A/N1 More story. Important chapter, if short. A bit serious, just a bit. Things speed up now. Let me know your thoughts.
Don't own Chuck.
Chutes and Ladders
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hopscotch
Sarah stayed in her chair. "What is it, Chuck?"
"Someone must have seen us on the stakeout. There was a CIA agent at the police station today, asking about me and my cases; he had a picture of you. A dark SUV was at my office today, later at the store when I bought the wine." Chuck peeked out of the window again. "Oh, no, here he comes! Casey said he was not-nice. He's wearing sunglasses at night..."
Sarah smiled. "Calm down, Chuck. Did you break any law? Did we?" Sarah sipped her wine. "Sit down, Chuck, let's eat while it is hot."
Chuck stood in place, his head rotating to the window, back to Sarah, back to the window, a rotating siren. "But, Sarah…the C-I-A…" Chuck whispered hoarsely, urgently.
A knock on the door. Chuck now added the door to his rotation, door, window, Sarah. He seemed fixed to the floor. Sarah got up and answered the door.
In the doorway stood a man in a cheap suit, too large for him or he too small for it. He was, as Chuck said, wearing mirrored sunglasses. Sarah felt a shift come over her, unplanned an immediate. "Yes? Can I help you?"
ooOoo
Chuck felt frozen. He thought they should run but Sarah seemed unconcerned - or not much concerned. She got up and answered the door after the knock. As she swung the door open, Chuck watched her change. Her beautiful, expressive face hardened, ice on a deep mountain lake.
"Yes," she said, her voice flat, clipped, neither friendly nor unfriendly. "Can I help you?"
The man in the door looked like his suit had been designed by Hefty. The sunglasses he wore were too large too, mirrored, but clearly off a rack at a drug store. He tried to match Sarah's inexpressiveness. "I'm Perry. CIA." He held up a passport wallet for a second, and Chuck saw a small golden badge, then Perry snapped the wallet shut. "I'm looking for one Charles 'Chuck' Bartowski."
"Me too. One is all I need." Sarah replied, unhelpfully, staring at the suit, as if trying to find the man in it.
Perry blinked. He seemed not to know how to respond to that or to Sarah, so beautiful and so cold, Peary in Antartica. Finally, Perry stammered: "H-H-Huh?"
Sarah offered him nothing except a prolongation of her stare. Perry then noticed Chuck. He pivoted away from the baffling blue ice sculpture.
"Are you Chuck?"
Before Chuck could answer, Sarah had stepped to the side to interpose herself between Perry and Chuck, blocking Perry's view.
"Is there a reason why you are disturbing us, Agent Perry?" Sarah managed to edge her question with a threat - Chuck heard it and saw Perry feel it.
Perry stood straighter. "I am here on official business…"
"No, you're not. The CIA does not normally operate on US soil, so you need to make it clear why we owe you anything." The edge of the threat became sharper. Chuck involuntarily thought of Sarah and the bread knife.
Perry blinked again. Sarah continued to stare, unblinking, hyper-aware.
Perry folded. "Well, I am here to tell you that the Monroes are off-limits. I understand that you," Perry made himself look into Sarah's impassive stare, "are her teacher, but that gives you no standing to harass the family. And if you continue, I will see to it that you are reported, that your school learns what you have been up to." Perry looked away from Sarah, trying to face Chuck instead. "And you, PI, this is no case for you. The Monroes are the government's business, not yours."
Perry turned and left, clearly trying for a dramatic departure, but his shapeless suit swallowed the drama. He just looked like a government functionary, incapable of threat or drama, more IRS than CIA. He did not look back. He climbed up into the SUV and drove away. Chuck had moved to stand beside Sarah and watch Perry leave.
Chuck watched Sarah de-ice. In seconds, she was the soft, beautiful woman who looked at him shyly moments before.
"Okay," Chuck began, "how do you do that? The Vivian Rutledge voice, the...I don't know...Ice Queen thing you just did? You intimidated a CIA agent, Miss Walker…"
She gave him another shy look but she did not glance away. She kept her eyes on his, soft and inviting. She stood up in her blue velvet shoes and gave him a kiss, itself velvety and warm. He kissed her back, softly, then with more urgency. He felt her respond, felt a nearly silent hum from her on his lips. Then she pulled back.
"Let's eat, Chuck. We have to talk, now more than ever."
They sat back down. Sarah took Chuck's plate and put some of the ratatouille on it. She then plated some for herself. She gave them both a slice of bread. She handed Chuck the bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass.
Sarah picked up her glass. "Here's to you, Chuck Bartowski. And to us."
Chuck felt flush with pleasure, with delight. Us?
ooOoo
Sarah knew her performance at the door would raise questions, but she wasn't going to let that man, Perry, use three letters to ruin her, her dinner with Chuck. It was too important. Chuck was too important. Now, she just had to tell him. Tell him. The truth. Her father had made truth-telling hard, but Chuck made it seem so much easier.
She started with what had just happened. "About that change at the door, Chuck...Two things. One, that is not my first interaction with the CIA, and, two, I'm really good at...adaptation."
"Years ago, not long before I went to college, the CIA tried to...recruit...me. They might have done it if...certain things hadn't happened. But I turned them down. Turned down the Director of the CIA himself. I went on to college and got my teaching degree. Once you've turned down Langston Graham - he was the Director then - low-level functionaries like Perry are not particularly intimidating. And, the thing is, Chuck, my dad...taught me...how to do things like that. Change like that. The voices…"
"Was your dad in the theater? I know you told me something about him and cars, some kind of deal...Your Porsche."
Sarah closed her eyes. Here it was. The moment. Of truth.
"What I told you about my Porsche, how I got it. What I said was true - or true enough - but it was...misleading. My dad, Chuck, Jack Burton is his name, is a con man. Was a con man. Has pretty much always been a con man. And I grew up...helping…." Sarah let those words settle for a moment, but saw no change in Chuck. He still seemed patiently expectant.
"I was...a con too, Chuck. Unknowingly, at first, but I caught on pretty soon. But I did not stop even when I knew it was wrong. I have to tell you that. I did not stop…
"I mean I did stop...eventually. I walked away from the con game, in fact, just before I walked away from Langston Graham. But Graham was never a major part of my story. My dad is a major part. The major part…"
"But wait, Sarah, if your dad is Jack Burton, how are you Sarah Walker?"
"I changed my name. Graham wanted me because he had, somehow, found out about my work with my dad, and he thought I would make a good agent. I decided I needed to distance myself from Dad and our work together, so I changed my name. I guess I also wanted the fresh start...a new me."
Chuck pondered that for a moment and took a bite from his plate. He closed his eyes. "Oh, Sarah, this is so good…"
Relief flooded through her. She had not realized how tense she had been. Perry had not affected her. But telling Chuck had been so hard, easier, but still so hard. She still had miles of explanation to go, but she had taken the first steps, and he was still sitting with her, relishing her ratatouille. He was not running for the hills.
And so the rest of it poured out of her, like molasses, though, not like water. They ate and drank and Sarah talked and Chuck listened. Cons, scams, briefcases full of money. The ratatouille recipe. Porsches. Banks.
She managed to get it all out by the time they finished. The ratatouille was gone; the wine bottle empty. Sarah had emptied herself too. She sat and waited for Chuck's reaction, her anxiety retaking her.
ooOoo
Chuck crossed his knife and fork on his plate and wiped his mouth on the napkin she had put on the table for him. His mind was spinning. It was a lot to take in - a lot that both failed to fit Sarah and fit her all too well.
"So, the chameleon thing, the voices, the changes of manner, all taught to you by your dad?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he saw my...talent early. Trained me. Taught me how to read people, so that I not only could become someone else but become the particular someone else they needed me to be." She looked away from him, pulling her lips into her mouth and biting them. Chuck realized then how deeply ashamed of her previous life she was. That was why the story about her Porsche, the one she had told him the other night, had felt like she was giving him something. She was. The conviction that he was the only one who she had told this story rose in him and gripped him. The meaning of it. He stood up. Her face, so unmoved in front of Perry, broke. He saw fear and disappointment start to form in her eyes. But he grabbed his chair and walked to her side of the table. He put it down and sat again. He saw her gaze shift, the fear and disappointment gone almost before they arrived.
"Sarah," he reached out and took her hand, "thanks. Thanks for telling me all that. I know it wasn't easy. And I want you to know that it all matters to me - and it all doesn't matter to me. I'm just glad you got out, that you were able to escape and to find another life, this life, your life. I've known since I first saw you that you were amazing, the most amazing woman I have ever met - and I know Ellie Woodcomb, the bar is way, way high - but I had no idea how amazing you really were, how much more than my...wildest dreams…"
This time, Chuck glanced away, and Sarah, despite the seriousness of the moment, giggled. "Just how...wild...are your dreams, Chuck?"
He didn't answer that, just hurried on. "I know we will have to talk more about all this, but right now I just want to make sure you know that it...doesn't change...how...I feel...about you. But I guess you know about that, about how I feel…"
ooOoo
Sarah squeezed Chuck's hand. Here was her other opportunity. "That's another thing, Chuck. How...you feel...that's how...I feel…You know, me too?" Wow, Sarah, way to stumble across the finish line.
She saw hope in Chuck's eyes. And a glint of mischief. "So, we aren't just client and employee? Have you been conning me, Sarah Walker?"
For a second, the question panicked her, then she realized Chuck was just joking, trying to lighten the moment for both of them. She grinned. "Maybe. A little. But - me too. Again. Conning me too. Telling myself I could control this." She squeezed his hand again. "But I can't, Chuck. I just feel...the way I feel. And I can't control it. And I...don't want to."
She stood up, still holding Chuck's hand. She led him to the couch, motioned for him to sit in the middle. He did. She then pushed him down, his back on the couch, and she straddled him. "Despite what I just said, I want you to know...this isn't going to end in my bedroom. Not tonight…" She leaned down for a quick kiss. "But prepare yourself, detective, for some serious necking, some serious...investigation." She let her lips settle onto his, then pressed them against his more firmly. She felt his hands move around her waist, pulling her down, against him, pulling her against him. The sensations were headier than the wine, stealing her breath. Chuck's lips were Rioja red, deep and sweet, and she let herself sink into them, into him, into the moment and into the kiss. She thought of what she said to Jerri. Yes, yes, yes…
ooOoo
Chuck felt her weight and warmth, his wish from before come true. She was in his arms and she was not his client. He did not know what she was, exactly, or what they were. She was even more complicated than he had imagined. She was also desirable beyond his imagination - and his imagination had been in overdrive for days. But he kept his hands in bounds, carefully in bounds, although it was a desperate struggle; his hands, like other parts of him, had a mind of their own. They wanted to play hopscotch. But he convinced them - all - to behave. Just when Chuck thought he could no longer win the argument with his hands or any of the rest of himself, Sarah sat up, keeping her hands on his shoulders and her weight against them, him.
ooOoo
"Okay," Sarah muttered, shaking her head, trying to reorient herself. "We have to stop now, or we...I...won't." I am so lost in you, Chuck Bartowski. In an effort to gather herself and change focus - to focus on something other than Chuck beneath her: "So, we need to talk about Perry - and Sasha. I just wanted to straighten us out first." She didn't let too much of a smirk sneak into her tone on 'straighten'.
"So, Chuck, what does it mean that the CIA is involved?"
Chuck looked unsure. "I don't know. But I take it that even if I'm not working for you, we are still ...working together?"
Sarah smiled down at him. "Together, Chuck. Yes, together. Let's figure this out, okay?"
Chuck smiled up at her. "Together. We'll figure it out."
A/N2 The middle of our story, roughly. Tune in next time as Chuck and Sarah try it as partners, Chapter 12, "Three-Legged Race".
The new chapter of (Mis)Ed is about done. I should post it tomorrow or Tuesday. Stateside once again as of yesterday.