Scene XXIII – Chuck's Room
Leaning heavily on Chuck, Sarah managed to control her stumbling well enough to help guide her body into Chuck's room. She let out a giggle as Chuck guided her to the bed, helping her sit on the edge of the mattress. He stayed near her for a moment, making sure she had her balance. "Wait here," he ordered.
He turned around and shut the door to his room. When he turned back around, Sarah was standing right in front of him. She put her hands around the back of his neck before he could move.
Chuck nearly stopped breathing. Her lips were so close to his. All he needed to do was lean down…
One of Sarah's hands ran up the back of Chuck's neck into his hair, her fingers intertwining in his hair. His eyes closed involuntarily at the touch; he forced them back open. That didn't really help matters, because now he was staring directly into her eyes. She tilted her head slightly to one side as she stared back.
Chuck had to put a stop to this, and now. As tempted as he was, he refused to take advantage of a drunk Sarah. Putting his hands on her waist, intending to keep her body from coming any closer to his, he said, "Sarah…"
With a coquettish expression, Sarah brushed back a stray clump of bangs from his forehead, interrupting him. She asked, "What's the matter, Chuck? You promised to protect me tonight. And I am in dire need of some protection…"
With that, Sarah leaned over and gently kissed Chuck just under his jawbone where it curved upwards towards his right ear. Her lips trailed slowly down his neck, a hand cupping the opposite cheek to keep him from escaping.
Involuntarily, his eyes closed again. His will to stop her was quickly dissolving.
She continued speaking quietly in between planting kisses down the line of his neck. "In fact … I may need you … to 'protect' me … two or three times…"
Despite himself, Chuck shivered. He was beyond thought at this point; her kissing had turned into nibbling, delivering tingling sensations that shot through his neck down into his chest. His breathing became ragged; his fingers tightened against the shirt fabric about her waist.
When her lips reached the base of his neck, she pulled back, running her fingers of one hand through his hair, the other wrapped around the back of his neck. She looked over him appraisingly, her eyes exploring his mouth, his eyes, his hair.
She suddenly burst into hysterical laughter, almost snorting. "Ellie was right," she forced out between laughs. "Your hair does make funny little animal shapes when it gets long!"
Sarah laughed so hard she started losing her balance again. She let out a surprised cry, and grabbed onto Chuck to try to keep her balance. She only succeeded in pulling Chuck down with her onto the bed; Chuck landed on top of her with his hands to her sides as he tried to break his fall. She was all wonderful softness and warmth beneath him.
Sarah didn't seem too bothered by the turn of events. Her hands and arms wrapped around his back, and in a slightly goofy voice, she said, "Why, hello there, Chuck." She laughed again before her expression turned serious again. "Let me see if I can burn a few more images into that brain of yours." She leaned up to kiss him.
Chuck pulled back, forcing himself up with his arms. It may have taken the most willpower of anything he had ever done, but he managed to escape to his feet.
Sarah pushed herself up onto her elbows, pouting, "Where are you going?" She tried to sit the rest of the way up but failed, falling over towards the pillow. She laughed again, her giggles dissolving into a contented sigh.
Chuck chose not to speak too much; he just didn't trust himself. "Let's get you under the covers." He leaned down to help her.
"Wait! I need to get a little more comfortable first." Managing to sit up, she started undoing the buttons of her top.
For the life of him, Chuck had no idea what to do to stop her. He rather lamely said, "I'm not sure you should…" He stopped as it became clear she wasn't listening, watching helplessly ... and, he would be forced to admit, somewhat hopefully.
Sarah reached into the gap between the open buttons, and undid a clasp. Reaching under her top, she pulled out a small sheath containing three knives that had been concealed between her shoulder blades. She dropped them onto the floor. With a sigh, she laid back down on the bed. "That's better."
Chuck gave a little laugh. This was something that Chuck never envisioned: feeling relief that the beautiful woman in his bed wasn't disrobing, but rather was simply removing part of her deadly arsenal of weapons from beneath her clothes.
Sarah was able to lever her body up enough that Chuck was able to slide the covers out from underneath her, allowing her to lie on the fitted sheet over the mattress. He pulled the covers up to her chin; she gave him a look that was equal parts pleased and flirtatious. She asked, "Are you coming to bed?" She patted the mattress to her side suggestively.
Chuck had thought he was home free, but apparently Sarah had other ideas. In a voice that cracked slightly, he said, "In a minute. I need to, you know, brush my teeth, wash my face." He gave a nervous laugh. "Gotta floss. Can't forget to floss."
Sarah gazed at him demurely. "Well, hurry up. These sheets are cold."
With a last tormented look, Chuck fled, slipping into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, looking at the door as if afraid that Sarah might pursue him. Of course, if she did, she would probably just pick the lock, drunk or not. He tried hard to keep fantasies about that kind of moment from entering his head.
Chuck walked over to the mirror, steadying himself on the sink as he stared at his reflection. Back in the bedroom, Sarah was waiting for him, wanting him. It was everything that he dreamed about.
No, not everything, he reminded himself. He had no idea whether it was just the tequila talking, or something more. His feelings for her ran deeper than some drunken hook-up, and even if they didn't, he wasn't the type to take advantage of a woman like that.
Of course, in a spy's world, he could see the temptation to seize the moment and damn the consequences. Nobody knew what tomorrow would bring, so why not take what the night offered? It's what Bond would do. It's what Bryce would do.
It wasn't, however, what Chuck would do. And, as much as it hurt to follow that path, he knew that it was the right one for him.
There were no two ways about it: this sucked.
He splashed some water on his face and gave his teeth a quick brush. Despite what he said about flossing, he skipped it. He needed to get back into the bedroom to make sure things didn't get totally out of control.
He grabbed a tall glass from the back of the sink and filled it with water from the tap, and then shook out a handful of aspirin from a jar in the medicine cabinet. As an afterthought, he grabbed the trash can. He wasn't really sure just how bad off Sarah was, but there was no point in taking chances.
Arms loaded, he slipped back into the bedroom, and moved over to Sarah's nightstand. As he crossed the floor, he noticed the carpet was cluttered with a couple things that hadn't been there before. Another set of knives. Her top. Her pants. Her bra.
Horrified and hopeful, he slowly turned his head to look at Sarah, expecting the worst. Or the best.
The comforter had been pulled down, with the sheet wrapped around her body, highlighting every curve. The top of the sheet was wrapped around her bosom, leaving her upper chest, shoulders and arms exposed. She lay on her side, facing the door, as if waiting for him.
She was asleep, her face holding a beautiful, peaceful expression. Chuck breathed a sigh of relief.
He put the glass of water and the aspirin on her nightstand, and set the trash can down next to the bed. He needed to get her to take some aspirin and drink some water, but her current state made that a challenge. His impulse was to go get Ellie, but that clearly wouldn't work for a couple of reasons.
He walked over to the dresser and pulled out an old Stanford sweat shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He gently woke her; she protested sleepily, but he managed to get her to sit up, facing away from him. Trying not to get distracted by the soft, smooth skin on her naked back, he slipped the sweatshirt on. He quickly gave up on the shorts, setting them on the floor, and instead focused on getting four aspirin and a healthy drink of water into her. She lay back down with a pleased little noise. Chuck covered her back up.
He spent a few moments tidying up her things, placing them in a pile over by her computer, the knives buried beneath her top in case Ellie or somebody else walked in. Sneaking an occasional peek at her to make sure she didn't wake up while he was changing, he put on his blue pajama bottoms and a plain black T-shirt.
He lay down on his side of the bed; she lay facing him, her face relaxed, traces of a smile coloring her lips. A few stray bangs had floated across her eyes, he gently pushed them aside with the tips of his fingers. She stirred slightly, unconsciously nuzzling against his touch. He couldn't resist running his fingers through her hair a second time, and then a third. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand.
He lay there for a long time, staring at her as she slept. Finally, he whispered, "Good night, Sarah." He turned out the light.
Scene XXIV – Chuck's Bedroom
Chuck found himself unable to sleep. While having Sarah lying next to him didn't help, the real problem was the after-effects of the two Red Bulls. He had been laying there, awake, for hours, his heart feeling like it was going to pound right out of his chest. At least he had been able keep an eye on Sarah and enjoy having her near, even if it meant nothing.
The clock read 2:06. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Realizing he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, he gently eased out of bed to avoid disturbing Sarah. Given her current state, it seemed unlikely that a marching band would disturb Sarah.
This was a good thing, because he let out a not-so-soft curse as his bare foot stepped on his belt buckle; he had forgotten to clean up his own clothes when he came to bed. Still, Sarah didn't move. Reaching down, he picked up the belt and the still-attached pants and went to put them in the closet.
Suddenly, he remembered the piece of paper in the back pocket. In the rush to get back in time for the dinner, he had forgotten all about it.
Retrieving the piece of paper, he stepped gingerly over to the computer, his foot obviously still sore. He lowered himself into the chair and brought up the WHOIS site. He entered the IP address: . After entering the human-readable security code, he looked up details of the site.
The site belonged to Brewster Jennings and Associates, located in Boston. Seemed innocent enough. He scrolled down the rest of the information sheet. When he read the NetHandle, his eyelids grew heavy, and he had a monster flash.
A picture of a skyscraper.
A window in the skyscraper.
A memo on a piece of stationery with a Brewster Jennings and Associates logo. The memo was entitled "Network Schematics".
A memo on a piece of stationery with the CIA logo, entitled "Quarterly Network Updates".
A window in the skyscraper.
Another window in the skyscraper.
Schematic after schematic of the network configuration.
The window again.
Another window in the skyscraper.
Page after page after page describing the specific functions of each of the computers on the network.
A window in the skyscraper.
A picture of a skyscraper.
Chuck shook out of his flash, putting his hands on the desk to steady himself, head hung as he tried to regain his bearings. There was a dull ache in both temples from the duration of that flash; it took a minute for his head to clear.
Slowly, he lifted up his head, his face pale. That was no garden variety flash: he now knew the configuration of the core CIA computer network.
He also knew the exact purpose for the server that was under attack, and it meant that everything had suddenly become deadly serious.
Behind him, Sarah stirred. She made a retching noise.
Chuck leapt up from his computer chair. "Trash can! Trash can!"
Scene XXV – Chuck's Bedroom
Sarah slowly woke up, her mouth dry and pasty. As she always did, the first thing she did was regain her bearings. Chuck's room. Chuck lay facing her on his pillow. Without really thinking about it, she reached across and brushed some stray bangs from his face. He stirred slightly; she smiled.
Wait, why did she spend the night in Chuck's room? She was just supposed to hang out for a little while, and then head home.
For the life of her, she couldn't remember. What was in those margaritas? Instinctively, she wondered if she had been drugged. She quickly brushed the thought away; of course she hadn't.
Checking under the covers, she found she was wearing one of Chuck's old Stanford sweatshirts and a pair of gym shorts, almost as if …
No. She couldn't have. They couldn't have. Could they?
She checked. No bra. This wasn't good.
She slipped out of bed as gently as she could; she needed to get her head around what happened before he woke up. As she stood, she put a hand to her head. She had a significant headache, and standing up only increased the throbbing in her temples. Looking around, she saw a full glass of water and some aspirin on the nightstand. She took five, forcing herself to drink the entire glass of water. Her stomach protested a little.
What happened last night? Her last memory involved a sombrero and a margarita. Think, Walker, think.
Unable to drum up anything useful, she decided to approach her later memories by retracing her steps through the evening. There was the conversation with Chuck in the courtyard; she remembered that clearly. Walking into the apartment, being greeted by all of Chuck's family and friends … she remembered that clearly. Devon, the sombrero and a margarita. Clearing off the counter and carrying the enchiladas from the oven. Various conversations, although those were a little fuzzier. Devon leaning over; her grabbing the sombrero.
Wow, why had she done that? She also remembered something about how grabbing the sombrero was … a mistake? Taking a long drink from her glass and …
Nothing. She could remember nothing else.
This was bad. This was very bad.
Or was it? Had she finally had the courage to tell Chuck how she really felt? Part of her hoped she had. But a bigger part of her didn't want things to start with a drunken confession and a night of passion she couldn't remember.
Suddenly, she was scared. Please, no. Not that way.
Her phone rang; from the ring tone, it was Casey. She found her phone still tucked into her pants pocket over on Chuck's desk. She hurried to grab it before the ringing woke Chuck.
"Walker here."
"Casey here. Get over to the CIA facility ASAP. General Beckman and Director Graham want an update at 0900."
"OK; I'm at Chuck's now, so we should be there close to then."
"I know you're at Chuck's; sounds like it was quite a night."
"What's that?" The color drained from her face.
"I caught up on the highlights. Quite a night, Agent Walker." Click.
It was bad enough that she couldn't remember, but if Casey knew something … and they were meeting with their superiors in half an hour? She needed to find out what happened.
Sarah went over to the closet and looked for a small bag she had stashed there for just such an occasion. She had put it on the shelf, but the shelf was no longer there; the splintered board was split in two pieces, propped against the back wall of the closet. Confused but having bigger mysteries to solve, she found her bag on the floor and pulled it out. She removed a neatly folded business outfit, a plain white shirt with a black skirt, and quickly dressed.
As soon as she finished, she moved over to Chuck's side of the bed, shaking Chuck with a hand. "Chuck, wake up."
Chuck pushed the hand away. "Aw, Ellie, it's not a school day."
"Chuck, wake up!"
Realizing that wasn't Ellie, Chuck's eyes shot open.
He looked like she felt: exhausted and confused. She fought back the urge to sit down on the edge of the bed and stroke his hair until he regained his senses.
"Chuck, we have to get going. We're supposed to report in on our progress in twenty-five minutes."
"What?" He processed what she was saying. "Why can't Casey just go ahead and brief them. He knows everything."
That struck a bit close to home, given her conversation with Casey. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Chuck looked confused. "He's briefed hundreds of times. He'll be fine. Meanwhile, I'll just grab a few more minutes…" He rolled back over.
"Chuck!!"
"Fine, fine," Chuck said grumpily. He forced himself upright, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He took a moment to try to gather his wits.
With a slightly confused look, Sarah sat on the chair in the corner of the room, nervously playing with the fingers on one hand with the fingers of the other. She had to find out what happened, and she didn't have much time. "Chuck, I need to ask you something."
"What's that?" he asked as he got to his feet. He started to cross the room.
"What happened last night?"
Chuck was too tired to be very surprised, or even to turn to look at her. He collected some clothes from his dresser. "What, you don't remember?"
"No, I don't," she said quietly. "What happened?"
"You wore me out, that's what happened."
Sarah's face betrayed more emotion than her voice. "What?"
"You got up to throw up twice last night. I got up with you both times. You're officially cut off from Awesome's margaritas for a bit."
"Oh," she said. Conflicting emotions flickered across her face, going from relief to disappointment back to relief.
Chuck didn't notice any of that as he trudged over to the closet, clothes in hand and head down. He let out a huge yawn before pulling the door open.
Looking a bit unsure of herself, she offered, "That's funny; I can't really tell I threw up."
"I helped you brush your teeth both times."
Sarah was having trouble piecing everything together. Noticing the silence, Chuck finally looked up as he grabbed a standard white Buy More shirt out of the closet. He guessed the source of her confusion. Looking back to the closet, he explained, "You used my toothbrush. Feel free to keep it."
Sarah wasn't quite sure how to react to all of that.
Chuck said, "Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around. I'm going to change. I don't peek when you change."
"Oh," Sarah said. She stood up and turned face the corner. She continued to nervously play with her fingers. Processing everything Chuck told her, a small smile came to her face. Chuck had promised to protect her, and he had. Still, she had to be sure.
"So, nothing happened?"
"Aside from your dancing and your digestive pyrotechnics? Nothing happened."
Sarah's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What dancing?"