A/N: Trying to get these out a lot faster than once every few weeks. It ain't easy, but I'm trying. Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy the rest of this skating rink mission that is very much not canon. -SC
Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck, we aren't making any money from writing this fic.
She was on her second listen-through of "Young Hearts Run Free" when her phone rang. Stopping the song, she grabbed her phone from the break room table and answered it.
"Yeah, Casey?"
"You clear?"
She smirked. "If the Wienerlicious break room is clear, then yeah."
Her partner grunted. "I've got an update on Powers, and you've got another date with that skating rink."
Frowning, she sat up a bit straighter. "What do you mean?"
"That is the meeting spot for Waters and Powers. But Powers doesn't just hand intel to Fulcrum through our bad ex-NSA MIA asshole. He's also been getting paid to run cover-ups for Arnold Bustamonte."
She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she asked anyway. "And who's Arnold Bustamonte?"
"Drug smuggling, money laundering, the usual criminal enterprise. He's got his own operation working out of the skating rink. You don't think a place like that can still run with just ticket sales and skate rentals and that shitty cotton candy machine they got in the food court, do ya?" Casey let out a snort. "Should'a known somethin' was fishy."
"So is Fulcrum working with Bustamonte's operation?"
"Well, Waters is Fulcrum. When he shows up, it's for Fulcrum business, but he only meets with Powers. So it's still unclear. But I was following our little feeb cockroach and he goes to that rink nearly every night. At least, he went last night, the night before, and the night before that was when Chuck flashed on him." She heard shuffling on the other side of the phone. "Beckman sent me a dossier on Bustamonte. He's been to prison three times for laundering, theft, drug possession… If we can get somethin' on him this time, connect him to Powers, and to Waters, maybe we can put his ass in prison for a lot longer this time."
"All right, so what's the plan?"
"You and Chuck go skating again tonight, except this time, Chuck's going to see if he flashes on any of the employees. We wanna know every last person at Straight Skate who's a part of the operation—whether they pop popcorn, DJ, or empty the trashcans."
"You realize that could mean he flashes dozens of times, right? Can a human brain handle that?" she asked, letting him hear the worry in her voice without realizing it. "I mean, is he gonna be okay? Do we know what that'll do to him?"
"Don't worry, Walker. His head isn't gonna explode. We need as much evidence as we can get to bring these assholes in. And from there, we can take out one of Fulcrum's biggest double agents."
She huffed and nodded. "All right. I'll bring Chuck back to the rink tonight."
"I'm comin' along this time. You might need some back-up. I'll wait in the van and listen in, but if everything goes to plan, we can make some arrests and this time tomorrow, we'll have Waters and Powers in separate rooms in an underground bunker. We'll make 'em spill the beans on Fulcrum." The snicker he let out made her roll her eyes. She was glad this guy was on her side.
}o{
"You want some popcorn?"
He watched as the corner of Sarah's mouth turned up. "I don't know if I want this place's popcorn."
"N-No, I mean, you can get whatever you want. But I thought it'll get me close so I can…" He pointed to his head. "Ya know."
She smiled a little harder. "I know. I was messing with you. Let's go."
Oh.
Sarah wasn't quite as loose as she'd been the other night when she came to pick him up. And instead of them getting into her car, they climbed into the van with Casey behind the wheel. He handed them ear pieces as he parked in the furthest corner of the lot, and then they left him behind to head inside. It set the tone for the night.
This didn't feel as free as the other night had. And Sarah was tense.
"You flash on anyone yet?" Casey's voice was in his ear suddenly.
"Nope," he chirped. "But I am suspicious of this kid sitting in the food court. He got four scoops of ice cream. Something's not right with that picture."
"Just focus," Casey growled. But he heard Sarah snort a little as they made their way to the counter.
The kid with the paper hat saw them and held up a finger as he finished filling the popcorn machine. As he walked over, Chuck leaned in a little and glared, trying to flash.
The kid just gulped. "Uh...h-hi. Can I get you...somethin'?" Chuck narrowed his eyes even more and the kid squirmed in discomfort. "We...we have a deal tonight. You get a, um, a box with popcorn, candy, and a slice of pizza for twelve bucks."
He felt Sarah nudge him and he shook himself a little. "Sweetie, I want M&Ms, remember?"
"Uh...Oh…Yeah." Chuck cleared his throat. "You look like someone I used to know…" He read the kid's name tag. "...Chad."
"Oh. Heh." The kid gulped again, then reached inside of the glass counter and grabbed some M&Ms.
Chuck paid for them and handed Sarah the bag. As they moved away, he put a hand on her upper back and leaned in close. "I didn't flash on him."
"Well, yeah, he's like...sixteen."
"Hey, all the best crime families start 'em young. Gotta train 'em early, get them integrated into the family, the clan motto, loyalty, and all that other stuff."
Sarah gave him a look. But she seemed to be used to him enough that she just shook her head and continued on. "You can't keep giving people weird looks like that, Chuck. You're gonna get someone sicking security on us and that won't help."
He shrugged a bit glumly. "I don't know how to make this thing go. Like, do I look at 'em really hard? Or is it something that just...happens? I still don't know."
Sarah nodded.
Something occurred to him then. "I have to wonder, does this mean none of these skating rinks can survive on skate rentals and soggy popcorn alone? Like, Roller Town down in Encino… Were they packing drugs into popcorn machines at that place? Are these all fronts for a criminal enterprise?"
"I highly doubt it, Chuck."
"Hey, numbnuts. I said focus. Stop running your mouth," Casey growled.
Chuck growled back. "I'm having a conversation with my girlfriend. You don't think it'd look a little weird if a couple was just walking around staring at people but not talking to each other? Come on."
Sarah raised her eyebrows and sent him a bit of a smirk. "He's got a point, Casey."
There was a grunt in his ear. "Yeah. He might. Fine."
"Guess you'll just hafta grin and bear it, huh, Case?"
Sarah was grinning as she tugged on Chuck's sleeve, mouthing, "Don't push your luck."
Luckily Casey didn't respond and he thought maybe he'd gotten away with one there. But Chuck was a bit unsettled by the way the silence felt suddenly, and he felt Sarah's fist tighten a bit in his sleeve as though she felt the same way.
"Casey?" she asked.
It was silent for another few seconds, and then he finally piped up again. "Message incoming from Beckman. Arnold Bustamonte has someplace where he prints counterfeit money. They've already raided a few of his warehouses. No printers. They think it's done in one of the back rooms here."
Chuck whistled under his breath. "Counterfeit money? Again? You'd think these guys could be a little more original."
Both Casey and Sarah ignored him.
"There are back rooms, then?" Sarah asked.
"Mhm. Should be. Behind the rink."
Chuck frowned. "How are we supposed to get back there?"
Sarah slid around in front of him, forcing him to stop, and she popped an M&M between her lips a bit cockily, smirking as she chewed. "Chuck, c'mon. Look who you're with."
As she spun on her heel and gestured with a flick of her head for him to follow after her, he couldn't help muttering, "I'm lookin'."
Sarah seemed to ignore it, if she heard it at all, but Chuck heard Casey's quiet, "Oh God".
They walked around the rink as if they were going to rent some skates, Sarah casually munching on her M&Ms, even offering him the bag. He reached in and took a few, putting them in his mouth and chewing. "Thanks."
And all the while, he knew she was working out their entry into the back rooms. If they got in and found the proof, Chuck assumed Casey and Beckman had troops or whatever at the ready to raid the place.
The only problem was that he hadn't spotted Powers or Waters yet. And he had to figure that this whole mission would be a bust if they didn't pick up the ex-NSA agent or the current FBI agent who were double dealing in serious criminal activities. And that also would mean that his idea during the briefing after his first flash the other night wouldn't be coming to fruition. They wouldn't have a Fulcrum agent to get intel out of.
He was going to bring that up when Sarah turned again and stopped him with a hand on his chest. But the hand started pushing then, and he found he was pressed up against the wall next to the skate rental window, the door to the back rooms a mere three feet away from them. And Sarah had her free arm slung around his neck just like that, her front pressed up against his. She tilted her head and grinned up at him flirtatiously, her fingers lightly playing with his hair. And then she moved up to brush his ear with her lips.
"Saw Waters. Behind us. He's going into the back. Play along." She lowered herself from her tip toes back onto her heels and giggled. He grinned and giggled back, unable to keep himself from taking a quick glance up where she'd indicated.
Jacob Waters and two men with insanely wide shoulders that were practically busting the blazers they wore made their way past the skate rental window and went straight into the back. Chuck turned his lips against her ear and wrapped an arm around Sarah to make it look like they were being an annoying PDA couple. "Doesn't look like the door is locked. They walked right in."
He pulled back, trying to control his heart rate, the second Waters disappeared through the door and it shut behind him.
Clearing his throat, he smoothed his hand down his shirt. "That—Good—Good thinking. Good to know that doesn't just work...in...um…" Sarah sent him a bit of a smile and gestured for him to follow again, heading for the door. "In the movies," he muttered to himself, letting out a harsh breath and following after her.
He supposed she didn't have an epic distraction plan, or a plan that meant stealing Straight Skate uniforms to sneak in. Since she literally just grabbed the door handle, opened it, and walked right in.
Chuck went after her, his heart rate picking up again, but for a completely different reason this time, and they found themselves in a long hallway that was empty, thankfully. Sarah took her phone out and took a few pictures. "Yeah, this place doesn't look like it's your average skating rink back here," she said.
"Nope. It's...a bit...Sopranos looking." Chuck cleared his throat.
"S'that mean?" Casey asked. "You in the back?"
"Mhm," Chuck said back. "Pretty sure all of these rooms lining the hallway are...ahem...private rooms."
"What are you goin' on about?" Casey asked.
Chuck was going to keep teasing him as Sarah grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hallway, but she interrupted. "Casey, this had to be a strip club."
"No fun," he muttered at her and she sent him a look.
"Oh, Jesus," the other man groused. "I'll try to scrounge up some details on the history of the building. God damn it."
Chuck bit his lip to keep from snickering, but he sobered quickly as Sarah started trying doors, peeking in, turning on lights, taking pictures, and then moving onto the next one.
"Hey!"
They both spun, Chuck's heart getting caught in his throat, and a very angry man walked down the hallway towards them. The second his eyes settled on the bald middle-aged man, the flash came over him. Sammy Morgan, one of the Morgan brothers, spent twenty years in state penitentiary for murder. Tied to Arnold Bustamonte, and...Chuck blinked a little and reared back as he tried to make heads or tails of the information.
But Sarah stepped up and smiled tentatively. "Oh. Hi, um...do you work here? Where are the bathrooms?"
"Sure as shit not back here, lady. Get the fuck back where you belong. You didn't see the sign that said employees only?"
"We...didn't pass third grade reading," Chuck joked. "Sorry, sir. We're, uh, we're…" But the second Sammy Morgan arrived in front of them and flicked his dark eyes at him, Sarah attacked like a damn viper, and the guy was leveled, unconscious on the ground. Chuck turned to blink up at Sarah again as she tossed another M&M in her mouth. "Holy shit."
"Let's do this quick," she muttered, shoving the candy back into her pocket and grabbing his arm, running down the hallway and dragging him with her.
"Hey...Hey, that guy is a murderer. I flashed on 'im. He might have connections to Fulcrum, too. I-I mean, the flash made me think that's the case."
"Good. Casey, you still there?"
"Yup. I've already got agents waiting to bust in the back door. Just give me the word and we'll come in."
"The word being, 'Hey, we found the printers?'" Chuck asked.
"Somethin' like that."
Sarah reached down and put her hand on the doorknob of the last door in the hallway, pressing her ear to the wood and putting a finger to her lips to shush him. A chill went through him as he heard the voices.
Was Waters meeting with Powers in there? Was Bustamonte in there with a bunch of armed criminal dudes? Was he about to be riddled with bullets?
Sarah put her arm around him and moved him to the side, out of the way of the door. And then she went to the back of her jeans and put her fingers against her gun there. She froze then, ducking in next to Chuck against the wall and letting out a nervous breath. "This is not gonna go well," she whispered. "Casey, you hear me?"
"Yep. You find the printers?"
"We aren't sure. We found a shut door, and I'm pretty sure they're in there, along with Waters, maybe even Powers and Bustamonte. But I don't know for sure and if I go in there, well…" Her eyes swept over to Chuck's and held fast. "Chuck's here, Casey. I can't go in there. You got any ideas?"
"We can just send in my guys and take the risk."
"It will fuck everything up if the printers aren't there. For all we know, nothing illegal is going on here tonight or they've cleared out the evidence already, having gotten word that the other warehouses were raided."
Chuck wracked his brain as Casey made a thoughtful grunt.
"Maybe just clear out, Walker. Wait for 'em to leave, then sneak in. They're bound to all be armed in there. Can't risk the Intersect."
Chuck glowered as Sarah looked up at the ceiling hopelessly and sighed. And that was when she turned to look at him. "Hey...nerd. You got any ideas?"
He didn't let himself dwell too long on the fact that she'd just looked him right in his face and asked him for input on the mission. Dangerous men were on the other side of that door, men with weapons, men who'd killed before if the unconscious guy down the hallway were any indication of the types of guys his friends were.
But he had an idea. Casey and Sarah both told him life wasn't like the movies he'd grown up watching. He wasn't James Bond. He wasn't Maxwell Smart. ...But he had a Maxwell Smart-esque idea. He could get shot about thirty-seven times...or...this could work…
She'd asked him if he had any ideas. She'd asked him because she thought he had something to offer here. More than just the super computer in his brain. So he let out a long breath and nodded. She raised her eyebrows. "Do you trust me? Because I'm gonna need you to trust me. And stay right here."
Sarah stared at him, her eyes hard.
"The hell are you up to, Bartowski?" Casey growled.
He ignored him and stared back at Sarah. "Trust me."
She looked like she was maybe afraid she'd regret this, if she lived long enough to… But she nodded. She nodded.
And in spite of not being particularly religious, he did the sign of the cross, turning back to the door and putting his hand on the doorknob. God, he was fucking insane. Batshit. Insane.
He opened the door and stepped inside, and immediately found at least six guns pointed at him. He held his hands up by his head, a habit he'd only recently gotten into when having guns pointed at him, and then he gestured out the door behind him. "Guys! Sammy's down! I was just comin' back from takin' a wiz, an' he's out there on the ground in the hallway!" he said, affecting a Cagney accent.
Powers and Waters were the closest to him. They turned and exchanged confused looks. Then Waters spoke up. "What d'you mean, he's down?"
"Someone got 'im! That's what I mean!"
"Who got him?" Waters demanded.
"How the hell would I know?" Chuck snapped. "Somebody did! Go look!"
Everyone seemed to pause, and then Bustamonte nodded his head to two of his guys, and they wordlessly followed orders, opening the door a bit wider to head out there. Chuck hoped Sarah was prepped for company, but he couldn't look to see.
"Better question. Who the hell are you? Who's he with?" Bustamonte asked, looking at Waters and Powers.
"Excuse me, I'm a little offended, who the hell am I… You don't recognize the third Morgan brother?" he asked, pronouncing 'third' like 'thoid'. He pushed his arms out in a bit of a Fonzie shrug. "Cahm ahn. Sammy, and Danny...and I'm Manny! Caaahm ahhhhn!"
As he turned his gaze onto Bustamonte again, he spotted a tattoo on his hand that held the gun, between his thumb and his pointer finger, right under the barrel of the pistol. It triggered the Intersect immediately. "Mr. B, those printers behind you came from Russian emissaries," he said a little loudly, hoping Casey was still hearing him. "Remember? My brothers told you they were bringing me on, right?"
"Nobody told us shit, pipsqueak," Powers said. "I don't trust this guy. I shouldn't be seen here. I've still got my job at the Bureau."
Chuck flashed on him as he stepped forward, his badge under his jacket being revealed for just a split second...it was enough to catch the attention of the Intersect. "You think I'd know about the hit job you and Danny pulled a month ago if I wasn't Manny Morgan?"
Powers stilled. Why in the hell was it taking so long for Casey's agents to arrive?
"Kill 'im!" Bustamonte exclaimed.
"No, don't kill me! Don't shoot!"
"Who the hell is this guy?"
"He says he's a Morgan brother!"
"Why the hell aren't Vega and Jeppson back yet?"
"Fine, if you aren't gonna kill him…" Bustamonte shoved one of his men out of the way and lifted the gun, but then there was a loud slam out in the hallway, and the room was rushed by uniformed agents who fanned out behind him, barking orders for everyone to drop their weapons and get down on the ground.
Chuck felt hands on his back and he was forced to the floor, his arms twisted behind his back.
"No, no! No, no, no! I've got this one!" Sarah was there suddenly, pushing the armed agent off of Chuck. He expected her to help him up, but instead, he felt cold metal around his wrists. "He's dangerous! This one belongs to the CIA," she snapped, flashing her badge, and then she tugged him up to his feet with a grunt.
"The hell you think you're doing? I'm with the FBI. You're interrupting a—a sting operation!" Powers tried. But he was ignored, yanked to his feet and shoved out of the room along with the others.
Sarah held onto Chuck's hands with a hard grip of her fingers, her other hand clamping down on his shoulder. "Manny Morgan, you're coming with me. We've got some things to talk about."
He sent her a look over his shoulder, his brow furrowed, and she widened her eyes.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, guiding him out of the room.
"Y-Yeah. I'm okay. That was so crazy!" Chuck hissed, letting out a laugh in disbelief. "I can't believe that worked!"
"Uh…" Sarah let out a huff. "Me, neither." Breathless, she grinned at him and patted his shoulder. "Come on. I think the NSA's got this situation in hand. Let's get out of here."
"Um." He gulped hard. "Maybe somewhere with alcohol? Smelling salts?" He swayed a little as the reality of how easily he could've been gunned down actually hit him, the adrenaline gone. But Sarah was there to hold him up.
She let out a soft chuckle and guided him out of the room. "You've earned the biggest drink there is. Casey's paying."
"I am not!" he barked as they walked past him towards the back door. He followed after them with an offended look, his hand on Chuck's other shoulder. "That was batshit crazy. Ain't no way I'm rewarding him for that. You could'a gotten yourself dead, you moron."
But Chuck saw the impressed look of respect on his face anyway as he finally led them through the parking lot to the van. Agents were clearing the skating rink, sending people to their cars.
"Maybe, um, maybe we don't let Beckman in on this little stunt though, eh?" Casey said then as they got on the other side of the van and Sarah uncuffed "Manny Morgan".
"Agreed," both Sarah and Chuck said, at the same time. They exchanged a look and he saw not just amusement there on her stunning face, but an even more impressed look than the hint he'd gotten from Casey. And maybe some awe—was it awe that he'd thought of it, or awe that he'd done something that insane and survived, awe that it actually worked?
It didn't matter. It was awe. And hopefully she felt like she'd been rewarded for trusting him.
As much as his fingers and toes were tingling in a really bad way, he felt pretty good about the way this mission had gone.
}o{
The debriefing went longer than Sarah'd expected it would, with Beckman asking more questions than she usually did, that slightly narrow-eyed look of hers that said something just wasn't adding up in her mind.
But Casey handled it like a pro, which made her think he'd had a lot of practice hiding things from the General over the years. And General Beckman'd probably had a lot of practice plugging her ears, covering her eyes, and pretending she wasn't noticing something was amiss. It spoke of a level of trust there between them, an unspoken trust that was sturdy and steadfast...and Agent Walker felt an unmistakable sting of envy in her. There never had been anything like that with her and the director. There never would be.
"One last thing before we sign off…" the General was saying. "How did you know those printers were in there when you ordered your men inside? Because I know you'd never take that sort of chance if you weren't sure you'd find the printers." She gave him a bit of a flat look over her glasses, lowering her chin.
"No, General. Of course not. We had eyes on the printers. It's why I led them into the building."
"Had eyes h—You know what?" The General swept her gaze back and forth between the three of them, and while she and Casey probably had their usual professional masks on, Chuck probably had his 'Nothing's wrong here, we're not hiding anything' look that very clearly did the opposite of what it was supposed to do. "I'm just going to leave it there. I don't want to know. Good work, everyone. We'll be in touch."
"Thank you, General," they all chimed, and then the screen went blank.
Chuck let out a harsh breath and chuckled in relief. "I thought she was gonna ask. I really did." But then he paused and shivered a bit, shaking his head. "Man, that place was a trash heap once you moved past the groovy disco music. Like, no wonder the lights were turned down all low. I bet in the daytime, it's pretty clear it used to be a second rate strip club."
"You ever see a first rate strip club?" Casey shot back.
"I mean, it was clearly seedy. Like really gross…"
Both she and Chuck turned to give Casey a slow amused look and he grunted in annoyance. They just kept staring at him. And he finally snapped. "I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WHEN I PICKED IT OUT FOR YOUR LITTLE SKATE DATE! COME ON!"
She almost laughed, but then something he said got caught in her brain. She narrowed her eyes, then stepped out in front of both of them, slowly turning to face them. Chuck had that face again. Casey just crossed his arms.
"Skate...date?"
Chuck cleared his throat. "You know, the mission."
She pointed at him. "Don't even try it, Bartowski." His eyes widened and he pressed his lips together. "When you say you picked it out for our skate date, Casey…"
Neither of them said anything. It wasn't hard to put it together, though, just based on the look on Chuck's face, and the fact that she knew him well enough by now after the last few months to know exactly how he operated. She didn't put it past him to set something like this up with Casey, especially after Casey's mean teasing when the secret service agent requested their help.
And she realized now that it wasn't a coincidence that Casey had a tip that brought her and Chuck to a skating rink right after she'd talked about skating with the little girl in the hospital. God damn it, Chuck Bartowski.
"Wow. Really?" she asked, eyeing both of them. And then something else struck her. "Wait a minute. Wait. Wait, are you telling me you guys just happened to pick out a skating rink to take me to that was a front for a big time criminal organization and had Fulcrum intel exchanges taking place in the back rooms?" Neither of them answered. "Oh my God. ARE YOU SERIOUS? You accidentally picked this skating rink out of the dozen or so skating rinks around here?"
Casey shrugged. "...Uh yep."
"That's about it, yeah," Chuck mumbled.
"S'the first one in the phonebook."
Chuck did a double take. "You're the only person I know who still uses a phonebook."
"They're helpful," he growled back.
Chuck made a doubtful sound. "Are they still? Or did that kinda fade out in, like, the nineties?"
"I can still kill you with a phonebook. In twelve different ways."
"Only twelve? Huh."
"OKAY, STOP IT!" Sarah snapped, getting tired of looking back and forth between them as they bantered. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is ridiculous. You both realize how stupid this was, right?"
"We ended up getting a Fulcrum double agent, well...ex-double agent…"
"And the crooked FBI guy. Also stopped an illegal counterfeit operation."
"All counterfeit operations are illegal, moron," Casey growled.
"W—Oh. That's true."
"You wanted to take me on a date to a skating rink, Chuck, and you made Casey help you by faking intel so that we'd have a reason to go there. That's so insanely unprofessional! I'm shocked at both of you!" And she didn't know why there was a stupid pool of warmth deep in her chest even as she stared at them in complete and utter disbelief that they'd seriously pull shit like this.
"Casey, come on! You know better. I'd expect a stunt like this from Chuck because he's a civilian and still obviously doesn't understand how serious all of this is…"
"Hey, I'm standing right here…" Chuck tried and she bulldozed through him.
"But you shouldn't be encouraging this. What if something had happened to him? To any of us? All because Chuck wanted to take me on a date! God, if Beckman knew...if any of our superiors knew about this…"
"They don't know," Casey said with a shrug. "And they ain't gonna know. It worked out. And anyway, as much as I tease about it, the kid was just doin' somethin' nice for ya. No ulterior motive."
Chuck was smart enough not to tack anything onto that. And as mad as she was, she felt it almost fading. Almost. It was mostly just frustration. They'd played games around her, and yeah, that pricked at her pride, but she didn't like that she'd thought this was a legitimate mission the whole time and it was just a ruse to get her to the rink. She knew why they'd lied to her. If they let her in on it, she wouldn't have done it. And in spite of Chuck's flash towards the end of the night, she'd...genuinely had the most fun than she'd had in what felt like ages. She'd felt the chains fall away for a few hours.
She felt cared about. And not just by Chuck. Damn it, her insides were melting.
"Well, we're all lucky no one died. Especially you, Chuck, with that insane move you pulled back there."
"It was insane and stupid, but...a little impressive."
Chuck sent Casey a big, surprised grin and got a nonchalant shrug back.
Casey really had to quit encouraging—Oh hell, they were both encouraging him, weren't they? And maybe it was something they'd have to tackle, something that could get them into a lot of trouble if they didn't nip it in the bud… But this was all just crazy, how it had all worked out, the puzzle pieces fitting together, and now they'd given the CIA and NSA a big Fulcrum player.
Sarah shook her head and waved her hand at them. "I have an early morning tomorrow. I'm going to bed."
"Are we in trouble?" Chuck asked as she walked towards the door. She sent him a look over her shoulder and he winced. "We're in trouble. I think that was pretty clear," he muttered to Casey.
She'd gotten to the gate leading out of the courtyard, filled with a conflicting confusion of emotions, when she heard him call her name quietly. She'd known he would follow her, hadn't she? He couldn't let things lie. She imagined he'd be up all night worried and stressed if he thought she was angry with him, and so he'd follow her to smooth things over to the best of his ability.
The bad thing was that she wasn't sure if she wanted to let him smooth things over or not. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be mad, or if she should be mad. She wasn't sure if she was being a terrible agent and unprofessional by being...well, heart warmed by the gesture in spite of the insane situation that had come from it.
And now she'd have to figure it out. Quick.
She turned to face him as he joined her outside of the gate on the sidewalk that led to her car. She lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips, pulling them to the side. "Walk me to my car?" she asked.
Chuck turned to look over his shoulder back into the courtyard, and then he spun back to meet her gaze again. "Sure. Yeah. Of course."
And they strolled slowly, shoulder to shoulder. Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets, staring down at the sidewalk. "I know what Casey and I concocted was dumb, and not cool, hiding it all from you, going behind your back. But I-I wanted you to have a night—just one night—where you didn't have to be the steely-spined CIA agent for once. I mean, where you could just be yourself and have fun. Not that you aren't usually yourself. I'm not saying that. But you're penned in by your job one hundred percent of the time, always on call, always alert, always looking over your shoulder. Most people...you know, they go to work, come home, and they can unwind, separate themselves from that headspace. You are always having to be on, constantly, all the time. So I sorta...I roped Casey in. The ploy to get us there was Casey's idea, and he did pick the rink that was formerly a crappy strip club, so that one is on him. But I take responsibility for the whole of it. I think he felt like he owed me for...you know." He scratched behind his ear, looking a bit remorseful. "But the thing is...I feel bad that we went behind your back and lied about why we went that first night. But I don't regret it at the same time, 'cause I feel like you needed that. You kept talkin' about how free you felt skating. And I was watching you…you just looked, I dunno, unbridled." He winced.
Sarah sighed heavily, unable to ignore the way her heart beat so hard that her whole body seemed to be thrumming with it. "You can't do this, Chuck. You can't set up fake ops just to take me out on a date. It's not ethical, first of all, but also...God, it's just not safe. Okay? As much as…" She shouldn't say this. She was going to, but she shouldn't. "As much as you're right. I did need it. I'm not sure I deserved it, but I needed it. And it did feel really good. In spite of the air in there being filled with stale popcorn and hotdog smell, I felt like I could really breathe for the first time in a while."
A small smile tilted his mouth. "Did you?"
"Yeah. So...while I'd prefer you never do something like this again…" They arrived at her car and she grabbed his arm, facing him and pulling him to face her. "Thank you. You're absolutely insane. But thank you. Please never, ever do something this risky for me again."
He held a hand up by his shoulder as if pledging to her. "I promise I won't. But...you're welcome." He lowered his hand. "And for the record, what Casey said in there was right. I wasn't trying to take a beautiful woman out on a date without her knowing that was what was happening. I was trying to give you—my friend, someone I care about—a night of freedom from her job. All of your jobs that come with the job. For once, it had nothing to do with…" He cleared his throat. "Well, us." She gave him a bit of a look and he wrinkled his nose, narrowing his eyes guiltily. "Okay, maybe a tiny...teeny tiny bit. But mostly it was just for you."
She surprised herself (and him most likely) by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Shutting her eyes, she felt his hands slowly come up to rest on the small of her back, and just like that, his arms slid around her torso and he hugged her back, squeezing her in a way that made her feel...oh hell, it made her feel so safe. She could at least admit it to herself silently.
"You're an incredible friend, Chuck. I hope you know that. Reckless and sometimes...downright rash. But you're such an incredible friend." She squeezed him harder, letting herself get a little lost in it for a few seconds, and then she slowly pulled back, sending him a small smile and fixing the collar of his jacket.
"I do what I can," he said, smiling warmly. His hands fell away from her waist and hung at his sides, before he stuffed them back in his pockets. "Drive safe."
She paused at the driver's side of her Porsche and sent him a bit of a searching look. "I just want to drive home the point of this talk. Don't do something like that ever again. You heard that part, right?"
He held both hands up. "Yes. Loud and clear. I'm also a really good friend and you had the best night ever and you're super grateful. But also...never do it again."
Chuckling, her shoulders bouncing a little, she sent him a faux glare and got into her car, revving the engine and pulling away. She kept her eyes on him standing there on the sidewalk in her rearview mirror, smiling to herself. In spite of everything, she was smiling to herself.
A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters because I got to type Caaahhhm aahhhhhnnnn a whole bunch. It really doesn't take much; I'm easy to please. -SC
Please review! Thanks!
-SC and DC
