Ch 5 The First (Cover) Date, Part II
A/N: We finally get to the cover date between these two. When I started writing this (literally pen to paper), I had a lot of single lines or small glimpse of scenes on paper. The story just didn't want to gel. But from this point on, the characters started to come to life- which is why I had to cut the original chapter in two, then this one in two again (and it is still a long chapter for my stories). Given the way the chapters keep expanding and getting split in two, I'm not sure of the total chapter count. Once again, any words in italics are the internal thoughts of the character.
I'd also like to join David Carner in imploring Kate McK to give us another chapter to Wonderful Cover Life- the title is a play on a Christmas story, and it is that time of year and it is a great story.
Thanks once again to all who are reading, reviewing and/or PMing. I've said it before, but the support in this little corner of the web is outstanding. I hope that you enjoy.
Chuck and Sarah threw on light jackets as they walked out to the sidewalk. With a nod of his head, Chuck indicated the direction towards their dinner. He was quiet, not surprising given the fact that Butterfield and I just dropped the news that an elite assassin wants him dead, Sarah thought to herself. Still, she longed to experience the banter that he had shared so easily with his sister. Sarah decided to give him the time to come to terms with his new reality.
"As impossible as it is to wrap my head around the idea that someone is out to kill me," Chuck finally said as they rounded the corner down the block from the house that doubled as the campaign headquarters, "that still doesn't mean that I'm ok with you- or anyone else for that matter, this isn't doubting you because you are a beautiful woman or even a regular woman-not that you're not beautiful- you know what? Let just leave it at me not being comfortable with the idea that anyone is going to jump in front of a bullet for me."
"I'm here because I had tracked Javier in the past. I never said anything about taking a bullet for you," Sarah said with a wry grin and a hip bump. "Besides, I'm a little offended that you think that Cruz could try to get to you before I get to him. No confidence in my abilities Mr. Bartowski?" Her broad grin showed that she wasn't offended. "As General Patton once noted: the object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."
As they continued walking up the narrow street, no particular hurry to get to the tavern, a police officer rounded the corner ahead and started walking towards them. With his large build, tactical vest, crew cut hair and mirrored sunglasses, he was an imposing figure. Sarah moved up next to Chuck, sliding her left hand inside Chuck's right arm.
"Not that I'm complaining about the PDA, but can I ask what's going on?" Chuck asked, while wondering why his usual aversion to PDA seemed to be taking a leave of absence in the presence of the fetching Secret Service agent.
"I need to be close to you," Whoops. Sarah rushed on, "Just in case this guy is a threat. Close so that I can protect you. And I am a better shot with my right hand. Not that I couldn't make this shot with my left, but why take the chance?" A little cockiness mixed with another reminder that I am the most deadly person that he's ever met. Winning combination there, Sarah.
"Sarah, the man is a police officer!" Chuck looked scandalized that she would suspect a police officer of being a threat.
"No, Chuck. All we know is that he is a man dressed like a police officer. Until we know for sure, he is a threat and one who is clearly armed," Sarah's tone brooked no argument on the topic. While she might not be an actual Secret Service agent-not that Chuck knew any better-she knew what she was doing in protecting Chuck against any threat.
Before the officer even took another step towards truck and Sarah, he shifted his attention to a single mother and her small child who was walking with a baseball bat over his shoulder on the far side of the street. The officer quickly cut across the street, approaching the mom and her son. Chuck paused to watch what was happening. The boy was around 11 or 12 years old. With long limbed arms and legs, and that ungainly walk that was a telltale sign of the recent growth spurt. He clearly had not yet adjusted to his new found height, and appeared to be a little embarrassed about it.
The officer came to a halt in the sidewalk directly in front of the boy. The boy looked up and saw him, his head bent down, his shoulders slumped, the bat in his hands dropping down to touch the ground, only held up by two fingers in his hand. But then the officer got down on one knee, getting his head to the young boy's head level, and began talking to him. Suddenly the boy was facing sideways, with the bat held in both hands over his shoulder pretending to be at bat in a game. Just as Chuck was starting to grin at the sight, he watched in horror as the boy took a practice swing, with the bat spinning out of his fingers straight towards police officer's head. The police officer snatched the bat out of the air with one hand, flipping it so that he held the bat by the barrel and waving the handle back towards the young boy.
The boy looked mortified after his mistake, but the officer simply smiled, stood up and pointed out how to properly hold the bat. He moved behind the boy to demonstrate the way to swing. The huge smile on the boy's face at learning the right way to do it was only matched by the smile on his mother's face as she watched with pride as her child learned a new skill. An even bigger smile was on the police officer's face as he patted the young man on the shoulder a few times and then resumed walking down the sidewalk.
The officer had only gone a couple of feet when in a hopeful voice the boy called out "Scottie, can you help me bat tomorrow?"
The officer turned around wincing. "Nick, I'm working a double shift tomorrow." Seeing the boy's face drop in resigned acceptance, the officer paused. "All right buddy, meet me at the park at noon. We can practice through my lunch hour." The boy's grin was infectious as he and his mother waved before walking down the sidewalk, only this time the boy was practically skipping with excitement.
"That's what we need more of in this country," Chuck said as he stood still, watching the mother and son as they continued to head away from the nearby playground. "That sense of community, of trust. For the most part, Democrats and Republicans alike want the same things: a good economy, good healthcare, a good education system, a strong military. Fundamentally, they just differ on how to achieve those goals. But we've lost that sense of community. There is no trust across party lines."
"Trust isn't approved of at with my job, even amongst your own team. Trust is letting down your guard, allowing someone the chance to take advantage of you. For me to trust that the officer was good and honorable meant to risk your life. I won't risk that Chuck. I won't let anything bad happen to you."
Sarah didn't mention that she knew the officer wasn't Javier. Last time she had come across Javier, he was a bald, 5'7" Latino who weighed 160 pounds soaking wet. There was no way a 6'3" Anglo built like a brick wall with a full, albeit close cropped, head of hair, could possibly be Javier. But he was unknown and armed, and Sarah wasn't going to risk Chuck's safety. She had known him a whole 30 minutes and she was falling harder and faster than she had ever fallen before. Who was she kidding? She had never felt anything remotely like this before.
Chuck was oblivious to Sarah's internal musings, but he was aware that she was again moving towards Jessop's Tavern. He was also almost painfully aware that she hadn't let go of his arm for the cover PDA. However, given the fact that the street and sidewalk were once again empty, he was struggling to come up with a reason for the PDA if there was no P.
Fearful of facing that awkward lull in a conversation between two people who were practically strangers, Chuck blurted out, "I love seeing things like what that officer did with the boy. Just stopping what you are all wound up in and helping out someone else. That's great. Although skipping lunch?" Chuck joked, "When armed? It's a good thing that I didn't go into law enforcement if it meant skipping meals. I get grouchy- like super grouchy."
"Which kind of sucks," Chuck continued despite his best efforts to reign in his babbling. "'Cause there are all these really cool superpowers out there, but I get grouchiness. I mean, you don't have any grouches for superheroes. Well, there is Oscar, but he's a puppet on Sesame…not a super…you know what," Chuck paused, desperate not to spiral into a distinction between super heroes and Sesame Street characters. Am I trying to convince her that I'm a complete idiot? First woman that I've paid any proper attention to since…well, in a long time and I'm going to run her off before we even get to the restaurant. Oh no, I didn't even finish my sentence. Speak, Chuck, speak!
"Running for office is kind of like one long wedding reception." What in the hell am I saying ?! "Lots of events with lots of people you don't really know, and everyone wants to talk to the bride and groom, so they never get to eat, but they can't act all grouchy because it's their wedding so it has to be the best day of their life. Although, come to think of it, Awesome wasn't the least bit grouchy at their reception, even though he didn't get to eat until halfway to the honeymoon. Although that just proves that he is, indeed, Awesome." Please just let the sidewalk open up and swallow me whole. Who needs Javier to kill me when I'm doing it to myself?
Sarah had found Chuck's spiraling to be incredibly cute and endearing, but she was completely lost by the end of his mini-speech. "Sorry, but who is awesome? You kind of lost me there at the end." She gave him a genuine smile to soften the blow of her words.
Oh, God. She's even more pretty when she smiles. Like ten times more beautiful kind of pretty. Wait, I'm supposed to respond to her. Oh, crap. What was it she said? "Oh, uh, Awesome," Chuck let out a self-deprecating laugh. "That's Devon, Ellie's husband. Only I call him Captain Awesome because there is no other way to describe the guy. It drives Ellie crazy when I say it, but he does so many amazing things that he's the Captain of Awesome."
Sarah laughed at the image of Ellie getting exasperated with Chuck being Chuck. She imagined that it happened quite often.
"So, Chuck, where are we headed? What place is it that your sister claims has you all worked up?" Sarah asked, walking so close to Chuck that their hips brushed as they walked towards the restaurant. Chuck kept being completely driven to distraction by the beautiful agent beside him. Is it me or are these sidewalks much narrower than normal ones, he wondered.
"It's, uh, it's just a couple of blocks south of here. Jessop's Tavern. And I thank you for referring to it as 'worked up'. Ellie and Awesome usually just say 'geeking out' or 'nerding out'. History never seemed to be a class that the cool kids in school chose unless it was some type of prerequisite. Don't get me wrong, my first love will always be computers. Hardware or software, doesn't matter either way. It just comes naturally to me. I can understand it often without even having to think about it.
"But history always fascinated me. After all, we're just building on what women and men who came before us first learned. There's the saying that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. We are able to move forward not only because of the discoveries of our predecessors, but also because of the lessons learned from their mistakes. Plus, every person you see is living history of their parents, their grandparents, on and on through time."
Sarah marveled at the quiet depths of the man walking beside her. He held fascination in so many aspects of the world around him. There was also his compassion for others, family and friends as well as strangers alike. She was surprised at the trace of jealousy she felt towards his sister and friends at having such a good person in their lives, at their sides. She had always prided herself on self-sufficiency, self-reliance. But now those character traits seemed synonymous with loneliness.
"Ellie was giving me a hard time for 'geeking out' about Jessop's Tavern. But it's hard not to be excited about visiting it. The tavern opened its doors for business 50 years before the Revolutionary War. Think about that. People who helped win the independence for our country could have made plans in that very spot that were crucial to victory. Long before interstate highways were ever dreamed of, this area was a popular route for people traveling from Philadelphia to Baltimore."
Chuck paused on their walk, looking ahead, clearly picturing how the area may have looked back then. Sarah then saw Chuck's expression change and knew that he had ended his mental journey back in history, and was once again thinking about the assassin hunting him. She had been surprised at the campaign headquarters when Agent Butterfield had asked what Chuck's thoughts were on the girlfriend protection plan. To her, Chuck was an open book. It was so refreshing after so many years of dealing with CIA agents who only showed what they chose to reveal.
She knew that he was worried about the assassin, but she didn't anticipate the real reason for his concern. "This Cruz guy who's after me, just what kind of a threat are we talking about here?" Chuck asked, turning slightly to look at her over his shoulder.
"Trust me, Chuck. I won't let Cruz get through me to hurt you. I'm going to make sure that you are safe." Damn. Not supposed to make guarantees like that to protectees. I may not technically be with the Secret Service, but I know that they are not supposed to say stuff like that.
"How much danger are Ellie and Awesome in? What about Morgan? Or even the volunteers helping us out? What about all the people that are going to be at the debate? Or…"
"I never intended any of this, you know," Chuck suddenly said as they walked down a small alleyway between a pair of historic buildings. "I just happened to hear the radio in the police car saying the bomb was wired through a laptop, and I happened to know a weakness in that platform. Ok, Morgan had one that got fried by the same virus on the Irene Demova website. So I knew going in that my plan would work. It wasn't really that heroic."
"You keep telling yourself that Chuck," Sarah replied as she gently shook her head from side to side as she turned onto the sidewalk leading to the restaurant.
"Are you sure that you are comfortable with this?" Chuck asked, as they approached Jessop's. At Sarah's confused look, he continued, "The whole cover girlfriend role. Plus, I mean do you really think that the general public, much less some Jason Bourne international assassin type is going to find it remotely credible that a stunning, intelligent Secret Service agent would fall for a regular guy like me?"
"First of all, you are hardly a 'regular' guy," Sarah replied, trying not to lose her cool at him putting himself down. "#3 in your class at Stanford. Wildly successful not only with videogames, but also with educational software that you practically give away, and designing your own smartphone. A man who willingly risked his own life to safe a hotel full of strangers. But I thank you for the compliments. Stunning I've gotten a few times before, but most guys aren't focused on my brains. Plus, the objective would be for people not to know that I'm with the Secret Service."
Sarah glances away, strangely uncomfortable with deceiving Chuck about her actual job. She hated the idea of lying to him. It was an odd feeling. She had pulled the trigger more times than she cared to remember. She had burned assets, conned marks, but lying to Chuck? That just felt wrong. He was such a good guy, and he deserved the truth. But could he handle the truth? Could her position on the Secret Service detail survive telling him the truth about how she came to be there? She did not have a ready answer to either question. But she still knew what she needed to do, even if it scared her silly.
"Truth is, and you cannot repeat this to anyone, not your sister, not Awesome." She paused, unintentionally building the suspense, failing to realize that Chuck was grinning over the fact that she has adopted his nickname for Devon unconsciously. "You cannot even tell your little friend Morgan. No one. I'm not usually with the Secret Service, Chuck. I am a CIA agent on temporary duty to the Secret Service. I'm here…," Sarah paused to take a calming breath. Telling him that I'm with the CIA just broke about a dozen regulations, telling him what I do for the CIA would make those violations look like child's play.
"I'm here because I do what Cruz does, only better and under orders. The Secret Service agents are going into the Carpenter Center focused on guarding the protectee. I go in thinking, 'where would I set up? What weapon would work best here?' I'm more of a shoot the bad guy before he can shoot us, instead of take a bullet for some random politician-kind of like what Patton said. Unfortunately, I wasn't kidding when I said that my job is to shot Cruz before he can shoot you. I'm not here to stop Cruz and then arrest and prosecute him. I'm here to stop Cruz by any means necessary. Butterfield asked for me not only because I know Cruz, but because I'm better than he is at what he does," Sarah looked away before finishing in a soft voice, "and he's one of the best in the world."
Chuck was stunned. He had gone from encountering the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, bantering with her like they were old friends, to learning that there was an international assassin out to kill him. But now, not only was there an assassin out to kill him, there was another assassin out to protect him by killing the first assassin. Even more confusing was the fact that he knew that she was a good person, that he inherently trusts her. How can he trust trust a killer? How can he not trust Sarah?
Chuck was still in a fog when Sarah pulled him to a stop in front of a small restaurant with a window looking out onto the narrow street crookedly leading down to the river landing. She opened the door, guiding in a befuddled Chuck, fearing that he would run from her while convinced that his life would be better the sooner she was out of it.
Meanwhile, back at Bartowski headquarters, Ellie was using her finely honed interrogation skills on Ron Butterfield. Unsuccessfully.
"Before I feel safe entrusting Chuck's safety to this cover girlfriend, I'm going to need a full background on her."
"Dr. Woodcomb, with all due respect, you want a full bio. You do not need one. Unfortunately, you are not going to get one. Information on Agent Walker is classified, much of it classified beyond my paygrade. I can tell you this. My team is made up of top class agents, each with successful careers. However, Agent Walker is in a different category. She is in the elite of the elite. We are all fortunate to have her on the team. In fact, I had to pull a lot of strings and use up several markers to get her on this detail. At the Secret Service, we take tremendous pride in stopping threats such as this one, in keeping our protectees safe while still enabling them to perform their jobs. But the rest of the detail, myself included, are not on the same level as Agent Walker."
"Simply put, having Agent Walker on our detail makes us significantly better in being able to stop the threat. I would also like to point out that having her posing as your brother's girlfriend will help tremendously by keeping her in close proximity to your brother at all times, while appearing inconspicuous."
"Inconspicuous? Have you seen the woman, Agent Butterfield? Inconspicuous is the last word I would use to describe Agent Walker."
"She may attract attention for her looks, but if you had met her at an election event, would your first thought be that she was security? That she was more than capable of stopping a world class assassin in his tracks?"
"Dr. Woodcomb, I had to go to Agent Walker and request that she take on the role of cover girlfriend. It was well within her rights to reject the mission. After discussing the threat, and my idea for the cover, she agreed. In doing so, she is willingly putting herself immediately next to a man that someone wants dead. Think about that for a moment. Mr. Bartowski's life is in danger, and she's volunteering to be in just as great a danger in order to keep him safe."
That got Ellie's attention. Her eager expression turned pensive as she plopped back in her chair. She clearly had matchmaking in mind, but the reminder of the grave risk her brother was facing put those thoughts away.
"Doctor, you are welcome to request personal details from Agent Walker, but it is entirely up to her if she chooses to tell you anything or nothing at all. Even if she wants to tell you some things, she will likely be limited as so much of her career is code-word classified. If she doesn't want to tell you anything, that is up to her. There will be no repercussions to her professionally for refusing to disclose information. But if you choose to question her, a word of caution-you want her on this detail. Don't run her off in your desire to set up your brother."
Chuck nearly had to duck going through the doorway, then duck again at the exposed wooden beams in the low hung ceiling of the narrow tavern that had captured his fascination, and caused Ellie such exasperation. But as soon as the door shut behind them, Chuck shook off the fog in his head and spun in a circle, taking in the small establishment.
"Isn't this place amazing," Chuck said, gesturing to the narrow, dimly lit restaurant that could hold maybe forty people at capacity.
"Amazing, Chuck? Really? You literally had to duck your head not to hit the wooden beams in the ceiling," Sarah snorted. Since when do I snort? But she was feeling practically giddy over the fact that Chuck had snapped out of his funk and was looking at her with such excitement and joy in his eyes. Yesterday she'd been dreading what she would find when she entered the Treasury Building. Tonight she was feeling more alive than any time in the past ten years.
"Oh, come on Sarah! Embrace the adventure," Chuck exclaimed. "Can't you just picture Ben Franklin and John Adams at the table by the window talking about the latest developments in the war against the Crown? Or George Washington meeting up with General Pulaski by the bar? Or the Culper Ring meeting at that table in the back?" Chuck was animated as he brought the scene to life.
"You do know the Culper Ring operated out of New York City, don't you? Back then, it would have taken close to a full day's travel to get from here to there." She paused. She shouldn't say it, but she had to ask. "Got a thing for espionage, Chuck?"
"Not necessarily. It's just disappointing that so few people know about the Culper Ring. Back at Stanford there was a guy who was convinced it had to do with Saturn. Seriously. He thought the Culper Ring was the name of one of Saturn's rings. Come to think of it, I was never sure how he got accepted into the school or passed any of his classes for that matter."
"Anyway, everyone should know about a small group of people who were so important, vital even, to this country and winning the Revolutionary War. Do you know that historians think that one of the key members was a woman, that she was caught and killed, but no one even remembers her name? How tragic is that? There should be buildings, highways and parks named in her honor, but she is forgotten in the mists of time." Chuck was genuinely frustrated over the anonymity of a woman who died more than two hundred years before he was born.
"You know Chuck, even if you don't know her name. You remember her, and doesn't that make her sacrifice worth it?" She knew as she said it that her words were too intense, her gaze too locked onto his. She could see that he realized that the answer was important to her, even if he had no idea as to why.
"Sarah, I helped to disarm a bomb, and I get labeled a hero. She helped to create a nation so that you and I can enjoy the independence and rights that we have today. It isn't remotely fair that everyone knows who I am, but no one knows her name." Chuck wasn't clear how the conversation had suddenly shifted from his fanciful speculation on history to the serious conversation they were having, but the how wasn't important. The very fact that they were having it was important to Sarah somehow. He could practically feel the electricity in the air as they gazed at each other, tuning out the rest of the restaurant patrons around them.
Sarah vehemently rejected his description of his actions, "You didn't help to disarm a bomb, Chuck. You were the one to figure out how to defeat the bomb clock and triggers by disabling the laptop. You were labeled a hero, Chuck, because you are one. Some people are born to be heroes Chuck. I've got news for you. You are one of them."
"At least with the Wall of Honor at the CIA headquarters, they know who each star is for. They may not tell people for another 50 years or so, but they know," Sarah said quietly. She started to do what she so often struggled not to- namely think about how she could have died on so many of her missions. The only one who would have known who the star was for would have been Graham. Would he have even cared? Or was she just disposable to him? He claimed that she was different from the 'cannon fodder' that formed the ranks of most of the covert action teams. But how could she believe him, despite the fact that she had bought his lines (or was that lies) so often in her early days with the Agency?
They made their way to a small table towards the back of the tavern, with Chuck noticing, but not commenting, on the fact that she made a point of taking the chair whose back was to the wall and allowed her an unfettered view of the restaurant and front door. Sarah realized that she rather liked the quaint eatery, with the faintly musky scent of old wood, and minimal lighting. Not the most romantic of spots, but unquestionably historical and therefore perfect for Chuck. She noted the period attire for the female servers, and was suddenly grateful that she had never had to put on some costume to work undercover in a theme restaurant.
By unspoken agreement, there was no further talk of international assassins, the CIA or Revolutionary War era spies. The meal passed quickly, with Chuck discussing the Swedish influence on Delaware during the pre-Colonial period as reflected in some of the dishes at Jessop's. Sarah was impressed at his culinary bravery in trying motor oil ice cream without asking what was in it, or how it came to have that name. But sooner than she would have liked, they had settled the tab and were about to wander back out of the door to the real world. Sitting at the small table in a quaint historical tavern had been, for Chuck, a wonderful dream where he had spent time with an incredible woman who had not only accepted, but seemed to enjoy, his fascination with history and mental journeys back through time.