A/N1 More story.
Don't own Chuck.
Chutes and Ladders
CHAPTER TEN
Candy Land
Still Later, Tuesday, March 28
As far as Chuck could tell, the dark SUV had not left the parking lot of the store. But it was still in his head. It bugged him. Maybe it's a hangover from my cockroach story? He kept checking his rearview mirror, but he saw no sign of it, no sign of a tail of any kind. But the bugged feeling was not going away, so Chuck made a couple of quick turns, turns without any turn signal and taken at the last possible moment. He did not see any car following at all. No car made any effort to stay with him.
Imagination.
He checked his watch, the old Yema Superman his dad had worn and that Chuck had kept meticulously serviced all these years. The lume on it still glowed, faintly now, although the dusk of early evening was not so dark that he needed it. He was going to be early to Sarah's. He made another quick, unannounced turn. Still, no one followed. He headed for the putt-putt course.
ooOoo
He arrived. Alex's truck was outside. That didn't surprise Chuck, given what he had seen and what Casey had told him. Chuck took Alex and Morgan to finally be together.
What did surprise Chuck was Casey's car. It was parked behind Alex's truck. As Chuck parked, he saw Rhonda standing on the side of the building, waving her arms. He could hear her yelling, but could not make out any words. She was facing away from him.
Chuck leaped from the car and sprinted toward Rhonda. As he got near, he could hear more voices. Alex, pleading. Morgan, yelping. Casey, grunting. Chuck stopped when he was alongside Rhonda.
"No, Casey. Don't! Don't hurt the tiny man!" Rhonda sounded genuinely frightened. Chuck looked out at the course. Alex was standing near the middle of it, on the tee of Hole 10. Chuck saw Morgan race past her, his arms windmilling in an ill-advised attempt to gain speed. Behind him lumbered Casey, neither gaining nor losing ground.
Pleading, yelping, grunting.
Chuck felt a hand on his arm, squeezing. He turned. Rhonda looked desperate. "Chuck, stop him. He'll break the tiny man!" Her dark eyes flashed with fear.
Chuck did not ask for an explanation. He jetted toward Alex, who had taken off behind her dad, and he caught her and passed her. She noticed him. "Chuck, save my man!"
Chuck leaped over the giant frog on the green of Hole 12, and then high-stepped through the tires on the green of Hole 14. He could hear Morgan clearly now.
"Look, Mr. Casey, I would never, ever disrespect your daughter…"
[Grunt]
"Really, she asked me to…enthusiastically..."
[Savage grunt]
Chuck jumped over the narrow, downward funnel green of Hole 16, stumbled, caught himself, and, with a huge effort, hurdled the narrow hedge that stood on the tiny hill separating Hole 18 from the rest of the holes. He landed and saw Morgan, his back almost against the face of the giant Chesko head. Morgan's arms were extended in front of him, palms outward. In front of him, moving diagonally across the green, coiled and huge, was Casey, death in his walk.
As Chuck raced to the green, he noticed a yellow golf ball next to the sidewalk. Dropped by someone. Forgotten. He grabbed it without breaking stride. He was at a distance from Morgan but facing him, straight across the green. He had a clean shot. Although he had no time to aim, his throw was true. He whizzed the yellow golf ball between Morgan's legs and right into Chesko's open mouth. It was a one-in-a-million throw, one he would never have made had he had time for his normal fear of Chesko to register.
The golf ball set Chesko into motion and stopped Casey's stalking. Morgan saw the streak of yellow pass between his legs and he bent over, following the ball, looking back between his legs and into Chesko's (for Morgan) upside-down face.
Chesko's eyes rolled in his head and a horrible tinny laugh issued from his mouth. A familiar, crazed calliope tune began to play. Without warning, Chesko spit out the yellow ball and a huge gush of lukewarm water, soaking Morgan and Casey, and splashing Chuck just as he closed on Casey.
Alex was still pleading from the other side of the hedge but Morgan and Casey were both silent. Dripping. Morgan stood back up, and he gulped; Casey, shaking water from his hands, glared. Chuck stopped in between them.
"What the hell is going on?" Chuck shouted over the maniacal laughter and the crazed calliope. Alex came around the hedge. Rhonda had caught up with her.
ooOoo
Neither man answered. Alex got to Morgan and pushed him behind her. Rhonda grabbed Casey's thick arm and held onto it, trying to anchor him down.
"I think I can answer," Rhonda said, "but can someone stop the laughter and turn off The Entrance of the Gladiators?"Morgan seemed to snap back into reality at that point, and he moved nearer Chesko's ear, keeping Alex in front of him as a human shield, and punched a hidden button. The laughter ended. The music stopped.
"Is that what that tune is called?" Chuck asked, his voice too loud for the sudden silence, and a bit distracted and disoriented now himself.
Rhonda shrugged. "Yeah, that's what it's called." Then she and Chuck and Alex began to laugh as Morgan and Casey continued to drip. "So, Casey and I were driving by and saw Alex's truck. We thought we'd stop and say hello. Well, the truck is shut up but the side door is open…"
"...And Dad found us," Alex continued, "well, with our pants down."
[Savage Grunt]
Morgan looked and saw that his fly was down. He pulled it up and it zipped noisily.
[Incredibly Savage Grunt]
"Dad!" Alex warned. "We weren't doing anything...yet. Listen, Dad, we're together, really together, serious, grown-up man-and-woman together. You are going to have to get used to that, shut down your gripes...and learn to goddamn knock." A certain frustration began to show on Alex's face.
"But you two...just started dating." Casey groused, chastised, finally reaccessing his English databank.
"Not exactly true, Dad. Morgan and I have been together for a while, he just didn't quite understand his side of the deal. He does now." Alex's frustrated tone melted into a dreamy one. "He really does."
[Warning Grunt]
Alex: "Dad, stop!" And at the same, Rhonda, punching Casey's shoulder hard: "Down, boy!"
[Whimper]
"Okay, okay," Chuck said, checking his watch. He was now going to be late if he didn't hurry. "Alex and Morgan are grownups, Casey. And they are good people who care about each other," Chuck paused as he saw a warm look, a deep look, pass between Morgan and Alex. (Casey's whimper had been Morgan's cue to emerge from behind Alex.) "You have to trust them both. Trust them, Casey."
Rhonda broke in. "Case...c'mon. We've talked about this. You've been doing better…"
"I know! I know. Sorry. I was thinking taco, not Weinerlicious. I just wasn't prepared for the... corpus delecti."
Rhonda laughed. "Well, when Case starts using legal Latin, it means we're past the rage." She mussed Casey's wet hair and kissed his cheek fondly. "Let's leave those two to their evening. Our shift is over. Why don't we find someplace to take our pants down - without being caught? Weinerlicious sounds pretty good to me now that I think about it."
Casey turned stop-light red. But not out of rage. Everyone laughed. Except for Casey. He was stop-light red, but he looked ready to go.
[Intrigued Amorous Grunt]
ooOoo
Chuck had wiped himself off with a towel Morgan gave him. He wasn't late, but he was cutting it close. He set course for Sarah's, chuckling good-naturedly to himself. If Casey and Morgan could survive each other for a while, he was almost sure they would end up liking each other. But Morgan had to manage to live that long. Amorous adventures in an unlocked taco truck were not a formula for longevity, any more than regular meals at The Go Fork Yourself. Pretty soon, the taco truck would have a health rating like the cafe's.
Chuck checked the rearview. Nothing. He then turned his thoughts ahead. To Sarah. Hope and a nagging worry kept fighting in his heart.
ooOoo
Sarah had the ratatouille in the oven. Other than a few egg dishes, omelets, she was not in command of many recipes.
She and her dad had lived for years out of cardboard and styrofoam, to-go orders taken away or delivered to a hotel room. Sarah ate at home now, mostly, but she lived on simple dishes, like her egg recipes, or one-pot meals, soups or stews - things quick that would keep, that she could eat for lunch at school.
The ratatouille was a dish she learned from a woman who had lived next to a hotel Sarah and her dad stayed at. The woman had noticed the girl, lonely and alone, sitting in the hotel parking lot or in the window of her room. She had invited Sarah to have lunch with her and Sarah went, desperate to have someone to interact with, and, frankly, hungry. She had no idea when, really no idea if, her dad would return.
The woman served the ratatouille and Sarah thought it was the best thing she had ever eaten. The woman had delighted in Sarah's relish and excitement, so she asked Sarah to stay and they cooked a second version of the ratatouille together. The woman had written down the recipe and given it to Sarah.
Sarah's dad came back late that night. The con had gone wrong and they quickly slipped out of town in the wee hours. Sarah read the recipe over and over by the street lights as they headed out to the interstate. She still had that piece of paper and she had consulted it as she cooked for Chuck, though she knew the recipe by heart.
Despite knowing it by heart, she had never been willing to cook it for fear that it would not match her memory of it. In the past week or so, she had come to realize that her memory was more of the company, of the attention and kindness than it was of the taste of the ratatouille. She thought that tonight, with Chuck, she could eat the ratatouille and have it match her memory. She was going to tell Chuck tonight - about them, that there was a them (not just a client and employee), and about her, who she really was, really had been.
Sarah left the kitchen and went to the bedroom. Absentmindedly knotting and unknotting the belt on her robe, she contemplated her little black dress. It was hanging outside the closet.
Coming back from the gym, she had taken the dress out of the closet before she got into the shower. Talking to Ellie had made it apparent that she had to talk to Chuck: Sarah had not exaggerated to Ellie: it was that bad. She needed drastically to change the terms of her arrangement with Chuck, to tell him about her plan and her reasons for abandoning it so early. The difficulties Sarah expected, the worries she had, Chuck had simply brushed aside by being Chuck. She had erected a wall against someone she now only wanted to welcome in. She had met no one like him. She felt no mistrust, no doubt; she was sure she was not being played. She knew Chuck was struggling with issues of his own - but she loved the fact that he kept his struggles close to his chest, that he refused to make anyone else pay for what he had lost.
The problem Sarah faced now was going too fast in the opposite direction. The black dress proved it. So did the matching set of lacy black underwear she was all-too-aware of in her drawer. She wanted to put it all on so that Chuck could take it all off of her. She could give herself to him, to his hands, lips, tongue...
But for his sake and hers, she needed not to rush into anything, regardless of how badly she wanted it and believed he wanted it. And since she did not want it to happen once, but to go on (and on), she wanted it to happen as it should, with the two of them mutually understanding what it meant for now and for the future.
Shaking her head in resignation, she slipped the black dress back into her closet and left the underwear in the drawer. She grabbed an electric blue dress - lovely but not daring - and some comfortable and attractive - but not quite seductive - underwear. She put on a pair of velvety blue flats, then checked her hair and makeup. She was ready. The timer went off on the ratatouille.
ooOoo
Chuck floated the Vic into Sarah's parking lot. He grabbed the bottle of wine - a red from Spain's Rioja region - and headed to the door. He wished he had had the time to change. He felt more rumpled than usual, especially after the unexpected Chesko shower at the end of the bizarre game of 3D Candy Land he'd played at the golf course. He took a minute to adjust his sports coat and check himself over.
He was not Columbo-rumpled or anything, but he was less presentable than any man about to have dinner with Sarah Walker should be.
He knocked on the door. Sarah opened it and knocked him out.
The blue dress she was wearing almost swept him from consciousness. Her smile, large and warm and...excited (definitely excited) made his joints Silly Putty. Unable to move or to contact his own higher powers of thought, he just stood there.
Sarah finally reached out and grabbed his free hand and pulled him inside. She closed the door and then closed the distance between them. She put one hand on each side of his face and she kissed him briefly, but with feeling. Sarah giggled at his dazed look, gave him another quick kiss, then took the wine to her small table.
The apartment smelled wonderful. Chuck gathered himself and looked around as Sarah finished setting the table. The place was a reflection of Sarah. Simple, tasteful and elegant, but with touches of whimsy, playfulness. It was comfortable. A private hideaway.
Chuck noticed the full bookshelf and walked to it. There were books of all sorts, and lots of children's books, including some that surprised Chuck, like Dickens' Captain Murderer, and others he expected, like a huge collection of Suess. He pulled one off the shelf, I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew. Sarah came back to the table from the kitchen. She had a cutting board and a loaf of crusty french bread.
"Do you like that one, Chuck?"
Chuck turned all the way around to face her. "Yeah, Ellie would read it to me. I loved the idea of Solla Sollew: 'where they never have troubles/ or at least very few.'"
Sarah laughed and nodded. She picked up the bread knife and she dazzled Chuck, although she seemed unaware. She sliced the bread with a ninja-like efficiency and speed. The knife blade was like a shaft of glinting light. When she finished, she glanced up at Chuck and became shy, self-conscious. Her gaze dropped. She took a moment before she raised her gaze again.
She smiled at Chuck when she did. "Remember what the narrator says? 'I learned there are troubles of more than one kind/Some come from ahead and some come from behind'?"
Chuck nodded, sobered a bit by the thought. "I do remember that."
Sarah's gaze had gotten complicated too, serious. She motioned for him to sit down in one of the two chairs. When he did, she went back into the kitchen and came out with the ratatouille. It was beautiful in the casserole dish, a meal of many colors. The wonderful smell intensified. Sarah put the casserole dish on a trivet. She sat down.
"You know, what that book says about troubles coming from ahead and behind…?"
"Yeah?"
Chuck's phone rang. "So sorry, Sarah." Chuck looked at it. Casey. Casey did not call Chuck. If he was calling, there was something going on. "Sorry, may I take this? It's my friend, John Casey." Sarah nodded.
"Hey, Casey, it's Chuck."
"Listen, Bartowski. Just got a call from Jessup. A guy came by the station today. Shiny little badge, big dull suit. Cheap mirrored sunglasses. Spook. CIA. Not nice. Asking about you, your license. Asking if anyone knows anything about your current cases. Showed a picture of a very attractive blond and asked about her too. I'm guessing this has something to do with the case you mentioned to me a while ago. You need to be careful. These folks don't play."
"Okay, Casey, I will."
"See you, Bartowski."
"Thanks, Casey."
ooOoo
Sarah could tell something was wrong. Chuck ended the call then got up and went to one of her windows. He looked out into the parking lot. He turned around, pale. "Is there a back way out of here?"
A/N2 Tune in next time for Chapter 11 "Hopscotch".
I doubt I will update this again until I have updated (Mis)Ed.
Back when I was finishing Turned Tables, I said I was quitting. Obviously, I did not. But I am planning to stop writing fanfiction as soon as this story and (Mis)Ed wrap up. Consider these stories my swan song. No need to comment on that, just wanted folks to know. The finish of both is still a ways away, so I won't be gone any time soon.
Z