A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Mission briefing and preparations are done. Sarah and Bryce as the Andersons, Chuck, and Carina as the Carmichaels, and Casey as himself are eager to go into action and find some clues about the a-bomb that threatens the continental USA. I don't own Chuck. I don't own the bomb. I don't own the USA.
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You got to ac-cent-tchu-ate the positive,
E-lim-i-nate the negative,
And latch on to the affirmative,
Don't mess with Mister In-Between.
You got to spread joy up to the maximum,
Bring gloom down to the minimum,
And have faith, or pandemonium,
Liable to walk upon the scene.
"Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive" (Johnny Mercer & Harold Arlen)
Chapter 7: Chuck vs The Andersons
Sarah stood upright, her arm linked into Larkin's, watching Carina as she leaned on Chuck with an arm around his waist that momentarily bothered Sarah more than an a-bomb in the United States. Chuck courageously applied his attention to Carina, trying to get used to the redhead that was as flirty as pretty.
"Warming up for the show?" Sarah asked with the disgust of a customer finding a dead mouse in her burger. Carina was quick to retort.
"I'll never need to warm up, blondie, you know that. But the more time I spend with Chuck, I find it a pity that we should mimic the happy couple for all those filthy rich asses. We could use the room they gave us to find out if this marriage has a chance instead."
She gestured between her and Chuck, ignoring what he thought about the idea.
Sarah raised her voice. "That isn't your mission objective, Carina!"
My my, Carina thought. Do we have hit a sore spot? Isn't that a double-standard – hanging on Larkin's arm like a lovesick teenager but chastising me if I want to have some fun with Chuck!
"And many of the wealthier ones actually did something useful to get where they are," Sarah added lamely if only to divert from her possessive reaction to Carina's words. The addressed agent was quick to rub it in.
"Why, Mrs. Anderson! The moment her bedroom is warm and cozy again, she embraces the world! You know we dealt with a good bunch of the so-called rich and beautiful and unearthed a lot of bad shit, so, as they say, don't be so open-minded that your brain falls out!"
Sarah turned her head to check Carina out as she hung on an uncomfortable-looking Chuck, her blue-green dress offering more cleavage than he could look at without blushing deeply.
"Yeah, Red, and don't be so open-hearted that your boobs fall out!" she bit back, checking at the same time with a hint of nervousness what effect Carina's words had on Chuck.
"You're sure you two are best friends?" Chuck asked Carina with a strained voice and doubtfully raised eyebrows.
The ding of the elevator prevented a retort from Carina. Everybody straightened up, exchanged a last quick glance, then stepped out.
To their well-hidden surprise, the entrance to the banquet hall was cut off. Only one of the three wide double-doors was open, and of that, only one half.
The anteroom where they stood was a passageway from the lobby and the desk to the elevators, the latter being opposite to the hall entrance.
The floor was white marble with grey and black insets that looked like the branching of veins. The style of the walls and the furnishing were minimalistic, underplaying the luxury of the place. The walls were marbleized in a white with a soft grayish tone, and indirect lightning from lamps embedded into the floor made the room appear higher than it was. The furniture was black and white, all metallic and leather. There were a few chairs, placed more to look good than to have a comfortable seat, two magazine racks, one filled with national and international newspapers, one with the lifestyle magazines Sarah found so dull. There was no wood to be seen. The lighting came from dozens of small silvery dots hanging from the ceiling, adding to the serene atmosphere and looking like myriads of stars. Sarah realized that they hung in differing heights from the ceiling and were mounted in irregular patterns, which eased the austerity of the broad hallway considerably, as did the colorful paintings on the walls. Sarah noticed they were of different schools of art. Some of those were contradicting styles as he saw minimalism, surrealism, abstract expressionism, and fantastic realism. Still, she had to admit that the paintings were well-selected to bring harmony and reserved mirth.
All entrances but one were closed, producing a bottleneck effect as a throng of people wanted to enter. Security people galore were present, watching every step of the incoming guests. Sarah let go of Larkin's arm and queued up at one of the lines forming, which were divided by stanchion posts. She stroked one of the burgundy velvet ropes that connected the posts absent-mindedly and wondered why that had not been in the briefing. Bryce briefly laid his hand on her left shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Be right back, darling."
She didn't even hear him stepping away, as the hustle and bustle of people lining up made it impossible to pick out any details. It didn't worry her. Bryce always came through. She thought she heard his voice talking to someone. It was impossible to understand one single word in the middle of the crowd chatting and slowly moving forward towards the security checkpoints with metal detectors, security people nosing into bags and purses, and hotel employees checking invitations and greeting the guests. Her trained eye quickly realized that the security people were from some agency and that the whole setup looked a bit improvised. She felt reassured that she had not taken any weapons with her, not even her beloved knives. General Beckman's comment about lightly traveling was well advised, in hindsight.
The guests indeed were upper-class. There were Tuxedos galore Chuck would have to work for months to afford, and Sarah was sure that for some of the jewelry she saw being proudly worn, she would have to exchange her Porsche to be able to afford those pieces. With a few exceptions, dresses were long, sumptuous and elegant, and well-chosen. It was a posh affair.
"Walker, don't look around. The moron blew his cover!" Casey's voice suddenly barked in her earbud.
Oh my God, Chuck, what have you done this time?
She wanted to use the mic in her watch, but Casey obviously watched her via one of the security feeds and stopped her with a sharp voice.
"Don't talk, don't look, Walker. Just keep on walking to the security check!"
She kept her head straightforward, smiled warmly to an older woman appraising her red dress, and took another step towards the checkpoint as the line moved slowly. Casey grunted in annoyance.
"Carina's out too. Idiot's mission accomplished. Hopefully, we can get in the rest of the team, at least. Just stick to going in, Walker."
Well, Chuck, you fucked up royally!
There would be no glamourous evening for the Carmichaels tonight, but at least the Andersons would make it through. Whatever Chuck did, real spies wouldn't blunder in a moment like that. Sarah felt some of the annoyance in Casey's voice spill over to her. General Beckman could have worded it more tactfully, but she was right: Chuck was not a real spy by a large margin. Some games should be left to the professionals. The whole mission premise had changed in a few seconds. Without the Intersect, they needed to improvise, but she and Bryce had accomplished that before.
She heard some scraps of conversation behind her. Someone politely whispered, "Excuse me, that's my wife there." Then she sensed Bryce was standing behind her, not a moment too soon as she stepped with contentment through the security gate without setting off an alarm.
Hopefully, Chuck learns his lesson now! He was pretty pale when Beckman told about tens of thousands of dead if the mission fails, and now he foolishly failed even to be part of the mission.
A bellhop greeted her. He was flanked by a man who, she concluded through experience, was Secret Service. There was something distinctive about agents whose primary task was to protect.
What is the Secret Service doing here?
Hopefully, no one she knew from her time in the Service was present! The mission briefing certainly had some critical information missing.
"Good evening, Miss! May I see your invitation, please?"
She smiled politely as the invitation was handed to her from an invisible hand from behind - perfect timing, Mr. Anderson! -and, in turn, handed it over to the bellhop who beamed as if they were his favorite guests.
"Good evening again, Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael! We hope you enjoy the banquet!"
The bellhop gave her back the invitation. She stood there, dumbfounded. Before she could turn around to find out what was going on, a friendly voice said, "Thank you, we certainly will!"
Then, Chuck stood beside her with a cheerful grin, offering her his arm: "Shall we, honey?"
•••••••••••••••••••
Sarah grabbed his arm and led Chuck vehemently a few steps away from the security checkpoint. Her long, forceful strides exposed her perfect legs. As they swiftly walked by an elderly couple, Chuck hoped that the old fellow didn't have a pacemaker. The failure of the device would have been imminent upon seeing sexy Sarah strutting determinedly like a Valkyrie taking a fallen hero to Valhalla. She forcefully turned him away from the people ambling past.
"Hey!" Chuck exclaimed. "Gentle!"
"I can't believe this! Losing half of the team before the mission has begun is a major achievement, even for you! What did you do, Chuck?" Sarah hissed angrily.
He wiggled his head excitedly.
"Actually, you should be thankful, Mrs. Carmichael. I'm the Superman for your Lois Lane; I'm the Luke for your Leia; I'm the Link for your Zelda; I'm the Indy for your Marion; I'm the - woooff."
She pushed him against the wall. "What. Did. You. Do. One more bit of Hollywood bullshit and…" She left her incomplete warning dangling in the air as she realized that there were only two options: Either abort the mission altogether or continue with Chuck. Irritatingly, he seemed as pleased with himself like he won a Call of Duty tournament.
"Actually, it was not all Hollywood bullshit. Once more, you displayed a striking deficit in useless trivia…" Her fiery look made him trail off. "But that's not essential to the issue, right. What I'm saying, Mrs. Carmichael, is that I brought us in by taking Bryce's place when he could not do it himself anymore."
Other guests gave them curious looks. Chuck grinned and explained to the group passing by, "We're newlyweds."
"Then I assume you have a room where you can take this, big boy," a man laughed at him as he strolled past.
Sarah wrinkled her brow and eased the pressure on him. "Stop fooling around, Chuck-"
"It's Charles now, Samantha Lisa!" he admonished as he raised a finger. Sarah blinked and captured the offending finger in her grip and felt anger replaced by confusion.
"What did you say?" she panted, holding on to his finger suddenly like a lifeline. Being addressed like that threw her completely off balance. Like in her recurring dream, being called by her real name was a significant blow to her confidence. It took her a moment to register that Chuck had no clue at all, but simply used Carina's cover name, which was very real for Sarah. As for him, he did not understand where her sudden fascination for his finger stemmed from. He ignored that riddle for the moment, as he enjoyed briefing Sarah about the new situation too much.
"I said my name is Charles Carmichael, and you're Samantha Lisa Carmichael."
Sarah felt a heavy blow to her stomach, but neither fist nor foot was hitting her. One of the worst scenarios had come true, but it did not register with Chuck as he could not know. He couldn't help but grin like this moment Jeff Bridges and Bruce Boxleitner had signed his Tron poster: "It's game over for the Andersons, but the Carmichaels made the next level."
Chuck looked pleased with the world until he noticed that Sarah eyed him like she remembered that she hadn't used her favorite knife in a while.
"What's the matter, Samantha Lisa?" he murmured.
Nothing, Chuck, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. I just ended up with my real name as my cover name, and I feel sick already. Every time you say that name, I think I am going to drown in the dark sea of my horrible past.
She finally let go of his finger and ignored his question, too busy keeping her calm.
"Oh, you're back," Chuck remarked, looking at his finger and muttered: "I began to think that the Carmichaels minus one finger made it."
"Can you cut off the crap?" Casey's gruff voice in their earbuds interrupted them.
"Fine, about Larkin…" he continued when curious silence ensued. "The douchebag brought a gun. When he saw the security check, he tried to get out of the queue so he could get rid of it, but sec found that suspicious and pinched him right away."
Sarah sent Chuck and his finger a look brimming with a heartfelt apology. So sorry, Chuck! While she already opened her mouth for an apology, Casey continued.
"They found the weapon, handcuffed him, and he's currently being treated to the hospitality of the LAPD."
She harrumphed. Who's been unprofessional!
"Bartowski sneaked his way up to you and saved the day. Quick thinking, kid! As he used the Carmichael invitation and Larkin was caught with the Anderson one, Carina had no way of entering, she backed off. Too bad she wasn't handcuffed too," Casey concluded his report.
Chuck remembered the earring microphones and slightly bent down to Sarah, taking in a whiff of her perfume, traces of peaches, and watermelon. She never wore such a fruity fragrance before. But as her aestival beauty carried that mind-blowing red dress so elegantly, he could have indulged into visions of delicious sun-kissed fruits waiting to be reaped at his leisure. He withstood the thought and, obviously not at all concerned that Larkin was out of the game, inquired about the mission.
"What are we going to do now? Still expect me to flash with my usual efficiency?"
"I hope that this time around, you don't botch it up! You still will be seated at the Governor's table. Try not to look around too much, Bartowski, or you won't be able to hide your flashes. Walker, do what you can do to divert from the flashes or try to shield 'em. That is if Walker is OK with that. She's the AIC now as long as Bryce is out of action."
"That's OK, Casey. It's the only way to go," Sarah confirmed Casey's recommendations.
"I would know what to do," Carina's sultry voice broke in, having joined Casey in the van. "Stay faithful to me, Chuck!"
"Will you shut up!" Casey shouted. "Anyway, we won't move as fast as we planned, but we're still on. Don't over-flash, you have a full weekend ahead," he ended with an almost empathic note.
Chuck looked a bit helpless. Sarah took his hand and wanted to squeeze it reassuringly, but like every time before, there was a distinct jolt of electricity that shook her when she touched him. She noticed that he felt it too. Both looked at their joined hands.
"Chuck… Charles… are you ready for this? I won't hold it against you if this is too much-"
"I'm OK, Sa- Samantha Lisa. Let's do this."
Sarah looked searchingly into his eyes, again being perplexed about being called by her real name. But her look discovered only the determination to go on this mission with her. She wondered where Chuck found courage.
"You understand this is not a fast one. You'll be Charles Carmichael all evening long and possibly the next days too."
He shrugged. "I'll manage. The threat we're facing is reason enough to make me try. And I'll have you to support me."
"You'll have to be with me most of the time, Charles, and I will protect you," she said, suddenly realizing that she would share a room, a bathroom, … a bed with him. She would see him in his PJs, he would see her dressed for the night, and she had a hunch that the honeymoon suite bed, which was surely king-size, would become too small with him there - too small not to feel his nearness.
"That sounds like something real bad," he quipped, putting extra emphasis on the word 'real'. "I'll be a good boy, you'll be a good girl, and we will see this through together."
She shuddered at being called a good girl but still explained her concern to him.
"Chuck, you are Charles. And you will be forced to be with me wherever that is, with a few exceptions. And you would have to keep your professional calm. Everywhere, Charles, everywhere."
If Chuck didn't look worried before, he did now.
"That sounds pretty grave, but I don't understand it. Everywhere?" He apparently didn't catch that she was expecting him to be attentive and loving to her all evening, while in the nighttime, their covers unnecessary, he would have to share a room with her and be all business-like about it.
"Where, Chuck, where?" Carina joined the conversation again. "You're the coolest guy in front of a keyboard, and I couldn't wait to have you push all my buttons, but what where would you guess, eh? Hartford, Hereford, and Hampshire?"
"OK," Casey broke in. "Enough of the chit-chat. Next to Governor Kowalski, there will be his younger son Robert with his fiancé Ginger; his older son, Gene, who's a serial womanizer, alone. The Governor's wife and daughter will not attend tonight. The family is of Polish ancestry. This is good Republican stock, so, whatever Beckman said, don't concentrate on the Governor only."
"As they all know each other, how do we fit in?" Chuck asked.
"You don't know them. The Maître d' is an agent who will introduce you. You won't have to worry about anything other than your honeymoon cover."
Casey threw in a grunt for good measure.
"And don't get surprised if you flash on a couple of unexpected folks. There are about two dozen other agents from all over the alphabet soup."
"Why weren't we told that?" Sarah inquired, slightly pissed.
"They all have an axe to grind, you should know that," Casey said. "But at least Beckman made sure that, due to my room fully set up for surveillance, we're the communication central, so I'll be notified of any action going on."
"And what's the Secret Service doing here?" Sarah inquired.
"So, you've seen 'em. Well, your mission became more complicated as the Veep is in for a surprise visit tonight."
"What's a Veep?" Chuck asked.
"The vice-president!"
"So that's where those hasty setup security checks came from!" Sarah mused. "OK, can't be helped. Let's go inside and get seated," she decided. This time she took the arm Chuck offered her.
They stood for a moment, not moving but smiling at each other. It was a replay of smiles they had learned to put on if they visited Ellie and Devon, and, at the same time, it was not. It was mutually honest.
Chuck felt like Philip Marlowe when sipping his first Gimlet on a hot Californian afternoon, as being with Sarah made him feel a couple of inches taller. Whatever the world threw at them, at this moment, he expected that they would master everything.
Sarah, aside from the doubt if Chuck could maintain his cover for possibly four long days, felt elated at the prospect of spending time with Chuck. She knew she should push these emotions aside. She would have done so, but she decided that her current state-of-mind very much could bolster up her performance until Sunday as well. Hence, she decided to take the unheard risk of feelings being brought into a mission.
A familiar face beaming an accommodating smile greeted them and shook them out of the reverie of gazing into each other's eyes, which at that moment happened so easily.
"Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael! Pleased to have our favorite honeymooners back again! Let me show you to your table!"
Chuck and Sarah looked at each other once more and had no difficulty giggling like lovestruck newlyweds as Roan Montgomery led the way.
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N (2) Gimlet: You could say Raymond Chandler made the Gimlet famous. In "The Long Goodbye" (1953), he's sipping Gimlets constantly at a bar called Victor's, where he also explains that "a real gimlet is half gin and half Rose's lime juice and nothing else," and if you're lucky, you'll find barkeepers that still make 'em that way.
A/N (3) As Roan is back, pour yourself a drink and type a review with the other hand. I'll be as happy about it as Mr. Montgonery about the perfect martini. And if you enter your review as a FF member and not as a guest, I can reply to you; just a hint.