A/N1 More story.

Hey, if you want this to continue, drop me a line. Losing steam, here...

Don't own Chuck.

Chutes and Ladders

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hide and Seek

Later, Saturday April 1

Chuck drove Sarah from the police station back toward her Porsche, parked near FARMA. They were each silent for the first few minutes of the drive, thoughtful.

Chuck finally broke the silence. "Sarah, about that stuff with Jill, her faking it, I...I'm sorry to have had to say that in front of you."

Sarah looked lost in her own thoughts for a moment, although she had turned to face him. "Oh, right, no, Chuck, that's...um...no problem. I knew you two dated for a while…"

He stared ahead but twisted his lips to the side. "I just don't want you to get the impression that I am...you know, like the detectives in the books, or the movies, interspersing cases with one-night stands...or something. That's...that's just not me. According to Ellie, I am oblivious where women are concerned...

"Anyway, I honestly thought Jill and I were something to each other. That there we were going to make a dream I've had come true…"

Sarah was now fully present. She slid even closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "What dream was that, Chuck?"

"It's not a Philip Marlowe dream, Sarah...I mean, maybe it is, it depends how you take the end of Chandler's last novel, Playback, I guess." He stopped himself. "Sorry, I'm drifting...

"It's a dream of a family, a home...A dream of something I hardly knew before it was taken from me as a boy. Ellie was great, really great, but she could not replace Mom and Dad, recreate the home they had made.

"I thought Jill shared that dream...or that she would come to share it with me, was willing to, I don't know, consider it. That's why we...I...well, that's why. I'm not saying everyone has to do it...has to do things my way, but I just want you to know what...I mean how...I mean why…" He gestured with one hand inarticulately but steered firmly with the other. "I mean...after what we saw with Jill today…"

ooOoo

Sarah lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his bright red ear. It was attached to his bright red face, the bright red extending up under his hair and down inside his collar. He is so adorable.

"I understand, Chuck. I do. I'm not upset. I don't regard either of us as a sex-as-a-mere-mutually-agreeable-pastime sort of person. If that were true," she paused and gazed at him with open desire, "given how things are between us, we'd have been rabbiting away at the stakeout, and ever since the stakeout."

She paused and put her hand gently on his thigh. "But, like you, Chuck, I wanted to know you are dreaming too, that we are dreaming together before we are...together." She reached up and moved a few curls behind his ear and she kissed it again.

Chuck ferried the Crown Vic into a parking spot right behind the Porsche. He turned the key and the car shimmied and shook before it gave out one loud backfire and went quiet. Chuck's blush returned as he grimaced at the car's punctuation of Sarah's speech.

After a moment, he shook his head, clearing away his embarrassment. That done, he gave Sarah a look of desire as open as the one she had given him. "I want you, Sarah Walker. But as bad as I do - and it's bad - the emphasis is on 'you' not 'want'. Although I do want you so much. I am dreaming, Sarah; I've never dreamed so vividly before. - And did you really just say 'rabbiting'?"

She giggled and nodded. But then she became immediately serious. "I don't want to rabbit with you, Chuck. I want to Sarah-and-Chuck with you. When we...make love…" Sarah reached over and pulled at a loose thread on Chuck's pants leg, feeling suddenly shy, exposed, "...I want it to be about us, not just to be us. I am dreaming, Chuck, and I want us to be dreaming when we sleep together, especially when we aren't asleep together. I want you too, Chuck. It's bad."

She kept her eyes down, feeling nervous about the consequences of what she had said, particularly about her use of the word 'love'.

Chuck turned to face her, reaching out to take her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, and moving her eyes up to meet his. The brown of his eyes had become bottomless, and Sarah felt herself sink into it.

She made herself speak once more. "I don't want a night or a succession of nights. I want you. You, Chuck."

He kissed her so softly that it was almost as though their lips did not meet. "Dreaming together awake can be dangerous. Who knows where it might lead us, Sarah. Are you sure?"

She kissed him equally softly but three times; a word was spoken with each kiss: "Yes, yes, yes."

She let herself linger, submerged in the brown of his eyes. They were bottomless with promise; he held none of himself back. She put her hand against the side of his face and caressed his cheek.

She felt his cheek tighten with his smile, huge and warm. "Yes?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yes?" she asked. He nodded.

"Come over tomorrow? I want to make it special. I have to help Jerri tonight. She's prepping for a big in-class presentation on her time as my assistant. So, tomorrow. We could order in and you could plan to...spend the night? "

His smile grew huger, warmer: "Yes?"

"Yes."

ooOoo

Chuck watched her drive away. He wanted today to be tomorrow, but he would have to wait. The goodbye kiss she had given him was fully enfleshed, not another of the ghost kisses they had shared as they agreed to tomorrow. But that goodbye kiss also meant that he was in no mood to go home to his room or back to his tiny office. Unsure what to do with the evening, he decided to just drive - at least for a little while. The Crown Vic jumped to life when he turned the key, as if the goodbye kiss had warmed its engine too.

As Chuck wheeled the Vic into traffic, he noticed a long line of cars in the opposite lane, all crawling behind one that had just reached him. He looked up. It was the wife of his client, The Viagra Incident client. Chuck drove down the block and initiated a series of right-hand turns. He still managed to be at the next intersection she came to before she arrived. He was able to find a spot behind her as some of the trailing cars turned down side streets so as to escape from the no-one-died funeral procession behind her.

Chuck settled in. This might take a while. It was something to do at least, something for which he would get paid.

The elderly woman drove on a few blocks then parked. Chuck parked a few spots behind her. She got out of the car and walked to the front door of an apartment building. A man younger than her, but by now means young, probably in his early sixties, came out of the front door and met her, giving her a familiar hug. Chuck felt his stomach flip a little. He had been hoping the man who hired him was wrong. The two of them went inside.

Chuck got out his wire-bound notebook and his golf pencil and noted the address, the time. He then got out of the car. He took out his phone as he walked to the apartment building door, calling up the camera app.

He could feel the sleaze collecting on him. Did sleaze collect? Or did it grow, or what? Like dew or like fungus?

He pushed a couple of apartment buzzers and one of the apartments buzzed him in as a crackling voice from another kept repeating, "Yes? Who's there?"

Chuck went inside. Seeing no elevator and playing a hunch, he started walking down the first-floor hallway. As he reached the corner, where the hallway turned, he heard noises. The door of the next apartment was not fully closed. Low sounds were coming out of the apartment. Oh, Jesus, twice in one day - finding someone in flagrante delicto. First Jill, now somebody's grandma? The low moans intensified. Male. Then he heard an elderly woman's voice: "Bobby! Oh, Bobby! Please, Bobby!"

Chuck stood by the door and readied his phone to take a picture. He felt profoundly ashamed of himself, but he needed the money. He wanted to pay for whatever he and Sarah ordered in tomorrow, and he was down to little more than pocket change. Holding the phone at the ready, he pushed the door of the apartment open and stepped inside.

ooOoo

The apartment was dark - apparently, the curtains were drawn. The front room into which he stepped, the kitchen, was enshadowed. The voices were coming from the next room. Chuck could see into it from where he stood but could not see anyone. An orangy flicker of candlelight was playing against the wall of the next room.

"Oh, Bobby! Bobby, please come!"

With a shudder of self-disgust, Chuck raised his phone and stepped into the next room.

The woman he was following was seated at a small table in the center of the room, facing away from Chuck. Across from her was the man who greeted her, hugged her. They were holding hands across the table. Between them was what looked like an emptied snow globe that now contained one red bulb, like a bulb from a string of Christmas tree lights. Candles were lit around the room. The man had a massive turban on his head. In the middle of its front was a huge costume-jewelry rhinestone. The man was chanting in a low moan. The woman was tilting side to side, slowly.

Chuck stood transfixed, mortified. Just as the man noticed him, Chuck's arm sank. He slipped his phone in his pocket.

"Can I help you, son?" The man let go of the woman's hands and stared at Chuck.

"Um...no...no...sorry. I was walking by and the door was open and I heard...noises. I thought someone might need help."

The woman had pushed her chair back and turned to look at Chuck too. "Now we will have to start over," she intoned in annoyance, speaking to the turbaned man, but glaring at Chuck. Making her disapproval known, she turned back to the man in the turban. "Bobby was coming. He was near. He was about to cross over. I could feel him!"

The man patted one of her hands. "Don't worry, Gladys, we can re-establish contact with your long-lost son. We have done it before. We can do it again." He shifted his focus to Chuck. "My door is broken - bent hinges. The apartment manager is supposed to come later today to fix it. I was hoping it would stay closed.

"I have to ask you to leave, son. I am her medium and we are involved in delicate spiritual communication. The presence of outsiders," the man paused, taking stock of Chuck, "or of disbelievers interferes with the conflux of energies…"

Chuck turned on his heel and marched shamefaced out of the apartment. He retraced his steps down the hallway, chased by renewed low moans and renewed cries of "Bobby!"

Stepping into the slanting sunlight of late afternoon, he was embarrassed - but also relieved. Perhaps her husband would not be happy about what his wife was doing (there was a reason she was keeping it a secret), but at least he had not had to take pictures of octogenarian coupling and show them to the man.

He was going to have to change the name on the file, though, replace 'Viagra' with 'Medium', except The Medium Incident sounded less interesting as a case name, about as boring as a case name could get, in fact. Of course, he was a sort of middling detective, so maybe that was a case that suited him.

Maybe Casey was right. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this job. Maybe he should start programming again. The AI program he saw at the Monroes had been tickling his mind since he saw it; he had pondered it as he had the chance. He felt like he was getting clearer about what the program represented, but he just didn't quite have possession of it yet.

ooOoo

Chuck decided to go to the office and change The Viagra Incident file. He would call the client and explain what he had found out about his wife, about Gladys. After he parked the Crown Vic in the lot at his office, he checked the other cars. No dark SUVs.

Perry seemed to have disappeared.

Chuck walked to his office, waving at Billy Powell, who was busing a table at the cafe. Chuck started to unlock his door when he heard the dull peck of high heels on the concrete behind him.

"Hi, Chuck." Chuck sighed inside but gave no sign. He turned to see Jill standing there. He then realized he had seen her car in the lot, but because he had been looking for Perry's, he failed to attend to it.

"Um, hey, Jill. What're you doing here?"

She seemed stymied by Chuck's unenthusiastic tone for a minute. She regrouped and answered. "I...I think I need your help. You know, with a case." She blew out a breath slowly, then tried once more. "I want to hire you."

Chuck had no idea quite how to respond. The earlier image of her on the table at FARMA crowded into his consciousness unbidden. He blushed.

Jill noticed. "What is it, Chuck? Are you going to turn me down?"

"Well, I don't know, Jill. I guess I need to know what you want."

She nodded and glanced around. "Can we go inside?"

Chuck unlocked the door, opened it and held it for Jill. She thanked him as she went past. She sat down in the chair. Chuck went around the desk and took his seat. They had sat like that before. Jill had the same look of mild contempt on her face that she often did when she visited the office, contempt for its revelation of Chuck's lack of success. He saw her try to school her features, to wipe the look from her face.

"So, Jill, what do you need me to do?"

She looked at him for a moment; she seemed to be trying to make a final decision. "I need you to get some dirt on someone for me." Her tone was matter-of-fact, flat.

Chuck had not expected that. "Really? Who?"

"The man who runs FARMA, J. P. Malcolm Foxworth." Her teeth seemed to be set on edge by the name.

Again, images from earlier in the day flashed through Chuck's mind, echoes of sounds. "But isn't he the CEO of your biggest client?"

She nodded tightly. "Yes, but I have...my reasons. I need leverage. But I can't explain why, Chuck. I have reason to think he has ties to...questionable people. Criminals, maybe mobsters. I need you to find out for me. Will you do it?"

Chuck leaned forward onto his elbows and interlocked his fingers, resting his face against them. He owed Jill nothing, and the earlier events of the day made him less willing to help her, to be involved with her in any way, but...helping her might allow Chuck to help Casey (and Rhonda). And he couldn't shake the feeling that Jill was, though not remotely blameless for her situation, in something over her head.

"Can you give me any more concrete information than that?"

Jill shook her head. "No, and just asking you to do this could get me into big trouble legally, so I need you to keep it to yourself, tell no one, and keep no records. Just see if you can find out anything...please?"

She gave him the old smile, the one from their earlier days. It had been good between them at the beginning. But Chuck was with Sarah now, and he knew that the new good he had with Sarah was so much better than old good he had with Jill. The smile left him unmoved.

"I will think about it, Jill. I'll call you tomorrow or the next day with my decision." He stood up to make it clear they were done. Jill was crestfallen. She had expected more results from the smile, clearly. She got up and looked at him imploringly. "I really could use your help, Chuck."

He gave her a tight nod, an image of her own from earlier. She turned and left the office. Chuck sat back down and blew out a long, long breath.

ooOoo

Chuck put The Medium Incident file away. He had called the client and explained that his wife was not cheating on him. The man was relieved by Chuck's report but saddened by it too. Evidently, although the man had not shared details, the loss of their son had been hard on them both. Chuck took the man's payment over the phone. At least he had some money again.

He left the office and locked the door. Billy was standing outside, smoking one of his omnipresent hand-rolled cigarettes. "I see the old flame stopped by." The pinpoint flame of his cigarette glowed in the dark. Chuck could smell the slightly spicy odor of the imported tobacco Billy smoked.

"Yeah, she wanted to hire me."

"She wasn't here to get back together?"

"No, and it wouldn't have mattered if she was. We are through. We were through before we were through, I guess."

"Well, if that's so, then I guess I can say that I never liked that one much, Chuck. Wrong for you. Not nice." Another billow of spicy smoke.

"That's what I think now too, Billy. Have a good evening."

"Say, Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know a guy, mirrored sunglasses, baggy suit, dark Escalade?"

Perry. "Yeah, I do, sort of."

"He was around here earlier today. Was standing at your door. I wondered what was up and came out. He walked off, but he gave me a strange feeling."

"Huh. Thanks for telling me, Billy. And if you see him again, tell me, but don't interact with him. He's not a nice guy."

Billy pulled on his cigarette, nodding. "That's the problem with your job, Chuck. Too many not-nice guys and not-nice gals for a nice guy like you."

Chuck said nothing in response. He nodded his thanks and headed for the car.

ooOoo

The miniature golf course was in full putt-putt when Chuck arrived. Alex's truck was outside. She had a line of customers and the course looked busy, lots of folks with clubs. Good for you, Morg.

The Vic shut down quietly, and Chuck gave the dashboard an encouraging rub. His head was spinning. He was so excited about tomorrow, about his date with Sarah. But the day had been bizarre. FARMA, Jill, Casey, Rhonda, the medium and the mother, Jill again, Billy. It was a hard day to process. He sat for a minute, then got out.

The line in front of Alex's truck had shortened, and so Chuck joined it. Alex saw him immediately, since he was much taller than the kids and moms in line in front of him.

"Tall, Dick and Curly!" she shouted, waving expansively at him. As one, the moms and kids rotated their faces toward him, like puzzled lighthouses. A couple of the moms let their gaze travel the length of him, making his self-consciousness all the more acute.

He smiled and laughed nervously. "That's...that's a taco she named after me." The moms who had appraised him now licked their lips. "But not for any...you know, romantic reason. It's just that I am tall…" More gazes traveling his length. His face was burning hot.

"Ladies, ladies, have I got your attention? Who wants a Tall, Dick and Curly." Several hands shot up. Chuck dropped his head in defeat. Alex's laughter twinkled.

Eventually, Chuck got to the truck. He had to endure several moms biting into their tacos with relish while eyeing him. Alex's face was red with laughter by the time he got to place his order. He shook his head at her. "A couple of bean burritos, please."

"What? You don't want tonight's hottest item?"

"That would be a no, and thanks for the ramekin of humiliation on the side." Chuck tried to sound hurt.

Alex shrugged one shoulder and grinned. "Just drumming up business. Where's your girl Friday, Sarah? It's Saturday night…"

"I saw her earlier today. She had to help her teaching assistant get prepped for a college-course thingy, so I won't see her again until tomorrow."

Alex smiled at him, no teasing this time, just warmth. "Actually, I knew you had. Dad stopped by a couple of hours ago and mentioned that he met Sarah. He was excited for you - you know, in his way. He liked her." Alex looked at her watch. "Actually, he said he had to run an errand and would be back soon, but he hasn't come back."

"He's Casey. I'm sure he's fine. So, your dad was here and Morgan is still alive and the place is in one piece?"

"I know," Alex said, making her eyes big, "will wonders never cease? Morgan's in the building. A summer camp group is here. Made it extra busy."

She had been preparing Chuck's order as they spoke and she handed it to him. He started to dig out his wallet and she waved her hands. "On the house. Thanks for the advertising. I think I need to put a picture of you up beside the Tall, Dick and Curly."

Chuck grabbed a couple of packets of hot sauce. "Please, please, no." He turned away as Alex laughed again.

ooOoo

Morgan was scouring the recesses under the counter when Chuck walked in. He heard Chuck enter and looked up from his task. "Howdy, Chuck. Sit and eat. I'm trying to find more pencils. Mine keep disappearing. It's a mystery. Say, why don't you take it on, as a case, you know?"

Chuck squeezed hot sauce on his burrito and tried not to look guilty. "Busy night, Morg?"

Morgan rubbed his beard and smiled big. "Yeah. I think word's getting around. And about Alex's truck. Business just keeps picking up. How's yours?"

Chuck shrugged non-committally. "I have some cases. Ended one today."

"Ooh, really? Was it juicy? Major baddies or major hotties involved?"

Chuck thought of the funny-sad little seance around the red-glowing snow globe. "Nah. Nothing worth reporting on, really." He might one day find that story funny, but it wasn't today, although he recognized the absurdity of it.

"So, missing pencils, huh?"

Morgan nodded. Chuck got out his wire-bound notebook and the small pencil. He made a couple of notes, brandishing the pencil between episodes of writing. Morgan never noticed. "Are they expensive?"

"Nah, man, individually they don't cost much but they're a pain to keep up with and the company has my next shipment on backorder."

"Hmmm…" Chuck chewed on the end of the pencil, then remembered Sarah with it. His pants grew tight and a shudder of desire ran along his frame. "I will look into it, Morg."

Morgan guffawed. "That's funny, Chuck. I was really just kidding. I can always buy some plain ones at the Buy More to tide me over."

Chuck flipped the notebook closed and leaned toward his friend. He put the short pencil behind his ear. "Never fear, Morg," he whispered, looking around as if he feared being overheard, "I am on the case. Those pencils may hide, but I will seek..."

Sunday, April 2

Chuck had on the shirt and slacks Ellie picked out for him. He had a bottle of wine in his hands. He knocked on Sarah's door.

She opened the door wearing a little black dress.

No, correction: she opened the door wearing the little black dress. The Platonic Form of little black dresses.

The little black dress all other little black dresses dreamed of being.

It was short, so short, leaving her long legs endlessly bare until the black heels buckled around her ankles.

Chuck's reaction was not platonic, but he felt catatonic. Sarah giggled at him, reached out and pulled him inside.

A/N2 Another cliffhanger...of a different sort. Tune in next time for more fun and danger. Chapter Seventeen, "Follow the Leader".

Review, PM - a little encouragement?