Chuck vs. the Old Friends—Chapter 2
~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~
"Chuck. What are you doing?"
"It's the pizza," Chuck mumbled through his full mouth. "I didn't want it to go to waste."
"When did you get it?" Sarah asked quizzically, turning to face him and bunching her face into a frown that was just barely visible in the residual street lighting that managed to make its way into the suburban through the tinted windows. "We never went back to the apartment."
"I may have kept it in the Porsche while we were talking to Graham," he admitted sheepishly.
Sarah narrowed her eyes in reply. "You're lucky I love you, you know. If it was anyone else who had just admitted to taking food into my car, they would rolling down the sidewalk with a few broken bones right now."
"That's both incredibly hot, and horribly terrifying at the same time."
Sarah turned again and raised her eyebrow at him, stopping the SUV at the red traffic light. "Urgh. Remind me why we didn't bring the Porsche?" she lamented as the whole car rolled forward on its front suspension.
"Williams said it would be too conspicuous," Chuck replied, recalling her deadly expression when the Director had suggested—that is, ordered—that she take the black CIA issue Chevy Tahoe rather than her beloved Porsche.
Sarah snorted, swinging the Tahoe left onto 29th Street. "Because a black, tinted suburban doesn't scream 'federal agent.' " As the suburban drifted over the crosswalk, the tracker, mounted onto the Sat Nav which was displaying the route of the search pattern Chuck designed, began to steadily beep.
"We're close," Chuck said, sitting up in his seat and fiddling which the dial on the tracker. "I've increased the scanning resolution. It should track the chips down to the nearest five metres or so now." Sarah leaned across and kissed him on the cheek as he leaned back in his chair, eliciting a small squeak of surprise and an inquiring glance.
"What? You find it hot when I'm 'badass,' " she said 'badass' whilst making air quotes with one hand, "I find it hot when you're all nerdy like that."
"Really? Nerdy and hot aren't usually synonymous."
She grinned devilishly, and her hand began to drift over from the gearshift. "Do you want me to prove it to you?" Chuck spluttered, and mumbled something about 'road safety' and 'fiery deaths,' before Sarah pouted and retracted her hand. "I'll just have to show you later then."
Chuck laughed, as the beeping of the tracker became louder and more rapid, "I look forward to it. And we're here too,' he added, as Sarah pulled up outside an apartment complex.
"Let's go," she said, jumping out of the car and grabbing her gun.
|CHUCK|
Chuck decided he agreed with Sarah, as they walked along the apartment building corridor in amicable silence, the only noise being the steady beeping of the tracker; and that was being piped through earpieces directly into Chuck's ears. He didn't really know why the CIA wanted their agents to be dressed in a black suit, with a black tie, and black sunglasses; the get up screamed 'Secret Agent'; there wasn't really anything inconspicuous about it. Still, he mused as he paused at the door to the apartment and Sarah reached out to knock, it gave him the air of authority he would be needed to search the place. The door swung open at Sarah's knock, revealing a pretty brunette with wide brown eyes, whose flirtatious smile dropped when she saw the man standing at her door.
"Chuck?"
Chuck's jaw had dropped into a small O when the door was opened, and had remained there since then. Composing himself, he managed to splutter, "H― Hannah?"
"What are you doing here?" To be honest, he was expecting to hear that venom in her voice the instant he saw her pull open the door, he wasn't expecting the sudden stinging sensation on his left cheek, however.
Sarah reacted swiftly to Hannah's slap, pulling Chuck away, and warning Hannah to stay put with a fiery look; ensuring the livid brunette got a full view of the silver Smith & Wesson tucked into a holster inside her black blazer. Tenderly, she lifted her hand to touch Chuck's cheek, and he flinched slightly as her fingers brushed over the raw skin. "It's going to bruise," she said with a sigh.
"Sarah, I can't do this," Chuck replied in a frantic whisper. "She thinks I used her for—"
"Chuck," Sarah cut him off calmly, her hand still on his cheek. "It's going to be fine. You look for the chips, I'll guard Hannah."
Chuck blinked a few times, and turned back to where Hannah was standing, staring at him with a clenched jaw and hurt evident in her eyes. "Okay. Okay, but you do all the talking," he looked at Sarah with a slight pleading expression.
"Fine," she smiled at him gently, to reassure him. "Out of interest, what exactly happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Chuck responded sharply, before sighing and softening his tone when Sarah frowned and sharply withdrew her hand. "Not now, I'll tell you once this is over, okay?"
She sighed and nodded quickly, remembering that Hannah was watching them so she couldn't really do anything more, she probably shouldn't have even stroked his cheek. Schooling her expression back into 'Agent mode,' she walked back over to Hannah, pulling out her CIA-issued FBI credentials and badge. "Special Agent Walker, FBI," she began sharply. "If you lay another hand on Agent Carmichael—"
"Agent Carmichael?" Hannah interjected incredulously.
"I will arrest you for assaulting a police officer," Sarah plowed on, disregarding the interruption. It was best to remain wholly professional in these situations; to execute the mission by the book. "We need to search this apartment, can you move to the side, Miss…"
"Hannah Smith. And no."
"It was not a request, Miss Smith," Sarah replied with a little more force.
"Do you have a warrant?" she snapped, hissing through her teeth.
"Yes," Sarah replied, pulling out the fake warrant the Director had given to them, which basically stated that they could search any place that might be 'suspicious'.
"So my apartment is 'suspicious?' What is it about my apartment?"
Sarah smiled grimly. "That's classified."
She half-sighed and half-growled in defeat, before moving back into the apartment and holding the door open for them.
Sarah walked towards the apartment, with Chuck following her, trying to avoid eye contact with Hannah. Striding into the it, she immediately began to catalogue the room, its various cover points, exits, windows; anything that could give them an advantage if Hell decided to descend upon them. It was a small place, clearly designed for only one person; there was a window opposite the door which would have been good for a quick getaway, if they weren't on the fourth floor (she had no intention of adding to Chuck's track record of jumping off of buildings). In front of the window was the kitchenette, on the left side of the room. The two counters—one backed onto the wall, and one just in front of that—looked to be fairly sturdy, they would be good for cover. Chuck unplugged the tracking device from the earphones, and a continuous beeping rung out through the room. He fiddled with a few dials on it, lowering the volume, and changing the beeps so that they were much slower and distinct.
"It's definitely in here," he said in a hushed whisper to Sarah. "It'll track down to a few centimetres now."
"What's here?" Hannah asked, jerking her head up sharply and looking at Sarah, using her as a conduit through which she could communicate with Chuck.
"Classified," Sarah replied with an air of finality, as Hannah rolled her eyes, huffed, and fell down into the couch in front of the TV, which was opposite the kitchenette. "Chuck, you go look for it, I'll stay here."
Chuck nodded in reply, and padded down a short corridor to the left of the door, his head held down, looking intently at the screen of the tracker. Hannah waited for a few moments, until she thought he was out of earshot, before opening her mouth. She saw Sarah's scowl as she stood up, watching over Hannah from next to the wall-mounted TV, and promptly shut it again, before opening it again; somewhat like a goldfish.
"What?" Sarah said sharply, looking at Hannah pointedly.
"Chuck works for the FBI?"
"Something like that." It wasn't a lie, exactly; the CIA was something like the FBI (except CIA didn't stand for famous but incompetent).
"You know he used me for se—"
Sarah interrupted her with a deadly glare, that would send many people running for the hills with damp trousers. "I'm sure that, whatever he did, he has a very good reason for it."
"Was I just a mission then?"
"I don't know," she replied curtly; this was becoming annoying, fast, so she was grateful when Chuck came running back down the corridor, clutching a black leather case in one hand, and the tracker in the other. She frowned when she saw the apprehensive look on his face. "Chuck? Did you get it?"
"Yea," he murmured, holding up the black case. "But we have a problem."
"A problem?"
"The tracker detects other trackers, and it says that there is another tracker moving towards us."
"The people who stole it—"
"Are coming back to pick it up."
Sarah looked at Chuck for a split second, and caught his subtle nod before turning to Hannah. "We need to go. Now."
She looked at Sarah defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sarah sighed, and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Look. I can either arrest you now, for the illegal possession of classified Government technology, or you can come with us as a witness."
Hannah just stayed firmly put, leaning back into the couch.
Chuck looked at her for a second, worry lacing his features. "Hannah. There are some very, very bad people on their way here, right now. And I don't know whether or not you're involved with them or not, and I don't care, because either way, they'll kill you, and then both of us."
Hannah's eyes flickered over him, and her face softened slightly, before she blew out some air between her teeth and began to stand up.
"Do you have a car?" Sarah asked, hoping that she had one parked somewhere other than the front of the building.
"Yea. There's one parked in the garages at the back."
Then they ran, straight out of Hannah's apartment, not bothering to lock it—she would never be cooming back here anyway—and along the corridor to the long winding staircase that doubled as a fire escape. At the bottom, Chuck pulled out the tracker, and panicked slightly.
"They're here! Oh god! Oh god!" Okay, maybe a bit more than slightly.
"Chuck," Sarah responded firmly. "Calm down."
He nodded mutely.
"Where are they?"
"They've just turned onto this road."
"Okay then. Let's get to the car then. Hannah?" She looked expectantly at Hannah, who began to lead the way towards the car park. "Chuck," she looked at him, standing there slightly spaced out. Flicking her eyes back, she saw Hannah watching them expectantly. "Screw it." She pulled him in for a quick, reassuring kiss, placing her hands on the sides of his face, taking care not to put too much pressure on his bruised cheek. "Chuck, come on. It'll be fine." She smiled a crooked smile at him, and he nodded in reply. Turning, Sarah saw Hannah staring at them, her mouth slightly agape at the kiss, and rolled her eyes. "Let's move Hannah," she urged, ushering with her hands, and waving them towards her.
The journey was silent. Well, actually, silent was an understatement. The air was thick with non-sound, as Chuck rode shotgun in Hannah's car; Sarah swore she could cut through the air with one of her knives, given the strength of the tension that was strung out between him, and Hannah in the back. It made the silent night outside feel positively defeaning. Chuck had insisted that she not handcuff Hannah, and she smiled inwardly as she remembered how vehemently he argued the point. It was one of the many things she loved about him: how he could remain so trusting after being thrust headlong into a world of lies and deceit. She couldn't manage it. She didn't manage it. Until he came along, that was. They had settled into their current rhythm, of Sarah driving, and Chuck and Hannah sitting in disgustingly awkward silence, after they managed to escape from her apartment complex. The 'bad guys' (she didn't know who they were, yet) had pulled up in a blue sedan, just as Sarah had floored it out of Hannah's garage and out onto the road, in front of the them, and the CIA SUV.
As she drove off the freeway, onto Dolly Mason Boulevard, Hannah suddenly sat up straighter in the back seat, and pressed her face to the window. "This isn't the way to the FBI office," she stated slowly, with a frown.
"We're not going to the FBI office," Sarah replied matter of factly.
"Then where—"
"Langley."
"Langley? But then… you must be…" she paused, waiting for the full effect of the next three letters to strike her. "You're CIA?"
Sarah didn't comment on that. In fact, she showed absolutely no emotion, and indicated that Chuck should do the same.
|CHUCK|
"Chuck, what happened?" Sarah asked, once they were back at their apartment, snuggled up on the couch, as the late night TV babbled on in the background. The Director had told them not to bother going to sleep, since the it wouldn't take long for the CCTV footage to pick up the 'bad guys'.
"Whaddya mean?" he yawned sleepily.
"Back at Hannah's building, at the bottom of those stairs. You just sort of, froze up." She looked up at him from her position in his lap, with her head resting on his chest (as usual).
"Oh," he said, looking blankly at the TV.
"Chuck?"
He sighed lightly, and stroked her hair with a pensive expression. "I just—I broke up with her to keep her away from all this. But it just keeps interfereing. First Jill, then Dad, now this. It just sort hit me there, that she might actually have assisted treason. Her. Hannah. A traitor."
"Chuck," she began tentatively. "Can I ask you a question?"
Chuck frowned, "do you really need to ask my permission?"
She smiled. "And please don't get mad."
He squeezed her gently to indicate that she should carry on.
"What would have happened, to us, if you hadn't broken up with Hannah?"
Chuck, to her surprise, smiled. It was almost like he was expecting it. "There were actually two reasons I broke up with her."
Now it was Sarah's turn to frown.
"First. After the museum thing, I didn't want to keep putting her in danger, and then having to lie to her about how close to dying she came."
Sarah nodded.
"And second," he began, taking a breath, "I realised that only one person would ever make me truly happy." He looked at her, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You."
"And why is that?"
Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "Do I really need to answer that?"
Sarah shrugged.
"Because I love you, Sarah Walker. Always have, and always will."
She grinned. "I love you too, Chuck." She leaned in, and kissed him. Soon the kiss escalated beyond making out, and they both made full advantage of living alone, throwing clothes around everywhere. Sarah was fairly sure the people in apartments below and above could hear her moaning, but she didn't particularly care.
"You know," Chuck said as they were lying on their bed (he didn't know how they got there), naked. "That's what I was trying to tell you before the General interrupted."
She twisted around to face him. "About Hannah?"
"Not specifically, but Ellie said that we should go through some of this stuff."
" 'This stuff?' "
"You know. All the stuff we've been through. The 49B, Cole, Shaw, Hannah, Lou," he paused, and stroked her back for a moment before continuing in the smallest of voices. "Prague."
Sarah kissed him softly, wiping the single tear from his eye. "Hey. Come on, I'd forgiven you for that a long, long time ago."
He kissed her back, and smiled. "But I still think we should talk about it."
"I think so too."
"Really?" he asked in surprise.
"Yes. But not right now." She snuggled up closer to him, and buried her face in the crook of his neck as they drifted off to sleep, the Director's orders long forgotten.