A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Chuck and Sarah, as the Carmichaels, attend a posh dinner in a posh hotel in Santa Monica. They join the Governor of California and his family, trying to find out if any one of them is involved in the a-bomb threat they are investigating. The Governor's elder son, Gene Kowalski, puts himself under suspicion, which leads Sarah to follow him outside of the banquet hall. Now let's look at how our girl weasels herself out from another tricky situation...
A/N (2) And for everyone who asked: No, this is not a story that has you biting your nails in angst and tension for 999 chapters and then delivers the happy end with chapter 1000. There will be tons of true "Charah" in between, and very soon.
I didn't know what time it was then I met you.
Oh, what a lovely time it was, how sublime it was too.
I didn't know what day it was you held my hand.
Warm like the month of May it was, and I'll say it was grand.
I did not know what year it was, life was no prize.
I wanted love, and there it was, shining out of your eyes.
I'm wise, and I know what time it's now.
"I Didn't Know What Time It Was" (Lorenz Hart & Richard Rogers)
Chapter 9: Sarah vs. The Boulevardier (2)
The sea was close enough, so the never-ending swell of waves could be heard, and the typical aromatic and briny smell reached up as well. A light breeze had come up with the evening that tousled Sarah's hair and tugged on the hem of her dress like a child clumsily craving for attention. The many-colored sunset was gloriously dying, and down at the beach, tourists tried to capture its death throes with their cameras.
Speaking of "capturing".
Gene Kowalski still stood under the lantern and watched the haggard man with the suitcase slowly walk away, just like he was observed out of the corner of her eye by Sarah. Gene would probably watch the man until he disappeared out of sight, so she had comfortably time to come up with a plan.
But first, she had to shove her anger aside. She was not satisfied with her team's performance.
Chuck often had to be reminded of the importance of the mission the very moment a mission got complicated. As sure as a toothache when you needed it least, Chuck's off the wall view as an untrained civilian and as a man with a golden heart for anyone and everything could be annoying, unsettling, and on the other hand, indeed life-saving, so she tried to be patient with him as much as her agent heart could master. He is doing very well for a civilian, she reminded herself.
Illogically, she felt betrayed by Casey. When he reminded her sternly of her role as Samantha Lisa and prompted her to be a good girl, she assumed for a moment that Casey knew about her past.
•••••••••••••••••••
(Flashback, unknown place and time)
"Samantha Lisa, come over to me!" the man says softly. "Time for your reward!"
"I don't want to," she says.
"Samantha Lisa, you'd better be a good girl!" his voice admonishes calmly.
She obeys.
•••••••••••••••••••
Was Casey aware of those ruinous words and where their catastrophic effect on her stemmed? No, even if he knew, he wouldn't choose a critical moment to throw her off balance. His sense of duty would prevent that.
The fact remained that she sailed deeper and deeper into troubled waters as the mission progressed. In the past few years, she had been successful to quell and almost eliminate the memories that came with her own name. She had been so much better off being Sarah Walker, the unfailing enforcer.
Samantha Lisa was buried in a mental dungeon, as black as the soul of Darth Vader. That dungeon was way down deep inside Sarah, like a deep-sea trench of her mind. It was hellish as Devil's Island and as inescapable as the SBCC. Samantha Lisa was only one of the inmates in its cells, but she was the most dangerous one, an abominable monster willing to destroy the form that was housing her, intent on breaking to the surface at any price. She was the one that objected to being confined to a moldy cell the most, the one that pulled on the rusty chains the hardest, not ready to rot away in the darkness that she had brought down there herself. Samantha Lisa was prepared for the final endgame with her keeper, Sarah Walker.
Sarah forced herself back to reality. She knew that she had no problems explaining her presence to Gene Kowalski. After all, she still clutched the mobile in her hands, which offered her plenty of reasons why she was out here.
Gene had given the unknown man a room key - so she presumed. The suitcase was not going to be whisked away immediately, but was kept at the hotel. The reason remained unclear. Once the deal was sealed, she had assumed that the item would be gone within minutes. One explanation she could imagine was that it was to be used very soon, making transportation unnecessary. This would maximize the pressure in their mission incredibly. It could change Gene's role from a mere man-in-the-middle to one of the key players. She could think of a dozen other explanations - including that she was totally wrong.
But if the assumption that Gene was more important than they initially had thought was correct, the urgency to pursue this lead was overwhelming. It was imperative to stick to Gene as long as it took to find out the truth - no matter how high the price was. There was only one way – besides violence – that would pull that trick, and violence was no option as long as she wasn't 100% sure Gene was involved. She felt cornered and out of control, pressed to go a route she didn't want to go.
Her road had always been Violence Boulevard. Before she came to Burbank, her job description had been vastly different - there was a reason why she was nicknamed The Enforcer and not The Seducer, and why the adjective to her other nickname was Ice and not Heat.
In her life as Graham's favorite killer, if ever she had to act sexy, it was for distraction, but she herself had never ended up as the distraction. It had been a game in which the men didn't know at the beginning that they would lose in the end.
She allowed men to dance too close, sit too close, lean in too close, she was pinched in the butt and other parts of her anatomy, she played along when hands found her own hands, her arms, shoulders, or back and had fended off those hands when they tried to roam. Still, the unofficial summary of her job description, governmental hit woman, and the dramatically different situations she usually had to deal with as compared to agents like Carina, had protected her from even the possibility that she had to give her all for the country. Paraphrasing one of General Patton's famous quotes, she, on the contrary, had made other bastards give their all, really all – their life through her hands.
Being the consummate killer had forced her to develop a general distance from everything. A distance that went far beyond what regular agents needed to learn to remain sane. That, in turn, had allowed her a peculiar type of dignity: She didn't sacrifice her body. She never slept with a mark. All of her marks were Walking Dead anyway once Sarah Walker got her orders from Graham. But she sacrificed part of her soul every time she assassinated someone, as justified as it might have been. So she had complemented her physical dignity with a psychic safety that relied on the mental dungeon she had built a long time ago.
Sometimes she wondered what was worse: To sacrifice your body or your soul. Since she already had exchanged her soul for an infallible set of knives, she was not eager to find out about the other.
But the essential task at hand was to stop Gene from going back to their table. Any communication or action that could deliver some intelligence was impossible there. To be sure he just wouldn't walk by with a nod – a small risk anyway -, she leaned on the wall that still was a bit warm from a sunny day. She placed one foot at the wall, rather high beneath her buttocks, which not only made her dress fall apart at the slit and her leg fully exposed, ready to have a fondling hand placed on it, but also allowed a glimpse of what else was there under the thin red fabric.
As the suitcase was out of sight, Gene Kowalski finally turned around. Sarah read in his body language that he immediately recognized her before he loafed comfortably towards her.
What could I gain here? Sarah still considered. It was impossible that Kowalski would unknowingly reveal where that atomic suitcase was headed. The best way would have been to follow the haggard man and the suitcase. But that had been out of the question, as Gene would have seen her. The walkway and that empty strip of lawn didn't offer any options to move invisibly. Going down and sprinting wildly across the beach in that red dress and high heels would make her the star of some tourist videos, but she would not win the race either.
In a moment of clarity, Sarah also admitted to herself that she was not sure if she had pondered about every possibility, option, and tactic at her disposal. This was her most crucial mission ever, which was to define her future life and career. And even for a seasoned agent like herself, the concern over casualties in every step of the operation and in the threat itself was a challenge the team rarely faced routinely. It was not one of those missions where she mostly put her own life on the line. They all carried a responsibility unheard of before. Yet she was distracted by fighting the demons of her past, unleashed by a simple name and harmless words that actually held much pain and confusion, and at the same time coming to terms with so far unknown situations that threatened the dignity she had defined for herself.
Sarah looked down at her nude, inviting legs, knowing that her shoulders drawn back to lean comfortably on the wall stretched the dress over her torso. She looked spectacular enough to unleash a stampede of the male guests in the ballroom if they would have seen her, except for one special man who would blush and stammer and carry her on his adoration like on a rosy, fluffy cloud.
Chuck.
If only Chuck were here, and we could talk. More often than not, Intersect aside, he has weird but brilliant ideas.
She still distrusted her conclusions about how to proceed. It was tempting to presume Gene Kowalski was the mastermind behind the atom bomb threat. What she observed under that lantern fit the problem they had to solve.
But among other points, there was one ridiculous aspect that did not make sense: It was too dumb. It was too amateurish to exchange what amounted to the remote control of a weapon of mass destruction on a hotel walkway. A spot where every moment groups of guests could stroll by on an evening when important people were present, most probably including military brass that would recognize an atomic suitcase. It made no sense.
Besides, he ain't nobody. Gene Kowalski was not only the Governor's son but also a well-known photographer. In addition to the implications, it would not be wise to have someone with a high public profile on a plot of such magnitude - those in darkness drop from sight, but, as for Gene, you see the ones in brightness.
Her initial excitement to close the case early dulled. Finally, she felt terrible about leaving Chuck behind as she did. She rushed into that part of the mission with her usual zest, knowing she could adapt to almost anything on the spot. But she left an inexperienced team member behind.
Chuck.
She envisioned how his brown eyes could sparkle with smithereens of gold that always wanted to make her sit down and stare at him indefinitely. His twinkle lit her inner darkness like a beacon in the night, its light blooming into dreamy happiness somewhere deep inside of her. How could she cloud those eyes with despair when they gave her so much joy?
So how should she deal with Gene Kowalski? Should she play along if he put a hand on her thigh, so waiting to be petted, if he tried to kiss her and if his hand started to wander? If he made out with her for a couple of moments and then suggested to sneak up to his room?
This felt so alien.
Most of the time, Sarah's contact with her marks was slight to non-existent. It wasn't so clever to socialize in whichever way with someone you would kill later - better leave no traces behind, including memories of people who might have seen you.
Yet, by feigning acceptance of his advances, Gene would be within arms reach, literally, all the while, nothing he would say or do would escape her, and she would manage to examine his room while he examined her body. She knew she would not give in to Gene Kowalski. But she would have him in a secluded place, one on one – and even without any weapons, thwarting his hopes for an adventure, she was sure she could lambaste him hard enough that he would spill everything he knew.
But what would Chuck think? What would he feel? I would be in the same situation as last year with Lon Kirk.
Nothing had happened there either that scratched her dignity. But did Chuck know that, and did he know that I would not have betrayed our cover relationship even if he hadn't had that crazy flash back then that I initially thought was faked?
The smallest kind of despair tiptoed into her considerations. Where was all this leading to?
If I can't stand a little groping, hardly going second base, I can quit the agency right away. Hell, I couldn't even get a job as a waitress. They endure their fair share of unwanted attention too.
A generalized ire gripped her. Sarah usually took care of – in that order - the mission and herself only, but tonight was one of the rare moments when she commiserated with all of her gender, wondering why women so often were viewed as a fair game. She had been all over the world, and she had faced male chauvinism and machismo everywhere. Being well prepared to deal with such men, she learned that a part of the male population in all continents viewed their superiority over womanhood as natural. They thought they were free to harass, or worse, any woman, eventually claiming that "The bitch enjoyed it anyway, they want it like that."
She angrily blew a strand of hair out of her face.
Well, not Chuck. And he'll be hurt if I pull another Lon Kirk maneuver tonight.
Her mind skipped a few steps and began to ponder what really was the reason for her musings.
And how could a relationship with a civilian with civilian expectations work anyway? Every couple of weeks running into a mission where the powers-that-be think I should have a little make-out session with a stranger? Chuck again accompanying me, delivering me into a hotel lobby or bar or casino, to see me flirt and smooch with some guy and let him take me up to his room? Ok, there I'll pull my knives, or Casey awaits us – but still, would it be bearable for Chuck to see me making out, see me touched and groped? He would view himself as my pimp, walking me up to whatever crime scene where an easy floozie was needed as a trap, and he would see me as… see me as... Where's the difference between being paid for sex by a customer or being paid for sex by your bosses who tell you who's the customer?
She had a fleeting thought that it possibly took natural-born femmes fatales like Carina to master such challenges. An earnest conversation with her could help find Sarah's bearings. Still, before anyone could catch Carina in a serious mood, the Large Hadron Collider was going to unveil the Higgs-Boson.
God, I have been so fortunate to be a killer and never had to deal with these questions! What could I tell him? "Listen, Chuck, I like you, yet from time to time, some disgusting dirty bastard will embrace me, stick his tongue into my mouth, feel up my boobs and ass and take me to his room, but other than that, honey, once we have him safely locked away, we two are a regular exclusively dating couple."
That wasn't bullshit, that was elephantshit.
To be honest to herself, she could not live with it if she were in Chuck's place. It had severely hurt when he broke up with her last year – and it had cut deeply to know that he was somewhere out there, possibly in his ludicrous Nerd Herder, making out with that sandwich girl, Lou. All her feigned innocence about Chuck letting his emotions get in the way were precisely that: hypocrisy. Because the moment it affected herself, while not showing it on the outside, she reacted exactly like Chuck. She was enraged about anyone who possibly could take her place, which, oddly enough, as she emphasized to him again and again, was only a cover.
Yes, coming to Burbank changed a lot. It shifted the type of her missions in a way that someday could end in the bed of some scumbag she would have cold-heartedly executed otherwise. The Intersect mission gave her Chuck Bartowski, and so far, it had not succeeded in depriving her of the last dignity she possessed, but chances were it could destroy all she had found and secretly hoped to pursue.
Sarah took what felt like the deepest breath she ever made, like coming up from a long dive in the ocean.
Spy life could end every day with a well-aimed bullet or by other gory means, but she knew it inside-out and lived it to the fullest. It had lifted her away like in a tornado so many years ago and sent her spinning into the bizarre spy world that was deadly yet had become so familiar. Sarah lived in that world now for a few years. She killed wicked people in the east, in the west and everywhere in between, getting lost in the Land of Espionage. But suddenly, someone appeared, a tall, lanky wizard of emotions, who was handing her those ruby slippers. Now, she needed the courage to put these on her feet, to tap her heels together three times, and to say, "There's no place like home."
Then it hit her like an epiphany, almost making her giddy from the mighty blow to her mind.
Chuck had changed her from the very first day, but it took her a year to apprehend it. The ruby slippers had already done their work! Spy world and real world coalesced, and she had to find her place in the new surroundings. Sarah realized that it would be a long way until her confusing, sometimes conflicting dreams regarding Chuck could become true – if ever. She should take the first steps and lay the foundation for a life that combined the agency and everything so new outside of it. She needed to extend her existence beyond the CIA, harmonizing the agent with what else was left of her. Sarah never thought that she would arrive at the admission, but for the first time, she knew that this was a mission she could not accomplish alone.
I know whom I want as a companion on my journey to a real human being. But could Chuck handle my dreadful past? He doesn't know how much baggage I carry! He will run away screaming once he realizes that the agency's brightest star is a hopeless human wreck.
She had to give him a sign to hold on, an unspoken promise, something that worked through her deeds because she knew she was notoriously bad with words.
If I ever could hope that he may accept my past, I'll have to earn his trust in the present. Show him through actions that agent and woman can go together. And do it now, Walker. Your time as a spy and your time as a girl aren't divided episodes of your life. You are always a spy and a girl at the same time. He needs to know that. Now. It's H-Hour!
Her silent commitment gave her not only strength but also a wondrous, soft kind of mirth.
She changed in a life-defining paradigm shift.
Chuck, if you could see me now, Sarah thought with a sudden resolution. I don't know how we can ever be a pair, but as a woman, I will not put us to shame, and as an agent, I will find another way to achieve my goal.
She swiftly put her foot down, brushed her hand over her dress, to be sure the slit of it was closed, pushed herself away from the wall to stand upright, and crossed her arms in front of her, briefly contemplating how fast a stressed mind could think as only seconds had passed. While she knew that she would never have allowed the situation with Gene to get out of hand anyway, she was determined now not to give the slightest reason for suspicion. She didn't expect that this would stop Gene, but she was not to stray from her newfound determination about her and Chuck one inch.
Charles Carmichael, her brain corrected. Nope, Chuck Bartowski it is, her heart countered.
"Samantha Lisa, I knew it was you!" Gene smiled as he came up.
Sarah felt it slowly getting to her, gnawing on her self-composure. What's this about my name that everybody seems to enjoy throwing it into my face? I've been called Samantha Lisa tonight more often than I am called Sarah in a month!
He looked pointedly around to emphasize that they were the only two people out there. "You followed me," he stated calmly and self-confidently. "You should've come over to the lantern," he grinned. "It would have been more romantic."
"I'm not Lili Marleen," Sarah tried to put a damper on his enthusiasm, but it impressed him not more than a shot from a scatter-gun would have impressed a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
"What can I do for you, lovely lady?"
Where do they get all those egos? she wondered. Give a man a bit of dough, have nature attach him with less charisma than a broken dishwasher full of dirty dishes, and they think they are irresistible.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Gene. I'm not here because of you," she said politely, not explaining why she was.
"I see it in your eyes," he persisted. Sarah knew no one could see anything in her eyes if she didn't want to. Ok, except for Chuck, sometimes.
"I'm not sure if I want to know what you think you see," she slowly replied.
Please, God, do something about his hormone level before I do it – in a way he wouldn't enjoy.
He placed a hand on the wall at shoulder height and looked down at her.
"I can see, lookin' at you, that you're too hungry for what life has to offer you," he explained, undoubtedly referring to himself as the object of her hunger. One part of her had to keep herself from laughing out loud.
On the other hand, she was fed up with the conversation yet was struck because he was correct, albeit in a very different meaning. She had been too hungry for the exciting agency life to deal with her personal issues and own future. But this moment of self-awareness didn't change the problem that she was stuck with a suspect of whom she less and less thought could be part of the threat, although there were a few open questions. Like, what was in that suitcase?
She did not respond immediately but looked up to him calm and distant with the sterile interest of an entomologist examining a rare species of mosquito.
Seven seas, seven continents, seven billion people, and I am standing here with a cheap prick in an expensive suit.
"Before this gets awkward, Gene - possibly you missed that I am married, and very happily so," she said with an open look that pardoned any earlier suggestive comments, and brought her hand with the CIA wedding ring into his view.
"Ah," he said with a dismissive gesture, not taking up the peace offer, "Formalities! Long before there was marriage, there were people. It's just a meaningless invention that keeps us from enjoying ourselves. Wouldn't you agree?"
Somebody hand me a knife! I wanna end this here and now!
"If I agree with you, then both of us would be wrong. I think marriage is wonderful. But perhaps I'm biased because being married to Charles, well…," she trailed off with a dreamy voice. He interpreted her polite words, not saying, "No!", out loud, like teasing, and pushed further.
"Samantha, you're way too much of a woman to be bottled up by one man. You're a naughty kitty that won't stay caught for long," Gene said.
"From a lovely lady to a naughty kitty in ten seconds, what steep decline in appreciation!" Sarah stated with a mirthless chuckle. "As I hinted, you're wrong, Mr. Kowalski. It was me who caught him, and I intend to keep him and be his alone. This kitty has sharp claws and won't let anyone else but Mr. Carmichael near her – and you're already in the danger zone," she said, hoping to make clear that she was not interested in a fling, of all times, during her honeymoon.
She couldn't be disparaging altogether as she still didn't know if and what role he played. If he indeed was only a ladykiller, I still need to keep up a minimal level of understanding because, in that case, the Carmichaels have to stick around and find out more about the other family members. It wouldn't be so easy to enjoy an enchanting dinner with the family while the physicians in the nearest emergency room fight for his life.
Gene backed off, though seemingly unfazed, like a hunter that patiently waits for the prey to fall. He again appraised her figure unashamedly as if he was contemplating what he would do with her in detail, his gaze eventually resting at her chest for long moments. Sarah felt like a piece of meat in a butcher shop being examined by a salivating customer. It would be tremendously satisfying to see him cramped down in pain and even more rewarding to be the one who inflicted that pain in the first place.
By way of contrast, Gene would have to be an outstanding actor to hit on her like nothing else was on his mind, while an atomic suitcase under his control was at the premises. His performance may have fooled anyone else, but not the CIA's best. At this moment, Sarah was almost fully convinced that he had nothing to do with their mission.
"I came out here to give my parents a quick buzz," she eventually explained. She wiggled the phone in her hand instead of smashing it on his head, and hoped he would understand that she sought privacy for that call.
She was mildly surprised that Gene understood the gesture. He picked out his wallet, fingered out a key card - he has another card? - and swiped it over the sensor to open the door. He gave her one more of what he obviously thought was a seductive glance and said: "So no chance you will change your mind anytime soon, like, this weekend?"
As she mimicked selecting a speed-dial on her phone, she replied matter-of-factly without looking at him.
"To quote Rosa Parks: Nah!"
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N (3) Devil's Island: Made famous by the book written by Henri Charrière and the movie "Papillon," starring Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman. When the penal colony's horrific conditions became known in the late 1930s, the public pressure became so intense that (with a delay due to the Second World War) it was eventually closed.
A/N (4) SBCC: The Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center, Massachusetts, opened (what a strange word for a prison) in September 1998 and still ranks among the most technologically advanced prisons globally. In its 22 years, no one has ever escaped.
A/N (5) General Patton: "No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. " (31 May 1944, while addressing the U.S. 6th Armored Division, though he said similar words on other occasions as well). It is interesting to note that Patton, in contrast to the 1970 movie about him that earned George C. Scott an Academy Award (that he refused), always spoke with a humorous tone, taking the edge of many crude words the movie left out, which was toned down for the general public. For example, he closed that speech with these words: "Thirty years from now, when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee, and he asks, 'What did you do in the great World War Two?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your granddaddy rode with the great Third Army and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named George Patton!' All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere."
A/N (6) Higgs-Boson: One of the primary purposes of the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) in Switzerland was to prove the existence of the Higgs-Boson, which the sensationalizing media sometimes calls the "God particle". They found it in 2012, actually, but at the time this story takes place (2008), it was still uncertain if humankind would ever come up with the proof of its existence.
A/N (7) Those in darkness drop from sight/You see the ones in brightness: Quotes from "Mack The Knife" by Bertolt Brecht.
A/N (8) H-Hour: In the military, the terms D-Day and H-Hour are used for the day and hour on which a combat operation is to be initiated. They designate the day and hour of the operation when the day and hour have not yet been determined, or where secrecy is essential. When used in combination with numbers, and plus or minus signs, these terms indicate the point of time preceding or following a specific action. Thus, H−3 means 3 hours before H-Hour, and D+3 means 3 days after D-Day. So the famous D-Day when the Allies stormed Omaha Beach and other beaches and dropped thousands of paratroopers into Normandy was only one of many D-Days in the Second World War.
A/N (9) Rosa Parks: If you're American, don't know who Rosa Parks was and why her "Nah" became pivotal for the Civil Rights Movement, google a bit in your country's history and find out why she is called "the First Lady of Civil Rights."
A/N (10) After all that heavy thinking and those wise decisions made, we should head back to dinner and have a little fun. The only spoiler I will give you is that the next chapter's title will be "Chuck & Sarah vs. The Killer Tomatoes".
A/N (11) Thank you all for your reviews and thoughts. Keep 'em coming, don't send 'em to NBC, send 'em to me! Also, I can't reply to you if you review as a Guest. Sign up to FF, and I can address your feedback. So, be someone on FF and sign up. Don't go Rosa Parks on me.