Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 3

~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!~

Is it the look in your eyes,

Or is it this dancing juice?

Who cares, baby?

I think I wanna marry you.

Chuck hummed along as he strolled along the downtown D.C. sidewalk, bobbing his head to the music as light snowflakes floated gently down around him, and ignoring the stares of every passing coat-clad, scarf-wrapped stranger when he sung "I think I wanna marry you" out loud. His phone pinged as he passed a Starbucks and he reached into his coat pocket to pull it out. His happy smile stretched into a grin when he saw it was a text from Sarah. "Flight leaves in 3hrs. C u soon, ly xxx." Typing out a quick reply, he picked up the pace a bit when he spotted the sign for the jeweller's and, weaving through the crowd, he made a beeline for the entrance. Just as he pressed his bare hand (gloves were a hindrance to his phone-operating capabilities) to the freezing cold door handle, the passionate chorus of "don't say no, no, no no, no" was interrupted by a loud rendition of 'Anyway You Want It'.

"Hey Morgan," Chuck answered with a grumble.

"Hey, Chuck buddy!" Morgan paused, as if pondering something (which was never good). "What's up?"

"Nothing Morgan," Chuck sighed.

"Cool, cool… Look, I was wondering if you could—"

"Actually, Morgan, I'm in the middle of something," Chuck interrupted, sensing the beginnings of a long story. "Can I call you back?"

"Where are you dude? It sounds like L.A. at rush hour."

"I'm actually in Washington, Morgan. At a jeweller's."

"What're you doing at a jeweller's, Chuck? Ellie's birthday isn't for two months, and Sarah's—"

"Morgan…"

"Oh," Morgan drew out as realisation hit. "You're buying the ring."

"Yes, Morgan."

"Duuuude! Put me on video, we can look together!"

"No, Morgan, I really don't—"

"Come on! You're gonna propose without even letting your best man see the ring?"

"Morgan, I never said you were the—"

"Chuck," Morgan began, as if he were about to clap a hand on Chuck's shoulder—the 2000 mile separation notwithstanding. "I've been there for all the big Bartowski family moments. Ellie's graduation from High School. Ellie's graduation from college. The first time Ellie brought Devon home—"

"Morgan, that's just Ellie's moments."

"Let me finish Chuck. When Ellie got the job at Westside. When Ellie got the fellowship at USC. When Ellie met your mom—"

"Okay, Morgan. I get the idea—"

"And you're going to deny me the opportunity to help you pick out an engagement ring for Vicki Vale herself? For shame, Chuck, for shame."

"Morgan, I don't think they'll be very happy if I start talking to you in the middle of the shop."

"Whatever Chuck," he replied dismissively, grumpiness evident in his tone. "Just don't come running to me later."

"I'll pick out a few, and send you photos before I decide. How about that?"

"Whatevs dude."

Chuck sighed and put down the phone before pushing open the shop door. Stepping inside, he blinked at the sight of row after row of jewellery encased in bullet-proof security glass, glinting in the frosty, early-December sun, and sending rays of red, blue, orange and purple light scattering across the shop ceiling. "Wow," Chuck muttered under his breath, "this place is big." As he stood there, dumbstruck and wishing Ellie was with him (she was girl, she knew how to do this stuff), he was swiftly accosted by one of the jewellers.

"Sir, may I interest you in a new watch?" he asked, glancing disdainfully at Chuck's Governor.

"Um, no, thank you," Chuck frowned, "I'm actually looking for an engagement ring."

"Ah!" the man exhaled dramatically, "the back desk."

Chuck nodded and made his way through the labyrinth of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires, making his way gently through the shop as if the slightest touch on one of the cabinets would result in him having to pay several million dollars in damages. "Hi," he began, as he approached the man behind the cabinet running along the back oak panelled wall of the shop. "I'm looking for an engagement ring?"

"Ah, yes," the man replied, emulating the jeweller from near the door. "We have all of our finest pieces right here," he continued, gesturing at the cabinet directly in front if him.

"Could I see them?" Chuck asked politely.

"Yes, of course. Let me just find the right key..." The man fumbled with his keychain for a moment, before unlocking the cabinet and sliding open the back pane of glass. "Now does your girlfriend generally wear white gold, or yellow gold?"

"White," Chuck replied firmly.

"Okay," he replied, pulling out the top two trays from the cabinet. "These are all of our white engagement rings. Now, the ones here," he pointed to the tray on the left, "are the larger diamonds. They tend to stand out more, and extend from the finger quite far."

Chuck nodded mutely, glancing across at the fat diamonds firmly planted in the centre of the thick banded white gold rings. None of those were right. Too big, and too flashy; not Sarah's style at all.

"These ones are the slightly smaller diamonds," he continued, now looking at the tray on the right, "they tend to have thinner bands, but a few of these pieces have more than one stone in them."

Chuck dragged his gaze over to the other tray, and began to scan over them. These were much better; small, but not invisible. Noticeable, but not garish.

"This particular piece is very nice," the man said, holding out a plain ring with a single diamond set in the centre. "A three quarter carat brilliant solitaire diamond set in 18 karat white gold. Only 3,000 dollars."

Chuck, however, wasn't listening to a word the jeweller was saying. His eyes were fixed on the ring tucked away in the back corner of the tray. It was perfect. There was a single, glimmering diamond set in the middle of the ring, with two strips of small diamonds running along the band, away from the centrepiece. "How much for that?" Chuck asked, pointing at the ring.

"Mm," the man hummed, picking up the ring. "Ah! Yes, I remember this one. A brilliant solitaire diamond set in 18 karat white gold with diamonds cascading along shoulders. One carat, if I remember correctly."

"How much for it?"

"This one is 7,000 dollars, it is an exquisite piece, though."

"I'll take it," Chuck replied without hesitation. There was something about that ring. It felt perfect.

"Okay," the man replied, now smiling, "what size?"

"Oh, she's got the same size fingers as me," Chuck replied, holding out his hand.

"It would be easier if we had another ring to compare it with."

"I'm sorry, I don't have any of her rings with me," Chuck replied.

"Well, if you are sure, I can model it on your finger size," the man said, holding out the ring and slipping it onto Chuck's finger. "You can always come back to adjust it later, but it will cost more."

"That's fine."

"Hm, well, it seems to fit on your hand perfectly, so if you're happy with that you can take it now."

"Okay," Chuck nodded enthusiastically, forgetting his promise to Morgan, and his plan to not actually buy anything today.

"It comes in a red velvet box, but we can swap that out for another colour, if you'd like."

"No, no, red's fine."

"Okay, is that everything for today then, Mr..."

"Bartowski. Yes, that's all, thank you."

"Very well, will you be paying by card?"

Chuck nodded, pulling out his credit card and handing it to the jeweller. Once he had paid, he swiftly left the shop, and called up Morgan. "Hey, buddy," Chuck chuckled out nervously after Morgan had picked up. "So, about showing you the rings before I bought one..."

|CHUCK|

Chuck locked the top drawer of his desk—the one with a bomb proof safe tucked away in the hidden compartment at the back—which was now housing the most important item of jewellery in the world (yes, even more important than the Wookie's diamond), just as the blubbing noise of the Skype ringtone penetrated the cone of silence surrounding Chuck's contemplation about what he had just spent two months' salary on. Noting with a frown that the call was from Cole, he reached over to accept it. "Cole," he acknowledged with a nod, "what's up?"

"Chuck," Cole replied as his face filled the screen of Chuck's monitor, and distilled an immediate sense of suaveness into the room. "Just thought I'd call you up, since I'm supposed to be working with you on the Intersect, and we haven't spoken since you came here."

"Oh, okay. I've actually got a meeting with the Intersect technician in about fifteen minutes."

"Ah, so I take it the file was useful?"

"Yes, very much so. Tell C I appreciate it if you ever see him around," Chuck responded with a small laugh.

"I'll be sure to remember that," Cole replied. "So you've read the whole file? I had a quick look at it before it was shipped off, it was rather large."

"Well, I've read most of it, but I concentrated on the Intersect designs section. There's only one report in there I haven't read yet, on the live test results."

"Hm, okay. You might want to check that out before you try any live tests yourself."

"Yea, I suppose... Do you have a copy of the file?"

"No, there's only one."

"Hm," Chuck hummed in reply.

"You look a bit down, Chuck. Is Sarah off on a mission?"

"Huh? What?" Chuck spluttered, snapping his head back up to look directly into the webcam. "Why would you think that?"

Cole raised an eyebrow. "You're normally making any number of random jokes and pop culture references."

"Yea," Chuck sighed, "she's in Russia with Casey. Her flight back's in three hours, though," he added with a smile.

"Ah, well then, there's an airport reunion to look forward to," Cole chuckled, just as there was a knock on Chuck's door.

Chuck looked up, and switched his monitor to the live CCTV feed of his door; there was a young man in a white lab coat standing outside. "The Intersect guy is here, Cole. I've got to go, but we can finish this up later?"

"Sure thing, Chuck. Don't be so down about Sarah."

Chuck smiled, shaking his head, and pressed a button on his desk to indicate that the Intersect technician could come in, and sat up a bit more straighter in his chair, trying to emanate an air of professionalism that befitted his "director" role.

"Director Carmichael," the technician said as he walked into the office, extending a hand.

Chuck stood up and reached out to shake the technician's hand across the desk. "Call me Chuck, Mr..."

"Um, James, um, Summerfield," the man said, stuffing one hand into his pockets and fiddling with his glasses with the other. "Agent, actually," he added hesitantly, "just passed Field Ops."

"Well then, congratulations, Agent Summerfield, it's good to finally meet you."

"Likewise Director," Summerfield gushed slightly, "it's an honour. I've read all the mission reports, the work you did with Agent Walker in destroying FULCRUM and the Ring is the stuff of leg—" the young agent stopped mid sentence when he noticed Chuck staring at him with a raised eyebrow, and ran a hand nervously through his blond hair.

"Well, it looks like someone's been doing their research," Chuck said with an amused smile. "Just how much do they put in those mission reports anyway?"

"Oh, loads!" he began, before pausing. "But didn't you write them?"

"Who, me?" Chuck laughed light heartedly. "Never. Sarah usually handled all the paperwork."

"Sarah?" James asked.

"Oh, Agent Walker," Chuck clarified, not noticing James' surprise at his informality, and wide eyed awe that he was referring to Agent Walker by her first name. "Anyway, I've got the Intersect files from the SIS here," he continued, flipping open the designs for the original Intersect and pushing them across the table to James.

James picked them up and scanned through, um-ing and ah-ing at all the right places, telling Chuck he knew what he was doing. "These are pretty comprehensive," he admired. "If we follow these, combined with the designs we still have, we should be able to recreate the 2.0."

"And then we use that as the base to create the 3.0."

"Yes," James nodded, "once we have a 2.0 I'll need a list of specifications for the 3.0, and we can implement them."

"Right. So you're going to build this," Chuck tapped the designs, "and then use the 1.0 and 2.0 designs to upgrade it?"

"Yep, but we needed these, because the 1.0 designs only specify modifications to the original, without detailing the actual designs."

"Mm, I'm told that that was a 'security feature', so that no-one else could build an Int—"

"Agent Carmichael, this is General Beckman's office." The voice of Beckman's secretary interrupted Chuck mid-sentence, as it emanated from the intercom.

Quickly, Chuck reached over and picked up the phone, muting the loudspeaker. "Carmichael, insecure. Could you hold for just one second?" Chuck placed the phone down on the desk, and glanced sheepishly at James. "Can we finish this later, Agent Summerfield? This is kind of important..."

James, who looked positively shocked that he was meeting with a man who got calls from the head of the NSA, and then proceeded to casually put her on hold, nodded. "Yea, yea, of course. I'll see myself out."

Once James was out of the room, Chuck picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear again. "Hello? Yes, I'm secure now."

"Chuck." Beckman's tired voice came through the phone. "There's been a development in the arms trading front, I'm starting a video conference with Sarah and the Colonel, I just wanted to ensure you were secure first."

"Okay," Chuck replied, putting down the phone just as video feeds of Beckman, Casey and (most importantly) Sarah appeared on his screen. Quickly, he flung Casey's and Beckman's windows over to the monitor on the wall, keeping Sarah's maximised on his desk. "Hey," he said with a grin.

"Hi Chuck," Sarah replied with a smile of her own.

"Team," Beckman began from her position on the wall, "our analysts scanned the logo you sent us, and they've found a match. The logo is an old insignia for a company called Volkoff Industries, based in the new business park in Moscow. This intel matches up with the computer address locations Chuck found last month, when you two got yourselves captured, and the accounts Sarah downloaded also point to several Swiss bank accounts with links to Volkoff. This is evidence enough that Volkoff's behind this trading ring, and the DNI has given the go ahead for a covert snatch and grab on Volkoff. Sarah, Casey, you're in Ukraine already, it's an hour long plane ride from Moscow, and time is of the essence, so I want you to head there now and get this done. There'll be an aircraft waiting for you at Harkin airport, it'll hang around in Moscow as well. Once you have Volkoff, bring him straight back here."

Chuck watched Sarah's face falling as the General was talking, and felt his own grin fading as they all recited "yes ma'am" in unison. He almost didn't hear Sarah asking to speak with him on a private line.

"Chuck," Sarah said. "Chuck, come on."

Chuck looked up at her image on the monitor. She was sitting in a hotel room of some kind, on the bed with her laptop in her lap. Her hair was ruffled and pulled to one side of her makeup free face. She was beautiful. He missed her. "This mission feels like it's never going to end."

"I know, but once we get Volkoff it'll be over. Just a few more days."

"I just wish I was there with you. It would make this whole this so much easier."

"I know Chuck," she replied with a weary smile. "Just one last mission."

~Author's Note~

Here is the ring: goo dot gl slash 6csX4.

Also, you may have noticed that this particular story arc (not the story, just this bit of it) is drawing to a close, so unfortunately Chuck and Sarah will be separated for a bit longer. However, I promise a very happy ending, and I'll try to keep it all light hearted. And yes, I know suaveness isn't a real word.