I do not own Chuck

A/N This is set between the first and second chapters of Chuck and Sarah vs The Wedding.

Chuck vs The Queen

London UK, January 2015

"Yo! Old Guy!" Chuck shouted at Cole Barker over his shoulder, "You coming? Or should I just go on my own?"

"Fuck you Bartowski!" came the muffled answer as the British agent finished off his stretches and pulled his fleece tighter. Chuck couldn't blame him. Nominally it was warmer in London than it was in DC at this time of year, but it felt much colder. The humidity and the wind combined to make it absolutely freezing. Even though, as a special forces operative, Chuck had spent time doing cold weather training, the weather in London really was something else.

Apart from the weather though, Chuck was pretty happy with life. The injuries that he'd sustained during the IS attack last year were nearly entirely healed, thanks to some hard work with the team at the British Army's rehabilitation centre at Headley Court, as well as a lot of running, physio, weights and muscle work on his own and with Sarah. They'd all three settled into their roles as joint heads of NATO's Islamic Terrorism Early Warning & Prevention Team well and, unlike Uber where he'd initially had to put up with that asshole Layton, he genuinely liked most of the people he worked with. They'd moved into a beautiful house in south London after finding the apartment provided to them by the CIA too small, and were very much enjoying living together in their first real home. And, to cap it all, they'd recently hosted Ellie's family for Christmas at that aforementioned first home.

But the festive period was over and now it was back to Earth with a thud, although thankfully at the moment there didn't seem to be a lot going on in the world of Islamic Terrorism which, in their world, meant time for training, intelligence and preparation. Oh, and their cover jobs. Sarah and Casey were currently at a meeting for their cover jobs at the US Embassy, which left Chuck and Cole running on their own today. Apparently, there was some sort of protocol briefing ahead of a trade delegation dinner at Buckingham Palace this Friday. Sarah and he were both quite excited that she'd been invited to the event. She had asked Chuck if he'd like to go to the dinner because partners were included, and he'd jumped at the chance.

Although parts of Buckingham Palace were open to the public, he'd get the opportunity to see parts that weren't and, who knew, he may actually catch a glimpse of the Queen across the room through the hundreds of other people who were likely to be dining with them. As an American he'd always wondered about the Queen and the Royal Family. His country had rejected them in the distant past, but it didn't mean that he wasn't fascinated about the workings of the Royal Family and how it fitted in with everyday life in the UK.

He'd found when he'd been posted to Camp Bastion in Afghanistan how different the Brits were from the Americans, even though they supposedly shared a common language. He'd noticed a lot of regional accents when he'd been in Afghanistan which were often difficult to understand, but those now seemed positively clear compared to some of the accents he'd heard on the street and on TV since actually being in the UK. When one guy had been speaking on TV the other day he'd actually had to ask Cole to translate!

And there were a lot of words which meant different things as well. He had been amazed at how Sarah's accent and word usage had subtly changed to fit in with local usage. Even her accent was less-pronounced. Casey's word use was different as well.

And he'd started to understand what good agents his partners were, that they could actually blend in within a totally different environment.

But for Chuck, his first time living in the community within a foreign country (Afghanistan and Iraq didn't count, since he'd been living in camps with other coalition forces), had been difficult as well as exciting. And the language barrier was only one of those things he was dealing with. Cole had commented facetiously that the Americans and British were one people separated by a common language, and Chuck thought that was a great description.

Sarah had called him on his usage one time when they'd been getting into a cab to go to 64 Grosvenor Street. He'd just told the cab driver to take him to 64 Grosvenor. Sarah had clarified to the cab driver and then quietly explained to him that because London had grown organically and was not on a grid square system, he had to give both parts of the address. For instance, she explained that the Grosvenors were major landowners and then reeled off all the streets named after the Grosvenors – Grosvenor Square, Grosvenor Street, Grosvenor Gardens, Grosvenor Mews, Grosvenor Place, Grosvenor Crescent, Grosvenor Road and the rest! All in different areas. Not noticing that the red light was on and the cabbie was listening to their conversation, he'd been surprised when the man had confirmed Sarah's story and added a few additional streets himself! It turned out that London cab drivers had to pass a test called "The Knowledge" which required them to be able to learn every street in central London, name them, and plot the quickest route between them. Ever respectful, Chuck had been even more respectful of London's black cab drivers after learning that!

That respect was particularly great given London's layout. The first time he'd tried to walk home from work he'd gotten totally lost. The city was the complete opposite of the grid square systems seen in American cities and seemingly couldn't have been more random if you tried. But actually, over time, he'd grown to love London's nooks and crannies. Whenever he went to a new area in Central London he always took the opportunity to have a look around because you never knew what you might find – from an eighteenth century church tucked away between terraced houses in fashionable Mayfair, to seventeenth century pubs behind main shopping streets, royal buildings and the guild houses of the City of London.

Cole pulled up beside him, breaking him from his thoughts, and the two set off on their run. Sarah's and his first apartment (or flat as they called them here) in London had been on the edge of Battersea Park and they'd liked the area so much that they'd stayed there when they decided to upscale to a house. Their new house was on a road parallel to the Park, which meant that it was still a great place for them to come to exercise. Cole's flat was in nearby Clapham, so they often met up to run around Battersea Park or Clapham Common.

The British agent had been posted to their new, enlarged team and had already become a good friend. Their shared history assured that.

"Are you looking forward to your trip to Buck House?" the Brit enquired as they set off. Once round Battersea Park was a couple miles, so they tried to do three to four laps each visit.

"Can't wait!" Chuck replied.

"Just make sure you get the cutlery right," Cole joked, "And the etiquette. They're pretty serious about their etiquette there!" He drew himself up "It's ma'am as in ham, and not ma'am as in farm." He grinned, "and for God's sake, never turn your back on the Queen! Otherwise, you'll be hung, drawn and quartered!"

Not quite sure what that was, Chuck asked, "Do you think she'll be wearing her crown?"

"I dunno," the older man replied, "she might. I've never been to a trade event before, but I was under cover as a waiter at a diplomatic do once and she did." He paused, "Are you gonna wear your medals?"

Chuck genuinely wasn't sure. "I'm not sure," he replied. "They're a bit gaudy. And I feel sad for Sarah. She deserves to wear her medals as well, but nobody apart from us will ever see them."

Cole looked at him piercingly side on. "What does she say?"

"She wants me to wear them," Chuck confirmed.

"So you'll be wearing them then," Cole joked.

Chuck grinned ruefully. "Probably."

"Glad to see you've still got a good grasp of the tactical realities, my son," Cole replied.

"Do you think I'll actually get to see the Queen?" Chuck asked. "I don't mean actually meet her. Just to be able to see her."

"I'd be surprised if you don't," the Brit replied, "She should be visible. She's kind of hard to miss after all. Plus there'll be other Royals there. Wills, Harry, Charles. Probably some others."

"Wow! I can't wait to tell Ellie that I saw the Queen!" Chuck hadn't mentioned it at Christmas, despite the fact that they'd known about the event since December. Life had a strange habit of interfering – certainly theirs did – and he preferred to report after the fact.

"How do I look?" Chuck looked up and struggled to control his mouth, which threatened to drop open.

"Like a vision," he answered truthfully, and was touched to see her cheeks color slightly. Sarah was wearing a beautiful blue gown which set off her eyes. Her hair was down and hung in waves down to her shoulders. She was wearing the sapphire pendant and earing set that he'd bought her for her Christmas present and she had a couple of fake civilian good conduct medals on her left breast, as befitted a mid-level diplomat.

He had been inspecting the invitation which, by itself, was a thing of beauty. The Royals didn't seem to do anything by halves! It was not printed, but was embossed on beautiful cream card and bore the coat of arms of the House of Windsor and the Queen's emblem E II R in gold leaf.

"The Lord Steward

has received Her Majesty's command to invite

Captain Charles I Bartowski AFC BSM(V), USAF

And

Ms Sarah Walker

To a State Banquet to be given at Buckingham Palace by

The Queen and The Duke of Edinburgh

To celebrate The Special Relationship."

He set the invitation down on a table. He planned to get it framed. How many junior USAF officers could say they'd been invited to a reception by a foreign head of state?

Sarah strode down the last few steps looking almost regal herself, and drew up in front of him as he climbed to his feet. She brushed an invisible speck of dust off his lapel and set about straightening his medals. For this most formal of events he was wearing his mess dress and just the top row of his medals. Although they'd been advised that "decorations should be worn", he was pretty sure that didn't mean all his decorations. He'd noticed that the Brit armed forces, even the really senior officers and NCOs, had many fewer medals than their US counterparts. He'd asked Cole about it and been told that the Brits gave out badges for lower-level achievements and only gave medals for bravery, gallantry, service in a war zone or very long service. Hence many Brits could leave the service with none or only a few medals. Most Americans had a huge "fruit salad" within only a short career.

"You look pretty fine yourself, Captain Bartowski," Sarah offered, straightening his bow tie. The move brought back memories of her straightening his Nerd Herd tie in the old days and he grinned, remembering. She'd since told him that she used to do that because it gave her the opportunity to touch him, and she was building up her Chuck reserves in case she was suddenly posted elsewhere.

"The cab is outside, Milady," he told her, "Shall we go?"

His beautiful fiancée smiled at him, linking her arm through his. "Lets."

They didn't speak much on the drive through London. Both were nervous. Luckily it was a short drive in the early evening darkness. The reception was due to commence at 5.30pm so they'd left their house just after 4.30pm to make sure they had plenty of time in London's rush hour traffic. They'd arranged to meet Casey at the side entrance to the Palace that they'd been told to use.

As they got out of the black cab (which was, in fact, silver), the driver sketched a salute. "It was an honour to take you, Guv. Have a great evening." That wasn't normal parlance for black cab drivers and Chuck and Sarah both shared a curious look. The driver pointed at Chuck's medals.

"I was in Iraq. I know a few American medals and I've met a few pararescuemen in me time. As I said, an honour to meet you." He nodded at the two and then drove off.

Casey was waiting by the entrance as promised, also wearing mess dress, with his medals resplendent. "About time," he grunted, turning to lead the way.

There didn't seem to be too many other people around as they went through the arrival protocols and security checks, and Chuck was surprised. He'd thought this was a big event. Security was easy as both Sarah and John had had to leave their guns at home, although Chuck happened to know that Sarah's hair accessories could be made into handy weapons. He knew that because he'd bought them for her for Christmas last year as stocking fillers. It had sort of been a joke on his part, but she'd ended up being extremely touched by the gift and often wore them to formal gatherings.

As they completed the checks, a green-uniformed officer met them. "Captain Bartowski, Colonel Casey, Ms Walker, I'm Lieutenant Mark Keen. I've been asked to escort you this evening."

Chuck deferred to Casey since he was the most senior officer, although he was surprised that the Lieutenant had greeted him first; that seemed like a breach of protocol in a place which was heavy on protocol. Casey hadn't seemed to take it personally though.

"Lead on Lieutenant," the older man said, and the British Army officer did exactly that.

As they went, all of the Americans' eyes were out on stalks looking at the sheer grandeur and opulence, as well as the history contained in the corridors they walked and the rooms they passed. The lieutenant kept up a running commentary, pointing out features of interest and telling stories of the Royal Family in days past.

Eventually they were guided towards a room guarded by an RAF officer in full dress uniform. He opened the door to let them precede Lieutenant Keen into the room. It was a large room, with high ceiling, chandelier, floor to ceiling windows, beautiful curtains and ornate, antique furniture. They had come in through a side door, but the main doors were something else; cream-coloured and picked out with detail in gold leaf.

"If you could just wait here," Lieutenant Keen told them. "We have a few more joining us."

And with that he backed out. An immaculately-dressed male servant arrived from a side door opposite where they had entered and asked if they would like refreshments. Sarah ordered still water, so Chuck did as well. The whole event had been overwhelming so far and they hadn't even got to the main reception yet. The servant left, returning a few minutes later with a jug of water filled with lemon and cucumber, four glasses, some hot towels on a plate and some nuts in beautiful China bowls.

Chuck wondered whether the Lieutenant would be returning, when the side door through which they had entered opened and Cole Barker, resplendent in the uniform of a British Army Major, walked into the room.

Casey looked up as Cole strode into the room. Ah, the game's afoot, he thought. The British agent wouldn't be here if things weren't about to kick off. He surreptitiously wiped his hands on the hot towel provided. It was scented with lemon and really soft. Fit for a Queen, he guessed.

The carefully choreographed main event was just about to start, and he shared a quick glance with Sarah as Chuck jerked to his feet in shock.

"Cole! What are you doing here?" he questioned.

The British agent smiled at the kid, "My presence was requested," he revealed. "And who am I to turn down a Royal Command?" He shook hands with Bartowski, smiled at Sarah and moved to shake hands with John.

Sarah moved up on Chuck's outside and gently removed his glass, putting it down on the adjacent table, as she stood next to him.

That was when the grand double doors opened. A number of uniform-clad servants and officers entered, followed by a very small, slightly bent, elderly woman in a white sequined dress with a deep blue sash. An even older man, dressed in the uniform of a Royal Navy admiral, followed a few steps behind her. Casey heard Chuck's intake of breath as they all straightened to attention. Who wouldn't in the presence of an allied head of state? Particularly in her own home.

The Queen paused a few feet from them, and Casey hoped Chuck remembered the terms of address that they'd talked about "just in case". An equerry came up between them and spoke.

"Ma'am, may I present Colonel John Casey?"

Casey gave the small head bow he'd been advised by the US Embassy protocol officer to give. Mess Dress didn't include a hat and, while if ever there was a time to salute without one then this was it, it had been decided that they should bow.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, "I'm honored to meet you."

The Queen stepped forward, extending her hand for a shake. Casey was shocked and immediately made to return it. "The honour is mine, Agent Casey. And may I thank you for your long service to your country and our alliance?"

He was saved from having to reply to that as the equerry intoned, "Ma'am, may I present Agent Cole Barker." He missed the Queen's exchange with Barker as the Duke of Edinburgh moved up in front of him and moved to shake his hand.

"Hate these dog and pony shows. Don't you?" the man both asked and commiserated, and he knew here was a common soul.

He returned the man's grin and offered, "Indeed sir."

"Thought you looked like a man of sense," the Duke grunted, before moving on to talk to Cole, leaving Casey free to see Sarah's slightly awkward curtsy. He knew Sarah had been practicing the move, but it certainly wasn't a natural one. The Queen moved up to shake hands and also thanked Sarah for her service and for her previous work in the UK, proving that she'd been thoroughly-briefed.

Then it was Chuck's turn. The kid was better about hiding his emotions than he had been, but to Casey's well-practiced eyes it was clear that he was nervous. He managed to get through the introductions without screwing up, bowing to the correct height and not stuttering too much.

Finally, the introductions were over, and the Queen stepped back and gestured them over to the chairs. They waited for her to sit down and then took their own seats. Luckily the seats were hard so Casey was able to keep sitting at attention without too much difficulty. The Duke glanced at him. "Oh, be at ease man," he exclaimed brusquely. Casey relaxed minutely and the Duke gave him a small grin as the servants came in, offering wine and water.

The drinks were served quickly and the Queen turned back to Chuck. "Do you know why you're here, Captain Bartowski?" Her Majesty asked.

"Uh, I had thought we were coming to a trade delegation dinner, Your Majesty, um, Ma'am," the kid answered.

The Queen smiled gently at the kid's mistake. "Yes, We are sorry for the subterfuge. Actually, there will be a dinner later, but it's only as a cover for this meeting. Surely in your line of work, and with the company you keep, you're used to a little subterfuge?!"

The older woman was actually joking with the kid and the Duke winked at him.

The PJ looked a bit stunned. As well he may, Casey thought, amused. "Uh," Chuck tried.

Again the Queen took pity. "Don't worry Captain," she told him. "We've been fully-briefed. We know that you and your colleagues, and indeed "Major" Barker work for the intelligence services. We know all about your involvement with the fight against Islamic Terrorism, and particularly what you got up to in our country last summer. Oh, and we also know about your exemplary service in Afghanistan and Iraq, often alongside our troops, and saving plenty of their lives.

"As we are somewhat outside the chain of command, we didn't find out about your mission in Portsmouth through official circles. As head of the Armed Forces, we have lots of contacts. And we heard about it through them. We spoke to our Prime Minister and the head of our intelligence services and were given a basic briefing. Since that point this meeting has been a certainty. The more we find out about your mission, and your actions during it, the more certain we have become of what we are going to do here today.

"Will you stand please, Captain Bartowski?"

Dreamlike, the kid stood to attention and then the Queen stood up as well, the Duke, and the rest of them. He, Cole and Sarah all stood to attention, as did all the uniformed men and women in the room. An equerry moved to the Queen's side with a box.

"We understand that you were awarded the Air Force Cross for that mission because your country's highest award cannot be given in secret. Unfortunately we have a similar situation here. We fully believe that your actions and your bravery merit the Victoria Cross, our highest award, but I cannot give it to you without disclosing your name and the reason for the award. As a result, it is our pleasure to award you this, the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross, our country's second-highest award for bravery." And with that, she hooked the award next to Chuck's other medals on his left breast. The kid looked a bit surprised and stunned. Sarah had assured them that she could apply an extra hook without him noticing. After all, she'd done it at Langley for the Air Force Cross presentation and it seemed she'd managed it again.

Smiling, The Queen backed up. Bartowski still looked stunned, Sarah and Cole looked proud and he was hard-pressed to keep the look of pride off his own face as well.

"Thank you, Ma'am," the kid managed.

"No, thank you Captain," the Queen replied. "Without your bravery thousands of civilians would have been killed."

The Queen turned to her husband, and he moved up to stand beside her. "We spoke with your President and Secretary of State yesterday afternoon," she offered.

What was this? Casey didn't know anything about this. He knew that Her Majesty had requested an audience with the man who had risked his life to save thousands of British civilian lives. And with his team. He knew about the medal award. But that was all it was supposed to be.

"We asked for special dispensation to make an additional award to a serving member of the United States armed forces. It was granted." There was no doubt in John's mind that the Queen was a master of suspense. What was this?

"Will you kneel please, Captain Bartowski?" Chuck looked askance at Her Majesty, but then did so.

As he did, an equerry stood in front of the Duke with a scabbard held horizontally across his hands. The duke pulled the sword, which had beautiful gems decorating its hilt, out of the scabbard and presented it to the Queen.

"Charles Irving Bartowski," The Queen intoned, taking the weapon. "The award that we have just given you was on behalf of our people and our armed forces. We take our responsibility to our people very seriously. By risking your life to save thousands of our subjects we feel that you have done a direct service to us and Our House. For this reason, we make this award on our behalf and ours alone.

"The Royal Victorian Order was established by Queen Victoria. It recognises distinguished personal service to the monarch or her family. It gives us great pleasure to appoint you Honorary Knight, Commander of the Royal Victorian Order." And with that she tapped the sword on both his shoulders.

"Well, Sir Chuck, what did you think of that?" The irreverent question from Cole came at just the right time. Chuck was a little bit overwhelmed. First the audience with the Queen, then the awards, and then the diplomatic dinner. Now they were leaving the Palace several hours later, Chuck's awards clutched under his arm, surrounded by his partners.

The audience with the Queen had been draining. After the Queen and Duke had left, a Royal Navy captain had briefed Chuck on the awards, noting that his knighthood was honorary, and as secret as his other awards. He would not be known as Sir Charles (or Sir Chuck, as Cole seemed to have dubbed him) by anyone outside that room or outside the senior officers of the Royal Victorian Order, which seemed to include most of the Royal Family. Chuck had struggled to take it all in. He didn't spiral much any more but he could almost feel himself starting to unravel. Sarah's small hand clasping his was a welcome support. She squeezed his hand and offered him a reassuring and proud smile.

The award came with a gaudy silver cross which hung from a ribbon around his neck as well as a separate medal and ribbon for dress events. The medal was suspended on a red, white and blue ribbon and had an effigy of Queen Elizabeth with the phrase "DEI • GRATIA • REGINA • F.D." which the equerry had explained meant "By the Grace of God, Queen, Defender of the Faith".

There had been little time to take it all in. The equerry had informed them that they should get down to the dinner right away and so Chuck had handed his medals back to a separate equerry who promised to pack them up and give them back to him after the dinner, and then they had been guided to the hall where the dinner was being held. It had been a quiet journey; Chuck conscious of Sarah's hand in his as he struggled to assimilate what had happened, while Casey and Cole followed behind them, talking quietly.

They had been guided into the banquet hall where there were place settings for what Chuck later found out were 150 people. Again, it was a truly overbearing experience. The pomp of the occasion. The appointment, the chairs, the flowers, the truly ostentatious porcelain and cutlery. The hot and cold running servants. And amazing food. He had sat next to Sarah, while the embassy's military attaché, Jo Keith, who Chuck knew a bit and got on with, sat opposite flanked by a senior Royal Navy medic, Captain Tony Eaton, who Chuck had come to know well during his rehabilitation. Cole was next to Claire and flanked by an RAF Group Captain. Cole had confided to Chuck that he and his girlfriend Laura were "on the outs". She was due to rotate back to the US anyway, so it wouldn't be like they'd have to carry on working with one another. Casey was next to Sarah. Juliette, as a French national had not been invited. On Chuck's other side was another medic that Chuck and Sarah knew well, Major Dawn Porter. The irrepressible nurse was a regular visitor at the Bartowski house these days. It seemed that the seating plan had been tailored to make Chuck and his team as comfortable as possible. It turned out that the RAF Group Captain had previously worked with Casey on some operations, making it clear to Chuck that she was likely a spook.

They had passed an enjoyable dinner and, as the four of them finally walked out (without Dawn who'd already departed for Portsmouth), it was the first chance they'd got to talk about what happened. While Chuck had enjoyed the dinner, he had struggled with irritation at Sarah and Casey, but especially Sarah. After what Chuck had begun internally to call the Second Ambush at Langley he had told her that he never wanted that to happen again. They had discussed communication, and he was a bit surprised and, yes – a little bit upset and disappointed with her – to find himself ambushed again.

"Like I hate you all!" he answered Cole's question. "I can't believe you kept this secret. Why couldn't I know?" he was particularly looking at Sarah when he asked the final question. He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice but wasn't sure if he'd been successful.

She had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry Chuck, orders," Casey explained on her behalf.

"Orders?!" he exclaimed, "Who gave orders that you couldn't tell me about this?"

"The Brass," replied Casey. "But mostly the General. I think she was pissed she couldn't be here."

"Hmmm," he grunted. As excuses went, it was OK, he supposed, but he was still annoyed with Sarah. She must have sensed it because she wore a contrite expression and squeezed his hand.

"Who's for a night cap?" Cole enquired, seemingly oblivious to the tension between them. "We won't have to go and sit in some pub – The Rag's just around the corner!"

Chuck didn't really feel like going out but still wondered what the Hell Cole was talking about. "The Rag?" he enquired.

The British agent smiled at him. "Sorry, forgot you wouldn't know. The Army and Navy Club. That's what we call it." He looked around the group. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

The others looked to Chuck. "That Captain was very clear that this stuff was valuable," Chuck temporised, gesturing with his boxes. Sarah looked quite keen to go out and Casey didn't look ill-disposed, which was a miracle in itself.

"Don't be daft!" Cole exclaimed, "You've got the very best British and American agents and a PJ to protect them. It's just one drink."

Chuck knew that "it's just one drink" were four of the most dangerous words in the English language but still, what was the worst that could happen? "OK," he agreed, "Lead the way."

Please review if you get a chance!

A/N1 So this is number 7 in the Green Feet series taking place after the first chapter of Chuck and Sarah vs The Wedding but before the second one.

A/N2 There are different orders of knighthoods and different levels. As a Knight Commander, Chuck is at the second tier of the Royal Victorian Order. Knights or Dames Grand Cross would have a higher rank. Under the British Honours system recipients are normally nominated by the government of the day for civilian awards (like knighthoods). In this case Chuck has been nominated by the Queen herself. Because he is a US citizen, his award is honorary but it is still an important award. There is precedent for the honorary award of knighthoods to members of the US military. After WW2 several senior American officers, including Nimitz, Patton and Eisenhower, were awarded knighthoods (GCB), and after the first Gulf War both Powell and Schwarzkopf were appointed KCB.

A/N3 You may have noticed the Queen's different way of speaking. This is known as the "Royal we". The monarch can refer to herself or himself using the plural pronoun in formal speech.

A/N4 Cabs in London are known as Black Cabs since most of them are black even though there are some which are different colors. London cabbies do indeed have to do an extremely detailed exam known as "The Knowledge" that takes years to study for.