A/N1 More story.

Don't own Chuck.

Chutes and Ladder

CHAPTER SIX

Dodgeball

Still later, Monday, March 27

Chuck froze before the spectacle. What the hell?

"Never again, Morgan! Do you hear me! We are together and have been whether you knew it or not! Never again!" Alex thumped Morgan chest with her hands hard. She stood up and stormed past Chuck, out the door.

Chuck looked at Morgan for a second longer, long enough to see him sit up and start rubbing his chest, then Chuck turned and chased Alex. He caught up with her just as she was climbing into the rear of the taco truck. He followed her inside, moving too quickly, and he speared the low ceiling of the truck with his head, hard. He collapsed, actually seeing stars. It turned out to be less attractive than the description made it sound.

He heard Alex gasp and then he felt her hands on his shoulders.

"Chuck, Chuck?" Are you okay?"

He nodded and then regretted it. Star shaker. Alex left his side for a moment, then came back with ice chips (from her on-board machine) wrapped in a clean, white towel. She felt the top of his head.

"Bump already, no blood. You really torpedoed my ceiling. Lucky you didn't break your head open...As it is, you dented the ceiling."

"Sorry, Alex. I wasn't thinking." He took the towel and rested it on his head.

"Common condition around here today."

Chuck slowly opened his eyes. Alex was on her feet but kneeling down beside him. Her earlier anger seemed to have passed.

"What was that all about?" Chuck tipped his head, gently, toward the golf course. Alex looked in that direction, but since the truck was shut up, she could not actually see anything.

Chuck noticed for the first time that she was dressed up. Heels. A nice black skirt (shorter than was comfortable for Chuck, with her kneeling beside him), a silky green blouse. Her hair, still red, was down, wavy. She looked nice. "You look pretty, Alex," Chuck offered in her silence.

She sighed. "Thanks, Chuck. I got dressed up to come to see...doofus. I thought if I caught him without customers, caught him while I looked like this, he would finally ask me out." At the moment, Alex's typical flamboyance was dimmed. Chuck felt for her.

"So what happened?"

"Sexy Underpants was here, that's what happened!" Alex's eyes heated up, her anger returning.

For a second, Chuck was at a loss, then he understood. "Oh, Carina Miller? She was here? During the day?" Chuck was immediately sorry he used Carina's name and that he asked that last question. Alex's eyes were now back in full blaze.

"Yes, that underwire whore was here, legs like sex stilts in a skirt made in a postage stamp factory…"

Chuck took a moment to try to process all the words of that description. "Did you just call her an 'underwire whore'?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing. I guess I had never thought those words in combination."

"So, she's in there - when I walk up. And I hear her cooing in that vapid voice of hers. She's telling Morgan that he should teach her to play Chutes and Ladders. Damn sex mannequin. I know whose chute she had in mind - and whose ladder." Alex actually gritted her teeth.

"Anyway, I was standing there, and she sashayed out, right past me. Even said 'Hi!'. I went in and tackled the dumbass." She looked down as she stood up, partly out of contrition, partly (Chuck realized) to make sure her heels were not damaged.

"I don't dress up much…I borrowed these shoes from a friend..." She was talking to herself as much as to Chuck when she said it. Chuck felt for her. She was as bad at this as Morgan. A perfect pair.

"Did you give Morg...the dumbass...a chance to explain?"

Alex shook her head. "No, I'm like my dad, I guess. I have no calm center. And I hate it when he is right. Dad, I mean. Coloring your hair for a guy! That's like a rejected scene in a Doris Day movie, too dumb for the 1950s. I'm an idiot."

There was a timid knock on the outside of the truck.

Alex's fury was back immediately. Chuck got up, quickly but carefully, staying bent over, and put himself between Alex and the knock.

"Hey, hey, Alex. You're ahead one tackle to none. Let me talk to him."

Alex huffed, shrugged, blew out her frustration. But she relented, and took the icy towel from him. Chuck stepped out of the truck. Morgan was standing on the curb, looking defeated and forlorn...and afraid, very afraid. He stared past Chuck into the truck.

"So, Morg. Carina stopped by?" Chuck asked a little loudly, hoping Alex could hear. He was playing a hunch.

Morgan turned his attention to Chuck and his face darkened. "Yeah, she stopped by out of the blue. She wanted to know if she could rent the place for a work party, a Sexy Underpants, Etc. party. We worked out the details and then she told me her new boyfriend, you know, alpha-male poster boy, - he has a young son and she was trying to figure out how to break the ice with him. I suggested that she play some games with him…"

"Like Chutes and Ladders?"

"Yeah, dude...I still love that game. And then she left. And then Alex tried to kill me."

Chuck heard movement inside the truck. "So Carina was here on business?"

"Yeah, and I got her to agree to have Alex provide the food…"

Chuck heard footsteps behind him. He stepped aside. He saw Morgan's eyes widen and then Morgan assumed The Morgan, a defensive posture he had perfected in junior high. Chuck stepped back a bit further and turned so that he could see both Morgan and Alex. She had just stepped out of the truck and onto the spot Chuck had occupied.

"So, Morgan," Alex began, "you know you are a dumbass, right."

Morgan nodded his agreement.

"And you know I've been...keeping a taco warm for you for a while now."

Morgan looked confused for a moment, then nodded, cautiously. "And that underwear model…" Alex glanced at Chuck, "you aren't playing Chutes and Ladders with her?"

Morgan shook his head so hard Chuck worried he might concuss himself.

"Morgan," Alex said after a moment of silence, "do you like my red hair?"

"Um...look, Alex, I like it, but not because it is red, but because it is yours."

Alex went ahead two tackles to none.

Chuck gave up after a few minutes and left them intertwined on the sidewalk.

Casey was going to erupt. Chuck looked forward to sharing.

ooOoo

It was getting late in the afternoon. Sarah was at home, replaying Chuck's visit to her class and getting progressively more...antsy. Her plan was working in its way. But it was frustrating her too. She wanted to spend time with Chuck, but it wasn't obvious how to do that as his client. There were only so many...consultations she could manage.

She could call him, though, and see how things were going. Ask for an update. She grabbed her phone. She made herself take a few deep breaths before she called.

"Hey, Sarah!" The sound of Chuck's voice undid whatever centering her deep breaths had done. She was nervous all over. Oh, my, I have it so bad. And I haven't even kissed him yet.

When she did not respond, Chuck sounded worried: "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. Sorry. Distracted for a minute. Hi, Chuck. I wanted to thank you for the visit today. The...kids really, really like you. I mean a lot. I...enjoyed the tacos."

Chuck laughed. Sarah wasn't sure quite why. "What is it, Chuck?"

"I was just thinking about my friend Alex, the one I got our tacos from."

Sarah felt a stab of annoyance. Alex again. "What about her?"

"Remember I said that she was dating my friend - Morgan - but that he didn't know it?"

Sarah flushed, as she had earlier in the day. This was all a little too close to home. "Yes, I remember. Um… a strange situation."

"You're not kidding. But I saw him find out they were dating today." Chuck went on and related the story.

Sarah laughed. "So, you left them on the sidewalk, a dirty concrete version of Burt and Deborah?"

Then Chuck laughed. "Well, Alex certainly has plans to take the Morg from here to eternity. She may kill him in the process."

"So, no Bogart voice when you answered?" Sarah sounded a little disappointed.

ooOoo

"No, I knew it was you...sweetheart." He slipped into Bogart for the last word. His heart jumped as he did because he knew that despite imitating Bogart, he was telling the truth. Sweetheart.

ooOoo

Did he just call me 'Sweetheart', or is he just playing? Sarah's heart jumped despite her uncertainty.

She let herself go and slipped into her Bacall voice, breathing into the phone. "Oh, you take yourself to know me, do you? And what do you know?"

ooOoo

Chuck was glad he was sitting in the parked Crown Vic. When she used that voice, he needed to be neither standing nor driving. Parts of him straightened but he could not drive straight. He thought about answering her with the horseracing bit, the racetrack banter, from The Big Sleep but that was, well, racy. If he could barely stand to hear her do the voice, how could he stand to hear her say those words to him in it?

Bogart voice: "I know you're a beautiful woman, a woman I'd like to know better." Chuck could tell her the truth behind the screen of this voice.

Bacall voice: "I'd like you to get to know me better, and know me, and know me…"

Oh, Lord. I am out of the contest. How can she do that voice so flawlessly? If she ever says that whistle line from To Have and Have Not, I will need a change of clothes.

Bogart voice: "I'd like that, knowing you, again and again, sweetheart. Better each time."

Bacall voice: "I'm sure it would be. Better and better. You know, consummate knowledge."

Chuck had to stop this. It was making him crazy. He dropped back into his own voice.

"How do you do that? I mean, people recognize my Bogart, but mainly because of the lines. But you, that Vivian Rutledge voice...Were you some kind of actress in a former life, maybe an impersonator, or something?" Chuck laughed.

ooOoo

Sarah forced herself to laugh but she felt exposed. Too close to the truth. She had forgotten how good she was at roles. She hadn't done that since she walked out on her dad, out of the con life. She could do almost any female voice, any type of voice, and could assume the right posture, comportment. But those days were behind her and she didn't want Chuck to know about them. She was ashamed of them. Chuck may not be making money, but that's not because his instincts are bad. They are good, almost too good. I would fall for a PI.

"Say, Chuck, what do you say to a stakeout? We could go by Sasha's - and take a look, watch for a little while."

"Ah...okay. I was by there today. But I can tell you more about all that when we're there. Give me your address? I figure my Crown Vic will be less...visible...than your Porsche."

He's wondering about the car too. I guess I need a cover story. Damn. I will come up with something. I don't want to lie to him.

She told him the address.

ooOoo

He told her he'd be by around 7 pm. He wasn't sure a stakeout was a good idea in terms of the case, but there was no chance he was passing up the chance to spend time with Sarah. Although he still couldn't imagine her in the Crown Vic. "She's got a nice, big backseat if you know what I mean…" Casey, talking about the Crown Vic, when Chuck bought her. Chuck tried his best to keep his mind in the front seat. But now the back seat would be on his mind during the stakeout. Thanks, Casey.

ooOoo

Chuck docked the Crown Vic at Castle Burgers. He thought he would grab some food for the stakeout. He went inside, making the bell above the door ring, and sat down at the counter, on a black stool. The whole place was decorated like a medieval castle, or, rather, some bad set designer's vision of a medieval castle. It looked more like a comic dungeon. The burgers were good, though.

One of the underappreciated talents of a good detective was locating the best quick, cheap food, the under-ten-bucks sort of meals that probably lacked appropriate nutrients but that kept the boredom cases at bay. It also helped to be friends with Morgan who was like a dowsing rod for good, cheap eats.

The usual waitress came out of the kitchen. A busty blonde with a painted-on face. She had on a leather apron. Like the restaurant itself, she did not look her part: servant. In fact, the apron made her look disquietingly like an S&M mistress, a Dominatrix, not a servant; Chuck was surprised that she had a pen in her hand, and not a riding crop. He had that reaction every time. And like every time before, he blushed when she asked him for his order. He liked her but he always had trouble meeting her gaze. He looked at the menu chalked on the wall instead, although he had it memorized.

"Uh, hey, Xena (that really is her name, focus, Chuck), my usual, but times two. To go, please." Xena raised one of her penciled black eyebrows at the variation. She normally knew what Chuck liked.

"Times two? You aren't back with that cardboard cutout, are you? What was her name? Pill?" The bell of the door tinkled.

"You know very well it is…"

Xena looked up. "Well, speak of the…Jill."

Chuck heard a voice behind him, one he was not eager to hear. "Hey, Xena." Jill.

Chuck turned on his stool and got a times two he did not order. It was Jill. And Bryce. Shit, shit. He heard Xena retreat to the kitchen.

Jill made a show of taking Bryce's hand before she spoke. "Nice to know I'm on everyone's mind."

At that moment, it puzzled Chuck what he had ever been doing with Jill. She looked natural, at home, beside Bryce, beside his Hollywood sign smile and blue eyes.

"Hey, Bartowski," Bryce said with forced friendliness, "how're cases?"

Bryce was always uncomfortable around Chuck and Chuck returned the disfavor. Back in college, Bryce had overseen a frat cheating scheme, one that Chuck knew nothing about, and when suspicion fell on Bryce, he had pointed the finger at Chuck. Chuck was innocent, and eventually, the Disciplinary Committee judged that he was, but the taint of it stuck to Chuck gallingly, and Bryce never owned up to what he had done, either in orchestrating the cheating scheme or in deliberately turning suspicion to Chuck. The irony that Bryce now held the position of respect that he did and Chuck the position of...disrespect...he did was never lost on Chuck. But he had never told anyone the story. He wasn't sure why. But it was probably among the reasons he had agreed to help Casey. Finding Bryce suspicious was not as odd as Casey thought it was.

"Fine, fine. Eating. Can't ask for much more." His tone made it obvious he was not going to chat.

"Jill tells me the burgers here are good, but I have to say, the decor - really convincing, huh? I feel like I've stepped back in time."

Chuck suppressed an ungenerous sneer. Not a characteristic expression but one Bryce could elicit.

Bryce had a hard time with appearance and reality. Chuck knew that from way back. Bryce believed his own appearance and ignored his own reality. "Huh," Chuck finally added, "guess so."

Who am I to talk about appearance and reality? I'm playing at being a detective when it is not the life I want. I have a client who I am on fire for but I am not going to admit it.

Xena cleared her throat. "Here you go, Chuck. The usual, times two."

Jill responded: "Times two? Are you seeing someone, Chuck?" Jill managed to get just the right-sized helping of disbelief into her voice, a mocking note.

Chuck thought of those bad days in high school when his foot speed kept him around in games of dodgeball, but how those game always ended with him the last one on his team, facing two or three of the heavyweights from the football team. How they would take a run at him and hurl the ball as hard as they could, making sure that if he happened to catch it, and put them out, it would burn, burn badly. Jill took a run at him and hurled the ball…

"I've got a date, yeah. A teacher. Sarah. That's her name." Shit. Shit. Sarah's not my date. She's my client. This lie is going to get me in trouble. He caught the ball. Jill was out. But it burned.

A/N2 Next time, stakeout! Chapter 7, "Spin the Bottle".

Drop me a line.

About to board a plane. Not sure if I will write in Spain or not.