A/N: Hear, hear to getting a season 3! And hear, hear to the continually awesome reviewers from the previous chapter, too.
As I told some of you, I didn't care for how the last chapter came out, so I'm glad that many of you liked it more than I did. I tried to make sure that this chapter was a bit more to my liking before I posted it...and consequently rewrote it five times. Who knows if it came out better than the previous chapter. I'm still undecided.
I found a few typos and super-awkward sentences in the previous chapters. Those have been fixed. The normal McDuck disclaimers are still in effect.
-.-.-.-
Day 5: Tuesday
What the hell has Beckman gotten me into now?, Sarah thought as she squeezed his hand back after his whisper and assessed the other ex-spies in the room. Luckily, they seemed to all be rather taken with Chuck and convinced by his explanation for his behavior, sparing the newly engaged couple the tedious chore of convincing them. With their double cover and the secret of the Intersect secure, Sarah allowed her mind to wander while the others asked Chuck about his new job.
The revelation that one of the virus authors was a client of hers seemed mighty coincidental. Could Beckman have known? She thought through her call to Beckman earlier in the day, when she'd notified the general about Chuck's author-identification progress. There's no way. Superiors, by nature, were information misers, but subordinates (by nature) were adept at detecting when superiors were being misers. Sarah detected no miserliness from Beckman during their call—if anything, Beckman was more receptive to the information that Sarah passed along than she'd usually be, not less. And, judging from Beckman's reaction to Chuck's brief last Saturday, the NSA's clueless on this one. There's no way they could have gotten the drop on Chuck and figured out authorship first.
That left one possibility. This is the biggest coincidence ever. Incredible. She tuned back in to the conversation occurring around her in time to hear the tail-end of Chuck's sentence.
"…that's a good way to think about it. I'm a triage guy for computers—I patch them back together after a new virus hits, and then I figure out a way to protect against infection."
Glancing around again to see how receptive the others were, they were listening to his every word. Per the usual when Chuck talked about computers, he had become much more animated, saying more in the past 5 minutes than he'd said all night. Judging by the expressions on the others' faces, they weren't spy-listening-for-information listening, but girls-listening-to-guy listening.
She allowed herself to glance over at him while he answered another question. Damn it. He's adorable. And he has no clue…which makes it even more adorable. Freeing her hand from his, she began playing with the back of his collar. The movement startled him, and he looked over to catch her staring at him intensely. Chuck casually leaned over to her to kiss her cheek, smile on his face. Without thinking about it, he lightly rested his hand on her knee while he settled back down. She could feel her pulse rate go through the roof. Whoa now, Walker, his hand is on your knee. KNEE. Breathe already. She forced herself to relax, but Abigail had caught Sarah's initial reaction and was now sporting a knowing smile. Sarah didn't care for the smile and started doing the math in her head. We've been sitting here long enough to leave without offending anyone. Time to go. When the next lull in conversation came, Sarah was ready.
"Sweetie, don't you have to work early tomorrow?"
Chuck got the hint. Though I really do have to work early tomorrow.
"Yeah, I have the early shift. We better go, or else I'll have trouble getting up tomorrow."
Abigail got the hint as well, and rose to walk them to the door.
"You know, our annual charity gala is this Friday—black tie, the works. All of our clients that are in town turn out. Why don't you two come? It'll give you a chance to meet the clients, Sarah, before you start reviewing their files."
My God, we're going to go to more parties and galas for this job than we do for missions. Noticing that Chuck had returned to his amicable silence, Sarah answered for them both with more cheerfulness than she was feeling.
"We'd love to come! When and where?"
Walking to the front door while everyone took turns rattling off details about the gala, Chuck was engulfed in multiple hugs by the others. Sarah took the opportunity to quietly speak to Abigail as they hugged goodbye.
"Is a gala really a good idea? That seems to compromise our client list by announcing it to the world."
"This is the private sector, Sarah. Client lists are somewhat guarded, yes, but how else would we draw in new clients if we didn't flaunt who our current clients are and how well they're being protected?"
Sarah could clearly visualize what Casey's reaction would be to such a statement: there would be an eye roll, growl, and another growl. Then, he'd make some comment about the private sector being motivated by money other than duty. The image made her smile. Abigail misinterpreted the reason for the smile, and was about to say something when Chuck appeared next to Sarah, grin wide across his face.
"Ready to go?"
She returned the grin and nodded, and after a few more last-minute goodbyes, they were walking arm-in-arm toward Sarah's Porsche. Chuck cautiously looked back at the house before commenting quietly enough so he couldn't be heard by the gaggle of executives standing on the front porch.
"They all seem nice, though I'm not sure what's up with the hugging."
Me either. I've never met ex-spies that hugged so much.
"Nice? I think they all want to marry you."
"That's unfortunate. I'm pretty sure I'm already taken."
They both laughed the rest of the way to the car.
-.-.-.-
Walking hand-in-hand through the lobby of Sarah's apartment building, Chuck's phone started vibrating. Awkwardly grabbing it out of his pocket with his free hand, and ignoring Sarah's borderline murderous look, he read the text that was waiting for him.
Ditched own surveil. to quickly recon SW's apt. Audio still safe, visual compromised – thermal equip. present. Will discuss tomorrow.
- JC
Offering the phone to her as they entered the elevator, she handed it back after she had finished reading the text. He used his phone to punch the button to Sarah's floor and gesture in the air.
"Can you do drinks tomorrow, sweetie?"
It took her a moment to catch on. She nodded while wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. Chuck punched in Casey's number and waited while the phone rang, his other arm reactively going around Sarah's waist.
"Hey John, just got your text and wanted to call you before we turned in for the night—we'd love to come over for drinks at your place tomorrow. Do you have a time in mind? … Oh, sure, after work, uh, works. … Yeah, I know, I can't believe I'm getting out of the Buy More either. … I actually have some more news, too. … Ha, no, Ellie is not evicting me, very funny. … We'll see you tomorrow, night!"
Hanging up, Sarah moved her head to Chuck's shoulder. Doing so made it easier to carry out the whispered conversation they needed to have.
"The thermal equipment's a problem."
"Why's that?"
"Because while they can't hear us, they'll be able to see us through the curtains and walls."
"OK, so wha…"
She shushed him so she could think as the elevator continued its torturously slow trek to Sarah's floor. If the surveillance has been there all night, then they'll know we almost tackled one another before the party, meaning that we need to perform…damn it. If it hasn't been there all night, then we'll be fine…until they discover that we got engaged tonight, when they'll then wonder why nothing happened tonight after we got back, meaning that we need to perform…double damn it. Either way, the conclusion was the same.
"This is what needs to happen. We need to get into the bathroom in such a way that it looks like we won't be coming out for a long while, alright?"
"Why a long while?"
"Because we need to talk, and that's the only place we're going to be able to do it without being watched. Spending a large amount of time in a bathroom without the proper…motivation looks suspicious."
Is "suspicious" our new bad word?, he thought. For a while, there, it was "compromised." Keeping his thoughts to himself, he nodded.
"Do you have a plan for getting us into the bathroom for that long that's not suspicious?"
Her plan was the smart play in this situation, just like making out with him in the car during the warehouse raid had been. She bit down hard on the side of her cheek, because like the warehouse raid, this plan was going to have fallout.
"Yes."
He waited for her to elaborate. When no elaboration came, he glanced up at the illuminated numbers above the elevator doors. They were two floors away from Sarah's.
"We're going to hit your floor in a minute, so if you could tell me what the plan is so I know, that'd be great. Do I have to conga dance across the room?"
"So long as you're in the process of undressing me," she muttered, "you're more than welcome to conga."
She hadn't intended for him to hear what she said. He obviously had, and was in the process of hissing "WHAT!" when she poked him in the side…hard.
"Chuck, you proposed to me a few hours ago, and we were a step away from undressing each other before we remembered the party. They probably saw that. Now, if you can figure out a non-suspicious way for us to get to the bathroom that doesn't involve any clothes-tearing passion, then I'm all for it, but we set ourselves up for this one."
And I am not particularly pleased about it, she thought.
Standing there gape-mouthed, Chuck's mind raced to find a more acceptable solution that didn't involve shedding clothing. Every alternate plan he came up with sounded ridiculously contrived. He finally snapped his mouth shut and let out a small sigh as he tightened his hold on her, tacitly admitting that her plan was the best option available. Both fell silent as the elevator passed the next floor. Sarah whispered again as the elevator slowed for her floor. Nervousness and worry tinged her voice.
"We can control this, right?"
He wasn't so sure.
-.-.-.-
This tile is not cold enough, Chuck thought. He was laying face down on Sarah's bathroom floor, clad only in his boxers, trying to channel some of the coolness of the tile into his lower extremities. He was also trying not to think of the events of the past 45 minutes…with little success.
Once the elevator had reached her floor, they had made it down the hallway without any major incidents. Sarah had already slipped her hands under his suit coat and was working on unbuttoning his dress shirt by the time they got to her door, and they'd all but fallen into her room when they'd managed to get said door open. He'd escalated everything once the door had shut by crashing his lips into hers, and had tried to keep Sarah as clothed as possible while moving them toward the bathroom.
Noticing his hesitation, Sarah had taken the final step that resulted in his current prone position. She had backed out of his embrace and stalked toward the bathroom, shooting him a smoldering glare over her shoulder. Stunned, only when Sarah threw her dress at him did he snap out of his stupor and race after her. The intermittent details were hazy, but it ended with her on the vanity counter in her bra and panties, his clothes all over the bathroom floor, both sets of hands nearing dangerous territory, and the two of them breathlessly staring deep into one another's eyes in a painful moment of clarity: we can't control this.
After that, he backed away from the counter and sprawled out face down on the floor as best he could to cool off. He had heard her get into the shower moments later, and neither of them had moved or spoken since. Lifting his forehead off the floor enough to look over at the shower, he thumped it back down to the ground and sighed.
"Can I ask why we did that?"
She'd been letting the water run over her for a while, but his voice breaking the silence had her feeling like she was on fire again. God, I wish this shower was colder. Talk about major fallout. Triple damn it. She tried to keep her tone measured when answering.
"The steam and heat from the shower will mess with the thermal goggles by…"
"…making the room temperature match body temperature so they can't distinguish human bodies from the ambient temperature. I get it."
Silence reigned again. Chuck asked another question a couple minutes later, higher brain functions not yet returning.
"Why are you showering, then?"
Other than the obvious reason, Chuck? She gave him the professional reason instead of the obvious one.
"If we're in here for a while, our friends with the thermal gear are going to be suspicious if we come out completely dry."
Why me?, he thought, looking toward the ceiling. Didn't we suffer enough with the undressing thing? His eyes snapped to the bathtub as they returned to the tile. He scooted across the floor to turn on its faucet, filling the bathtub with icy water. The sound of the tub filling prompted Sarah to poke her head out from the shower.
"What are you doing?"
"Multitasking," he answered over his shoulder. She doesn't seriously expect me to jump in that shower, does she? How the hell is a hot shower going to help? Not expecting to see her head enveloped in a steam cloud or to make eye contact with her, he did a double-take before looking skyward again and turning the water colder before stepping into the tub, boxers and all.
"Speaking of our friends, did you get a chance to look at any of our surveillance video at work today for them?"
Accepting that they had resumed speaking to one another, Sarah withdrew her head back into the shower. She took in one sharp breath before letting it out slowly. Focus on his exact question. Forget the rest.
"I looked over the footage on my lunch break."
"…and? Did you find anything?"
"Whoever's watching us isn't very good. They pick bad vantage points to watch from and are far too obvious. The first video of them I found was from Sunday afternoon, when we were walking across the courtyard. There's always been someone in your courtyard or in the Buy More parking lot since then, normally doing a horrible job of hiding."
And apparently there are people watching my apartment as well, she silently added while rinsing the shampoo from her hair. If she ever found out who was watching her apartment, she made a vow to drop them into the Pacific. Unlike her, Chuck was thinking aloud.
"If they're so obvious, won't we know when we're being watched? We could just relax the rest of the time."
"Or they might be obvious on purpose. Then, when we don't see the obvious surveillance, we'll let our guard down, and the surveillance that we haven't detected will watch how we really act."
Chuck sighed out of sheer incredulity. Just when I think I have the spy world figured out…
"If we figure out who's watching us, could Beckman create a reason to order them back to DC? Can't she check who's requested vacation time lately?"
"You're assuming that they're active agents. They could be retired agents or analysts doing a favor for a friend."
Taking a deep breath at that disheartening news, Chuck submerged himself completely in the bathtub, enjoying the simplicity and silence of the underwater world. Upon surfacing again and rubbing the water out of his eyes, his agitated sigh marked his frustration with the complexities of the spy world. She heard it over the roar of the shower and decided that it was her turn to ask a question.
"Tell me about your flash from earlier."
Minutes later, Chuck finished detailing the intel from the Intersect from both flashes—Sarah had only seen the one in the sitting room, and had missed the hallway flash completely. She noted the high points, and was formulating her report to Beckman in the morning when sloshing from the tub interrupted her thoughts. Poking her head outside the shower again, she found Chuck standing in the middle of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. He shrugged before answering her unasked question.
"We've been in a bathroom for over an hour. Your opinion of me must be very high."
The line prompted a sad smirk from Sarah. Ducking back into the shower to shut off the water, she reemerged wrapped in a towel, and both wordlessly made preparations to sleep. Neither was in the mood to talk about the end of the evening.
Crawling into bed, they stayed on separate sides long enough to fall asleep. Sarah still woke up the next morning wrapped in Chuck's arms. She made the conscious decision to go back to sleep and enjoy what was fast becoming the favorite part of her day.
-.-.-.-
Day 6: Wednesday
Thumping a bottle of excellent scotch against his left leg, Chuck loosely held Sarah's hand while she knocked on Casey's door. Raising his arm enough to see his watch, he resumed thumping the scotch against his leg once he'd finished and fiddled with their intertwined fingers.
"What time did Ellie say dinner was?"
Sarah had answered Chuck's cell phone this morning while he was in the bathroom getting dressed for work. Ellie had been the caller. After Ellie had calmed down—Sarah answering Chuck's cell so early in the morning was a major event, in the eyes of the elder Bartowski—Ellie had invited them over for dinner tonight. There had a problem with the bridesmaids' dresses, and she wanted to talk with Sarah over the best way to deal with the problem.
"She really didn't give a time. Something about dresses having the wrong fastening devices and needing to be refitted…?"
"You're talking to me about fashion? I'm lucky I can dress myself, thank you very much. Fastening refitters or whatever means nothing to me."
"You did pretty OK last night, if I remember correctly."
He tensed next to her, and she kicked herself. He's rubbing off on me—I walked right into that one. They had been ignoring last night all day for the sake of the cover, and in ignoring it, they had reached a tenuous sort of détente. A voice calling out from across the courtyard saved either of them from having to answer.
"Hey, Chuck!"
Both heads whipped toward the voice. Ellie was waving at them from Casa Bartowski's doorway, surprised to see her younger brother standing in front of John Casey's door. Oh come on, Ellie, he thought, you HAD to walk outside during the 15 seconds where we were waiting for Casey to open his door? You spared us from having to talk about last night, though.
"Hey sis. We'll be over in a few: John invited us over for drinks."
"That's great‼ He doesn't seem to have a lot of visitors, so that's really nice of you guys."
How is that great?, Chuck wondered. Sarah was too busy hiding her smirk in Chuck's shoulder, and Chuck didn't get a chance to ask—Ellie wasn't finished.
"Why don't you invite him over for dinner? We have plenty of food."
Chuck pasted on a fake smile.
"That's so thoughtful of you. I'll ask him, but I think he's opening the store tomorrow, so I'm not sure that he'll say yes."
Ellie set her jaw. He could see it from his position across the courtyard.
"Chuck, you tell him that unless he has something better to do, he WILL show up for dinner tonight. Got it?"
"Got it. I'll pass it along."
Nodding once, she smiled and waved at them again. Sarah whispered to Chuck once Ellie had shut the door.
"We're inviting Casey over for dinner?"
"Be nice to my coworkers. Not everyone can serve yogurt for a living."
Shit. She had forgotten they were probably being watched. Before she could berate herself any further, Casey's front door swung open to reveal the man himself with his fake sincere smile. Waving them both inside and taking the bottle of scotch off their hands, Chuck noticed that Casey had made no effort to create a sitting area for their fake social call. The acute lack of a couch in Casey's front room had never struck him until this particular moment. As soon as the door shut, Casey turned back into his charming self.
"We're clear for audio AND visual in here—NSA was by earlier today to install heat shielding in the walls and windows to deter thermal cameras. That means you lovebirds can keep your hands off of one another so I don't have gouge out my eyeballs."
Sarah scowled at Casey as Chuck unconsciously took a small step away from her. Just what I need—Casey being…Casey. In case we aren't having a hard enough time today…
"So, Walker, do you need help putting together your bridal registry?"
Chuck noticed Sarah slowly moving her hand toward her sheath of throwing knives and grabbed her wrist before she could snatch one and throw it at Casey. He talked as he did so.
"Actually, know what, Casey? I think we're good. Ellie will have all of that covered, don't you worry."
Sarah was on the verge of protesting, flipping her arm over to show that she could easily break Chuck's hold on her wrist. He just looked at her, with his eyebrows shooting up once to punctuate how ridiculous it would be to skewer Casey, no matter how tempting. Casey caught the end of their silent exchange and decided to stir the pot again, not aware that he was about to walk into a minefield.
"I noticed that Chuck didn't sleep at home last night. The real question is whether you two've sealed the deal and mamboed, or did Bartowksi not rise to the occasion?"
The shock on Chuck's face was evident, and she had no doubt that their cheeks were both burning a particular shade of crimson. She wasn't sure if Chuck's shock was because of what Casey said or because she had planted her hand on Chuck's hip as soon as Casey'd finished. The hand on his hip was serving two purposes: she was hoping that the tactile reminder would be a sufficient deterrent for her from killing Casey and that it would be enough to stop Chuck from trying to kill Casey.
"If you're quite done, Casey, what did you want to discuss?"
The venom in Sarah's voice took Casey aback. Taking note of her tone, Casey shifted to business to defuse the situation.
"I was going to tell you about the people watching your apartment, but I had a conference call with Beckman earlier. She mentioned that Chuck flashed on one of Fort Knox's clients. Details on this client?"
Taking his cue, Chuck dutifully told Casey the full details of his two flashes. Casey poured himself a scotch and swirled it in his glass a few times once Chuck finished.
"Sounds interesting. The general wants us to recon this guy: get into his office, poke around a bit to see if we can find evidence of who else is involved, that sort of thing."
Chuck coughed a bit before clearing his throat. Does no one else see the big problem with that?
"Uh, guys, if we have people watching our every move and Sarah's not even with the CIA anymore, how are we going to recon anything? The purpose of recon is to remain inconspicuous, or so I've been told."
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose—Chuck's point was valid. I think I may officially hate this new cover. The grunt from Casey sounded like he'd reached the same conclusion she had. She realized that they had another problem soon after her initial conclusion.
"Our firm provides security for Reed's office downtown. That means, I hope, that it's fairly secure. I haven't seen any client files yet, but the recon wouldn't be a quick in-and-out mission. We'd need a long block of time where the office would be empty...guaranteed"
Casey was out-and-out growling now, and Sarah's own revelation had put a sour look on her face. Chuck's brows were furrowed, eyes dancing back and forth between Casey and Sarah. Snapping his fingers, he motioned with one hand rapidly while he tried to assemble his thoughts aloud.
"Wait wait wait. We have that thing on Friday, right? The gala thing? Didn't Abigail say that most of their clients show up? If Reed's at the gala, then that means that he's not at his office..."
She saw where he was going with this and finished his sentence.
"…which means that it'll be empty."
Growls stopped coming from Casey. He was now staring at Chuck the same way he did any time Chuck had a somewhat coherent idea. A single, neutral grunt followed.
"That's not half bad, Bartowski. That'll give me a chance to get into his office."
"Just you? Alone? That doesn't sound like a good idea, but hey, I'm just the guy with the super computer in his brain, so what do I know."
With Casey starting to growl again, Sarah cut in to the conversation.
"Yes, alone probably isn't a good idea, but if Casey goes alone, then that demonstrates to whoever's watching us all that his mission and my old mission aren't related. It might help get these people to back off."
Sarah intended to ask about little surveillance problem, but Casey wasn't done talking about the recon mission.
"If I have to do this alone, I could use some extra intel. Can you get the security system specs for me, Walker?"
The perils of having one foot in the private sector and one foot in the public sector suddenly became quite apparent to Sarah.
"…that might not be a good idea—this is what I officially do for a living. It's not a cover. I can't lose this job. Leaking secret, internal files hardly helps that cause any."
Casey took a menacing step toward Sarah. Sarah's reaction and tone from earlier forgotten, Casey harshly pointed toward Sarah and Chuck where appropriate to emphasize his point.
"Even though you get to prance around all day as dipstick's future wife with your civilian job, you're still a CIA agent, and don't you forget it. Our orders are to recon this guy's office."
Taking a few well-spaced steps put Sarah toe-to-toe with Casey. Both were starting to get louder with each exchange.
"You don't have to remind me what my orders are, thank you. Currently, they involve not only recon, but maintaining my cover and protecting the Intersect, same as yours."
"Funny, you just said that your precious job at the security firm wasn't a cover, so is it a cover job or isn't it?"
"Don't get cute and argue semantics with me. You know exactly what I mean."
"Getting cute? Oh, that's rich. I believe you've been ordered to be cute with Chuckles over there, and you're doing that very well. You wouldn't be compromi..."
At the word "compromised," with its new implications and the events of the previous night, Sarah instinctively reached toward the small of her back for her gun before remembering that she no longer carried one—she was not officially a CIA agent. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Casey, whose eyes narrowed to slits as he started to reach for his. Just as he was about to draw down on Sarah, a hand appeared on each of their chests: Chuck had wedged himself between the two agents and had pushed them apart firmly. From the fleeting stunned expression on both agents' faces, Chuck's guess was that neither of them remembered that he was actually in the room.
"Hey now, hey now: no need to yell. We're all young and spry and have our hearing. Easy does it."
"You're about as spry as a beached whale, moron."
Chuck ignored the barb from Casey and forced himself to speak calmly to Sarah.
"If Casey breaks in before you review client security and breaks in exploiting the very holes that you find in their security when you review it, then that would help your cause…wouldn't it?"
Sarah and Casey were still seething at one another. Tapping on Sarah's chest with his thumb, Chuck repeated himself again once her eyes snapped to him and refocused.
"That would probably reinforce my cover, yes, so long as we don't go breaking in to other clients' offices."
Since she was already looking at him, Chuck walked Sarah backwards toward the door as he spoke.
"See, so assuming your clients aren't all scumbags, we're in great shape."
Chuck spoke to Casey without turning around once they'd reached the front door.
"Casey, you're invited to dinner. Ellie was insistent, which is unfortunate. Come over when you're ready, unless you're just going to be your charming self—don't bother if you are."
Opening the front door, Chuck morphed the sentence into a fake goodbye to Casey. The NSA agent peered through the blinds at the couple walking across the courtyard. Chuck and Sarah were putting up a good front that would fool anyone else, but he could see the tension in them both. Shaking his head, Casey grunted before heading upstairs to change for dinner at the Bartowski residence.
Damn. I knew this new cover wasn't going to end well.