A/N For the benefit of those who don't know, there's a Facebook group for Chuck Fanfiction, and we'd love to have some new members.
"Verbanski detonated him?"
"It's...your mother."
"You're a dead man, Grimes."
"I needed to see you."
Having made a fast getaway...
Former corporal Swan pulled her escape vehicle behind another car that in no way resembled anything she'd ever used or owned, and proceeded to steal it, so as to add yet another layer of confusion between herself and any possible pursuit. It was a part of the original plan she decided to keep. If those plans had gone off flawlessly, she would have had a significant bargaining chip with a lot of Verbanski's enemies. Until that damned Grimes gummed up the works. Again.
Now she had nothing.
Well, not nothing, but she didn't know exactly what she had so it was best not to get her hopes up, and stick to the plan. Mostly. She couldn't go home again, that's for sure. VC may not have had any authority to go kicking her door down but they knew people who did, and they might decide to use them. In the original plan they would have been sure to, having stolen something they could not allow her to just disappear with. Now she wasn't so sure.
Sooner than she would have liked (because it implied a lack of pursuit on their part which implied a lack of success on her part), she pulled her latest ride into a parking lot by a train and left it there. In the bathroom she loosened her body armor and pulled out the files that had been digging into her skin ever since she stuck them in there. On the train she found a car with no one on it and started looking over her prizes.
Verbanski's personal files, it seemed. Useful to someone who wanted to go after Gertrude herself, and there had to be quite a few of those. Research for possible missions could be useful to targets who needed to improve their defenses. Some scores, but not the payday she'd been after.
Swan opened the last file. Who's this stud? She started reading.
She started to laugh. It sounded a bit unhinged, but that was alright, there was no one to hear it.
Fresh off the plane in Somerset...
Sarah wasted no time in calling Chuck's phone, even though it was early morning where she was and late at night back home. There wasn't that much foot traffic at the moment so she had to remember to keep things quiet, but she'd been wondering about his heart-rate monitor for hours now, and that was hours-minus-five-minutes too long.
The dialing sound stopped in mid-trill. That was bad. He should be sound asleep in his own bed. The phone should have rung forever. "Chuck?"
"Uh, no, Sarah, it's me," said Orion, sounding apologetic, and she stopped in mid-stride. "Things didn't go as planned."
"I'm getting back on the plane now right now," she barked, her voice reverberating from one end of the concourse to the other.
"Don't do that," said Orion, and Sarah suddenly imagined Chuck's voice saying 'we're all fine, here, now, how are you?' Which just made her more aware that she should have been talking to Chuck. Or not talking to him, because he was asleep. Whatever. "We need you to deal with Kaminsky. Chuck should be back soon, he just forwarded his phone while he's taking a meeting."
He'd better be back soon. The part of the plan that needed the Piranha was supposed to come off before she landed. She didn't mind having Orion at her back but he wasn't Chuck. "A meeting, at this hour?" There wasn't anything in the plan about meetings. "Who with, and why him?"
Griffith Park playground...
"You broke cover for that?" asked Casey. "'You needed to see him'?"
Chuck watched his mother's face lose its expression of wondrous joy, a terrible thing to see, although she didn't move her hand from his cheek. "When you're a parent you'll understand," she said in a tone implying great doubt that that would ever happen, while flashing a cold look at the side of the world with Casey in it.
"I am a parent," said Casey, shoving his gun in its holster with extra emphasis. "I'd almost rather not be."
That pulled Mary right around, furious. "How can you say that?" she snarled.
Chuck put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her before her outrage became any more physical. Not that Casey didn't deserve a good pounding for the thoughtless remark, but now was not the time. He'd give the big guy a few reminders in the dojo later. "His death was faked, Mom. Years ago. His fiancee and his daughter both think he's dead."
Mary stopped, looking at Casey while pushing Chuck's hand from her shoulder lightly, and he removed it. "Do they still?"
"Yeah," said Casey. ""I haven't seen Kath in all this time. Alex only knows me as a guy who works with her boyfriend."
"So you see her whenever she comes to see him," said Mary. "That's terrible."
Casey stood up straight, like Atlas. "Says the woman who hasn't seen her son in twenty years."
"It's easier that way. I had to miss his tenth birthday, but the first chance I get and here we are in this creepy dark playground." Mary sighed. "I couldn't do what you've been doing for twenty days, much less...however long it's been for you."
"Not that long," said Chuck. "He never knew he had a daughter until I had to send Morgan to protect her."
Casey saw an expression of astonishment come over her face, lacking only an element of disgust to match his own. "Morgan Grimes?" she said, turning and stepping to one side, to keep both men in view. "Why would you send him? How could he protect anybody?"
"He had help," said Casey, not wanting to mention anything classified.
"But it was help," said Chuck. Both the laudanol and Devon were in running interference, but his bud was the guy with the football. "And it was Morgan."
Casey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, the little maggot didn't screw it up too bad."
"Your daughter agrees with you," said Chuck. "Very, very much."
"Wait, wait, wait," said Mary, waving her hands. She started to smile. "Are you telling me, that Morgan Grimes has his daughter for a girlfriend?"
Casey growled.
"And more," said Chuck, not above rubbing it in a little. "He was assistant manager at the Buy More-"
Mary pointed. "With him?"
"Yes, with Casey-"
"And you, Mister Nerd Herd Supervisor," said Casey. "For five years."
Chuck cleared his throat. "Yes, well, anyway, he gave that up to go to work at Verbanski Corp with Alex."
Mary stopped moving, except for her eyes, blinking slowly. "Really?"
Verbanski Corp, downstairs...
Morgan sat slumped in a chair, the picture of despair. The room was a wreck, by VC standards, which meant it was actually pretty neat, but the tables had been cleared as if a plague of locusts had struck. "It's all gone?" he asked.
Everyone around him, already in a bad mood from the assault upon their employer's office, nodded and muttered. "I'm afraid so," said the lady in charge.
Morgan spoke for his team. "I didn't even get a piece of cake, none of us did." He pointed at a plastic container in the recycling, the label clearly visible. "And Four, he loves those chocolate strawberries."
"All right, who has cake?" yelled Bravo One.
"I do, sir," yelled a couple of voices, unenthusiastically, as if they knew what was coming.
"Give it up to the man," said One. "Guy saved the company, the least he should get's a piece of his own cake."
The unfortunate cake-eaters appealed to Corporal Harris as much as they could, but he backed the order, and they went to get a clean plate.
"You saved the company?" asked Alex, under the cheering.
"I don't know," said Morgan, accepting a plate with some partially-consumed pieces of cake and a new fork. "Thanks, guys. I stopped Swan from getting away with a flash drive. Verbanski wouldn't let any of us see what was on it, so everyone's assuming the worst."
"Could'a been," said One.
"Could'a been real explosives in her pockets, too," said Six.
"Nah, that's fanatic stuff," said Morgan, taking one small bite from the cake. "And Swan was mercenary to her core. A very cold and ugly core." He offered some of his cake to Alex, looking up at Six while she ate it. "I figured they were probably those missing cigars. This guy I work with smokes these really primo cigars, so I knew the smell when we went in."
Morgan pointed to a bit of red frosting with his fork. "What's this?" he asked Alex.
"Supposed to be a rose petal," she said. "Your sergeant's a romantic and a good baker, but her decorating...?"
"Looks good to me." Morgan wiped up the petal with his finger and dabbed it onto her lips. He handed the plate off to Six before kissing the rose petal back off.
"Awwww..."
"Shut it," said One. "At least he's got a girl, a now maybe some of you clunkers know why." He accepted the plate, took a small bite, and passed it on. "Somebody take a picture for the sarge."
Upstairs, at Verbanski Corp...
Gertrude had gone through all the files that Swan left open in her haste to escape, but she didn't find much. Probably cover. More likely the stuff that traitor wanted went right onto that flash drive, unopened. That way they wouldn't show up on the log.
She looked at the stick, considering possibilities. That deadman switch had turned out to be a trap, maybe this was as well. She didn't have anything here to check it with, so her IT people would have to have a look. She opened a drawer to put the thing away until tomorrow, one less thing on her plate for tonight. Then she looked down.
Uh-oh...
Many hours later, in Somerset...
Sarah looked over the target site from a hill a good distance off. "Are you sure about this, Orion?" she asked.
"As sure as I can be, Sarah," said the Bartowski patriarch. "I sent my information to Chuck to look over before he left and he agreed that this is the most likely spot for Kaminsky to be going."
It looked like a simple country estate. There were rabbits in the fields below her. "What did he see?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" said Sarah, taking another look. "That's suspicious right off."
"Exactly," said Orion. "The only social presence I see for this estate in the entire lifetime of its occupant is the masked ball tonight, in support of some equestrian society."
Sarah watched some trucks drive up, back by the kitchens. "You checked the caterer?"
"Of course. A very reputable firm, commonly used in the area. No new hires lately."
They were deploying a portable generator. Clearly not a high power facility. Unless it was and they were using the generator for cover. Just then someone left the main house. "I've got movement, female, early twenties."
"Probably the occupant, Vivian MacArthur. I'd send a picture for verification but she has no media presence of any kind."
Definitely a person of interest. As Sarah watched, the young woman went into a nearby barn. A short time later, and who knew what she might have been doing there, she exited the building mounted on a horse, riding easily. Equestrian society, right. "I'm moving in closer. I want to get a look at that barn."
In LA, at an outdoor cafe...
"Good afternoon, sir," said the concierge, looking a lot like Casey. "May I show you to your table?"
"You may," said Chuck, looking a lot like the sort of person who goes to places like this to make deals every day. "A reservation for Carmichael."
"Certainly, sir." Casey picked up a menu and led the way, pulling out a chair for Chuck that put his back against the wall.
"Your finest Rioja Red, please," said Chuck.
"Absolutely, sir," said Casey. He leaned in close to get the menu. "Nobody likes a smart-ass."
In Somerset...
The barn was a stable. A stall for a horse and materials for caring for said horse. No obvious signs of evil machinations. "I'm pulling back to the tree line."
At the LA cafe...
Shortly after a man matching Orion's picture of Wainwright entered the cafe, a dark vehicle spun to a stop on the other side of the street. A man got out and walked across with an arrogant and deliberate stride, entering the cafe area through the exit and avoiding the concierge desk entirely.
"That's rude," said Casey, mostly listening to Chuck being Chuck, schmoozing the twitchy scientist into a calmer and more talkative state.
Chuck was just about to get started interrogating him about the specifics of his toxin when he stopped talking and Casey looked over to his table. The rude man had stopped right next to it, saying something to the them that Chuck's microphone couldn't catch.
"I'm sorry," said Chuck calmly, "We're in the middle of some rather delicate, and I must add, confidential negotiations, so-"
The rude man compounded his rudeness by smirking, saying something to Wheelwright directly. Casey caught the word 'CIA' as Wheelwright flinched back into the rude man's hands. Casey and the rude man drew at the same time, but Casey had civilians in front of him and the rude man didn't.
He shot Chuck in the chest at point-blank range, escaping with Wheelwright in the confusion.
In Somerset...
Sarah hated the house. The trees were too far, the wall was too exposed, the barn was in the way. It was as if someone had deliberately chosen it to be hard to assault. Which also made it hard to defend, if the assault team was already inside.
A masked ball. Whose brilliant idea was that? Just asking to be invaded, plus the obvious creep factor. Sarah hated masks.
A burst of noise was her only clue. Someone leaving the house, through a door that let more music out with them. Not a caterer.
There! Shadows, men in dark clothing bent on dark deeds. She left the trees as they slipped inside the near door. She listened intently, waiting for something to cover the sound of her entry, some clue as to what the hell was going on.
"Give me the key, Vivian," shouted a man, probably Kaminsky himself.
What the hell was Vivian doing out here? Wasn't this her party?
Her first party. And probably her last, if she didn't give Kaminsky what he wanted. Maybe even if she did.
A gunshot, and a horse's frightened neighing. Sarah slipped inside the stable, and saw Kaminsky and his men pointing guns not at Vivian, but at her horse. Vivian was shaking her head, no, no. No the horse, no the key, no everything about this awful, awful night.
Sarah knew it when Kaminsky started to fire his gun, and somehow Vivian did too. In the time it took him to move his finger she had put herself in harm's way, and his bullet took her in the chest.
Kaminsky and his men stopped in shock.
Sarah took aim and dropped each and every one of them, with two bullets for Kaminsky just because. She ran over the bodies to get to the victim, Vivian herself, lying in a pool of blood. "Talk to me, Vivian."
The young woman opened her eyes, breathing shallowly. "Couldn't...Artemis..."
"Your horse is fine, Vivian. What did they want?"
Vivian began to gasp. "Hurts..."
"Not for much longer, Vivian. Tell me what they wanted."
Vivian put a hand to her throat, one finger touching a locket. "Take...my father...please..." Her pleading eyes never wavered from Sarah's face as her labored breathing stopped, and failed to start.
Dammit! Sarah grabbed the necklace and tore it off, knowing any competent medical check would find the damage. She opened the door and slapped Artemis to get her running out, and ran out the other door to the cover of the trees.
Casey: "He got away", as somewhere Stanley Wheelwright knew himself to be going mad.
Frost: "They got away", as somewhere Sarah boarded a plane for the Continent, wearing a locket bearing the Volkoff crest.
Casey: "But don't worry..." as he pulled the bullet from Chuck's body armor.
Gertrude: "She'll be back."
A/N2 You may have guessed that this story will have no Vivian plot. A little darker than I expected but that's where the story took me.