A/N: Hi. DC here. For those of you that don't know, IF the Red Mafiya did exist, and I'm not saying they do (gotta protect those knee caps) they are bad dudes and dudettes. Really bad. Super bad. I need you guys to understand that to understand how messed up Casey is right now. To let her off. To let this bunch walk. Casey is in a BAD place, and I don't think that was pointed out enough in the show. Yeah, I have this weird fascination with the mob, if it existed….SC...SC….gimme back the keyboard!
...What keyboard? -SC
Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck and make NOTHING off of this. Nada. Zip.
Sarah had spent most of her "day off" researching Ilsa Trinchina, trying to find anything about her, or perhaps connect her to some other identity. It wasn't that she wanted to make this harder for Casey. She thought she'd be making it easier, maybe. If she could really solidify a case against Ilsa, come up with evidence that they could arrest her with, it would perhaps provide Casey with some closure.
Maybe she was completely off-base, but she was trying, at least. And she was trying to keep their superiors out of it at the same time.
She was on her way back from running an errand in between spells of fruitless web searches when Chuck texted her about Ilsa showing up at the Buy More. She pulled a quick U-turn and headed straight for the apartment complex. She needed to talk to him and get details about what had happened.
The short texting session ended with Chuck informing her of Casey letting Ilsa walk out of there scot-free, which was something of a relief, if she was honest. It meant he hadn't let himself lose control of his emotions, he hadn't arrested her with no evidence. That would lead to way bigger problems for all of them.
And it meant...as Chuck would say...they would live to fight another day. Like maybe stopping that wedding tonight to keep Ilsa from getting what she wanted. They'd go from there. Which was the last thing she wanted to go into a mission thinking. Go from there? Shit, they needed a plan.
She needed to see Chuck first, though, and get more details on Ilsa's appearance today. What had they talked about? How had Casey seemed?
So she rushed into the courtyard and went straight for his front door, knocking.
The door swept open and she saw Ellie standing there in a robe, holding a giant glass of red wine. "Sarah!" she breathed in pleasant surprise.
Relief spilled through the brunette's pretty features and Sarah took her in. Uh oh… Her hair looked like she'd run her hands through it countless times, her cheeks red, eyes a little puffy...and that probably wasn't her first glass of wine.
"Hi," she chirped, smiling.
"Hi, I'm so glad you're here!" Ellie gasped, grinning. She reached for her like she was a lifesaver and she was drowning in an icy sea, and she dragged her into the apartment.
"Oh! Oh, good…I'm—Me, uh, too." Sarah stared at Ellie, wide-eyed, as the woman spun to face her and put her hand on her shoulder.
"Um. I'm having a little...wine. A little wine. Want some?" she asked, her voice far too cheery for whatever was going on here. Sarah was nervous. No, actually she was scared. Downright scared. She had never seen Ellie like this. Had somebody poisoned her again? No, Sarah knew beyond all doubt that Ellie was self-medicating with the wine. What had happened?
"Uh...I'm actually fine, but you go ahead."
"Okay!" Ellie exclaimed, rushing towards the bottle she'd apparently seen fit to put right next to where she'd no doubt been sitting on the couch. She poured it and then practically guzzled it. Self-medicating indeed.
"Um, is Chuck here?" Sarah asked then. She needed to get away from this situation. It was making her feel way out of her depth. She needed Chuck. Chuck would be able to handle this, right?
Ellie glided back to her, the glass full again. Out of nowhere, she wrapped her arm around Sarah and went for a big hug, holding her wine away from the younger woman, thank God. Sarah tentatively hugged Ellie back, breaking out in a cold sweat. "Nope. No, Chuck isn't here. No, it's, um…" Ellie pulled back and gave her a very fake smile with a lot underneath it. "Nope, it's just...me tonight, um...all-all by myself." She gave another fake cheerful beaming grin and shrugged. "Alllll by myself in this big ol'...apartment. Alone."
What could she really say except… "Oh."
She stared at Ellie, lowering her chin. The way she'd said that, emphasizing the alone part, made her think Awesome had something to do with this. Had he done something...not awesome? Oh God, she needed to get out. She was way out of her depth. Where in the hell was Chuck? God, she didn't know how to handle situations like this.
She supposed the first thing she could do, since she cared about this woman, was to ask, "Um. Are you...okay?"
She braced herself for Ellie's answer. What she got was a thin-lipped, insincere smile, the brunette's green eyes quivering, lined with tears. None of them fell as she nodded a bit manically. "Mhm!"
Oh, boy. Her voice shook in just those two short syllables. She was not okay. But she said she was okay, and was that enough for Sarah to take her at her word and just get the hell out of there? Yep!
She stopped herself then as she took in the incredibly brittle state of the other woman. She was fighting so valiantly to keep her chin from quivering, the tears from falling. And her knuckles were white as she clung to the glass of wine like it was the only thing keeping her standing.
Sarah liked Ellie more than she'd ever meant to, and as terrifying as this whole situation was, as awkward as the next few minutes might feel for her, this was what people did for friends. Wasn't it?
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm just making sure, because in spite of you saying you're fine, you seem...not fine."
"No, I'm...okay. Fine." Sarah shut her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again and fixing Ellie with a stare that said very clearly you are not fine. "Look, these things happen," she said to Sarah's look. "They happen in all relationships. I've got my wine. And my job. And I'm handling it."
"Okay." Sarah nodded. "Well...good. But I'm...here. So—"
The floodgates opened so suddenly, the CIA agent really wasn't prepared. At all. And she almost jumped at the sudden sound of Ellie's voice erupting from her.
"It's just that I have both feet in and Devon only has one foot in, so then it's just me taking care of three feet and I want it to be us, you know? Taking care of four feet. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Sarah nodded through the whole thing, eyes wide. "Completely," she said, absolutely and totally confused.
What in the ever-loving hell was she talking about? Was this a thing that happened in all relationships? Was she trying to say she was all in and Awesome was only half in? Sarah thought they were pretty serious, but was Awesome less serious than Ellie was? Was that what that meant?
"Of course you do," Ellie breathed in relief, giving her a genuine, grateful smile. And she hugged her again. Sarah hugged back, squeezing a bit because it was obvious Ellie really needed it. "Of course you do. You're Sarah." When she pulled back, she looked a little better. But then she let out a soft squeak, like she was holding in a sob, and she nodded. "I'm gonna go get us some more wine."
Sarah blinked as the other woman rushed off. "O-Okay." But then she paused, hovering awkwardly halfway between the door and the couch where Ellie was already finished with that bottle. "Hey, did you...drink that whole bottle?"
"Mhm! Yep!" Ellie chirped. "And now I'm gonna open another one."
"Do you...think that's the best idea?"
"Yes. I really do." She opened the bottle and began pouring.
"Oh. All...right." Would Chuck be mad at her if she let his sister get alcohol poisoning? What was Ellie's tolerance like, she wondered? And what in the hell had happened to make her think Awesome had...less...feet...or whatever? "Ellie, maybe—Why don't you just sit on the couch and...um, I guess, why don't we talk?"
"That's all I do. It's all I do in this relationship. Not ours," she amended, gesturing between them a bit sloppily with the hand holding the wine. Sarah winced, seeing how close the other woman was to sloshing wine onto their nice floor. Future sober Ellie would be very mad about that. So she went and gracefully plucked the glass from Ellie's fingers. Ellie didn't even seem to notice really, already a little lost to the world in a lot of ways. "I mean, mine and Devon's. I do all the talking. I start all the discussions. He just does things. Stupid, stupid things. And then I have to sit us down to talk. Why do I have to always be the one to explain? Why can't he ever just figure shit out on his own? Is he that...clueless?"
Sarah winced and helped Ellie sit back on the couch, reaching over to set the wine glass on the table. But the moment she did that, Ellie leaned forward to snatch it, bringing it to her lips to take a few long drinks, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her other hand. "I think sometimes men really are...that...clueless. And I'm not even sure what you're talking about, but maybe—" Maybe she shouldn't take Awesome's side in this, just in case. She changed tack. "Let's just go with men are clueless. Especially the straight ones, probably, but I dunno, maybe some of the non-straight ones too." She shrugged.
"Why? It makes this so much harder. Like, like with you and Chuck."
Oh, fuck.
"What, um, what about...me and Chuck?" Sarah asked, not wanting to go into this at all. What was she going to have to explain to Chuck after this so they were on the same page and could keep up the cover? And how damn awkward was that conversation going to be?
"Does he pay attention to you? To what you're saying? Does he get you? I mean really get you?"
Sarah pushed out of her mind the complicated feelings that went with her answer and just...told Ellie the truth. Some truth. Because...well, she wanted to. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, we're a totally different ballgame than you and Awes—Devon," she said emphatically, but luckily Ellie didn't catch the slip. She was hunched forward a little, a permanent pout on her face. "Chuck and I have been together for, um, like two-ish months, you know? And you and Devon have years. But...Chuck is...a good boyfriend. I mean, he really has been. For two months. I guess. I'm not...all that...experienced at legitimate relationships."
Shit, had she really just admitted that? It wasn't like she'd just revealed something that would hurt the cover. But it was the truth. And that felt so strange. Maybe Ellie would black out and wake up tomorrow with no knowledge of this conversation. But then it felt sort of good just...saying things to this other woman and knowing there wouldn't be any judgment. "He's...really good to me."
Ellie took her hand then and squeezed. Sarah tried to ignore how clammy and cold they were. "Good. Good, I'm glad. But…" She sniffed. "Does he listen?"
Sarah nodded. "Yeah. He does. He isn't...perfect. But that's the thing, Ellie. No-Nobody is."
"Well, he should try harder to be more perfect," Ellie groused, and then she gestured with her hand between them. "You deserve perfection. We both do."
That made her giggle a little. How convinced Drunk Ellie was that Sarah deserved a good guy, let alone a guy like Chuck warmed her to no end. But it also made her feel like curling into a ball and crying.
"Unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen. And Devon is a really good guy. Really good."
"Yeah. But he's also a fucking idiot." Sarah snorted. But then Ellie huffed and shook her head. "He isn't really that bad. It's more that we don't...we aren't meeting in the middle. I'm serious. I'm ready for intimacy and he's just...not." Sarah's eyes widened and Ellie sniffed in amusement. "I didn't mean that kind of intimacy. How am I supposed to build my life with a big manchild?"
"I...er, I don't know."
"I shouldn't be bringing you and Chuck into it. I'm sorry. Your relationship is very new and the whole seriousness question is...not...on the table yet." But then she eyed her steadily. "Is it?"
"Uh...no?"
Ellie let go of her hand to pour more wine, which made it so Sarah could start twisting her hands together in her lap.
"A washer and dryer. For our anniversary. I mean, it isn't even that, it's...the fact that he thinks getting something only he wants for our anniversary is okay, like I'd be good with that. Everything is always his way and he's totally clueless. He doesn't...he doesn't listen to me."
Sarah just let her go, nodding, wondering if maybe she should have some wine at this point, and then Ellie swerved again.
"Does Chuck ever do the things you wanna do? You two spend so much time together, but is it only his stuff?" Ellie scoffed at herself then. "There I go again. I'm sorry. It's not my business."
"No, it-it's...okay? I just...like I said, it's still kind of new? We, um…" She thought back to the skating rink, and the countless "dates" that were actual missions, missions that put Chuck's life at risk, when she knew he'd rather be in a movie theater with popcorn or playing video games in her apartment. She shrugged, a bit unsure of how to answer. "It's pretty equal."
It wasn't, though. Besides that gaming night, he bent over backwards for her—for all of them. He didn't have much of a choice. They didn't give him one.
"Why are men so difficult?" Ellie groaned, letting her head fall back. Oh. Right. So they'd moved on from that then. Had Ellie even heard what she said? She didn't know.
"I...don't...um, know." Her phone started buzzing and she made a desperate grab for it, pulling it out and looking at the screen. Thank God. "Just a sec, Ellie, it's your brother."
"Tell him men are horrible and he needs to do something about it."
Sarah winced and answered. "Hey."
"Oh! Oh! My God hey! Hey hey!" He was out of breath, frantic. Oh, shit, what happened?
"What's going on, Chuck?" she asked, moving away from the couch and pacing.
"Hey! I...did something stupid. I definitely did something stupid. But it's done. It's done now and…"
"What did you do?" she asked. Nothing good. She knew nothing good.
"Um."
"Chuck? Just tell me."
"I persuaded Casey to go to the wedding, to stop the wedding, to stop Ilsa and Federov." She heard Casey on the other end of the line, grumbling "This way!" Which meant they were already at the hotel. Oh, this was bad. She had to go now.
"Why'd you do that? We were gonna wait until…" She looked over her shoulder at Ellie to see she wasn't paying attention. "We had a plan."
"He was so sad and not himself."
"Perfect time for you to send him into the lion's den...and follow after him," she hissed.
"I got caught up in my Casablanca analogy! I'm sorry, okay?!"
What? She shook her head. "Okay, just—Uh…" Ellie was looking at her now, expectantly. "I'll see you soon." She hung up the phone and smiled apologetically at Chuck's sister. "Uh, Ellie, I hate to do this to you..."
"No, nononono. No. We're gonna...we're gonna talk more about Chuck. About you and Chuck. After this whole thing with Devon, I'm just—I want to make sure that you-that you make sure you're both on the same track, you know? We have a lot to talk about, I can't be alone right now…"
Sarah let out a breath and shook her head. "You know what? We can talk about this as soon as I get back, okay?" Please God no. Please, please, please no.
She whipped open the door, jumping a little as she found Morgan standing there, a curious look on his face.
"DEVON?!" Ellie called out, sounding very desperate. God, she really didn't want to leave the poor woman alone right now.
"I was just lookin' for, uh…" Morgan peeked around Sarah and walked right in. "Oh, hey, what's goin' on here, ladies? Little girl's night? Why's Ellie the only one with a glass? Did she finish that whole bottle?"
"Mhm," Sarah chirped. "Before I even got here."
"Sarah, please...please, I can't...please don't leave tonight. Devon isn't here and I don't know…"
Sarah watched as she sat back, starting to cry a little, pushing her hands through her hair. She grabbed Morgan, turning him so his back was to Ellie and giving him a pleading look. "Morgan, Ellie is a little upset…" She secretly mimicked raising a glass and his eyes widened before he winced in understanding. "So if you could just...please take care of her."
"Absolutely you got it I'm your man," he rushed out quickly, standing a bit taller.
"Okay. Thank you. Thank you," she said, squeezing his arms.
"Ellie, I'll talk to you soon!" Ellie just pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead and started crying.
It tore Sarah apart to back out of there at the sight of this woman who'd befriended her so readily suffering this badly. But she thought Ellie would feel a lot worse if her brother went and got himself killed by a Russian crime boss. She would have to apologize big time later.
To Chuck, too. Considering she really wasn't sure if she'd dug them into a deeper hole with that conversation.
}o{
Chuck had been working all day on something away from all the prying eyes of the Buy More employees. Last night had bugged him. There was no way the John Casey he knew was going to let Ilsa get away with this. The problem was, this current John Casey wasn't the John Casey he knew. It made no sense that they had nothing on which to arrest these Russians... and then it hit him. The Intersect pulled all sorts of info from multiple US databanks and his brain was used to process that information….at least that's how he understood it. What about other countries' databanks? What information did they have? He was the one person with the ability to figure it out and access said information.
He found a spot in the cage, guaranteeing him little to no interruptions from his coworkers, erased all the video footage of what he was doing, and logged in under Lester's username just in case. He knew that was wrong, but after what Lester had done to Sarah…
Chuck rolled his head, feeling his neck pop in a few places. He really needed to get his feelings under control. He began to search databases, taking copious notes of everything he flashed on. He was getting a headache but he was getting enough info from allies to be able to provide them with hard evidence.
As he'd been working, he'd spotted Ilsa entering the store on the video surveillance system, rushing to intercept her before leading her to Casey.
And after he returned, he started compiling everything. He was stunned at how many countries had evidence on Ilsa and her soon-to-be husband, but without the proper context had no way to match the evidence to the crime. He made notes and in no time he had info on both sides of the wedding party and evidence of over forty major crimes. It was insane.
Ilsa left and Casey followed suit soon after.
Chuck texted Sarah to tell her what was up, but he realized he had to fill Casey in on everything. He rushed home...well, as fast as the Herder would go...pulled up to the curb, and saw Sarah's car. Ellie. She was still fighting with Awesome, which meant Sarah had probably gotten roped into his sister's relationship troubles.
He didn't need to be a part of that. Or did he? Would they talk about him? He shuddered, but he was on a mission and he headed toward Casey's. He nearly knocked on the door, then realized Casey was probably not in a great state, and perhaps wouldn't be capable of opening the door on his own. Chuck took the risk, opening the door to see Casey sitting there in his recliner...in nothing but his boxers.
"A lot of Scotch and a little Neil," Chuck said to him as he walked in and stood over him. "Everything okay, buddy?"
"Just enjoying myself a little R & R," Casey explained. "Needed something to help me forget...preferably this entire mission."
"Mm-hmm," Chuck replied, not believing him.
"Want a drink?" Casey offered.
"No, no. Thanks, though, I really appreciate it," Chuck said. He walked around the chair and sat on a crate instead of the couch, thinking he might have to poke his eyes out if Casey spread his legs at all while wearing those boxers. "No, just, uh, just thought I'd check in on you, you know, what with Ilsa getting married in an hour and…"
"Thanks for reminding me," Casey said, pointing to him. "Here's to John Casey dodging another bullet." He raised his glass for a toast. "It's not like I want the wife and kids and the Little League practice and the minivan and the Costco runs on the weekend."
"Yeah, really, you don't? 'Cause I—It, it seems to me that you'd kind of be into the whole American Dream."
"Nah," Casey replied, setting down the bottle. "I do what I do... so all those other slobs out there can have it." He looked up at Chuck. "Like you…and Walker."
"Pretty sure Sarah isn't into that whole thing," Chuck replied. Casey stared at him. "What?"
"You really are a dumbass," he said and took a drink. "Give her time, Bartowski."
Chuck needed to change the subject. "What, uh, what would you say your dream is?"
"You're looking at it." He picked up a hot pocket and bit into it. He chewed for a minute. "Besides, Chuck, it's not like Ilsa left me empty-handed. She reminded me that I fell for a bad person, and I let her go free."
"About that," Chuck began.
"Chuck, we have nothing on her," Casey said, getting up and stumbling a bit. "Do you think I would've let her walk out of the Buy More if we did?" He turned to Chuck and pointed to him. "I should've put a bug on her." His eyes focused on the paper in Chuck's hand. "Wha's that?"
"The evidence we need from ally countries to put both of them away forever," Chuck replied, handing Casey the info.
He looked at it and then back to Chuck. "You got this by flashing?"
Chuck made a face and shook his head. "Found the info through hacking—I know, I know," he said, raising his hands defensively. "No one caught me."
Casey stared at him and then back to the paper. "Bartowski, this is good work. This is good spy work." He was quiet for a second. "When this is over, we need to talk about some things, but you, you need to tell Sarah."
"Casey...I can't," he began. He nearly fell over the crate he was sitting on as Casey stepped toward him and stopped right in front of him.
"Don't do what I did, kid. Don't kill your chance. Tell her the truth, let her make the decision."
Chuck searched Casey's face. "This isn't just about Ilsa is it?" Casey shook his head. "Dear God, how many women have you loved and lost?" He winced. "Sorry."
"S'alright, too many. We'll get our people down there to arrest them," Casey said, nodding.
"I guess Ilsa's not getting on that plane in Casablanca after all, huh?" Chuck asked smiling.
"Don't you understand, Bartowski?" Casey began, looking mad. "She can't be Ilsa. We're arresting her."
"Then who's Ilsa? Who is going to be the one that will regret it, 'Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life'?"
Casey was quiet for a second and then his eyes grew wide as if he'd had an epiphany. "Me," he said looking down at Chuck. "If I don't arrest her, I'm the one that will regret it."
"You're Ilsa?" he asked thinking about it, and standing. He slowly started to nod. "You're Ilsa." Casey nodded. "YOU are Ilsa!" Chuck thought for a second. "Does that mean Ilsa is Rick?"
Casey though for a second and shook his head. "I wish, because Rick loved Ilsa, but the real Ilsa wouldn't do the right thing. She wanted me to leave with her, and I can't leave with her. I've got a job."
"That's right," Chuck said, wondering if Casey would remember any of this insanity later. "You're a patriot!"
Casey's eyes narrowed. "In reality, Rick and Renault were probably executed by the Nazis after that last scene."
Chuck's eyes widened. "Okay, well, that's a real bummer and probably has ruined that movie for me forever, but buddy, come on. We gotta do the right thing here. We gotta go and get these guys." Casey started toward the door. "Whoa, uh, hey, Ca-Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, where are you going?"
He grabbed his gun and turned to Chuck. "To stop a wedding, Chuck."
"No, no, no. No, you're not, no, you're not, not like that." Chuck said, stopping him. "Scotch and driving—Very, very bad combo and as far as I know, also illegal. Also, you don't have pants on."
"You're absolutely right," Casey said, thrusting the keys at Chuck, drunkenly. "You're driving." Casey stumbled away. "I need pants!" he yelled.
"I said that already!" Chuck yelled after him. "Sarah is gonna kill me," Chuck muttered.
}o{
The two snuck down the hallway to where Ilsa's room was, although Casey stumbled a little more than he snuck. He then pulled out a key card.
"Where did you get that?" Chuck asked. Casey gave him a look. "Dear God, you nearly had sex with a mobster, didn't you?" Casey shrugged, trying to look innocent.
"What can I say, sometimes doing it with a bad girl is exciting."
Chuck blinked a few times trying to force those words out of his head. "I hope you don't remember a bit of this," he muttered. Casey opened the door and there was Ilsa, her men, and numerous guns pointed right at them. "Is this exciting, Casey? Because she's being very bad right now."
"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Casey said in a growl.
"Oh, God," Chuck said, trying not to throw up in his mouth. He looked at Ilsa's men. "When you tie us up, please gag him, please." A few minutes later the two found themselves tied up, back to back. Chuck looked at Ilsa. "Really? You're not going to?"
"Not going to what?" Ilsa asked.
"Tell us your evil plan about how you're going to do something to us and make it look like an accident," Chuck said.
Ilsa bent down in front of Casey and Chuck turned away. "I'm going to get married to that sniveling man, I am going to load you two into my private plane, take you to Russia, and have you killed...unless you have other things you'd like to do, John?"
"Wow, talk about a conundrum," Chuck said, still not looking at the two. "Bad girl sex all the time if you want it, but you have to be a side piece, with a mafia leader, in Russia. Hard call, Buddy."
"Well, Casey?" Ilsa asked.
"I'm thinking," Casey answered. Ilsa rolled her eyes and left, followed by her fiancé and most of his men. "Don't ask, Bartowski."
"What am I not supposed to ask?" Chuck asked. "If the sex is that good you might consider just staying with her?"
"That, numbnuts, that's what you weren't supposed to ask," Casey growled. Chuck started laughing. "What?"
"I just find it funny, that my love life isn't as complicated as yours, and that's saying something."
"You don't have a love life," Casey retorted.
"And you do?" Chuck shot back. "Casey, go with her. Then you can try to find a way to escape."
"What about you?"
"Well, maybe I'll ask her not to kill me?"
Casey was silent for a second. "You shouldn't be in this mess," he grumbled. "I know I'd said we'd talk after this is over but...damn it, Bartowski, you need to tell her."
"Tell who what? Tell Ilsa I'll be her boy toy instead?"
"Christ, no!" Casey said, shaking his head as if to make sure that image never made its way to his brain. "Tell Walker about the thing. When we get out of here."
"What good would it do, Casey? Huh?"
"Well, for one thing, numbnuts, she'd be better able to protect you if she knew."
"Protecting me is gonna get her killed one of these days," Chuck groused. "That is, if we get out of this."
"There's a way, Chuck," Casey said quickly.
"Well, I'm all for an escape plan right now."
"No. You and Walker." Casey paused for a long time, as if thinking hard about it, second guessing himself a few times, before resolve settled on his features. "You could choose to become an NSA agent."
"I...what?"
"If you become an NSA agent, you and Walker can do…whatever the hell you two want to do. Hell, it might be better for the team," Casey admitted. "Obviously, the fact that I just admitted that means I'm still drunk."
"Casey, I don't know," Chuck said, thinking over all the possibilities. "I don't think it'd go over so well. After what we found out at Stanford…"
"Bartowski, I said an NSA agent, not CIA. Look, you and I both know there is something hinky about this whole thing from their side, and we both know Walker is not loyal to them when it comes to this project… Don't we, Bartowski?"
"We do," Chuck admitted softly.
"You'd be more protected."
"But won't Beckman want the Intersect all to herself?" Chuck asked.
"That's the beauty of it. If the CIA wants to stay in this project, then they have to play ball with us, and only one agent has been read into the project." He paused. "It's a good deal, Bartowski...a lot better than the one you currently have. Plus you'd get paid."
He stared. And then he realized… "Beckman has talked to you about this."
"She has, Bartowski, but it's because she's nervous about the CIA." Casey took a deep breath. "She doesn't trust Graham."
"I don't know if Graham trusts Graham," Chuck replied. "I'll think about it if we get out of here."
"We can get out of here...with acceptable losses," Casey replied.
"Just for curiosity's sake, what might be considered an acceptable loss?"
"Breaks and punctures, possible loss of a limb, no major organ damage," Casey replied. "This is all stuff you'd learn as an NSA agent."
"I don't think recruitment is really your calling," Chuck muttered.
}o{
It didn't take Agent Walker long to find the wedding party behind the hotel. She walked around the building, scaled a wall, and landed gracefully in a rose garden. All she had to do was follow the scent of chlorine and she found the pool area where the usual white folded chairs were set up, the altar...and that was where she spotted the apparent groom shaking hands with business associates, and most likely other Russian criminals.
She slid behind a well-manicured tree and peeked out from around it, casting her gaze over everyone sitting and standing in the crowd. She didn't see Ilsa. But of course...she was the bride, and she'd be making her big entrance later. That was what brides did, right?
Most importantly, Casey and Chuck were nowhere to be seen.
Everyone moved to take their seats and Federov stepped up to the altar, straightening his suit, his face filled with pride. Was even one person out here falling for it? They had to all know this was no more than a business transaction, a way to bring two high powered individuals more power and more money respectively.
The music began, the bridesmaids making their way towards the front to stand in their places.
She had no idea what to do here, except that she needed to find Chuck stat. And when she saw the bridesmaids were finally in place, she quickly sunk further behind the tree.
There was Ilsa, tall and graceful in her wedding gown, a serious, no-nonsense look on her face. Unlike Federov, there was no pride or happiness there. She wasn't playing games. She was poised as if walking into a business meeting, about to give a PowerPoint presentation to get that raise she'd worked so hard for.
This woman was ice-cold. Sarah'd be damned if she let Ilsa get that raise...and while hurting her partner all in one fell swoop? Hell no.
She needed to find Chuck before this ceremony got to the vows. Thank God Ilsa wasn't jogging down the aisle.
Sarah pulled her phone out and kept one eye on the ceremony, trying to play innocent as she pursed her lips and angled herself away from Federov, Ilsa, and their friends. She dialed Chuck's number and brought the phone to her ear.
The moment the phone rang in her ear, she heard the Mexican hat dance ringtone behind her somewhere. Chuck's ringtone. She spun on her heel and watched as...he stood up. He went into his pocket to fish what was definitely Chuck's phone out of his pocket. He had Chuck's phone. Which meant they'd gotten ahold of Chuck. At least. If not Casey also.
What if she was too late?
She let the phone continue ringing, waiting for him to answer it, and she thought about breaking more than this fucker's thumb if he'd hurt even a single hair on Chuck. He was coming right towards her, though, so she turned her back to him as he hurried past. "Hello?" he asked into Chuck's phone. "Hello…?"
Slowly turning back, she clenched her jaw and stalked him like a lioness stalking after her prey. Once he was far enough away from the wedding party, she rushed up behind him.
"How many times do we have to go through this?" she asked in a low, threatening voice.
He spun, fear and anger in his face, bringing his arm around to try to hit her. She stepped back so that he met with air and she slammed her heel right into his chest, sending him sprawling against the corner of the wall. He tried to clutch at the spot where she'd kicked him, but she pinned him, her heel threateningly pressed into his throat.
She had her gun in his face immediately. "Where's Chuck Bartowski?" she asked, trying to keep her voice under control, her anger in check. If she killed this guy now, she'd never find Chuck and Casey.
The Russian whimpered, a full-on whimper, and she sunk her heel a little further into his neck so that he gurgled. But he didn't talk, tightening his jaw and shutting his mouth pointedly.
"You realize I could make you suffer right here with all those people just feet away, none of them knowing what's happening to their comrade...don't you?" she snarled, lowering her voice even more and setting the muzzle right up against his forehead. "This close, the bullet would make sure every last bit of your brains paint the bricks behind you."
"P-Please…"
"Where. Is. Chuck. Bartowski? The man whose phone this is. Where are you keeping him?"
He lifted his gaze over her head, then raised his finger to point, right as she heard a high-pitched yell she recognized immediately. Fuck.
She spun to look up and saw Chuck literally hanging over the railing of a balcony, screaming and kicking his legs to try to get a footing against the bars. She spun back and brought the butt of her gun down against the Russian mobster's temple to knock him out, before rushing forward towards Chuck.
Her heart went into her throat as she watched him lurch forward, Casey tied to him, back to back… and they toppled over the edge.
Her voice died before she could scream. And she froze, so many emotions bursting through her at once that she was virtually immobilized.
And then they hit the pool so hard, so loudly, that the audience around it let out a collective groan.
Sarah had every intention of sprinting up to the pool and diving in to try to...God, she didn't even know what…
But then both of their heads popped up from the water, both gasping for breath...both alive. She pressed a hand to her chest in relief, gasping. Casey practically yanked Chuck to his feet in the pool, then left the sputtering nerd behind, slogging through the water, up the steps, and finally standing on the cement behind the guests, dripping, angry.
"Hope I'm not too late to object to this union," he snarked.
She had to admit it was a good one. But nobody else seemed to think so except for Chuck, who managed to get past the shock and terror resulting from his fall enough to point at Casey with a bit of a dazed, crooked smile. She imagined him filing that away for later…
If there was a later.
Since at least ten guns were pointed at Casey now.
"What in the hell is this?" Federov asked, taking a step down from the altar and gesturing to the sopping wet NSA agent. "Who the hell you think you are interrupting my wedding?"
Casey turned to look at Ilsa and grit his teeth, pointing at her. "Your name might be Ilsa, Ilsa, but I'm the real Ilsa in this situation. And I'm doin' the right thing, whether you're…" He paused. "...someone I once...shared something with or not."
"This guy?" Federov asked Ilsa, sending her a big smirk. "Oh, Ilsa...dear...you—"
"Shut up, Victor," Ilsa snapped. She stepped down, too, pulling a gun out from her dress and pointing it at Chuck who was just now starting to slog his way up the steps of the pool.
Sarah decided enough was enough and she hurried forward, pointing her own gun at the other woman. "Enough." She sidled up in front of Chuck, just in case. "This wedding isn't going to happen."
"Like hell it isn't," Federov groused. "You have one gun between the three of you. Look at all of my men here. Ilsa," he turned back. "Come. Let's continue the ceremony."
"I gave you a choice, Sugar Bear." Sarah made a face at that. Gross. "I promised you I would love you forever if you came with me. I promised you power."
Federov froze. "Ilsa…?"
"Yeah, and I turned ya down," Casey said, shrugging. "I have a job to do here. And right now, that's stopping this wedding."
"Ilsa, you were going to run away? From this?"
"Yes. I suppose I was. I'm not now. Let's finish this wedding. And then, Victor...darling," she snarked, "You can do what you want with the agents. As a wedding gift, from me to you. How's that?"
"This union has been planned for almost a whole year, the union of your father and my family, the biggest merger in modern Russian history… And you were going to leave it behind for...what? Love? Like this is some kind of terrible Hollywood movie?" Federov scoffed. "Women are fools."
And just like that, he snatched the gun out of Ilsa's hand. She turned to boggle at him as he handed the gun to one of his groomsmen. "Let's just get this over with."
"Sarah… Sarah, shoot her."
Sarah turned to give Chuck a look over her shoulder. "What?"
"If you shoot her, I'm not so sure her father wouldn't track down every last one of Federov's lackeys and kill them in grisly 'accidental' ways," he said, throwing air quotes up and sending water droplets all over. "You know, like...oh, his car stalled on the train tracks and WHAM! Or he drowned in his pool. Fell in his shower. Heeeart faaailure wink wink… You know…"
"Oh, he accidentally shot himself while cleaning his gun," Casey added in. "Fell asleep at the wheel on a dark abandoned road is my favorite one, though. Personally."
Chuck gestured towards Casey excitedly. "See? He knows what's up. I can't imagine any of them would get away with Ilsa Trinchina dying under their watch. I mean, isn't that how this guy operates?"
"Nice try, kid." Casey shook his head. "But there are a lot of 'em. And Sarah's not gonna get a shot off before she's full o' holes. Right, gents?"
Sarah heard Chuck gulp.
"But I've got the head of the NSA backing me up right now. We've got every last one of you in our files—name, rank, a list of crimes you're connected with. And we've got enough to never let you leave American soil again. Not any of you. And that includes you, Mr. Federov." Casey thrust his hands out in front of him and shrugged, and Sarah knew exactly what he was doing. He'd read the room, as it were.
None of these guys were thrilled about the union between the Federovs and the Trinchinas. It had been Ilsa's brainchild all along, her own bid for power...and they saw it, felt it, resented it. Resented her.
She'd witnessed the lack of respect they had for women firsthand, and to have had to watch a woman play Victor Federov like a fiddle, play every man around her like a fiddle, must have rankled with their misogyny so bad. But they followed orders, didn't they?
Casey was playing off of their hatred and their misogyny. And he was sort of a genius, wasn't he? She tried to keep the awe out of her features as Casey turned his hands over, palms down, and lowered them.
"Put the weapons down," he said slowly. "Let us arrest Ilsa. And you can get on your little airplane to go back home to Mother Russia. I can't make any promises if any of you ever come back. We'll call off the attack dogs 'til you get out. But let us have this one." He turned and looked up at Ilsa. "I'm guessing not a single tear is gonna be shed by any of ya if she's out of the picture."
Federov was the first one to speak after a few tense moments. Ilsa was visibly sweating as he did. "Ilsa… You protect your family maybe not as good as me. And maybe that was your downfall. In the end."
She whipped around to shoot an accusatory, shocked look at him. "No! You aren't doing this. He is lying! They have no back-up. There are just the three of them! All you have to do is kill the one with the gun!"
"The Federovs come first, darling." He shrugged. "And if your dear papa wants to come talk to us about it, he can. I'm not spending the rest of my days in an American prison for you."
"Prison? Victor, you know your family would have you out in no time."
He shrugged again. "I suppose you aren't even worth that much trouble, Ilsa." Then Federov turned to his men. "Put the guns down." A few of the men on the other side of the aisle looked resistant...perhaps they were some of Trinchina's men, but they were outnumbered, and Federov's lackeys had them surrounded. So they bent down to set their guns on the ground finally, holding their hands up.
Sarah supposed she was all right with Federov's men merely sheathing their weapons. For now. And she grabbed her phone, calling for back-up immediately.
As she hung up, Casey walked through the Trinchina goons to pick up their weapons. And she wondered if he was bluffing the whole time, or if the NSA really did have every single one of these guys on file. As far as she knew, Chuck hadn't flashed on them. Would he have if they were in the NSA's files? He'd flashed on her, hadn't he? On Lazslo. On Carina. On so many other agents and criminals and files…
And she decided she genuinely didn't know how in the hell the Intersect worked.
"That-That worked?" Chuck breathed behind her. And then he stepped up next to her and she turned to watch as he blinked, stunned. "I hafta ask, was he bluffing?"
She shushed him, sending him a look. And then through her teeth she admitted, "I'm not sure, but let's not broadcast that, huh?"
"Oh. Shit." He winced and zipped his mouth, eyes wide. She couldn't help but curl her fingers around his wet bicep, squeezing, almost as if to check that he was still in one piece, even as she watched Casey cuff Ilsa Trinchina who was still in some state of shock.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Shit."
She felt Chuck's gaze on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes focused on Casey. She hadn't known he'd been asked to run away, that he'd had something genuine with Ilsa Trinchina—at least at some point. And she wondered how tempted he'd been.
Sarah found she couldn't blame him if he was tempted. And that left her feeling...well, raw. She felt incredibly raw.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please please review. We appreciate them so much.
-SC and DC
