A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: The spy saved the nerd again in the last chapter. I see a pattern here. The raid on the criminal society that gathered at the hotel took place. Sarah Walker is now tasked to separate the wheat from the chaff, not stepping on any VIP's toes and still not letting them baddies slip through. And if you're more on the sensitive side, beware that a certain redheaded agent is present, so this chapter is C-rated: Carina-rated.

But if you used to want to see a commotion,
You shoulda seen the girl that I used to be,
I was trouble in perpetual motion,
Trouble with a capital "T".
"Careful Man" (Jim Croce) - one word, obviously, edited...

Chapter 42: Sarah vs. Carina

"You alright, Walker?" Casey inquired with a furrowed brow once he saw her exiting the staffroom and took her under scrutiny. "Did Bartowksi have a moron relapse and get himself in trouble again?"

Sarah couldn't retort anything witty as Casey hit the spot. Her Chuck was a clever guy, but, yes, that had been a moron relapse. They left the kitchen area, an amused grunt announcing their arrival in the ballroom. Carina leaned casually against the wall and observed the crowd. She gave Sarah a once over as dry as dust.

"Not though the agent knew the nerd had blundered," Carina muttered, looking her up and down, her green eyes shining with delight to have an opportunity to dish out. "Did you have to pull him out of the gully this time?"

Chuck's voice boomed on their earwigs, a trifle exasperated.

"Alright, alright, should we book some air time so everybody knows?"

Sarah didn't have time to grin.

"Casey, I want a room where we can interrogate people, here on the floor. There are storage rooms, cloakrooms, or similar adjacent to the kitchen. Get one ready. Detach one of our guys to hand out beverages when necessary. Carina and I'll do the interviews. You'll keep an eye on the crowd and organize any transfers into custody."

The peanut gallery had a different expectation.

"Or I could team up with Casey, and you do all the organizing," Carina suggested, but Sarah was not having that.

"As I know you, you'll handcuff Casey and seduce the first good-looking fellow you interrogate and send the rest of the folks home. I need to keep an eye on you."

Carina did not give up so quickly, though Sarah had been at least as far from joking as Echo Park was from the Eiffel Tower.

"Or I can go up, and I guard Chuckles, instead of Grandpa. I think he'll be safest with me in the honeymoon bed – remember, it was our cover initially," she reasoned with a suggestive smile.

"Anyone who can ruffle up blondie like that-" Carina gestured to Sarah's appearance "-makes it to the top of my list immediately."

Sarah had discovered deep, true emotions only a short time ago. Why not expand her expertise and explore real anger?

"Personally, I'd like another ten to fifteen minutes of your really pathetic quips to try to make me laugh," Sarah replied acidly, slowly losing her temper, "but duty calls."

"I have an idea where we get something for you to wear," Carina said to her, unfazed. "And I guess we should put some band-aids on these scratches too. It will only take a minute."

"I'm starting my stopwatch," Sarah replied as she followed her, not as aggressive as she felt, being somehow glad that she did not have to sit with a medic now.

•••••••••••••••••••

Carina disappeared through the kitchen entrance and danced out again a minute later with one of the white long-sleeved uniforms the female waitresses wore.

"You didn't kill anyone to get that?" Sarah inquired suspiciously.

I'm so fed up right now, if she pulled anything crazy about that uniform I'm gonna throw her out of the operation on her hairs. … Calm, Walker, no catfight in the ballroom.

"Nay. I just tranqued her," Carina explained, affronted. "I don't kill girls unless they're in the way of my next lover and me."

Sarah shot Carina a glance twice as sharp as the knife that had killed Ginger a short time ago. She almost had enough. She was fed up with Carina's antics, and the fact that she felt exhaustion crawling up did not make her any more patient.

"If you put me into trouble as the SAIC tonight, I'm gonna put you out of trouble for good," she spat more angrily than she wanted because talking with Carina reminded her of the conversation Chuck told her about. Sarah still wanted to be on friendly terms with the DEA agent, but the limits were drawn sharper than she had drawn her eyebrows, and they were set precisely where the redhead interfered with Sarah's emotions for Chuck.

"Ha, only kidding," Carina answered, somehow undeterred, somehow a bit in defense because she sensed that Sarah was not as patient as usual. "I borrowed it from the hotel's laundry, which is adjacent to the kitchen area."

Casey saved Carina from another sour retort as he came jogging along and saw Sarah holding the double-breasted, military-style blazer to her torso. He bestowed her with the tiniest of appreciative nods. Everything that would look good while worn on a Marine Corps base found his approval. Still, it was a waitress uniform, and Casey could not hold back a little needling.

"Nice dress, Walker. I want an Espresso Macchiato with a shot of Johnny Walker."

Sarah indulgently rolled her eyes, a bit disappointed that she could not tell Carina off properly but glad to see him.

"Storage room ready for interrogation." He pointed his submachine gun. "Features surveillance cam so Bartowski can watch and record."

"Thank you, Casey," Sarah said. She knew she didn't have to thank him. They were long past any early rivalry regarding the Intersect operation. Casey was completely comfortable with command hierarchy, and this time it was upon Sarah to take responsibility. However, she still felt the need to voice her gratitude. Casey nodded with an understanding, almost friendly expression and went on to attend to the orders he had received.

"C'mon," Carina said, her glance at Casey leaving seemingly envisaging how he would look in combat gear, polka-dotted boxers, and agency manacles, and opened the door to the kitchen area. "There's a restroom back there, and I'll wash at least the worst of that muck and oil from your back and see where you need a bit of bandage."

Less than a minute later, Sarah was bent over the washbasin, her dress straps hanging down from her shoulders, while Carina wiped away the dirt from her back with paper towels.

"You killed someone down there?" the redhead asked as if she was asking for the time.

"Ginger, Robert Kowalski's fiancée. Although her real name is Westlake, a former CIA and Graham disciple like me."

Sarah shuddered inwardly, thinking that Westlake most probably had been raped and blackmailed to absolute loyalty like herself.

In a different world, with someone else than Graham, we possibly could even have become friends.

"Tough business," Carina remarked. "How are you going to tell him?"

"I don't need to," Sarah sighed. "He saw it."

Carina stopped for a moment and seemed about to say something sympathetic before her agent personality shone through.

"Convenient, saves you long explanations and arguments, like if you could've done something differently."

"That's for sure," Sarah agreed. "She tried to kill Robert immediately when he unexpectedly showed up."

"So Chuckie has thrown you knee-deep into trouble this time," Carina said matter-of-factly while discarding the paper towels and brandishing the medkit she had requisitioned. "Time to spank his tasty ass, I'd say."

Sarah turned her head around to watch the other woman out of the corner of her eyes. She would discuss the matter with Chuck, not with a third person, and she could do without Carina's constant quips about what had become her private life in addition to her professional duty.

Besides, the only one to call him Chuckie after today is me.

"I would appreciate it if you would not call him that," she retorted sharply. "And next time you talk to him, keep your crap about me to yourself."

"What are we talking about?" the DEA agent asked, carefully cleaning what seemed to be a dried-up scratch on Sarah's back.

"What you told him about one-night-stands and me fucking everything that… well, I forgot, but everything, giving me the reputation of a floozie or a whore."

Carina raised an eyebrow as the anger in Sarah's voice could not be overheard. She was simultaneously bored and amused, as she was most of the time.

"I didn't say either of these words." Her green eyes pierced at Sarah adamantly. "But you can't deny that we are floozies, getting quick cocks to scratch the itch and then move on to the next mission and the next lover."

Sarah was silent for a few long moments. Something inside her stirred. It told her not to turn around and swing out an uppercut but gave her an insight into the always foul-mouthed, insolent nature of Carina Miller. Plus, it was a contradiction that Carina praised a loose lifestyle so much but got worked up over the idea that someone else might disapprove of it.

"I freely admit that you beat me on the men count," Sarah eventually began, controlling her anger. "But we got a man now and then if the job allowed, and I assume that I slept with more men than Chuck had women."

Carina didn't say anything but waited to see where this was leading to while she applied a band-aid. Sarah thought about the sex count she and Chuckie racked up in one day, though numbers were not significant when they were floating on the clouds of their affection.

"Still, I am inclined to say that Chuck had more sex than I ever had, and possibly even more than you. Can you imagine how it was when he met someone, and regardless of how it may turn out in the end, how they went at it like rabbits because they didn't have to part and leave to God knows where?"

Sarah could very well envision it. She simply needed to remember today. She did, and she felt a little heat.

"When Chuck and some college girl had a three-week whirlwind affair, they probably had sex more often than we had in half a year."

Carina paused, too, moving to another spot that seemed to need a bit of disinfection and protection. Sarah hadn't done the math, not even estimated, but she saw that Carina began to wonder. Their life of traveling and one-night-stands had appeared wild, but in hindsight, not as free as it seemed for outsiders, but the requirements of their missions, and, at least for Sarah, her past, had put severe limits to it.

"I get it, Sarah. You say we did what we could. That we chose that way of life when we chose our jobs. As for me, I'd like to see myself as the favorite groupie in a rock band. I get it. But still, look at it from Chuck's point of view – not that we do anything immoral, actually, on the contrary. We stand by the life we lead, having a fling today and then another with another guy the next week. Those people who give a sniff over our lifestyle usually have their own pleasures on the side, but secretly. We're not unfaithful to anyone, but I'm aware of the double-moral standard and how anyone else judges us, and for them, we are floozies."

Sarah was tired of those tirades, even though some of it might be true. Their fellow countrymen could be pretty prudish, hypocritical, and quick with a dismissive opinion. As much as she understood that Carina hid a certain amount of vulnerability under the character she played so convincingly, she thought they had been friends, and they would not talk behind their backs about each other. It took a lot until Sarah got pissed off, but the woman she had thought to be her best friend managed to do so.

"That's where you're wrong. Chuck knows the life I led, and he doesn't think I'm a floozie. It's pretty understood for him that I picked up a boy at a club, like he picked up a girl at a frat party. He doesn't see a difference because he's not like 'anyone else'. His male ego is not intimidated that I'm not a virgin princess, and he certainly wouldn't judge me from my past."

"So, still pining for him, I see," Carina sneered but perturbed how casually Sarah refuted her arguments. "Ok, I concede. If you can't get him out of your head, get him into your bed. You have my blessings, blondie."

Sarah turned around and gave her a broad, lewd grin that shook Carina because she had not seen it before.

"Who says I'm pining for him?"

The redhead's eyes doubled in size, and Sarah was content to have ripped off the cool, caustic mask from Carina for once.

"You... you slept with him? … Nay, don't answer, somehow I had the notion when you walked into the ballroom with that FFF."

Sarah groaned. "At least make sense when you serve me your smut," she unfriendly said and meant it.

"FFF? God, blondie, where do you live? Freshly-fucked face. But how do you arrange with your former life and someone nice," Carina said the word without sarcasm, indicating again that there might be a part of her wishing to at least once explore what a real relationship meant, "and not to have him doubt about your dirty past?"

Sarah knew she had no dirty past. An unfulfilled one, going through the motions, missing true love, nothing to write home about, but also not anything at all what Carina so heartily explained. It was time to shut the redhead up in an equally hefty way.

"Dirty past?" Sarah echoed, her patience coming to an end. "I have no dirty past. I slept with boys, he slept with girls, that's the way it is. Besides…" she looked forward to delivering a line that fitted Carina way more than herself but probably would deter the redhead from further quips.

"The heart has to remain pure, everything else you can wash."

She looked in the mirror, caught Carina's shocked expression with satisfaction, grabbed that waitress uniform, and walked to the exit of the restroom.

"And my heart is as pure as virgin snow."

•••••••••••••••••••

Sarah stepped out in the ballroom again, the uniform still in her hands, unsure if she should put it on. It should be worn with something under the very low-cut blazer, and there should be trousers which Carina didn't care to bring along, as she realized now. It would be pretty airy and pretty insightful to wear something like that.

With a furrowed brow, she saw Roan rushing up, obviously a clothes hanger or two over his arms. When he was close, she could see it was one of her business suits, blazer, pants, and a blouse.

"Roan, thank-" she began, but he held up a hand.

"You better thank Charles. He pulled that blue suit out of your wardrobe, plus a white blouse, and sent me down to you. I have to express my respect. A very attentive young man with many possibilities. If only he had a thing for polyamory, I would take him as my pupil and teach him all my tricks."

Roan held up the same hand again before anyone could chime in.

"I won't. I know who's on his mind, and he would accept no substitutes."

"Thank you, still," Sarah chuckled, took the attire, and walked into the room Casey had organized for the interrogations. She searched for and quickly found the observation camera, then made a little show out of slipping out of her dress and donning the new clothes under its lens, blowing the cam a kiss with a thankful smile when she was ready.

"God, you two," Carina sighed in mock resignation. "Did his head explode now?"

"I hope so," Sarah softly answered. Carina's hand suddenly was on her lower arm. Her features were softer than usual, a bit forced, but sincere in the attempt to look friendly.

A snake with a chummy grin, Sarah thought.

"Chuck can hear us, can he?" Miller asked, and a curt, 'Yup' was in their earwigs, and both women exchanged a glance in understanding that he most probably listened to their recent conversation too, not eavesdropping, but keeping the channel open in case the Intersect was required.

"So, listen, you two," Carina began, and Sarah was amazed at the tone of voice. "I'm sorry I said these things about you-" she gestured at Sarah "-to Chuck. I shouldn't have butted in. None of my business. I tried to protect you because I thought you both would be weaker and more vulnerable if you fall for each other, but it looks like the opposite is the case. Friends again?" she said and opened her arms for a hug.

Sarah scrutinized her for an extended moment.

"Ok, peace, at least?" Carina offered, turning her pose to an outstretched hand.

For the first time, Sarah thought she saw a bit of the real Carina Miller. She never heard her apologize before. Also, Carina apparently understood the chemistry and mechanics between Chuck and her. Still, she had to learn that some things couldn't be smoothed out so easily, so Sarah decided to deny her the hug and only shook her hand, but confirmed, "Friends."

•••••••••••••••••••

Chuck sat in front of the monitors and watched with awe as his girlfriend transformed into the operation commander.

"O Captain! My Captain!" he whispered.

Chuck was so incredibly proud of her that he forgot his own plans for a while and watched fascinated as Sarah took charge with an obviousness he had not experienced before. She conducted the interviews while Carina was reduced to not more than a witness. She helped out Casey without ever letting him feel that he wasn't up to the task, and she coordinated the operation in general with a firm and friendly demeanor.

After half an hour, Chuck fell into a comfortable routine. He dedicated a monitor of the surveillance unit to the room where the interrogations took place and checked if he flashed on any new candidate entering, telling his colleagues about it. While the Intersect remained dormant for many of the people, he could provide additional insights on others, which mostly led to an immediate arrest.

Chuck then set up the largest of the screens as a workplace and opened several windows, which gave the impression he was on to something important. He knuckle-crackingly stretched his fingers and nodded at the screen like an old friend he had not seen in a long time. He reached to the far end of the desk and pulled the bottle of Chardonnay over, took a healthy swig before his tall frame hovered towards the screen. His fingers began to flitter over the keyboard like a dancing dervish in a trance as his eyes noted every line of code scrolling over the monitor unfailingly while the bottle of white emptied by the mouthful.

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (2) Not though the agent knew the nerd had blundered: Paraphrase from the second verse of the poem 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' (1854) by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). The original lines read, 'Not though the soldier knew/Someone had blundered.'

A/N (3) 42 chapters! And still counting! We just proved that 42 is not the answer to everything: "Journey" will go on. But only for seven chapters more, so we enter the seven-chapter-itch next time, which means you only have eight more chances to leave your answer to, well, not everything, but at least to this chapter!