A/N 1: I had a couple of requests to post this chapter earlier than the usual week, and a rough week at work convinced me of the need for a little levity. So, we come to the titular chapter- although also one of the shorter chapters in the story. Bear in mind that I mentioned in the beginning that I was trying to write a relationship story without relying on the crutch of action scenes-otherwise this chapter would have unfolded a lot differently.

Ch 9 The Debate

Chuck was engaged in the speech. He was energized, and the audience was captivated by him. The problem was that Sarah kept getting captivated as well. This was such a different Chuck from the guy she had started to get to know-so confident, so self-assured. Yet it was still definitely the same guy-the same intelligence, the same compassion, the same ability to take a problem and look at it from one angle after another angle after another, all in the blink of an eye, until he found a way to solve the issue. Chuck might not understand why he had gathered such a following on the campaign trail, but Sarah could.

The issue was that she wasn't there to learn about a political candidate or even to learn about Chuck. She was there to keep Chuck alive. To keep him safe. To remember that there was an assassin out there who wanted Chuck dead. In a flash, she envisioned Chuck lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring unblinkingly into space. The eyes that were filled with such warmth when looking at her or when he talked about his sister. The eyes that were filled with such intelligence when tackling a problem. The eyes that were filled with mischief as he regaled her with stories about his childhood antics with Morgan. The thought of those expressive eyes being empty felt physically, nauseatingly painful to her.

She could picture life with Chuck in a house of their own. Cuddling with him as she suffered in silence through marathon sessions of nerdy tv shows and movies. The sound of Chuck running down the hallway while yelling "Luke I am your father" to their son who was fleeing the threat of a bubble bath...

The want-maybe need was a better description of what she was feeling- to have a home, family and children with Chuck was so unexpected, so alien that she was stunned to experience it. Never in her 27 years of existence had she remotely considered parenthood. Her few previous thoughts on the topic had been concurrence with Carina's statement during their CAT days that raising kids was best left to those with normal childhoods.

But Sarah had no doubt, none whatsoever, that Chuck would make an incredible dad. With his kindness and generosity, he would take the dad of the year award every year. But he hadn't had anything remotely resembling a normal childhood. So Carina had to be wrong-or Chuck was the proverbial exception that proved the rule. Could she handle motherhood? The very concept was terrifying yet exhilarating, alien yet comforting. The idea of a little girl with a mass of curly brown hair, with chocolate colored eyes with flecks of amber and gold, and a smile that could like up the world. And just maybe a little boy with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She could picture the children in such exacting detail that it was as though a part of her soul ached at not being able to reach out and hug them.

She stood stunned in the wings of the stage at the Center realizing just how deeply she cared for Chuck Bartowski. How had he gotten under her skin that quickly? It had only been a few days, but the thought of him going back to California and her going off on another CIA mission made her chest ache. But how could the relationship even work? 'How was your day dear?' 'Oh, I met with Congress then negotiated a deal between a Fortune 500 company and its labor union to avoid a shutdown that would cripple the nation's economy. And you?' 'Me? I stabbed three guys and shot another two before blowing up a server farm for a radical group of hackers who were financing international terrorism.' Yeah, that would work out great. Or even better, 'Sarah, I'd like you to meet Ambassador Desmaris. Ambassador, my wife Sarah. Our country's top assassin.'

How could a relationship between them work? But how could she not have a relationship with Chuck? All those romantic clichés about finding someone who was everything you never knew you needed in a partner. All too true. But in those sappy hallmark movies once the couple made that improbable connection, it was happily ever after. With her and Chuck they had made the connection, but she couldn't see how to get to the happily ever after. Happily ever after was someone else's fairytale. Given her work for the CIA, Sarah's life story was less fairly tale and more Brothers Grimm.

Sarah shook her head, trying to clear the haze of emotions she had been caught up in, oblivious to the odd looks some people gave her as the backstage workers had to part around her as she stood stilled in the middle of the wing, realizing her epiphany. She still had a job to do, she still had Chuck to protect. Even more painful than the thought of Chuck being separated from her was the thought of Chuck being hurt-especially on her watch.

Not going to happen. Head in the game, Walker.

Casey had been growing concerned with Walker. He had known of the Ice Queen by reputation. Having heard rumors about this elite CIA agent for so long, he had been shocked (not that his poker face had revealed anything) by how young she was when they first met. He had known for a long time that Langston Graham-like many other upper level bureaucrats in the intelligence game-was a cold hearted bastard, willing to do whatever it took to accomplish his goal. But for his "enforcer" to be the young woman Casey was first introduced to meant that Graham had started to mold her when she was still practically a child.

Casey had been given the chance to make an informed decision to sacrifice his future for the good of the country, and for the most part he didn't regret his choice. But he wondered if Walker was ever given a choice. Some people in his line of work weren't given much of a choice-sign up or rot in jail. But Walker had been too young to have gotten to the point of a choice that's not a choice. The realization made Casey despise Langston Graham all the more.

From his counter-sniper position, Casey had a clear view of Bartowski at his podium, but also a clear view of Walker as she moved in to watch him from the stage wing. He had seen her focus, at first thinking she had picked up a threat Casey had missed. But it dawned on him that she was focused on Bartowski. He knew that she was falling for Bartowski hard and fast, right before his eyes. Part of Casey felt for her-a young woman who hadn't had the chance at love and a life before getting swept up into the Grand Game. Mostly Casey was frustrated. Javier was out there and it was Sarah's responsibility to guard Chuck, not daydream about lady feelings. While he knew and respected Ron Butterfield, Casey preferred an active form of protection. He and Sarah should be out there hunting Cruz, not a protective detail waiting for Cruz to make his move.

Right as Casey was about to call her on the comms, he saw her expression change. Her eyes went from warm and sappy to ice cold and hard. A mask fell into place on her face, and Casey realized that he had just seen a young woman in love transform into the Ice Queen. After they dealt with the threat she could focus on those useless lady feelings. As long as the Ice Queen was present when she was working, it was none of his business what she felt when off duty.

The debate was just ending as the call came through comms. Javier had been caught by a state police officer. The patrolman had witnessed an SUV blow through a red light, smashing into a nondescript sedan. The smoke from the airbag was still filling the interior of the sedan when the officer looked through the window at the dazed driver. That was when the officer had seen the handgun in a shoulder holster under the driver's jacket. This was no government issued car or a government issued sidearm. The officer had then recalled the field briefing from the head of the Secret Service detail about an assassin suspected of being in the area.

Javier had started to come to, and realized a police officer was there, but the officer reacted faster, hitting Javier with a blast from his taser before Javier had been able to clear the gun from his holster. By the time the jolt had worn off, Javier was secured in wrist ties. Right as Javier was about to break free from the wrist ties, Ron Butterfield had arrived on the scene and had promptly zapped Javier with his own taser. When Javier finally came to again, he had wrist ties, ankle shackles and three heavily armed Secret Service agents watching his every move, every twitch. There would be no escape this time.

I had dreaded this assignment. Looking after pompous blowhards who weren't in any greater physical danger of boring themselves to death with their own overinflated sense of self-importance instead of any external threat. Instead I was really looking forward to hearing Chuck's speech. Even though with all of his meetings and movement I didn't know when he had time to write or rehearse it. And it was brilliant, just like the man giving it. But now the debate was over, the assassin has been captured, and my assignment is at an end. But that means a return to the CIA. A return to being Langston Graham's personal hitman.

When the debate had ended, a different type of bedlam had begun. Chuck had agreed to a few post-debate sit down interview. It seemed like every news agency was trying to get a piece of his time, regardless of appointments or not. Sarah was well aware that the Cruz threat was neutralized, but she still felt antsy. It wasn't her spy training signaling that her subconscious had picked up a threat. But she wasn't used to feeling nervous, so she decided to do what she does best, and let the Ice Queen shut down her emotions and scan the area for any threat against the protectee.

That plan worked for about ten minutes. There were plenty of Secret Service agents present, each of whom was highly trained to deal with standard threats against protectees. They were also very familiar with the typical chaos during and after a debate. Simply put, they had the situation well in hand and Sarah couldn't find fault with anything they did in looking out for Chuck. She had been brought in specifically to counter the Javier Cruz threat. The problem was that the Cruz threat was now contained.

As far as the rest of the protection detail was concerned, her services were now superfluous. She was still part of the team, but the full time Service agents were now in charge again. The problem for Sarah was that if the Secret Service no longer needed her to look after Chuck, she would be sent back to the CIA. In the best case scenario, if Graham could be trusted (relatively speaking) then within twenty-four hours of being no longer seconded to the Secret Service, Sarah Walker would once again cease to exist (until she returned to Langley) and some new name on a passport would jet off to solve the latest Agency crisis.

That problem led to a second problem, which was that she had come to like the Sarah Walker name of late. She had assumed that alias whenever she wasn't in the field (making her sometimes wonder what the CIA bookkeepers had "Sarah Walker" doing when she went out in the field? Did the CIA tell the GAO that Sarah Walker was on a vital project to count each blade of grass in Yellowstone National Park?). She allowed her thoughts to spiral. It kept her from thinking about the real reason why she was so nervous about the Secret Service assignment ending. Unfortunately, her spiraling had come to an end sooner than she would have liked, as the cause for the end of the spiral triggered a whole other set of nerves.

"Agent Walker, or could I just call you Sarah?" Ellie Woodcomb asked as she walked up behind the stationary agent. Man, I really let myself get lost there for a minute. I didn't even notice her approach. Sarah realized that Ellie was looking at her with a hopeful expression, clearly waiting for a response.

"Oh, uh, certainly. I think that I'd actually prefer it if you called me Sarah." As soon as she said it, Sarah realized that it was the unvarnished truth-something that seemed to come out a lot when the Bartowski siblings were around. Then Sarah saw something else that seemed to come out a lot when either (or both) sibling was around- the signature Bartowski smile that lit up their entire face and made the recipient feel incredibly special.

Chuck must have gotten it from his big sister. Sarah wondered if Devon had known that he was doomed the first time that Ellie unleashed the smile on him. The poor bastard never stood a chance. Sarah still remembered how hard she fell the first time Chuck smiled at her like that. How hard I fell? I fell…I fell…Holy crap, I'm not falling in love with Chuck Bartowski. I'm already in love with Chuck Bartowski. Three whole days and he's it.

Ellie was momentarily confused as Sarah's expression went from nervous (I wonder why she's nervous?) to hopeful to stunned all in a matter of seconds. "I was wondering if we could talk about what happens next?" Now it was Ellie's turn to look hesitant, even a bit nervous, as if she was a big sister who knew that she was about to overstep her bounds.

I'm in love. Focus on Ellie. Can't have her thinking that I'm some kind of nutcase. Yes. Focusing on Ellie is a good idea. Don't think about Chuck right now. Ellie's brother. Who I'm in love with. Oh, crap. I'm in love with Ellie's brother. Okay, thinking about Ellie isn't such a great idea either. Let's try answering her question…about what happens next…with her brother…I'm doomed.

"Ellie, you'll be glad to hear that the assassin was caught. Agent Butterfield is personally taking him to a maximum security facility. Chuck is safe." Okay, good start. Safe topic.

Ellie started to wave Sarah off before pausing. Then that Bartowski smile came out again. "Oh, I already knew about Cruz being caught. John already told me." Ellie paused, trying to get her grin under control, but not really succeeding. "But you, you just called him Chuck!"

"Should I not have?" Sarah went back to being confused. I thought the Cruz threat was supposed to be a safe topic? Why would I have called him anything but Chuck?

"No, no, no. It's fine. It's good. It's better than good," Ellie exclaimed while clapping her hands. "The other agents just refer to my brother as 'the protectee', 'the package', or that giant goober's personal favorite, his Secret Service call sign 'Orion'. I think that it's great that you call him Chuck. Which leads me back to what I wanted to talk to you about."

Ellie paused once again, unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on Sarah's nerves. "I wanted to talk with you about what happens next with you and Chuck. I have a feeling that you have feelings for my brother. And I know for a fact that he's already crazy about you."

Holy crap.

"Dr. Woodcomb, do you have a moment?"

"Of course. And John, please just call me Ellie. What can I help you with?"

Typical Bartowski response. First thought is to help others.

"Ma'am," followed by an intense glare, "er, Ellie, I heard you speaking with Agent Walker earlier."

"Were you spying on me?" Ellie asked with a good natured grin.

"NSA," Casey replied while pointing to his chest. "Occupational hazard. I spy on everyone."

Ellie and Casey made their way down a hallway located far from the crush of humanity exiting the Center through the main concourses. After the crowds and craziness of a national debate, the silence, while welcome, seemed out of place.

"As I was saying, I heard you talking with Agent Walker back there."

Ellie gave a noncommittal grunt (which Casey found rather impressive), trying not to give away any information until she had a better understanding of Casey's endgame.

"Fair enough," Casey continued undeterred, and not remotely offended by the noncommittal response. "I've known of Agent Walker's reputation for years now, although this is the first time that she and I have actually worked together. Given her age, I've known about her for too many years. She has a reputation for being one of the CIA's top agents."

"What she does," Casey paused, "what I do for that matter, isn't pretty. It isn't nice. We don't have family reunions where we sit around chatting about what we do for a living. People want safety, they want security, which requires us to have information. Too often people don't accept what we have to do in order to get them that information. We rationalize our activities as they are necessary for the greater good. Does your brother understand, do you for that matter, that she has had to do things for her job that would give you nightmares so bad that you wouldn't sleep at night?"

Seeing the fire in Ellie's eyes, Casey raised both hands in supplication. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not bashing Agent Walker. Pretty much anything she's had to do for her job, I've done as well- making googly eyes at a political candidate over a supposedly cover lunch notwithstanding." Ellie had to work to repress her grin at that little dig. "Folks who do what we do, not civilians or desk jockeys who think being in the field is the equivalent of starring in a James Bond movie-when you do what we do, it's hard to find a civilian who is capable of understanding and accepting that what we are called on to do is a necessary evil. Evil, but necessary. Typically, it makes for a lonely life for field agents. Most civilians can't, or just won't, find a way to understand and accept why we do what we do. It's even hard to form ties with fellow agents- we don't have the best life expectancies, plus it means that either party to the relationship might have to disappear on a moment's notice for days, weeks or even months at a time."

"I've watched Bartowski," another glare from Ellie resulted in Casey rolling his eyes, "your brother. I've watched your brother and Agent Walker. He might be the exception to the rule. But I've also watched you and your brother interact. Whoever is in his life is in your life, and vice versa. So you also have to ask yourself whether you are going to support your brother being involved with someone who is trained in over 200 ways to kill a fellow human being."

Ellie paused in the middle of the hallway, turning to face John Casey directly. "It's a fair question. A hard question, but a fair one. I consider myself a good judge of character. I may not know much, if anything, about Sarah Walker's background, but I do know this- she's a good person. She may have had to make some hard decisions and do some terrible things in her past, but that makes her all the more impressive for not giving into evil. Or, as my brother would put it, turning to the dark side. I've already trusted Sarah with my brother's life. I'm also willing to trust her with his heart."

"I know something else John. You looking out for a fellow agent, one you only met days ago, that proves that you are a good man too- well, Sarah's not a man, clearly, but you know what I mean."

"Don't go around gabbing about it," Casey growled, although the look on his face showed that Ellie's compliment meant a lot to him. "Now, at the risk of drowning in lady feelings around here, if your brother is interested in taking Walker somewhere away from all of this craziness so that those kids can sort out their ladyfeelings, there are some botanical gardens about half an hour from here. They've got one of the finest bonsai collections in the country. They've also got flowers and plants and crap for the rest of the world. Lots of space, good spot to have that talk they're going to need to have before the CIA comes calling for her."

A/N 2: I had tried to write Chuck speaking at the debate, but felt that it would have politicized the story. As noted in the story description (which I just realized was an incredible run-on sentence that defies the rules of grammar), I wanted this to be a nonpartisan story about the relationship between Chuck and Sarah. Originally, the idea was for the debate to take place early in the story. For a story with "Debate" in the title, it felt a little strange to have such a short chapter on the debate itself.

For the record, I always loved scenes when Ellie made Casey afraid.