A/N: Another AU first meeting. Sarah is much younger than the successful Chuck and having a hard time making ends meet as a solo con-woman; she is now considering something she certainly doesn't want to do. Will be Charah.
This first chapter sprang into my head and I had to capture before I continued with my other stories. It is now the first chapter of one I am extending. Only change to this chapter is giving it a chapter title and the A/Ns.
MarkeyDeSad kindly beta'd this for me and offered some great suggestions for enhancements, some of which appear here. Thanks, my friend.
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Chapter 1: New path?
Watching her dad being taken had been awful, but he had prepared her for this. She rushed to the stash and dug it up. As she did so, she heard the movement and reacted.
She had never killed with her knives, but at that point she was desperate.
The big suited guy managed to avoid the fast-moving knife somehow, even thought it was accurate, and he complimented her.
He stood threateningly and spun his lies about how he would keep her dad safe as long as she joined the CIA where her skills could be well used.
She could see a con a mile off. There was no way this guy was going to keep her dad from harm, but she acted as if she believed him.
When he reached down to help her up, she used her other knife, one he obviously didn't realize she had. She slit his wrist which he covered with his other hand, then his exposed neck.
She was careful to collect her other knife before leaving the corpse.
Now, five years later, a twenty-two-year-old woman sitting in this bar, she was wondering, once again, how things would have been different if she had gone along with his offer.
She had realized that there wasn't that much difference between a con woman and a spy. Both deceived people, both took things from those people. The only real difference was that the spy was paid to do it, but had to hand over whatever they took, whereas the con woman kept that, but had to repeat to survive or have nothing.
She sighed. Maybe she had made a mistake, but there was no correcting that now.
Pickpocketing the last guy that she passed had given her enough for the food she had just eaten, and the drink in front of her that she so desperately needed, but then she would have to sleep in another alley tonight.
She never would have even thought about prostitution if she hadn't had that run-in with a pimp three months ago.
She had been on the run after an unsuccessful robbery, something she fell back on when cons were not working. The sirens were blaring four blocks behind her. She rounded the corner and had run into the tall, almost wooden, man and had fallen to the ground. He turned from the woman he had been talking to and grabbed her arm and pulled her up.
She had both of her knives in an ankle-holster so couldn't reach them.
She looked at him as he looked at her. He was a brunette. about 6' 2" and solidly built; rugged; some might think him handsome, if it wasn't for the complete lack of life in those cold, calculating eyes.
Those emotionless eyes scanned her up and down in a way she didn't like at all. It made her feel like a piece of meat being assessed. He cupped her breast, too. Then, he spoke, in a surprisingly cultured voice, "You could be my next girl. Men would happily pay good money to fuck you." His other hand slipped a card into her top pocket.
"More trouble than she's worth, Daniel," the woman snarled.
In her head, Sarah agreed with the woman. She'd spat into his eyes, batted his hand away and kneed him in the balls, showing what trouble she was. He gasped and released her, so she ran. Ran from the police and him.
That had been in a seedier part of the city. She had thrown up that night at the memory of his hand on her as well as thoughts of what he had suggested. She had looked at the card before tearing it up, Daniel Shaw, Escort Services. However, the memory of such services had lingered.
So, last night, she had made that attempt to change her path. She shuddered thinking about it, but felt she would have to follow through with it at some point.
She had put on the clothes she'd collected from the garbage cans outside the houses in the suburbs. She was still amazed at the good clothing just being discarded. She had also cleaned up her face and applied makeup, something she'd become skilled at over the years, needing it for her cons. Then, she had looked at herself in that restroom mirror.
No longer the innocent looking girl with braces. She'd gotten rid of those some time ago. Hell, her teeth were fine, she thought, or at least not the eyesore they had been when she was younger.
She had tidied up her usually unruly hair, which she'd already dyed red, but kept it down. All the women she had watched wore their hair like that, so the men must prefer it.
The short dress showed off her legs that she had just shaved. These were probably what would give her the break.
The woman facing her in the mirror looked damn good.
Half an hour later, standing on the street, close, but not too close, to where the two hookers picked men up, she'd started to question what she was doing. When the car pulled up, and the women started shouting at her, she'd looked at the man through the window he rolled down. Sweaty, sneering, ugly.
Her body had reacted. She hadn't eaten for quite some time, but the vomit that coated his face implied otherwise.
She had run, as she often did, but this time there was no thrill to it, just shame and fear.
So, here she was, after another largely unsuccessful day, drinking this alcohol contemplating trying that again. Giving her body to filthy men to earn a life she hated.
She certainly wasn't planning on it tonight, and had washed out that temporary hair color, so was back to her normal blonde, but if she did have to do that, she would use a more permanent dye to make her feel like she was someone else. Becoming someone else was the only way she would be able to deal with the choice she'd be making, selling her body, letting someone use her in that way. That wasn't who she was, so the permanent dye would be part of that change, as this was a choice there would be no coming back from, no way to unmake it.
The nighttime job would make sleep arrangements difficult. She wouldn't be able to sleep in an alley during the daytime. However, maybe she would earn enough to find lodgings somewhere.
She took another sip of her drink.
She felt his presence when he sat next to her. She had been skilled at doing that since her dad trained her. She ignored him. She did not feel like a conversation tonight. He obviously felt otherwise. "Hey, beautiful."
She snorted. She knew she wasn't bad looking, but 'beautiful' seemed to be going a bit far. She continued to ignore him and took another sip.
"Want to come to my hotel for a good time?" he asked.
She turned and looked at him. He was well dressed, smart. His suit looked expensive, suggesting he had money. He wasn't as ugly as the man in the car, but certainly no model.
She thought that maybe she could agree, but then disable him before he got what he clearly wanted. Then she could steal his money and maybe a phone.
Or she might agree to do what he wanted; she needed the experience if she was going to try this for a new career, after all. Then, when he was recovering, she could still steal from him.
She felt that sickness forming again, but she smiled at him. Encouraging.
He smirked at her. That really pissed her off, but she swallowed that down and held his gaze.
He stood and waited for her to rise.
Suddenly, another, much taller man, stood between them, putting an arm around her shoulders.
She would normally react quickly to such an action, but this man was not only dressed well, but his profile was attractive and he smelled so good.
"My wife is not interested," this new man said. "Now piss off."
The uglier man scowled, but stepped back and then left the bar.
The remaining man lifted his arm from her and stood away, turning to face her. "I am sorry for my words and actions, but believe me, you really did not want to go with him."
She finally got her senses back and frowned. "How do you know that?"
He replied, "Some of the girls he has picked up probably had STDs and he picks up someone different each time he comes in."
She glared at him and growled, "And you're different?"
He sat on the chair next to hers. "Other than the staff, I don't normally talk to anyone and always leave on my own."
Even in this lighting, she was able to clearly see his face and eyes. She still could read people and saw no guile. She was confused. "So why come to me?"
"I saw someone who had been sitting looking miserable for the last hour about to make a big mistake," he replied.
She looked at him more closely. She had noticed his height and suit jacket earlier, but not seen his face.
He wasn't old, maybe twenty-eight years old, around six years older than her. He had fascinating brown eyes with gold flecks. These eyes drew her in and she had to make herself look away from them. His other features were attractive too. He had a kind face, not the hard sort she had seen on the other man. His dark brown hair was a little long and rather unruly, but that added to his charm. She had already noticed how he smelled.
Overall, a very attractive package, but it was more than that. He had shown an interest in her welfare. No one had ever done that before. She was fascinated by that and by him. She found she wanted to know more about him and realized that she was starting to like him, even though he had ruined her chance of money.
"Well, husband of mine," she teased. "What now?" She never flirted, but here she was doing exactly that. There was something about him that made her act like this, she was sure.
He smiled at her choice of words. "I just wanted to save you from him, but I am interested in your story and wonder if I can help at all."
Talking about her life was not appealing. "You don't want to know," she said as she looked away, feeling disappointed at this change of direction in conversation.
She stared at the hand he placed on her arm; a large hand placed so gently. "I wouldn't have said that if I didn't mean it. I'm Chuck, by the way, Chuck Bartowski."
She looked into those eyes and, once again, felt drawn in. Without thinking, she told him the name she now used, "Sarah, Sarah Walker."
The grin that appeared on his face was all it took to make her want to talk to him. She stood and looked at him. "Where are we sitting?" she asked.
His grin grew that bit larger somehow. He pointed at a table at the back and gestured for her to walk in front. She grinned back and did so.
As she walked, she forgot about cons, about money, just wanted to enjoy herself for once and, without thinking, added a little extra sway to her hips.
She knew that she'd have to tell him at least a bit about her life, but she was good at turning things round and getting others to talk, so she would find out about this man who had saved her, at least for tonight.
For the first time in her life, she was interested in someone else for more than their possessions.
A/N: So, Sarah didn't join the CIA, but life was not good for her. Here, Chuck saved her from that guy and will help her avoid prostitution and, maybe, a life of crime, too.