhh. It's over, Jenn, and I'm safe and home where I belong. I'll always come home to you, Jenny. Always. Now, explain the mechanics of screwing my ears off. It sounds – painful!"

"Butt head!"

"Speaking of butts, yours is incredible. Stand up, baby, and pirouette. You've lost weight. I guess me being gone for 2 months was like going on a diet? I'm sorry if I worried you. Seriously, are you sure this is all exercise and you're not sick? If anything hap…"

She shut him up with a quick kiss.

"I'm in great health. I feel good and I'm watching what I eat and exercising and…Chuck, I want to get married as soon as you feel well enough. I've got it all planned out and it's not too elaborate. I've got a nice dress and all we have to do is pick the date. I've even lined up a priest, baby, and a small church. All you have to do is show up and say 'I do' and then when we both have vacation we can take a honeymoon trip. What do you say?"

"Tomorrow. I can stand just fine. Tomorrow. No, Saturday. No one gets married on a Thursday."

Friday was busy. Jenny had a nail and hair appointment, Chuck went to buy wedding rings but also picked up an engagement ring. We never seem to do things in the right order, do we? He picked Jenny up at the nail salon and drove to the bank and that's when the trouble started.

Chuck greeted the manager and introduced Jenny as his future wife and told her he wanted to 'put her name on everything I own'. The manager, a 30ish dishwater blonde who personally managed his accounts looked at Jenny and sniffed.

Nice body but so…plain.

The manager brought out signature cards, a duplicate key to his safety deposit box and new credit cards issued through the bank. Chuck had already called AMEX and her new card was 'in the mail'. While Chuck went to the restroom, the manager eyed Jenny with thinly veiled disdain.

"Well, you certainly got the brass ring, Ms. Burton. Mr. Bartowski is one of our best clients. We manage his investment portfolio although Charles insists on making his own deals. He has two checking and two savings accounts plus a few CDs. I'm having new checks printed up while you wait."

Jenny was somewhat uncomfortable with both the comments and the woman's demeanor but tried not to let it show.

"I don't know much about Chuck's finances. I have my own money and an excellent job with superb benefits. I've never really wondered about his financial status."

"So, how did you and Charles meet? At one of the dinner parties or at one of the University functions?"

"I head butted him and broke his nose. I took him out for coffee by way of an apology and the rest, as they say, is history."

The manager got a choked expression on her face. She and Chuck had dated a year or so ago but nothing had come of it, or at least not in her opinion. She wondered if Ms. Burton knew he was gay? He'd finally confessed when she'd shown up at his condo wearing a raincoat and a smile. Oh, well. At least she would have his money for company.

When Chuck returned from the men's room (actually he was taking a call from Casey) the manager handed him some computer printouts showing his account balances, his investment portfolio and gave them their new checkbooks and debit cards.

Chuck handed it all to Jenny and then got up on his crutches and thanked the manager for her courtesy.

"You have everything you need, Jennifer? Need any cash?"

"Nope, I'm fine. Got paid last Friday. Flush for a while, anyways." They'd always joked about money, never really worrying about it.

Jenny drove them back to the condo. She didn't want to hear any objections from Chuck. She could see he was tiring and from the discreet way he was massaging his leg, she knew it was aching. She made a mental note to check the height adjustment on the crutches.

"Go soak your leg in the tub. A plastic wound wrapper is on the edge. I stole one from work. Soak that leg and you won't have to sneak trying to massage the ache."

Chuck had just eased into the hot water for a decent soak when Jenny shrieked and then showed up standing in the door, pale and slightly shaken.

"What's wrong? Jenny? Jenny? Damn it, what's wrong?"

She handed him the accounts summary and then sat on the commode lid and waited for the explanation.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You're freaking rich, Chuck, and you never said a damned thing."

"Correction, Jennifer, we're freaking rich and I don't discuss my finances outside of the family or the bank, understand? I made it legitimately but I donated an amount equal to Ellie's life insurance payout to charity once I got things moving and made money."

"So now you're going to marry me for my money, is that it? Well, we have to make an appointment with my lawyer to redraft my will and put your name on the property and all that stuff. I pay him enough. I should just call and say 'Hey, Rob, I'm getting married. Give her half'. That'd work."

"What property?"

"Um, this condo. The lodge at Tahoe. Uh, let's see…some acreage up north that probably won't ever be worth a dime but I like it up there. Oh, yeah, the boat, the truck, yeah, I think that's it. You'll need a will, too, Jenn, not that I expect you to shuffle off the mortal coil, but it's prudent."

He didn't mention his 'Fuck You' fund that he'd set up when Beckman started making noises about The Highway. If things got too bad he was just planning on telling her 'Fuck You' and heading out on his boat. He didn't know whether to mention it or not. Rob would handle that. He knew about his 'secret life'.

"So your net worth is about…"

"Damn it, Jennifer Lisa Burton, our fucking net worth!" He was getting pissed and he didn't know why. "If you insist on having 'yours' and 'mine' I suppose I could get Rob to draw up a prenup. I just want to make sure there's enough out there to take care of you and the kids if anything happens to me.

"Don't go anywhere, Chuck. I'll be right back."

She came back a few minutes later with her hair up on top of her head and nothing else on. She slid into the garden tub beside him and hissed at the hot water. Taking a wash cloth and soap, she started washing him.

"Jennifer, I'm not an invalid. I'm totally able to…whoa!"

"Shh. I've missed you and I've spent almost 3 months conjuring up fantasies to live out with you when you got home. This isn't the best one but it's in the top twenty or so."


It was a brief ceremony. The priest was a former CIA 'officer' from way back in the day before he got the 'call' and a few words from the Station Chief cleared the ecumenical decks of any roadblocks and a call to the Mayor's office resulted in a quick issuance of a marriage license.

Chuck kissed his wife for the first time but it wouldn't be the last.

As Jenny drove them back to their condo to change clothes and relax (HA! Not if she had her way) she couldn't take her eyes off the engagement ring he'd placed on her finger after the ceremony.

Nothing gets done in the right order but the right things get done and that's all I really care about.

Now that she knew they were financially 'comfortable', her list of possible honeymoon locations got longer. And longer. A river boat cruise through the center of Europe was relatively inexpensive and seemed quite luxurious and offered a lot of day tours in various cities. Viking tours were sending brochures per her email.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Bartowski."

"This beautiful ring you surprised me with, our wedding, where to go on our honeymoon but mostly about how damned happy I am right now. I've never been this happy before in my life."

"Good. Let's keep it that way. Let's hurry home, babe. I can't wait to get you out of that dress and into bed. By the way, the photographer got all the poses you wanted and the videographer says he'll mail us DVDs by Wednesday. All in all, a perfect wedding by a perfect wedding planner."

A/N: Chapter 10's next. Sorry, dudes.

APR