It was time to say good-bye to the hotel.
When Chuck said that it was time to start looking for a house after learning about the twins on the way, he had been absolutely right. It felt a little weird to Sarah, moving out of a hotel suite she'd been in for two and a half years, but she knew it had to be done.
And so, one Saturday afternoon in late June, she found herself driving to look at houses with Chuck. He had insisted on looking in the Valley, saying that it would be safer than the City and cheaper than the West Side. Sarah had run this past the analysts at the CIA, who had wholeheartedly concurred with the Los Angeles native's assessment.
They had just taken a left hand turn off of Moorpark Street onto St. Clair Avenue, headed south, to look at a house down by Valleyheart Drive. Chuck was casually looking at the houses on either side, when he saw a house with a FOR SALE sign out front just before Woodbridge Avenue, and stood on his brakes.
The big Dodge station wagon fishtailed to a stop in the middle of the street. "Chuck?" Sarah asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer. His mouth was hanging open, as he pulled up to the house with the for sale sign and parked in the driveway.
Sarah got out and assessed the house. It looked nice enough – a ranch house, about fifty years old. The yard could use a little tending, but nice otherwise.
It was the price tag that got Sarah, though. Pulling one of the information sheets out of the tube on the sign post, she read over it.
"Uh, Chuck, 900,000 is a little above what we were aiming for," Sarah told him.
No response. "Chuck, are you okay?"
Chuck slowly turned to look at her. "Sarah, it's worth it."
"Chuck, that's almost half of what Activision paid you for that last game."
He fixed her with one of the most intense looks she had ever seen from him. He slowly approached her, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "Sarah," he whispered, almost reverently, "this is the house that Ellie and I grew up in."
Sarah was quiet for a minute. "Okay," she finally said.
So Chuck called the real estate agent listed on the sign. The agent was elated that somebody was interested in the house, and said he'd be there in just a few minutes – he was right around the corner.
True to his word, the agent was there five minutes later. He opened the house for them, and showed them in.
They entered into the living room. Off the living room to the right was the dining room, with the kitchen and laundry room behind it. Behind the living room was one bedroom; to the left of that bedroom was what was clearly the master bedroom and master bath, another bathroom, and a front bedroom that had been designed more as a sun room.
"This was my bedroom," Chuck said softly, standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. Sarah just watched him, amazed at the subtle change in him since entering the house.
"I think it would be perfect for the twins, with all the natural light," she said quietly.
He smiled. "I agree completely," he whispered.
With hardwood floors through most of the house, a deep purple pile carpet in the master bedroom, and a crystal clear pool in the backyard, it just seemed almost too good to be true. Sarah and Chuck agreed to offer 850,000 cash for it. The agent, hardly able to believe what he was hearing, said yes, absolutely.
The deal closed two weeks later, and they started working on the house the next day.
The day after the deal closed, Chuck, Casey, and Devin took a trip to Home Depot. Casey snorted derisively when Chuck picked out an assortment of pastel colors – blue, pink, green and yellow – for the twins' room, but nodded approvingly when he picked out a forest green and slate combination for his office.
With those paints and a number of others for the rest of the house, along with a 24-pack of beer, Devin and Chuck set to work initially on the living room, while Casey took several cans and disappeared through the door leading to the bedrooms. Four hours later, when neither Devin nor Chuck had seen Casey for quite some time and had, in fact, only heard evidence of his presence through the flushing of the hall toilet, they decided to investigate.
They discovered Casey, in the twins' bedroom, surrounded by an incredible tableau of pastel designs, rainbows, and psychedelic woodland creatures. "Holy…"
When Casey heard Chuck's voice, he looked up at the two other men. "I was an art major in college," he said, with no preamble. "And if either of you two tells anybody that I was responsible for this, I will rip out your colon with my bare hands."
A few days later, after all the paint had dried and the smells had mostly been ventilated, Chuck took Sarah to the house to see it. Her jaw dropped when they entered the twins' room. "Oh my God," she said. "This… is incredible."
Chuck smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and placed his hands on her ever-growing belly. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but your favorite Neanderthal and mine painted it."
Sarah turned to Chuck, disbelief evident on her face. "Casey?!"
Chuck nodded. "I wouldn't have believed it either, except I saw him in action," he replied.
And so, that Saturday, when Casey arrived at the hotel to help Chuck and Sarah move, when Sarah answered the door, she didn't say anything – just hugged a very surprised Casey and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you," she said softly.
A vicious look quickly crossed his face, momentarily terrifying Chuck, who was standing behind Sarah. But then, Casey's face softened. "Got somethin' else for you," he grumbled.
He stepped out of the doorway, and half a dozen men in dark glasses, jeans, and collared white shirts stepped into the room. Moving swiftly, they began moving boxes from the room, and inside of fifteen minutes, the room was exactly as it had been when Sarah had moved in two and a half years before.
"And where did they take all our stuff, Casey?" Chuck wanted to know.
Casey just inclined his head, and they followed him – outside, downstairs, to the street, where a shiny black moving truck sat by the curb. Chuck looked at the license plate –
And an array of images bombarded him. Mostly of black moving trucks, of the movers dressed like he had just seen them, of a large number of guns loaded into said trucks, and of tiramisu.
Chuck shook his head when the flash ended. Always with the random dessert encodings. "So this is the NSA's private moving company, then?" he asked.
Casey turned to look at him. "The Intersect, I assume?"
Chuck nodded. "Yeah," Casey continued. "You know, I figured… well…"
He stiffened and cleared his throat. "At the risk of sounding weak, the two of you have become basically the closest thing I've had to family in years, and I wanted to do something for you."
Chuck and Sarah stood on the sidewalk, speechless. Casey took advantage of their momentary shock to hop up in the cab of the truck, which pulled away from the curb, followed by a black minivan.
"I don't believe it," Sarah whispered.
By the time Chuck and Sarah had settled accounts with the hotel and driven their two cars to the house in Studio City, there wasn't much left for them to do at the house. To their astonishment, Casey had had another truck sent to retrieve the remainder of Chuck's belongings from Ellie and Devin's apartment, and yet another sent to Ikea and Buy More to retrieve the furniture and "toys" that Chuck and Sarah had ordered for the house.
And the National Security Agency is nothing if not efficient. As a result, the house was almost completely ready to live in – and it had only been an hour and a half since the movers had arrived at the hotel in downtown L.A.
Chuck and Sarah had stood in the front yard with Ellie, Devin, and Morgan and looked on, astonished, as the fifteen NSA employees quickly and efficiently moved the Bartowskis into their new home. As they were working, another man, this one wearing a suit, walked out of the house and handed Chuck a business card.
"Courtesy of Bryce Larkin, sir," the man said.
Chuck looked at the card. ADT Home Alarm Systems, the card said. On the back was a code – obviously the arm/disarm code – and a note. Keep the family safe, Chuck, in Bryce's distinct handwriting.
Unfortunately, Morgan had overheard. "Bryce Larkin?" he asked. "Bryce Larkin's dead!"
Chuck sighed. "Morgan, maybe it's time for you to know a few things."
Several hours later, Morgan knew a great many things that he was never allowed to share with ANYBODY. He and Chuck had retired to his office, which Sarah had jokingly called "Chuck's Geek Room", to which he had indignantly responded, "It's the NERD CAVE!"
Sarah was relaxing in the living room, happy to spend time in the company of Casey, Ellie, and Devin in her own home, when her cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was Director Graham.
"I need to take this," she said, excusing herself. Stepping out into the kitchen, she answered the phone. "This is Walker, secure."
"Graham, secure," she heard from the other end. "I hear you're in your new house?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. "Major Casey arranged for the NSA to move us, and they had us completely moved in inside of two hours."
"They might be ruthless, but they sure are efficient," Graham said with a laugh. "God, Walker, you're married, you have two kids on the way, and you're living in your own house. If you tell me that it has a white picket fence –"
"No white picket fence, sir."
Graham laughed again. "Well, thank God for that. I'd hate to think that the Phantom of Belgrade had become completely domesticated."
Sarah's smile faded as she thought about the mission in Serbia, seven years before. "Not completely, sir, but pretty close."
Graham was quiet for a moment. "Anyway, Walker, the purpose of my call is to tell you that I'm resigning."
Now THAT was a bit of a shock. "I've decided to run for the US Senate," he continued. "I'm going back home – North Carolina. Richard Burr's up for re-election this year, and he's looking pretty weak. I'm a well-respected black Independent with plenty of government experience – I'm pretty sure I can pull it right out from under him."
"Well, sir, just say the word, and I'm sure that Chuck or I would be happy to help you out however we can."
"I appreciate that, Agent Walker. And I appreciate your fairly loyal and devoted service over the last eight years."
"'Fairly' loyal, sir?" she asked with a laugh.
"Well, there was a certain incident in Utah," Graham replied. "I seem to recall getting locked in a broom closet?"
Sarah reddened at the memory of Chuck's rescue from the secure facility in Moab, Utah. "Sorry about that, sir."
He chuckled. "No hard feelings. Anyway, I should let you get back to your family. Say hello to your husband for me, and to Colonel Casey."
"Major Casey, sir."
"No, he got promoted a week ago."
When Sarah got off the phone, she grabbed Chuck and Morgan from the Nerd Cave, and dragged them out to the living room. "I think John has something to tell us all," she said, looking him square in the eyes.
He looked right back at her, and his jaw dropped. "How the hell…"
She smiled. "I may be a five months' pregnant CIA analyst, but once upon a time, I was the best of the best when it came to spies, Johnny boy."