I do not own Chuck
Chapter 4: Damned spooks
CIA Headquarters, Langley Virginia December 2013
Chuck gripped her hand nervously as they sat in the car. They were 10 minutes early for the meeting that she had been ordered to escort him to and it would only take a few minutes to get through security.
"You OK?" she asked. She knew the answer. Of course he wasn't. It wasn't every day you were summoned for a meeting with the Director of Central Intelligence, after all.
"Yeah, just nervous," was the answer.
And he didn't know the half of it. He didn't know anything about the ceremony which was to follow later in the day. The ceremony to honor him. She was so proud of him for what he'd done and the fact that their bosses agreed that what he'd done deserved a medal made her so excited. But, to disguise what the reason was for bringing him here, she'd been told to bring him for a meeting with the Brass. While he was in that meeting she would join Casey for a meeting with her boss, then she would change out of her everyday work outfit and put on her formal clothes. She would be there to honor the man who she loved and respected more than any other. There would be other old colleagues there today and she was looking forward to introducing him to some of the friends she'd made over the past few years and re-introducing him to some people he already knew.
It had been a few weeks since the abortive chemical weapon attack. They'd been busy weeks, spent interrogating the few Fulcrum prisoners and trying to work out whether any part of the network still existed. But they were happy it didn't, and their bosses agreed. Casey and she had spent over two weeks completing their final report and now that it was submitted she was, once again, a free agent. She wondered what her next job would be? She hoped it would be part of a team and, if it was, she hoped it would be with Casey. They worked well together and they had forged an unlikely friendship over the years. Their skillsets complemented one another – she did the upfront stuff, he worked in the background. He was great at tech and listening, while she was more physical. He was a great sniper, while she was strong at hand to hand. And they were both good at the strategic side of their work. And he always had her back, as she had his.
Whatever her new role was, it would need to be at least based out of DC. Because DC was where Chuck was and she wasn't going anywhere that he wouldn't be. After waiting for five years neither of them was willing to be separated for any period of time. Sure, he would go to Air Force OTS early next year for a few months but that was very much the exception, not the rule. She had already scheduled some residential training courses for much of that time; it made sense for both of them to be away at the same time, so that they could maximise their time at home together.
Home. That was an interesting concept. Her apartment had never seemed like home before, but now it did. It had always been just a place to sleep, sterile and functional. Now it held memories – memories of them. But he was the difference. His boxes had arrived from his last posting, and his knick-knacks with them, and now his pictures adorned the walls and his bits and pieces the surfaces and, while many were just his bits, some of them were theirs. And that was what made the difference. Just in the two months since he'd stormed back into her life, she'd had this feeling of belonging again. Like it had been in Burbank all those years ago, but somehow better.
There was the stuffed bear he'd won for her at the fair, the crystal bird he'd bought her on a weekend break and the shells they'd picked up from the beach in Florida. All mixed in with the photos of him on deployment and in training, and the few photos they'd kept from their time together in Burbank. And more photos they'd added since. Dinners and lunches at neighbourhood restaurants, at tourist sites and even at the local park where they went to run. Little by little they were building up a life together and she loved it.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and smiled. "It's gonna be fine," she told him, noticing that her wool-gathering had used up a few more minutes. "Shall we go?"
He gave her a tight smile, "Yeah."
"Thank you for bringing Mr Bartowski, Agent Walker," said Director of Central Intelligence Gabriella Martinez, sharing a knowing look with Sarah, "I'll ensure he gets to where he needs to be." Having dismissed Sarah, who gave him another smile, she closed the door of her outer office and smiled again at him.
"Thanks for coming in early Mr Bartowski," she told him, "As you know we will have the medal presentation later and, as far as we know, neither Agent Walker nor Major Casey are aware of their part in that, but there are some things we need to discuss with you before then."
"We, Ma'am?" he questioned. Early on in his military career he'd learned to control his natural loquaciousness when speaking with senior officers. And they didn't come much more senior than the Director of Central Intelligence, Sarah's boss's boss.
Director Martinez smiled, "We," she confirmed, opening the door to her inner office and ushering him through. He held his position and gestured for her to precede him, which she did after a nice smile. There were two other people sitting at the break-out area in the office who both rose to their feet when the two entered.
"I think you know General Beckman, the Director of National Intelligence." The little general was wearing her dress uniform, complete with medals, and she gave Chuck a genuine smile, extending her hand.
"General," he acknowledged, briefly coming to attention and nodding his head since he wasn't in uniform.
"Chuck," she replied, "Thank you for coming."
The other man was also in uniform but was unknown to him, but he had a good suspicion who he might me. A suspicion which was immediately confirmed. "Chuck, this is the head of the NSA, Admiral Brian Wilcox."
"Sir," he repeated his brace and nod.
"Mr Bartowski," he reached forwards to shake hands, crinkling his face into a smile, "Your file made interesting reading."
Chuck looked at Beckman and raised his eyebrows.
She smirked, "Yes, the unredacted one. He is the Director of the NSA."
"Not so interesting as living it sir," he observed, with a wry smile, "And please call me Chuck."
"Of course," the Admiral acknowledged, "And on a more personal note, it is an honor to meet you. My nephew is an officer in 2/5 Marines and I believe that your paths crossed in Afghanistan. We were very grateful to get him back in one piece. Lieutenant Bradley Wilcox."
Chuck racked his memory. The name rang a bell. Then… "Was it a helicopter crash sir?"
The Admiral smiled, "You have a good memory, son."
Now Chuck remembered. "Several dead and six injured and the Taliban were attacking in strength. Two of us went in to help the wounded while the helo's and A10's supressed the enemy. We had to blow the chopper because it was too badly-damaged to recover. Your nephew refused to leave until all his men were evacuated, even though he had some nasty leg wounds. I stayed with him to support him." Those were tough days, but he had enjoyed his work as a PJ, directly helping people, "How is he sir?"
The Admiral smiled, "He's better thanks to you. He made a full recovery and went back to work. Was awarded a Bronze Star for that action and now he's a Captain."
"Excellent. That's always great to hear. Thank you sir."
"No, honestly – thank you Chuck. Brad's a great kid. And I know he's very grateful to you. Just one of many, I know, who owes you one. He told me to tell you that if you're ever up at Pendleton, don't expect to pay for a drink!"
"I've experienced Marine hospitality sir! I was in San Diego a few years ago. It was…amazing to tell you the truth. We don't ever really get to see the people we treat afterwards, so it's nice to know when they do well."
The two women had remained silent while Chuck and the Admiral bonded, but now Beckman spoke up. "So, I'm afraid we brought you here under slightly false pretences, Chuck," she told him. The slight note of apology in her voice surprised him. He'd never known the little general to apologise before.
Martinez waved him over to a free chair, moving towards one herself, "Please take a seat Chuck."
He smiled a thanks at the CIA Director, waiting for the superiors to sit before he did and then looked questioningly at Beckman, "How so, Ma'am?"
"There are a couple of things we need to talk to you about. One good, one not so good," she replied.
"Bad news first please, General, if you don't mind," he told her.
"OK, I thought you'd say that," she said, taking a deep breath. "At today's ceremony, as well as what we discussed previously, we'll be honoring all those agents who died in the fight against Fulcrum and The Ring."
"That makes sense, Ma'am," he replied, thinking of his old friend, "and I'll be honored to be part of that."
The two women exchanged glances, rather worrying Chuck. It was unlike the General to be so backwards in going forwards. She took a deep breath. "I know you know about Bryce Larkin, but I have to tell you that we will be honoring another Bartowski in the Role of Honor," she explained.
"Another Bartowski?" Chuck choked out, stunned.
"On the Intersect mission did you ever hear the code name Orion?" she asked, a seeming non-sequitur.
"No, I don't believe so, Ma'am," he replied, puzzled.
"We found out subsequent to your involvement that Orion was the original creator of the Intersect," she replied, "He was also Stephen Bartowski, your father."
"My father?" Chuck exclaimed, "My father created the Intersect?"
"Yes," Martinez took over from Beckman, "Your father originally created the Intersect as a learning tool. CIA got involved and for a long period everything was fine but then he fell out with Graham about the direction the project was going in. This was around 1995."
1995? But that's when… "So...?" It was all Chuck could manage.
The DCI smiled sadly at him, "Yes, that's when Stephen left you and your sister," she paused, seeing he was struggling, but he gestured her to carry on, desperate to hear more of this, "He stayed off the Grid for a long time. We would get whispers that he was active in Russia or the Far East, but he was a very successful hacker and was able to keep us in the dark for the most part.
"He resurfaced in 2007 after you became the Intersect. He made contact with Bryce Larkin. We believe that Larkin may have had contact with him earlier as well."
"Wait," Chuck exclaimed, "You're saying that my father made contact with the guy that got me chucked out of Stanford, but not with me?"
"Yes, Chuck. That's exactly what I'm saying," Martinez replied sombrely.
"But why?" Why wouldn't he have contacted his children?
"Best we can understand, Stephen had a hang up about the CIA and didn't want you anywhere near it. He offered his expertise to develop a way to remove the Intersect from you." Here she paused again, waiting for the penny to drop.
"You mean, the glasses were my father's work?" he asked.
"Yes, partly," Martinez replied, "But also some of our in-house experts. After they were successful your father was asked to consult on Intersect version 2. After Graham died, his successor as DCI – my predecessor – wasn't so keen on the project and we went back to a computer-based solution rather than utilising humans, but Fulcrum was still obsessed by the human Intersect and it left a target on your father's back. He fled to Russia and we believe that he was associated with the taking down of Alexei Volkoff and Volkoff Industries, but shortly after that he was reported dead in an explosion. He's being honored because of the help he gave us with The Intersect but also some of the work he did with our IT teams to make our systems more secure."
"Wow," it was all Chuck could manage just then. To hear, nearly 20 years after your father disappeared that your father was watching over you but had never made any contact with you was both sweet and sour. But did that mean-? Surely not!
"So did my father have contact with Agent Larkin at Stanford?" he asked.
The Brass exchanged glances. "He did, didn't he?" Chuck couldn't believe it. His father had got him kicked out of Stanford. Had ruined his future!
"We don't know for sure," Beckman confessed, "But according to Larkin, he did."
"So you're saying my father got me kicked out of Stanford to avoid me joining the CIA?" Chuck needed to be certain.
"We believe so," agreed Martinez, looking at him sympathetically. "Your father believed that he was helping you Chuck, however misguided he might have been," she paused, "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. We hadn't intended to tell you about Stanford, but we agreed we owed it to you not to lie if you asked the question."
That was uncommonly transparent given Chuck's previous dealings with the intelligence services, but there was one other very pressing question that he needed an answer to.
"Who else knew about this?"
"No one below Deputy Director level," Martinez assured him, "It was a condition of Orion's involvement. There were maybe 10 people in the world who knew about this, and three of them are dead now."
"Neither Walker nor Casey knew anything about this Chuck, if that's what you're asking," Beckman's voice and attitude were truthful, although he imagined she had to be a master liar to do her job. It was what he was asking though, and he was reassured by her words.
There was quiet for a moment as the Brass waited for him to assimilate what he'd been told. It was tough, but his father hadn't been in his life for nearly twenty years. Over all that time Ellie had been his only family and his only parental figure. Whether he told Ellie or not was a decision for another day. Not one to be discussed in this forum. He wouldn't mention anything about Orion anyway, just that their father was dead.
Finally he confessed, "I guess I'll choose to remember him as he was before he left. It's easier that way."
Martinez and Wilcox shared a wry look, "I agree it would be easier that way," the Admiral observed as a tone sounded from the DCI's computer.
She crossed the room and gave the screen a cursory look. "Nothing important," she paused, "But we're starting to be a bit tight on time. Can we move onto the second topic of discussion?" she asked, looking at Chuck.
He wasn't as good at compartmentalising as Sarah, but he had learnt to do so over the past six years and he used all of his abilities then, pushing the revelation about his father to the back of his mind for future consideration. "Yes, Ma'am," he replied.
Again the Brass exchanged looks.
Beckman started off, "So we were very impressed with your actions on the mission to rescue Agents Walker and Casey from Colombia, Chuck. Not just for the medical support you gave, which was world-class, but also for your ability to take control once the mission commander was killed. You should be aware that a commendation has been added to your classified record."
"Thank you General," he replied, meeting her eyes, "but I feel that I was just doing my job."
She smiled gently, "Also, your behaviour on the recent bank mission was above and beyond," she paused, "And I understand that Captain Charles has offered you a position as a tactical medic working with his team?"
How did they know that? They were the intelligence services, he supposed. "Yes Ma'am, he has."
Beckman exchanged a glance with the others. "Major Casey passed on your reasons for refusing to join the Fulcrum task force," she offered. "And we understand your perspective. But we would like to offer you to come and work for us again."
"What?" he exclaimed. Of everything he'd expected it hadn't been that. "But-"
"Before you refuse, please let us tell you what we'd like you to do," Wilcox jumped in, "We understand that your experiences with working with the intelligence services in the past weren't necessarily positive, but we've considered your objections and we think we've found a good fit for you and for us."
His first inclination was to run for the hills but they'd executed a perfect ambush and he had to stay for the ceremony anyway, so he might as well listen to what they had to say. Also, to have such senior members of the intelligence community here meant it had to be good.
"OK Admiral," he replied.
"We just want you to hear us out now," the DCI noted, "We'll give you time to consider."
He nodded for the Admiral to proceed, but actually it was Beckman who took up the lead.
"Chuck, there are four things you offer that are important to us. I'm ashamed to say that your handlers flagged three of them to us before, but we were two closed-minded to appreciate them at the time. Those attributes would have come in very handy over the past five years. I'm talking about your ability to analyse problems, to think outside the box and your ability to think on your feet in an emergency.
"When we went back and looked at the reports from your time as the Intersect, those attributes stood out very clearly. Agent Walker in particular pointed them out time and again, and even Agent Casey was doing so towards the end. Director Graham and myself clearly had our heads in the sand though and we refused to see them."
Was this an apology from Beckman? he wondered.
"And yes," she continued as if reading his mind, "You can take that as an apology. The way we treated you was not optimal and, given what followed, I have many regrets about letting my disappointment about the Intersect project color my interactions with you.
"I strongly believe that you would have been an asset for dealing with Fulcrum and, had we kept Team Bartowski together, we may very well have been able to deal more quickly and more successfully with Fulcrum and The Ring."
The Admiral continued as Beckman gave a sad grimace, "The fourth attribute that you bring to the party is your medical skills, particularly when combined with your AFSOC background.
"You know that operations in Afghanistan are winding down, but our country still faces very significant dangers. Our intelligence agents are active all over the world and we've foiled a number of plots to attack both our country and our allies over the past few years, but more are coming."
The Admiral fixed him with a hard stare, "What I'm going to tell you Chuck is top secret and I ask that you don't share it with anyone."
He nodded to show he agreed – he was a serving member of his country's armed forces and had sworn an oath to protect and defend it. His word was, and always had been, important to him.
"We are putting together a cross-agency task force to work with our allies to combat Islamic terrorism. This team will focus in the area of the Atlantic Basin. We're hoping to put two of our agencies' best agents in to lead it jointly. I believe you might know who I'm talking about?" He grinned.
Wow! He was bowled over for both Sarah and Casey. This would be a very high-profile mission, a huge professional seal of approval. He returned the Admiral's smile, "I believe I can work it out, sir," he replied.
"Good," the Admiral replied, continuing, "They're being offered the roles as we speak," he paused, "as one of the roles we envision for you, we would like to bring you in as a part-time consultant, reporting directly to the agents in charge of the mission. You would be an analyst, an additional sounding board and potentially also provide analytical support to the mission as and when necessary. We understand that you're well enough off that you never have to work again, but you're working as a paramedic now, so we assume that you prefer to stay busy and useful. I can't emphasise enough how important this mission is. The number of threats stacking up against our country and our allies is very significant." He paused for a second, "I would highlight, however, that that would only be one of the roles we would like you to take on."
Chuck worked hard to keep his poker face. He would be working directly with Casey and Sarah on a part-time basis. And he'd be doing a job that made a difference. That directly helped people. And it would still allow him to keep a paramedic role, be that regular or tactical, full-time or part-time. This could be the best of both worlds for him.
He became aware that the others were silent. "Please go on sir," he invited.
The Admiral smiled, "Allow me to give you some background, if I may?" Chuck nodded, "One of the most important joint operations we have is our overseas agent rescue team. This is a small, specialist team that deploys to help agents in distress. Because of the expansion of our national intelligence operations globally, it's been decided to split that team into two; one for the western hemisphere and one for the eastern. There's already a small sub-team in Qatar that deals with the Arabian Gulf region since we've got so much going on there," he added as an aside. "As a result of that expansion, we need a tactical medic for our western hemisphere team, which would cover Europe and Africa, with some overlap in South America.
"It's a small team of seven members that is on standby to go anywhere in the western hemisphere on short notice. On average there are about seven to ten operations per year, so you could carry on with your Metro PD job if you wanted to, or just work as a regular paramedic in your spare time. We'd speak to whoever your boss was to ensure that you'd have the flexibility to take time off at short notice. When you're on the job you would function with your AFSOC hat on and your experience would accrue towards any promotions."
The Admiral's eyes were boring in on his as he continued, "But I can't emphasise to you enough how vital this role is to us. Our people are the most important asset of our agencies and their safety is paramount. We have a responsibility to do our utmost to help them if they get into trouble and that means having the best people possible in these teams. This is a cross agency team – it covers all the alphabet agencies you've heard of and even some you haven't. Where there are people putting themselves on the line for our country anywhere in the world our team will go and rescue them if they need it. Chuck - we believe that you're a perfect fit for this role and we hope you'll give it due consideration."
Well, this was a surprise. Could it be that there could actually be two intelligence roles that he'd want to do? He was already pretty sold on the job with Sarah and Casey. If either of them were going to be in harm's way he owed it to them to provide as much support as he could. What had happened with the Fulcrum task force had emphasised that for him. Would things have been different if he'd been there? He didn't know, but anything that prevented Sarah and Casey being in that situation again was something he had to do. Plus, the fact that he was directly helping to protect people from the scourge of terrorism. It was a no-brainer for him.
And he could tell that they'd also put some thought into the other role. As a medic he wanted to help people directly. They'd recognised that. He'd told Casey when he offered him the job that turned out to be the Fulcrum task force to contact him again if he needed a medic. Well, now they had.
But, for the first time in a long time, it couldn't be just his decision.
"May I talk it over with my partner?" he asked.
Beckman smiled, "Of course you may Chuck," she responded, "And I would imagine that, after the ceremony, she'll have something to discuss with you. Hopefully you'll both make the right decision."
"And talking of the ceremony," this time it was Martinez, "it will start in 15 minutes. If you'd like to change into your uniform, my assistant can show you where to go."
That was a dismissal, so he thanked the assembled Brass and headed for the outer office. He had a lot to think about, but first he needed to focus on this ceremony.
"Did you know about this?" The question was on both his and Sarah's lips as they met together at the reception following the ceremony. They both turned accusing eyes on the Top Brass. The bloody spooks had outmanoeuvred all three of them! Admiral Wilcox grinned and spoke to Director Martinez and they both raised their champagne flutes towards the two in a slightly mocking way, as if to say "Gotcha"!
And got them they well and truly had! Beckman had contacted him earlier that week to ask whether he would be prepared to be part of a surprise ceremony presenting the Intelligence Medal of Merit to Sarah and Casey for their joint work in taking down Fulcrum. He had, of course agreed. It seemed however that the Brass had decided to play both sides against the middle and that Sarah and Casey had expected to be part of a surprise ceremony presenting him with the Intelligence Star for his defusing of the bomb.
Both surprises had gone off and now he, his girlfriend and Casey were guests of honor at a reception of the great and good of the intelligence community celebrating the defeat of Fulcrum.
"I bet it's nice for you to see that we can still pull off some moves," He looked down to see General Beckman next to them. "We like to keep our hands in, after all," the diminutive general said with a twinkle in her eye. Who knew that the little general had a sense of humor?
"Hmpf," observed Casey.
That was definitely a number 15, Chuck thought - pissed, but I can't do anything to you because you're my boss!
"Come now John, where would be the fun if we'd let you know in advance?" she queried, "It was much better to do it this way. You each thought you were doing something for the other. And besides," she paused, looking at each of them in turn, "I don't know of any three people that deserved those medals as much as you three. Both for what we said at the ceremony and for what we can't ever discuss in public. The medals were as much for what you accomplished in that first year as for what you've done more recently." She looked around, "Now I'll leave you to your adoring public. I hope to hear from you all soon." And with that she made a bee line back to the other agency heads.
They looked at each other, slightly punch drunk, before Casey moved slightly away to talk to a woman in Army uniform and a middle-aged woman in a black suit approached Sarah. "Agent Walker," the woman exclaimed, "It's good to see you."
Sarah smiled, a genuine smile Chuck was pleased to see. "Ma'am," she acknowledged, "It's good to see you too."
"Oh, none of that," the woman exclaimed, "I'm not Director any more! Aren't you going to introduce me to your partner?"
Sarah smiled a radiant smile and turned to Chuck, "This is former DCI Eve Anderson, Chuck," she explained, "She took over from Director Graham when he died, and left about a year ago. She knew your parents."
The former DCI smiled at his rather dumbfounded expression and told him, "Actually this is the second time we've met, but you were blowing bubbles the first time so I'll forgive you if you don't remember me!" Both Sarah and the ex-Director cracked up and even Chuck was hard-pressed not to smile but, given that the revelation about his father was still an open wound, he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear too much about him just now. Still, this was the woman who'd given Sarah a second chance in the Agency so he should be polite because she was obviously good people.
Sarah looked at him concernedly as he didn't react in the way she expected. "Are you OK Chuck?"
He made a noncommittal gesture and tried for a smile but he must have failed because Anderson gave him a small smile. "I see you've heard the news. I wondered if they'd tell you," she commented. "If it's any consolation to you I don't believe it."
"What news?" exclaimed Sarah as Chuck once again dealt with a bombshell.
Anderson tilted an eyebrow at him questioningly and he nodded slightly as he continued to try to process what she'd just said.
"Chuck's father Stephen was reportedly killed by Fulcrum," she told Sarah after first checking to make sure they were a far enough distance away from others not to be overheard. "But I don't believe the intel," she grimaced.
"Your father?" Sarah asked, stunned.
"He was apparently the designer of the Intersect," Chuck told her.
"Oh my God Chuck!" Chuck didn't think he'd ever seen Sarah so stunned. She got control of herself and quickly put on her professional mask, but her eyes shone with empathy.
"There's no apparently about it Chuck. He was. Did they tell you about your mother?" asked Anderson.
"My mom?" he asked, stunned. The revelations seemed to be coming thick and fast today. "No ma'am." Sarah, seeing Chuck struggling, reached out to squeeze his hand quickly. The physical contact was appreciated, however brief it was.
"She was a CIA agent. That's how I knew your parents," the former director told him, "we met on the job."
"Mom was a spy?" Chuck could not have been more surprised if Beckman and Casey did the Moonwalk in pink tutus. He'd tried to keep his voice down and seemed to have succeeded since a surreptitious glance didn't seem to show anyone paying too much attention to them.
"Yes," replied Anderson, "And she didn't run off either, like the cover story you've probably heard. She was involved in a deep cover operation. I don't know the ins and outs because a lot's been removed from the records, even the ones that I could see as Director. But I do know it was in Russia."
"But they told me Dad went to Russia and was killed there." This was stranger and stranger.
"Yes, that's the story we heard," confirmed Anderson, "But I don't believe it. Stephen and Mary were my friends. I did a lot of checking. No body was ever found. It wouldn't be the first time your Dad faked his death either. I don't know what to say to you Chuck, but I don't believe that your parents are dead." She stared at him, "I know what they probably told you, but I wanted you to know that it's not necessarily the case."
Given today's revelations he wasn't sure he ever wanted to talk to his father again, but he appreciated that this woman had reached out to him to tell him that she believed he was still alive. He managed a smile, "Thank you Director."
"You're welcome," she replied, "And congratulations on your awards – both of you. They're richly deserved." With that she smiled at them kindly and moved away.
Chuck stood stunned. It was revelation after revelation today. His dad got him thrown out of Stanford, his dad was dead, he wasn't dead, his mom was a spy. Anderson seemed to be implying that they might now be together. But he really didn't know what to believe or to think. Sarah's hand fastened around his and gave a reassuring squeeze.
"Are you OK?" she asked quietly. Her face was still in her polite cocktail party mask but her eyes were caring, that beautiful deep blue color they had sometimes which made him want to dive in.
"Yeah," he replied, almost by rote, before thinking about it. Reality kicked in, "kind of a shock."
She smiled at him gently, "I can believe that. I'm here for you."
"Thanks." He gave her a half smile, before physically attempting to pull himself together. He had to push the revelations to the back of his mind. This was a huge professional seal of approval for his girlfriend and this should be her time. "Now, you had some people you wanted to introduce me to?"
She squeezed his hand again before letting go and giving him a more genuine smile. "Just my old MI6 contact Cole and Carina, who you probably remember. Let's go – Carina's probably busting a gut to see you again!"
"Oh great, and I forgot my chastity belt!"
"Don't worry, you've got me. If she tries anything she'll regret it!" She smiled at him more naturally before leading him back towards the middle of the gathering.
Please review if you get a chance.
A/N 1: The overseas agent rescue team is a fabrication on my behalf...I wonder if Chuck will take on either of the offered roles?
A/N 2: In this universe Cole was under cover with Fulcrum and successfully completed that mission (hence the invite to the party) but was Sarah's partner on another mission at a later date.
A/N 3: Thanks to all who have reviewed - particularly those that pointed out factual errors and Britishisms that crept in. Hopefully I've corrected all of those. I'm still standing by "chuntering" though!
In the closing credits of the old James Bond films they used to say "James Bond will return in...". Without getting delusions of grandeur I can say that (this version of) Chuck and Sarah will return in Chuck vs The Lost Ship (unless I decide to change the title before I post it!).