The Nerd Versus the P.I. Family

By Steampunk . Chuckster

A/N: Hi, I know for a fact that people are going to be up in arms about this A/N but I can't not talk about the current all-out assault on women's bodily autonomy in this country by the ultra-"religious" radicals from one party. Not just abortion access, but trying to block birth control, contraception, and anything else that grants people with ovaries the right to choose how, when, where, why, and if they have children. I'm scared and I'm angry, but make no mistake, I'm ready to God damn fight. This is a slippery slope to completely obliterate a person's right to privacy in this country. Healthcare, our Google searches, everything. And the reason I bring it up here in particular is that this is a story about a privileged woman who had choices laid out in front of her when she discovered she was pregnant. Difficult choices. With no partner, but with a good job and a small but trustworthy support system around her, she made a choice that was right for her. But I want to emphasize that it was and is her business, just like it is that of another woman whose choice was different from Sarah's. And there doesn't need to be danger involved, or financial hardship, or being trapped in an abusive situation for someone to make the decision to have an abortion and have that be a valid and understandable decision. Sarah chose Max. Others might choose something else. And it is up to that person who would carry and give birth to that child. The end. That's it.

Summary: Sarah Walker has uprooted her life, leaving her job with the LAPD and going it alone as a private investigator, all in the hopes it provides her with less dangerous stakes and a schedule she can control so that she can handle her most important job, raising her toddler, a bit easier. But when the single parent thinks her computer might've been targeted by a criminal, she has to request help from the unlikeliest of sources: The Buy More Nerd Herd.

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK, I do not own its characters, I am not making money from posting this.


He burst to his feet, slowly turned to face his best friend, and dropped the Playstation controller like it was a mic, smirking all the while. "Signed. Sealed. And delivered." As Morgan groaned in misery, Chuck felt the need to clarify. "Defeat. I delivered defeat."

"Best out of eleven?" Morgan tried.

"Ah ah. Nope. No. You keep trying but it's not gonna happen. I won. Fair and square." Chuck thrust his hand out. "The Beard's gotta pay up."

Morgan rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket for his wallet, producing a mint Professor X collectible card and handing it over, looking none too happy about it.

"A'thank you."

He plopped back down on the couch and reached over to grab his beer bottle from the coffee table in front of them, moving the bottle to his lips to take a sip of beer. But Morgan's foot swung over and jabbed his thigh right as he tipped the bottle back, causing him to almost spill beer down his front. He just barely saved himself. "DAMN IT, MORGAN!"

Morgan cracked up and shrugged. "Sorry. Foot slipped."

Coughing and laughing, he put the bottle down and flipped his best friend off. "You're a dick."

"You're the dick! Stealing my Professor X when you know how important he is to me."

"What?! I stole it?! Excuse me, Morgan, but aren't you the one who put it on the table for our bet? I put down my black star Eevee card, you put down X. If you didn't want to bet it, you could've just not bet it, dude." He shrugged. "And don't worry. We'll be best friends forever, so you can always come over and visit to say hello to your ol' Prof."

Morgan shook his head, unable to stop from cracking a smile in amusement. "You're such a villain sometimes, Chuck. Such a villain."

"Muahahahahaha."

They both laughed and sipped their beer. Morgan checked his watch and sighed. "I gotta get out of here soonish, anyway."

"What? Why? I thought we were gonna try out the new prototype I'm working on…"

"I know, I know. We said that, but then we got caught up in Soulcalibur and I've gotta meet Anna in an hour."

Chuck stopped and did a slow turn towards his friend. "Did you just say…you're meeting Anna?"

Morgan pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe."

"Nooooo. Really? Like…meeting Anna? Or just meeting Anna?"

"It might, uh, maybe…be a date. Maybe."

"What?!"

"I said maybe! It hasn't been confirmed, okay?"

Chuck made a confused face. "What's that mean, it hasn't been confirmed? Are you about to show up somewhere and just hope she shows up too? Do I have to be on cell standby for bummed Morgs?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and wiggled it.

"No, no. That's confirmed. I mean, we're meeting. It just…Maybe wasn't…solidified as a date, that's all."

Nodding, Chuck sipped his beer thoughtfully. "Think positively, bud. This is awesome, man!" He reached over and thumped Morgan's knee a few times with his hand. "Yes!"

"I know, I know. I'm just…nervous. It's Anna. She's like the hottest girl at the Buy More. In the whole Buy More plaza. Did you know that she knows two kinds of martial arts?" He moaned and put his hand over his heart, melting back against the couch. "Bestill my heart, dude."

"Dang. I actually didn't know that about Anna Wu. That's rad. Kind of makes sense, though, now that I think about it. Because I saw Lester try to sneak up behind her to scare her a few weeks ago while she was reading the manual at the Nerd Herd help desk, and without even blinking, she reached behind her and snapped his arm practically in half. Like that." He snapped his fingers. "And pinned him to the desk. It was awesome. She got a major high five for that. I let her go home with pay."

"Can you do that?" Morgan laughed.

"No. I just let her go home and made sure Big Mike never found out. Ha!"

They cracked up.

"Listen, Morgan. It's gonna be fine. Don't be nervous, 'kay? Just think of what the ever-wise Ellie Bartowski would say to you if she were here…"

"Go somewhere where I can't see you?"

Chuck snorted. "Well. Yes. That. But she'd say 'be yourself'. That's her favorite thing to say before a date."

"Right, right. So I have to be honest with you, I hate that. So much. Being myself sounds like a bad plan. So I probably won't do that. I was thinking more like Steve McQueen in Bullitt. Or Vin Diesel in the Fast movies."

"Or Freddy in Nightmare on Elm—ACK!"

Morgan pelted him with the cap of his bottle. "Shut the hell up, man. Oh my God."

Laughing, Chuck threw it back and Morgan batted it away. "You're picking that up," he said matter-of-factly.

"Your butt is picking that up."

"Listen, if I had the capability to pick that up off the ground with my butt—buns of steel, if you will—I absolutely would."

"Cheers to that!" Morgan exclaimed.

They clinked bottles, snickering.

"Hey…" Morgan paused. "Do you think if I asked Captain Awesome nicely, he'd be my personal trainer? If this thing with Anna, you know—if-if it works out and she ends up being able to stand me after all, I can't date a martial artist and not, you know, work on this." He pointed to his body. "I'm really regretting all those Nutter Butters, dude."

"And the grape soda…"

"No." Morgan pointed at him seriously with the hand still holding his beer. "Not the grape soda. Never the grape soda."

Chuck laughed. "Look, just ask him. But listen, Anna wants to hang out with you, Morgan, not some sinewy muscled-out version of you."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "I bet she'd like hanging out with Sinewy Me more than Flabby Gut Me."

Shaking his head, Chuck took another swig from his beer. "You're way too hard on yourself, buddy. You're great."

"I know I'm great, Chuck. But am I Anna great? I don't know. I just don't know." He gave his head a pensive shake. "Anyway, dude, what about you? What's your excuse?"

"My excuse?" He gave Morgan a side-eye.

"Yeah. You're always downplaying yourself. Cutting yourself off at the knees. You tell me I'm way too hard on myself but look at you. Nobody's harder on you than…you. Remember that super cute girl at the Large Mart? What was her name, Evan or something?"

"Erin."

"Yeah, whatever. But she was cute as hell, and she was very interested in you. It was obvious, it was like…sparks everywhere. So many sparks I felt like I was on an episode of Battle Bots, dude." Chuck rolled his eyes at him for that. "But you just shrugged that whole thing off and it came to nada, man. Na-da. And you were like, 'Oh she was just being nice. She's not interested like thaaaat'," Morgan mimicked in a stupid voice.

"Really? Is that what I sounded like?"

"More or less, yeah."

Chuck pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. "Well, look. She's competition. I can't date someone who works at the Large Mart. They're our rivals. The enemy. Never date the enemy, Morgs."

"Oh Godddd," Morgan groaned. "Who gives a shit, dude? That wasn't why. You legit thought you weren't worth that girl. And you were! You are! Chuck, you're like…the pinnacle of nerd success."

"Bill Gates is the pinnacle of nerd success."

"Well, look, he had a totally different economy than we have when he made his ascent. For our fucked up economy, you're the pinnacle of nerd success."

Chuck laughed. "Okay, okay, thanks, buddy."

Morgan sighed. "I wish you were the one going out on a date with Anna."

He nearly choked on his beer. "Huh?"

"I mean, not Anna specifically. I'd have to kick your ass. I just mean, you deserve this. You should be the one leaving to go on a date. Not me."

"Can you stop doing that, Morgan? You earned this with Anna. Go. Enjoy it."

"And leave you here to wallow in your singleness? No sir."

Chuck winced. It hadn't exactly been purposeful, keeping the further developments in his romantic life a secret from Morgan. He wasn't hiding this thing with Sarah from his best friend. With Ellie, the conversation just sort of happened. And it hadn't happened with Morgan since the day after he first met Sarah at her agency. Granted, this was the first real time he'd been able to spend with his best friend in person, outside of the Buy More setting, in two weeks or more. Their online gaming sessions that happened two or three times a week (depending) didn't count.

At this point, Morgan had probably just assumed this was another Erin at Large Mart situation. And Chuck had been insanely close to recreating it with Sarah at the beginning, walking away from the potential there, knowing he wasn't worth her attention, her effort.

And honestly, he'd spent so little time with Sarah since they met a few weeks earlier, even though they were…what, going on dates? Sure. That. He barely saw her, and his interactions with her were mostly through text. A lot of apologies on her end for still not being able to find time, with her big-time case, and the whole raising a two year old thing. That was kind of a big deal too.

So it wasn't like Morgan would've noticed his friend being absent more all of a sudden because Chuck was spending a lot of time with the beautiful P.I. Morgan had heard about.

The fact was Chuck wasn't absent, because the woman he was dating was really damn hard to find. It was a bummer, even if he refused to judge her for it, or resent this situation. He definitely wasn't resenting her. But damn, it did suck.

And it made sense that Morgan had just let that conversation about Chuck making a Nerd Herd call to the P.I.'s agency lie, aware of his best friend's tendency to sidestep women he thought were way out of his league. He'd probably been trying not to upset Chuck by bringing it up to ask or something.

"What?"

Chuck looked up. "Hm?"

"Something just happened." Morgan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "With your face. I said I don't wanna leave you here to wallow in your singleness and you got a look on your face."

"I have a very expressive face, buddy."

"Yeah, I know. Everyone can read, like, all of it, all the time. Chuck? …Is there…a girl in your sights? Did you go to the Large Mart after all?!"

"Morgan, that was like last year. I haven't stepped foot in a Large Mart for a year."

"Okay, then who? Wait! The UPS lady!"

Chuck made a face. "She's, like, in her forties, dude!" he laughed.

"I dunno, you've always been mature for your age. My mom always said that."

"Yeah, when your parents abandon you at a young age, that happens."

Morgan winced. "Touché."

"But no, I'm not dating a forty-something year old." He rolled his eyes.

The Beard spun to face him then, and he lifted a finger slowly to point at him. "Wait. You just said dating specifically. You aren't dating a forty-something year old…but you are dating someone?!"

Chuck blinked, then reared his head back in confusion. "H-How'd you make that leap?"

"It's the I-Know-My-Best-Friend-And-The-Way-He-Chooses-To-Phrase-Things leap, Chuck."

"Man, I don't even understand the mechanisms of how I choose to phrase things."

Morgan set down his empty beer bottle and put a brotherly hand on his shoulder. "I know you better than you know yoursooohhwaaaahhhhhhhhhh! OH!" His eyes went wide suddenly and he leapt to his feet. "Oh my God!"

"What?! Is it an aneurism?!" Chuck looked up at his friend, alarmed.

"No! But I deserve one for being such a SHITTY FRIEND!" he yelled. He slapped his hands on either side of his face and spun away from Chuck, groaning. Chuck was confused and concerned, both. To say the least. "Holy shit, what have I been on? That day in the Buy More…this was weeks ago now." He spun back and pointed, one hand still on the side of his face. "You went out on a call. The P.I., Chuck. Chuck, you did it, didn't you? You overcame all of your many hang-ups—"

"Wh—Hey!"

"And you asked that girl out, didn't you?" He pushed his hands into his hair, moving onto the other side of the coffee table and starting to pace back and forth in front of the TV. And for some reason—maybe it was the sudden panic—Chuck thought about how it was a good thing they made video game controllers wireless now or his best bud would've tripped by now. "I can't believe this! I suck! I just assumed—I assumed that you were, like, swept up by this gorgeous private investigator and then you did nothing about it because you have unfairly low self-esteem from the decade plus of people you care about walking away."

Chuck tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Uh, okay, Sigmund, maybe calm down there on the—"

"But you did do something about it! And now you have a P.I. girlfriend, Chuck! And you didn't say anything to me about it, but I totally deserve it. It's what I deserve for not believing in you. ME! Of all people! I'm the guy who always believes in you! I've failed!" he wailed in misery.

Chuck found he couldn't help but laugh. "Uh, buddy, you're getting a bit melodramatic."

"No, don't you see?!" Morgan thrust both hands out towards Chuck palms up, verging on hysterical. "You're going through something so monumental and instead of believing in you and knowing beyond all doubt that you were going to go after that badass woman like the brave dude you are, you've always been, I was all up in my head about the way you get all up in your head, and this potential stuff with Anna, and I've fallen down on the job, Chuck! As your best bud! I've fallen down on the job and I'm ashamed!"

"Morgan, I haven't even confirmed a single thing you're assuming. And you're going off the deep end over it," he replied calmly.

Morgan stopped, straightening to his full height, his arms falling to his sides limply. "Wait, so… it's not the P.I.? Shit, now I'm super disappointed. I got my hopes up."

Chuck threw his hands up. "Oh, Jesus Christ." He rubbed his hands up and down his jeans and shook his head. "Anyway, um…it-it is the P.I., so…"

"WHAT?!" Morgan thrusted his arms up over his head. "CHUCK! BUDDY, YOU'VE GOT ME ON A ROLLERCOASTER HERE!" He clapped his hands together and then held up a finger, going into his pocket. "I wanna hear everything but hold on because I'm just gonna text Anna that I'll be a little—"

"Aaaab-bap-bap-bap no. Nope." Chuck sprang up to grab the phone from Morgan and reach back with it where Morgan couldn't get it. "You aren't postponing this hang-out with Anna. You're into her and I've seen it for a while, Morgan. And this has potential. So go."

"I wanna hear about the P.I.," he whined, still trying to reach for the phone. His arms were significantly shorter than Chuck's though.

"Look, I'll give you a real quick outline, how's that? And then out you go, onto your bike, where you will then hasten to your Anna."

Morgan stopped reaching and cleared his throat, looking sheepish. "Uh, about that. Chuck. Buddy. Buddy ol' pal…" He grinned with his teeth showing. "We're best best best friends, huh? Like brothers, really…"

"What?" Chuck droned, lowering the phone to his side, a flat look on his face.

"Uh, my back tire on my bike's flat. Think I waited too long on it or maybe picked up a tack or something, but…could you maybe…drive me to meet her?" He wrinkled his nose hopefully.

Chuck sighed heavily. He was really looking forward to showering, getting on PJs, and watching Police Story. Maybe he could put it off fifteen, twenty minutes. "Where are you meeting her?"

"Inglewood."

"INGL—?" Chuck groaned. Maybe more like an hour. "What'll I get for this?"

"A willing ear on the car ride over? About this P.I. you're romancing?"

"That still sounds like something you benefit from."

Morgan gave him a look of faux offense, steepling his fingers on his chest. "Wow. This is what I get for offering to listen to you like a good friend?"

"Two minutes ago, you were saying you're the worst friend ever," Chuck said flatly.

"A man can't change his mind?" He patted Chuck on the back then, turning him towards the door. "Come on, ol' pal. We'll talk on the way."

Chuck merely rolled his eyes as he snagged his jacket from the back of the couch.

}o{

She hadn't had time to get her actual camera from her trunk, so her smartphone it was.

She slipped it out of her bag and took a deep breath, sneaking up a little bit closer and ducking behind some busted crates pressed against the wall.

This was the craziest part of the job. And it was weird how leaving the police force and starting her own agency as a private investigator had only increased this particular part of being a detective. Those moments when something didn't sit right, when someone acted a little strange, so you decided to peek a little under the first layer, only to peel more back…and more…and more…

And then you ended up crouched behind some crates in a dockyard watching someone with a sack over their head and hands bound behind their back getting taken out of a God damn trunk and walked into a warehouse by three men and one woman, all carrying handguns.

The sun was setting earlier and earlier as winter approached, which meant the lighting wasn't great for her rudimentary smartphone camera to take pictures, but it was all she had so she clicked a few, careful to only let a corner of the phone hang out past the crate she hid behind.

They went into the warehouse, the door slamming shut loudly.

She had two options, she knew.

She could leave now, get back to her car, go straight to the downtown station, and get the pictures to their lab techs to enlarge so they could identify some of the gun toting kidnappers. Or she could try to find some way to see what was going on inside of that warehouse.

Sarah Walker crept out from behind the crates and doubled back in the other direction, but instead of going for the exit of the dockyard, she curved around towards the other side of the warehouse in question.

There were stereotypical steel-framed warehouse windows about twenty feet off the ground, but as luck would have it, there was a large tractor parked beneath. Thankfully, she'd left the pumps at home today and wore her lace-up Timberlands, almost as if she'd known something might happen when she left to do some investigating out on the streets of LA.

Back before she got pregnant, Zondra had signed them up for those Tough Mudder obstacle races near San Bernardino every single year, so it was safe to say, Sarah had no problem scaling an excavator tractor to get up to where she might be able to see through those windows and get a peek at what kind of operation was going on in there.

The bucket on the tractor wasn't as steady as she needed it to be but she leaned most of her weight against the wall of the building and moved very slowly, very carefully, to her tiptoes to get some kind of vantage point into the warehouse.

The windows were a bit fogged and dirty, but she could still see inside. At least well enough to know the person who'd been yanked out of the trunk was a man. They'd pulled the hood off, but his back was to her. And he was slumped. Some sort of electronic panel that looked to belong to the kidnappers was there, and a tall, thin man stood at it, typing away. The screens were large enough but she couldn't make heads or tails out of the numbers flashing there. Some sort of coding shit. And she distantly thought a certain Nerd Herd Area Specialist might've come in handy right about now.

Sarah tried to get her phone up to take more pictures, but she only got a handful of them before the surface she precariously perched on tilted. She bit back a curse and reached down to clamp her hand on the arm of the tractor, able to just barely hang on even as her body swung down. She slammed hard into the arm extending up from the cabin and winced, but kept her grip, avoiding a fall.

However, she didn't keep her grip on her phone and it cascaded down to smack against the wheel, before it landed facedown on the ground. "Fuck shit!" she whispered. She didn't hear any awful cracking sounds. Maybe hitting something on the way down saved it?

It was a stupid theory, she knew, even as she carefully crawled back down.

There was a slamming sound and a voice came from around the corner of the warehouse then. "I said I don't fuckin' know! Didn't I say I don't know?"

"How you say you heard somethin' and you don't know what?"

"Will ya just check around the other side, you fuckin' prick?"

"Fuck you."

Sarah snatched her phone off of the ground and sprinted as silently as she could towards a large shipping container, diving behind it and out of sight.

"Nah, nothin' over here. Anything, Ratcatcher?"

"Told you not ta fuckin' call me that!" the other man bellowed back, his Boston accent more pronounced.

Sarah didn't hear the rest of the conversation, needing to get back to her car as soon as possible. She ran as fast and as hard as she could, keeping her eyes peeled for anybody else, a straggler from their operation, or a guard or something.

But keeping her eyes peeled hadn't been enough, because as she staggered around the last container before she found freedom on the street that would lead to where she'd parked her car, a man who'd been leaning against the container with a gun at his hip and a cigarette drooping from his mouth stood up straight, snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, and threw it to the side with a snapped, "HEY! The hell you doin' here?"

Grateful for the beanie she'd pulled down over her hair and the lumpy clothes that would disguise her figure, Sarah immediately lunged for him. Before he could get the gun out of its holster and point it at her, she caught him by the wrist, twisting it until she heard the crack, and brought her other elbow down on the base of his neck. The second he hit the ground, she swung her foot like she was kicking a game winning field goal and slammed it into the side of his face.

He was out like a light.

She took his gun with her, shoving it down the back of her pants as she kept running.

Sarah didn't stop running, especially when she heard another "HEY!" and footsteps coming after her.

If the woman who'd called after her had a gun, Sarah knew her back was an easy bullseye, so she tried to make herself as small of a target as possible, even as the woman bellowed, "STOP! Who the hell are you?!"

The other woman was fast, and Sarah wasn't sure she could outrun her for long, so she had to be strategic. That meant finding a route with hurdles. She didn't even stop to glance over her shoulder at the woman, she just took a hard right when she hit the street and made her way to a waist high gate that led into a small churchyard.

She grabbed onto the top of the gate and in one smooth leap, she swung herself over it, still hearing the woman huffing and puffing an unnerving amount of paces behind her.

Sarah burst into the back door of the church, startling the pastor who was…praying or something…near the altar. "Hey! You—"

"I know," she rushed out. "Ten Hail Marys and five Our Fathers!"

And she kept running down the middle aisle. She heard the woman yell "GET OUTTA MY WAY!" at the poor God-fearing man who must've tried to stop her right before she slammed her shoulder into the doors that led out onto the front steps. In one leap, she cleared the steps, landing in a way that sent a jolt through the ankle that hit first, but there was no pain, thank God, and still she kept running.

A parking lot was not far off and enough cars were parked there for cover, so she dashed for it, leapt into the air, and slid over a Toyota hatchback's hood, landing on the other side in a crouch. She crept through the cars as fast as she could, hearing the other woman growl, "Coward! Where the hell are you?"

Reaching the end of the parking lot, Sarah saw that her only way to freedom was the eight or nine foot tall fence that stretched across an alley between two hole-in-the wall bail bonds businesses.

She'd scaled higher fences, but shit, she was losing steam here. The adrenaline would have to carry her over. It had been over three years since she'd trained for a Tough Mudder.

…But she had a two and a half year old waiting for her at home.

Pressing her lips together tight, she stole herself for the mad dash she'd have to make for the fence, then took off.

"HEY! HEY, GET BACK HERE!"

Nope.

She got up enough speed that she was able to leap high into the air, kick off the corner of the wall, and boost herself up enough to grab the top of the fence, grunting with the effort as she hoisted herself up with sheer arm strength.

But as she rolled herself over the top, she felt a slice of pain on her right cheek, at her cheekbone dangerously close to her eye. Shit, that'd be a case of tetanus.

She let out an "Agggh!" even as she crashed down to the other side. But like a cat, she was able to land mostly on her feet. She rolled into a somersault to soften the landing even further, but crashed into the edge of a dumpster, the hard metal jamming hard against her ribcage. Damn it, that hurt. But Sarah kept running.

This time she did look over her shoulder, and as the woman arrived at the fence, tall and with enough heft Sarah thought she might be able to get over too, Sarah decided not to keep watching. Wasting time with a pursuer like that wasn't advised. Holy shit…

Sarah zig-zagged her way towards the street with her car, ducking into shops here and there so that she could watch out the window to see if she was being pursued still. And in spite of not seeing the woman again, she was careful about watching the cars in her rearview mirror while driving home, looking for potential tails.

After all of that, she had a panic in her chest that went all the way to the deepest depths of her soul. She needed to get home and see that Max was okay. She's been spotted, and in spite of the slight disguise she wore to cover her hair and body, the thought of them knowing a private investigator was working with the LAPD on this case and being able to find out who that investigator was and where she lived had her in a state of complete and utter terror.

So as she drove, she brought her phone out and called Carina. There was no answer, which didn't do anything to ease her anxiety. She called Casey instead. He answered after the second ring.

"I've not got a lot of time, what've ya got for me?" he growled in her ear.

"Lots," she snapped. "But I almost got my ass toasted in the meantime, so I need you to send a squad car to my apartment. Stat. And apparently you haven't got much time, but maybe Rizzo and/or Etheridge can find the time to meet me there too? I've got news. Most important is the squad car."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. A gnarly fence got me and I'm probably gonna have a bruised rib but thankfully nothing too bad." She could hear her voice shaking. "Casey, they might figure out it was me and…and Max…"

"Squad's on its way. I've got you on speaker. Detective Rizzo is headed over too."

"Thanks. Talk to you soon."

"Hey, what'd you get?"

"Don't know yet. But we'll know soon enough."

She hung up and drove faster.

}o{

"She's just so cool, Morgan."

Chuck sighed as he pulled up to a red light.

"Well, she's a P.I. so…kind of goes with the job."

He chuckled and shook his head. "After I told you about her, when I went and helped her with her computer at her agency, I decided to go back because I was…" He was careful about his words as he pressed on the gas again, guiding them towards Inglewood and Anna Wu.

"Because you clicked and had this incredible connection that you couldn't ignore," Morgan provided. "Oh my God, this just gets better and better. I don't know why you didn't just tell me this, but that's beside the point, continue."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "You done?"

"Probably not." Chuck sent him a look and Morgan shrugged defensively. "Just being honest."

"Great. Thanks." Shaking his head, he continued. "And no, it wasn't just the connection. I mean, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it, but Morgan, the job she had me do on her laptop had some…implications I shouldn't really talk about. She was…cyber targeted. I guess that's the best way I can say it without giving too much info."

"Wait, are you not giving me info because it's top secret?!"

"Top secret? She's not a CIA agent, buddy. But it maybe pertains to this…case she's working on, and LAPD maybe is involved…?"

Morgan clamped his hands down on his head and threw himself to the side, nearly smacking his head on the glove compartment. Chuck winced just in case. "Oh my God, that's the raddest shit ever!"

"It—Okay, I can't lie, it really is. But that aside, I guess I was worried about her. She seemed shaken up a little that she was targeted like that. And I couldn't stop…thinking about it. About her. So I went back again to check and see how she was doing and I wrote up some instructions for her to keep her laptop safe in the future. I didn't want that happening again, you know?"

"Oh, smooth, man. That is smooth like a baby's bottom." Chuck gave his best friend a weirded out look. It was thoroughly ignored. "She probably melted into a puddle." He knuckled Chuck's shoulder. "You dog, you."

"Stop being gross. I'm serious. I was worried. She was legit rattled, Morgan. And I wanted to bring her at least some sense of…I don't know, safety? Reassurance?"

"Of course."

"So I went back and I went over all of that stuff with her and I stuck around for longer than was probably necessary, but… gah! There was just this…I don't know, Morgan. It felt so good. We didn't just click, there was…flirting. She flirted with me and…I flirted back, I guess."

"That's my guuuuy," Morgan drawled, shoving at his shoulder again with a proud grin behind his beard.

"Yeah, s'been a long time since I've caught myself flirting. And it came so…easy? Not saying I was good at it, but I did it. It happened. And she didn't seem…put off by my attempts."

"And now you're going out on dates and it's amazing."

"Um, well?" Chuck winced.

"What's that? What's the wince?" He thrust a hand out in a shrug.

"It's not that simple. She's…a very busy woman."

"Oh."

Chuck sent him a look. "What, oh?"

Morgan gave him a sympathetic look. "She did the whole 'I'm busy' thing to ya, huh? Pushing you off over and over and over again, saying 'oh I'm so busy right noooow' every time, until you finally get tired and just stop calling altogether." He sighed. "It's a defense mechanism for women who are afraid to just say no."

"I don't blame them. You see all the reports of women killed because she said no to some dude. We kind of suck in general, just as a gender."

Morgan sighed. "We really do."

"But she's not doing that to me, Morgan. I'm not being pushed off like that. I know she…wants to. We've gone on a handful of dates and—"

"Chuck! Yes!" Morgan grabbed his arm this time. "A handful is a lot for us!"

"I know," Chuck said, eyes widening. "I can feel it, you know? That she likes…being around me. I don't understand it. I do not get it for the life of me."

"I do. You're extremely handsome."

"Uh."

Morgan continued, undeterred by Chuck's furrowed brow. "And you're a brainiac, dude. You can do anything with a piece of tech. Also the greatest hair—"

"Okay, okay. We all get it. You think I'm great, Morgan. I think you're a little biased, but still… thanks, buddy. I appreciate it."

"Man, of course!"

"And back atcha."

"Awwww shucks."

He chuckled, and then sobered up a bit, frowning. "She's actually busy. Her job, this case in particular, it-it seems like it's really difficult. Like it's taking up a shit ton of time, you know? And she's all…embroiled in it. So I'm not seeing her as much as I guess I'd like to." He huffed. "No 'I guess'. I'm definitely not seeing her as much as I want to. And it sucks."

"Have you told her that?"

"I mean, she knows I wish we could see each other more often than we are, because she wants that too. I mean, she said she wants that too."

"You believe her?"

"I dunno. Yeah, I do know. I do believe her. I don't see why she'd lie about that. She could've kicked me to the curb numerous times by now and she…hasn't." He felt a bit of doubt go through him, that self-hating voice in his head egging it on. "Unless she's, I dunno, biding her time? But for what? That-That doesn't even make sense."

"Nah." Morgan dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "I'm with you on that, it doesn't make sense. No reason for her to bide her time on that. She could'a done the whole 'it isn't safe for you to be with me' shtick, but it sounds like she didn't do that."

"She didn't." Chuck shook his head.

"It would've been easy enough. And if she's a P.I. with a gun, she's not scared to say no to a guy with these arms." Morgan reached over and grabbed Chuck's bicep, giving it a shake.

"Gee, thanks," Chuck groused, reaching over to shove at Morgan's head.

"So I guess you just need to find ways to get yourself more on this girl's radar, huh? Wiggle your way into her heart so that she makes more time for you."

He shook his head. "No, it's not as easy as that. It isn't just the job. It's her whole life…" He stopped, the little head of brown hair and blue eyes just like his mom's popping into Chuck's mind. The shy way he shoved his little fists up against his chin as he peeked out from behind his mom's legs. "There are things that are really important that she needs to focus on. And I'm just…not one of 'em."

Morgan looked confused. "Okay sure, if this case is LAPD-status stuff, that's a big deal. But I mean, is she constantly on the job?"

Yes, Chuck thought to himself. But not the job you're thinking of.

"There's, um…something else. Besides just the job. Um…something I found out about…later, I guess you could say?"

This time there was a frown behind the beard. "Something e—oh shit, you're seeing a married woman. Bro! Dude! Chuck! Noooooo!"

Chuck did a double take. "What? Morgan—"

"Aw nooooo…don't do thaaat. I thought you were better than this, Chuck. Come on, man…"

"I am!"

"Then why are you dating a married—"

"I'm not dating a married woman, Morgan. She isn't married!" he snapped. "Jesus. Come on, you know me better than that."

"Oh okay. Phew. You scared me." He chuckled, patting Chuck's shoulder. "As long as you don't tell me she was a botanist who was manipulated and seduced by her prof to let him do experiments on her, thus poisoning her brain and making her go nuts, I'm sure whatever else is going on with this girl isn't that big of a deal."

"Uh, no, she isn't—" He gave Morgan a flat look. "Really? That's what you came up with?"

Morgan shook his head, lifting a scholarly finger. "No, technically it was Robert Kanigher who did. If it were up to me, she would've been less of a seductress and more of an eco-terrorist."

"Morgan."

"Sorry."

"I'm trying to tell you something, preferably before I drop you off for your date…?"

"Still not sure it's an out and out date…"

"Morgan."

"Sorry. You can tell me. You can tell me anything, buddy."

Chuck took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Oh, boy…

}o{

Sarah unlocked her door as quickly as she could, but her fingers shook still from earlier, and the key slipped out of her fingers, clashing onto the floor. "Fuck!" she snapped, looking down the hallway over her shoulder, half expecting to see someone watching, a chill going through her as the hallway was totally empty. She shook herself and picked up the keys again, finally getting them into the lock.

She rushed inside and shut the door as fast as she could, turning both locks and quickly shrugging her bags off of her shoulders and dropping them onto the floor next to her, wincing at the pain in her side.

Without pausing, she rushed down the hallway, pushing the doors of each room open until she found what she was looking for.

She pushed open the bathroom door that was ajar and found Carina sitting on the probably damp floor next to the tub, watching as Max made dinosaur sounds—or his version anyway—while making his squirting shark toy swim around in the bubbles. He had bubbles on top of his head too, like it was an eighteenth century wig or something.

Relief shot through her and she sagged with it. "Hi."

"Oh hey." Carina smiled up at her, but the smile dropped as she looked up at her. Sarah knew how wild she must look after the last hour or so. "What happened?" She was on her feet in a second, closing the distance, and her fingers pushed at Sarah's hair that had fallen out of her bun to obscure some of the cut she knew was there on her cheekbone near her temple.

"MOMMYYY HOME! MOMMY, I HAB A—"

"Max, sweetie, just a second, okay?" Carina said over her shoulder, as nicely as she was capable of, Sarah thought, considering the worry and anger on her face now.

"Kaaaaay," he muttered to himself, splashing grumpily.

She pulled her hands away and put them on her hips, almost matronly suddenly. "What happened? What's this?" Carina demanded to know again.

Sarah was still trying to settle herself from the overwhelming relief she felt at being home, safe, and knowing that her child was safe. "I'm okay," Sarah reassured her, shaking her head. "Are you both okay?"

"We're fine. Why wouldn't we be? And who did that?" Carina poked at the cut and Sarah winced.

"Not who but what… Specifically an almost ten foot tall fence between Barry's Bail Bonds and Bonds R Us over by Terminal Island."

"What?! What are you doing slamming your face into a fence?"

Sarah gave her a frustrated look. "I'll tell you in a second, but I want to get my son out of the tub for now." Really, what she needed was to touch him, to feel him under her hands and know that he was real and safe.

God, she'd been scared.

She pushed around Carina to the tub and knelt down next to the tub. "Hello, sweetie. I missed you lots." He grinned, glad to be getting attention now, she knew. It had probably hurt his feelings a little that she'd ignored him at first when she got back after being gone for a good chunk of the day. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his forehead, humming. "I love you."

"LUB YOOOO. D'you see, Mommyyy?" He lifted the shark out of the water. "Pshhooooooooo he f'ying yike a…" He took a deep and sudden breath. "EAGOO!"

"An eagle shark?" Carina piped up from behind them.

"YEAH! EAGOO SHOCK!"

"You ready to get out of the bathtub?" Max pouted, looking like he might resist. "If you do a good job getting out of the bath and letting me dry you off and get clothes on you, I'm going to let you have an Oreo. How about that?"

"OH okay!" His blue eyes lit up and then he put his arms up, his shark plopping into the water next to him, waiting for Sarah to take him out. But the bubbles were still on his little wet head, stacked high. And she thought she might die from how much she loved him. And she knew with every fibre of her being that she would die to keep him safe.

"We've gotta get those bubbles off of your head, though, bud," she giggled, beaming at him. "Don't want your hair soapy."

"Don' wanna 'oapy. NOAPY."

Giggling again, she dunked the old plastic fast food cup in the bath and held it over his head. "Close your eeeeeyes…"

He closed his eyes and covered his ears, puffing his cheeks out and holding his breath as she carefully dumped the water over his head, making a whoosh sound effect as she did. He laughed hard as she wiped his eyes with the nearby face towel to make sure he didn't get any soap in them.

"Why don't you let me get him out and dry him off and you take care of that cut?" Carina said behind her finally.

Sarah sighed slowly and nodded. Then she glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah, okay."

"You sure you don't need to go make sure you don't have tetanus?"

"I'm fine, it just stings," she groused, standing up, holding her side with a wince and moving out of the way as Max sang something he was making up about a "shock" going "poopoo" in the "toogoo".

She knew he thought he was being funny, so she made sure he saw her laughing at his song, and she stayed in the bathroom, taking the first aid kit out to clean the cut on her face, finding another shallow cut on the back of her hand, probably from the same freaking fence.

It wasn't a bad cut, but it had broken the skin and it did sting. She winced as she cleaned it, the alcohol making it sting that much worse.

"Mommy, is datta booboo?"

"Just a little one, Max," she said, meeting his gaze in the mirror as Carina lifted him out of the tub to stand on the counter, dripping on the towel she'd laid out under his feet so that she could dry him off. "Don't worry. I'm okay."

"Did you c'y aboudit? It okay if you did. It okay to c'y."

Sarah stopped halfway to draping a band-aid over her cut, and this time she met Carina's meaningful look. She knew as much as Sarah did. That was something that apparently stuck with the two year old after the conversation he'd had with Chuck about booboos.

She felt an ache go through her, and somehow the fear that was still prickling at her heart got that much worse. She didn't know why remembering that Chuck Bartowski was still out there waiting for her to find another moment for them to spend together made her fear from the close shave an hour ago feel worse, but it did. And she swallowed hard as she remembered that moment in the lobby of her agency that day he showed up out of the blue, after he took Max to the bathroom so that she could take that call, how it had felt when he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, his arms so long and warm. It had felt safe.

God damn it.

She yearned for that sensation now so badly it hurt.

And she wanted to call him.

But there was a lot to do first. And as if to emphasize her point, there was a brisk knock on the door of her apartment.

"Who's that?" Carina asked, frowning.

"Ah. Yes. That'll be Detective Rizzo."

Carina gave her a sharp look. "What?"

"Yeah. We, uh, have a lot to discuss."


A/N: More soon. Thanks for reading, and please review!

-SC