Nik's Notes: I split this chapter into two because of its length and so the Angst-fest is in the next chapter. Sorry if you angst-feeders got your hopes up. Next time.

Nikki B

Agent Charles Bartowski soon learned that being an NSA agent married to a civilian had its benefits but mostly it had on-the-job problems. For example, operations requiring local support by female personnel.

Chuck was grumbling under his breath the entire way home from the new Castle site located under a closed strip mall. The entrance was concealed in a rental office that was manned, more or less, a few days a week to give people the impression that someone was trying to lease or rent space in one of the many closed stores. Many, hell. They were all closed after the NSA bought the building.

"Major Casey, Agent Bartowski, good afternoon. I have a delicate mission for one of you. A known Fulcrum leader is giving a 'fund raising' dinner party this evening for influential members of the University community in Los Angeles in order to attempt to recruit some of the researchers involved in laser research. Agent Bartowski, you and a female agent will attend. It's black tie, of course."

"Who's the female agent?" Casey hated surprises.

"We've 'borrowed' one from the CIA substation in Los Angeles. Agent Bartowski, this may present a problem for you since her cover job is at TLC Medical Services, your wife's current employer."

"Oh, crap. Is this agent going to remain in LA or am I going to get a break and she'll be transferred far, far away so that breaking my cover won't be a result?"

"Director Graham has made it abundantly clear that she will be under the control of the NSA for the remainder of her career and that any, repeat, any breach of confidentiality will result in being given over to the staff at Moab."

Casey was appalled at the lack of concern for their security. "Ma'am, with all due respect, Team Cardinal is too critical, given Chuck's 'burden', to risk its security on an operation this…worthless."

"No doubt, Major Casey, you've noticed the oak leaves on your collar and noticed the eagles on mine? The decision has been made. Agent Bartowski, you will be met at the hotel by this agent where the fund raiser is being held. She will accompany you on this endeavor."

Chuck sighed. He had no choice. "And the purpose of this 'endeavor'? And has she been briefed on the intersect?"

"To identify and photograph any one you flash on. You will flash, she will photograph. She has no idea you are anything other than a part-time operative. Now if there are no further questions, good day, gentlemen." Chuck often wondered what she would do if someone did have further questions?

"Jenny, I'm home. I have to go to some damned black tie fund raiser for the University and renew my grant applications and press the flesh. I shouldn't be more than an hour, babe. Jenny?"

There was a note on the kitchen table written in her tight professional script:

Chuck, my dearest husband and my only reason for existence:
That skank C-Cups has a hot date tonight and I have to cover for her in the Canyon Clinic. Sorry, baby, but I'll be back by 11pm or so.

Jenny

He smiled tightly. Good news. He wouldn't have to lie to his wife – again. Bad news, He'd have to lie to his wife – again.

He left a note in his cramped impossible-to-decipher scrawl:

Dearest Buns of Steel:

Damn! I have to go to a university fund raiser and make my case to some grant people. I have to wear the damned monkey suit and I wanted you to be with me to dazzle them and make it much easier for me to get into their wallets. I'll bring Chinese or Thai home.

Chuck

Casey dropped Chuck off half a block from the hotel and ran routine commo checks on him and remote checks on the CIA 'date' and both were good. Chuck walked up towards the main entrance and just about shit his pants. There was Wendy Sanderson – C-Cups!

If there's a God in heaven, please let Him have pity on me and make this a pure coincidence – please?

Unfortunately, the Almighty was out of town and had left Heaven to St. Pete who thought the whole situation was a knee-slapper and decided that this was one appeal that the Almighty would probably have said 'no' to since He enjoyed a good joke as much as the next Deity.

C-Cups saw Chuck approaching the main entrance and wondered where her supposed asshole NSA 'date' was lurking? Probably still trying to figure out how to button his fly.

"Why Chuck Bartowski! I haven't seen you in forever! How's married life?"

"Cut the crap, Wendy. I'm Cardinal."

"Jesus Christ! You're the Cardinal? Does Jenny know?" She was thrilled to meet him but appalled that she'd been so wrong about his orientation if Jenny's comments were to be believed.

"Yes, I'm Cardinal. No, she doesn't know and it's going to stay that way. If she gets wind of what we're going to do here tonight, the real reason, you're days of seeing the sun will end and that's not an idle threat."

Wendy's eyes got big in her face and she paled. This was not the Hunk she was used to dealing with. This man was an agent and he'd probably kill her if he even suspected she'd rat him out to his wife and save the government the room and board.

"Now, you're arm candy and I'm going to use my photographic memory to identify bad guys and you're going to take their picture with your purse camera. If you miss a shot, let me know and we'll go at it from a different angle. Understand?"

She nodded and put her arm through his and nodded again. "Ready, Cardinal. I'll never say a word to Jenny, never. I promise."

"Good, because it would be a shame to rob some poor bastard of the pleasures of the flesh in the future. Let's go." He'd stared at her boobs when he said it and made her blush. Her reputation was well known and what she'd said about him was equally well known.

The mission went smoothly. Chuck flashed, whispered in her ear and she laughed or giggled and pointed the jeweled clasp on her purse and squeezed the button and soon they had completed their rounds and walked to the front entrance to leave.

"Chuck, if you ever need me for anything, I'm available." She kissed him on the cheek and then walked over to the taxi stand and caught a cab home.

Casey smiled broadly and said in a falsetto voice, "if you ever need me for anything, I'm available." And laughed. His opinion of the CIA just dropped another 10 points.

"Let it be, Casey. At least now she'll quit saying I'm gay."

"Oh? I thought you being married to Jenny would have put a stop to it."

"You'd have thought it, right."

At the next meeting of the Happy Hour crew, C-Cups kept looking at Jenny and it was creeping her out. Was this some lesbian come-on? C-Cups did have a unique reputation.

"Wendy, what is your problem? Quit staring." A direct frontal approach was often the most successful. C-Cups blushed and looked down at her drink.

C-Cups followed Jenny out to the parking lot and asked for a minute of her time. "I owe you an apology. I never should have said those things about Ag- I mean, the Hunk, er, Chuck, your husband. I'm sorry and it won't happen again. And if you ever need me to cover for you, just ask."

When Jenny arrived home and told Chuck about 'the encounter' he just laughed.

"Maybe she's a 12-stepper or something. Anyhow, it doesn't matter. I know I prefer women. Actually one woman. A hot brunette with a body to die for and the love of my life."

"Ha! You're just saying that 'cause you think you might get lucky. Well, you're right!" She plopped down on his lap and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, her tongue giving that unique double tap on his lips as if knocking on a door. He always let her in.

Agent Jennifer Burton Bartowski soon learned that being a CIA agent married to a civilian had its benefits but mostly it had on-the-job problems. For example: overnight missions with a male agent.

Montreal, Canada

Jenny got off the plane, walked through Customs quickly since she only had one carry-on bag, and walked over to a Tim Horton's kiosk for some coffee and to meet her contact.

"Well, hello again, Jenny. Fancy meeting you here?" Bryce Larkin was so slimy Jenny wondered how he kept his clothes on. Ewww, that's a gross thought. 'Larkin and naked' in the same mental picture was disgusting. Chuck would never behave in such a manner, agent or no agent.

"I'm working, Larkin. What are you doing?"

"I'm working, too, Agent Burton. I'm…your partner for this event. Is that all you brought with you? For three days? My, my, you are a most unusual woman."

"Th – three days? I'm supposed to run the op this evening and then catch a flight to JFK and then back home to L.A. Three days? Shit!"

I'll have to call Chuck and tell him…something. Another lie. I need to tell him the truth. It won't change anything. It won't change us. We'll still be Chuck & Jenny. Nothing could ever change that.

"Take it easy, Jenny. The rendezvous had to be changed because our mark is under close surveillance. The whole plan has been stretched out to allow the mark to be safely extracted. No problems. I've got a room and you can bunk with me. Use the 'company card' and buy whatever else you need."

Jenny and Larkin caught a cab from the airport to the hotel where they'd be staying. They'd hardly spoken to one another during the cab ride or on the elevator to their floor. Once they got in the room Larkin started running the briefing for the changed mission.

"You'll need to change into something appropriate for dinner in a 4-star restaurant. Since we're 'married', keep the rings. We're going to 'bump into' the mark and scope out the opposition. You flirt him up while I scan and try to identify his security detail."

"Then what?" This hadn't been her assignment. This situation was fluid and she'd been told it was a straight meet, greet and extract, but obviously it was more.

"Then listen to him very carefully. He'll let you know the delegation's schedule for the conference tomorrow and when and where to meet him. Once we know that, we'll adjust our operation to fit the new schedule."

"Why is a minister of a friendly country 'defecting' anyway? I mean he could just get on a plane and fly south and the make a contact. Why all this mystery?"

"He's Fulcrum's strategic planner. He knows their short and long term goals and who the major players are and so that's why he can't just waltz into the US consulate and say 'Hi, I'm here to ask for asylum'. We don't know who is Fulcrum and who isn't. They've infiltrated federal and state agencies, foreign governments in the hemisphere. This guy knows stuff we need to know."

Sighing in resignation, Jenny carried her bag into the bathroom and changed into her 'little blue dress' that Chuck said matched and brought out her eye color so distinctly. She liked the way she looked in the dress and she really liked the way he looked at her when she wore it.

Larkin smiled when she came out of the bathroom. She'd done her hair up in a French twist thing and put on heavy eye makeup and she looked…like another man's wife. Larkin sighed. This is going to be an interesting evening. And a very interesting night.

They had dinner at the restaurant designated as the meet site and Jenny tried to limit the small talk. She was nervous and didn't want it to show too much. She didn't like Larkin but his report on her actions was important to her and her job.

"So, what's married life like, Jenny? Tell me about the main man in your life?" He was curious about his competition. He wanted this woman for no other reason than she didn't want him. He knew from experience that if he could find some point of dissatisfaction with her 'hubby', that he'd have something to work at. She'd be hot between the sheets once he found the chink in the matrimonial armor.

"He's great! He's sweet and very caring. We're so right for each other. The only thing that bothers me is…" She stopped.

Larkin pounced. "Go on. What bothers you?"

"I don't know why he loves me. He could do so much better. I guess I should just be thankful that he does and be done with it. He's always there for me and he's very supportive."

"He knows you're an agent? Jesus, that's a major security breach…"

"No, he doesn't know. I meant he's supportive of my 'cover' job and all the travel I do. Most of my stuff has been interrogations, witness security or simple courier runs."

'So she's shy, insecure and has questions about whether he really loves her. Perfect.' He ignored what he'd heard her say, preferring to hear what he wanted to hear.

"Well, having a situation like this allows you time 'outside' of your marriage to let loose. OK, there's the mark at the bar. Why don't you go and get yourself another glass of wine and make the approach. I'll watch for his detail."

"But we have a bottle here…" She didn't want to arouse suspicion. It was a lame move.

"Take advantage of the situation. Maybe he'll ask you to come up to his room. Take the opportunity and find out all you can. It's why you're here, Burton. Didn't they tell you? You're supposed to use a 'seduction' as a cover to get him alone. I told you he's under close watch. They've probably bugged his room, too, so get very close and listen. Pillow talk. After-sex talk. Y'know. Remember the Farm classes?"

"You want me to sleep with him? Jesus, no fucking way. I'm not a whore. I'm a married woman and I won't cheat on him…"

"Listen up, bitch. You're the bait and we need to know about his schedule, changes and possible problems and if you have to slide between the sheets to do it, it's a mission requirement. That's why you're here. It's why they tasked you with this. He's not gay so I can't do it. We need someone to gather the information and a woman in his bed is the optimal solution. His handlers won't suspect a thing."

She chewed at her lower lip while her mind dealt with this horrible situation. She understood the means and reasons from a tactical standpoint. It was the moral view that she had a problem with. She would find another way. She wouldn't do this to Chuck, even if he'd never know.

"I'll do it. You make damned sure this never gets in the reports, Agent Larkin, or I'll stuff your balls in a blender and puree them and make you drink it before you die!" She jumped up from the table and stormed into the bar giving other dining patrons the impression of an arguing couple.

She stalked up to the bar beside the mark muttering 'Damn him. What an asshole!' and demanding a 'double shot of Grey Goose on ice' from the barman who dashed to fill her order. She didn't look like someone who was very patient.

The mark looked at her with amusement. He found her very attractive and wondered if her beau had wounded her pride enough that she wanted to get even…with him.

"Ah, the troubles with young love. Allow me to get that for you." She'd been fumbling with her purse looking for cash to pay the bar bill.

"Thank you. It's so nice to finally meet a gentleman in this town. I'm Sara, Sara Gamble. And you are…"

"Ah, Sara, a beautiful name. I'm Mark Rochambeau and I would like nothing more than to spend time with such a beautiful name and the woman who bears it. Do you like champagne? I have a bottle chilling for me in my room. If it wouldn't seem unseemly for such a woman to accompany a stranger…"

"Lead on, Mark. Like I said, it's nice to finally meet a gentleman. Are you always so…gentlemanly?"

"No, not always, Sara. Sometimes I can be quite the opposite."

"Good. I'm not in the mood for 'nice'. I feel wicked and want something hard and rough in my…life." She fixed him with what she hoped was a sultry look and when his eyes widened and then he smiled, she knew she had him.

He kissed her in the elevator ignoring the two men who'd followed them into the elevator car – apparently his 'escort' or handlers. His lips were thick and he tried to push his tongue between hers but she lightly nipped the end and then broke off and looked and him and whispered 'hard and rough' into his ear and nipped the earlobe trying not to gag.

He fondled her ass and she tried not to move away. It was only for a few minutes and she could handle being pawed until they were in his room.

They walked out of the elevator and down the corridor to his room and she noticed that one of the handlers remained by the door when it closed. She steeled her self and then walked into the bathroom and took off her dress and hung it carefully over the shower rod and kicked off her heels and rooted through her purse until she found her lipstick and a 'sweet dreams' mini-injector.

She walked back out into the room and found her mark already naked and in bed. He leered at her and patted the other side of the bed and she had to smile. He'd never remember a damned thing but she'd leave sufficient evidence and souvenirs of their sexual encounter to satisfy him and his handlers.

She crawled up the covers until her body was splayed across his and forced herself to kiss him deeply and then putting her lips to his ear whispered "Before we start, baby, there's something you should know. I find you very attractive and I want to see you again, and I wanted you to know even before we get down to pleasuring each other tonight. So how about it. Where and when tomorrow night? Preferably somewhere less obvious since I do have a husband and I do like his money."

He babbled out his schedule and where to meet him for their next illicit rendezvous, hurried on by her knee that was massaging his crotch through the thick comforter.

"Good boy. Now, close your eyes and let Sara do all the work, baby. I'm going to give you such a ride and then I'm going to let you do whatever you want to me for as long as you can. Sara wants it hard and rough and don't worry about leaving marks. Sara likes it, baby, Sara likes it."

Disgusted with the leering face, she slapped the side of his neck with the injector and smiled as his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.

Jenny hated this part but it had to be done. She applied a heavy coat of lipstick and began smearing kisses all over his face and chest, along his thighs but stopped at his crotch. Nope. No way. She carefully drew a ropy circle around the base of his cock and smeared it with a fingertip. Let him have his imagined thrills.

She washed her hands and face, cleaning off the disgusting lipstick and gargling with hotel-provided mouthwash. As a final touch, she took off her panties and put them in his hand and left her bra on the floor beside the bed. She planned on burning the dress when she had the chance. She would buy another one in the same color but she refused to ever wear it again.

She had a few hours to kill so she took a shower and then combed out her French braid and brushed her hair out. She saw the time and pulled on the dress and shoes and surveyed the room. Perfect.

She turned out the lights and walked out, nodding to the handler and smiling like a satisfied cat. He just smirked but opened the door and walked in to check on his charge. She was still waiting for the elevator car when he walked out and saw her and just nodded, one pro to another, on a job well done.

Jenny didn't notice the security camera mounted above the elevator doors since it was recessed and appeared to be part of the ornate filigreed capstone. It was designed to catch a full facial view when the 'guest' looked up at the floor indicator as all people eventually do.

Larkin was waiting for her in the lobby and as they walked out to the cabstand he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

"How did it go? Did you get the info we needed? Took you long enough."

"Got it. Got what I needed, too. He was different. Very creative and seemed to know exactly what a woman wanted and needed. He's sound asleep, poor boy."

"Jesus, Burton, you didn't really sleep with him, did you?"

"No, dickhead. I just wanted to see your reaction, that's all." She fixed him with her best glare. "I already have one asshole in my pants. I don't need another! You best find another room, Larkin, or sleep on the floor. And don't ask for me again. You're a disgusting excuse for an agent and worse for a man."

The extraction mission went off without further glitches. The mark was waiting in the seedy motel conveniently near the airport and instead of a wanton brunette who'd given him such pleasure the previous night he was met by a CIA extraction team, tranked and smuggled out as cargo on a FedEx flight.

Jenny flew back to LA via JFK. She drove home but Chuck wasn't there yet so she took the blue dress and a knife and tore it to shreds. She tossed out the lipstick she'd used and took a hot shower, scrubbing herself almost raw until she stopped crying.

'I am not a whore. I am not a whore. I am not…'

She was lying on his chest, her finger tracing designs in his skin with a fingernail and she asked him a question. He was almost asleep but he became fully awake when he heard the question and it's tone.

"Chuck. Why do you love me?"

"I do. Do you doubt it, Jenn? Have I done something to make you think…"

"I didn't ask 'Do you love me? I know that and you show it in so many little ways as well as one really big way." She stroked him lightly and then asked again.

"I asked 'Why do you love me?' Why, when you could do so much better?"

He sat up, pulling her with him. "What's wrong, Jennifer? What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened. I just got to thinking about it, that's all."

He sighed and thought about it, really for the first time. "Yeah, I could probably find a woman with a finer body, a more beautiful face, more graceful, yeah, if I looked around I could probably do better."

He felt her stiffen and figured he'd better hurry if he wanted to stay married.

"But I don't think I could find another woman who makes me glad I am alive, who makes me happy to finally end the work day so I can be with her, who is the last thing I ever want to see before I die but who makes me hope for a long life. I can't explain the 'why' just that I do. You make me happy, Jennifer, and if that alone isn't enough then maybe we need to rethink…"

He never got to finish the sentence. She almost screamed 'NO!' and hugged him and started to cry.

He had no idea what brought all this on but promised himself that he'd find out and if anyone had hurt her, he'd kill them. He would talk with Casey about some surveillance on her. Not on her, but on anyone she came in contact with. No one was going to screw up his marriage.

Maybe it was time to broach the subject of my 'other job' and find out if my wife could still love someone who did what I do. I can always justify myself with Beckman's rationale that helping 300 million keep safe trumped helping (or hurting) ten or twenty. If Beckman tried to make good on her threat to put her underground, I'll just take her and run.