Decided to post this part a day early because, well, I wanted to. Keep the reviews coming, my little ferrets. Oh, and special props go to brickroad16 for keeping the moe-hee-toe tradition alive in the 5th chapter of the fic "Seven Times". If you haven't read that fic, then four out of five doctors agree there might be something wrong with you.
CHAPTER THREE: A FORCED PERSPECTIVE
Breakfast was... strange. At least it was for Ellie and Devon. Chuck and Sarah made of decent go at levity and normalcy. Which is probably why it was strange for the former two.
"Toasted bagel with cream cheese. Glass of OJ."
Sarah accepted the breakfast from Chuck with a smile. The man knew what she liked.
"Good call saying I should leave a spare Orange Orange uniform here," Sarah said. "It'd be a pain to race across town just to get dressed."
"Well, regardless of popular opinion, I have been known to show consideration and forethought."
"A few of your more charming character traits," Sarah admitted. "Do you need a ride to work?"
"No, I have second shift today."
"Can you come by a little early? We have a meeting scheduled at noon."
"Mmm. Vaguely Oriental inspired yogurt and a meeting with the head honcho. How can I pass that up?"
"Well, you took me to a movie and Italian dinner. I thought I should return the favor."
"Seriously, you shouldn't have. I mean that, from the bottom of my heart. "
Ellie and Devon watched the repartee in disbelief. "How can you do this?" Ellie asked. "How can you act this way? After last night, after everything you told us...?"
"I find when confronted by dangerous situations a little humor goes a long way," Chuck said. "Of course, denial goes even further."
Ellie looked to Sarah. The blonde shrugged. "It's not the technique they teach at the Academy, but it works for him." A beat. "Works for me, too."
"Can't you resign?" Devon asked. "No offense, dude, but despite what I saw last night, you don't strike me as the gunfire type."
"No offense taken. That's why I usually stay in the car." Chuck barely flinched at Sarah's muffled guffaw. "Anyway, I don't have a choice about my employment. I was kinda... conscripted."
Neither Devon nor Ellie missed the flash of guilt that flickered across Sarah's face.
"Did she...?" Ellie asked, nodding to Sarah.
"No!" Chuck denied. "Come on, it's Sarah. You know her better than that."
"If you say so."
Ellie didn't mean for it to sound cruel. In truth, Sarah knew exactly where the comment was coming from. But that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. She pushed aside her breakfast. Grabbed her phone and car keys.
"I gotta go. See you at noon?"
"Sarah..."
She was gone before Chuck could make an appeal. He turned to Ellie, exasperated.
"Ellie, what the hell?"
"I'm sorry!" Chuck could tell she truly was. "It's just— I just found out your girlfriend is a CIA operative. I mean, how well can you truly know her? How well can any of us know her? And this world you're living in, the world she's a part of- God, I'm scared for you, Chuck!"
"Look, I know Sarah! I've spent the last year with her. Sure, there are facts about her that I don't know and probably never will. Her real name for instance. But I know her. I know she's a sucker for old black and white movies, interestingly enough, Cary Grant flicks and the Universal monster movies. Her favorite flower is the gardenia, her favorite weapon is the Benelli M3 Super 90 semi-automatic shotgun, though she doesn't get much chance to use it. She has a bizarre fascination with teenage oriented novels, particularly supernatural romances. Scrolling through her iPod, I can tell she loves early 90's grunge rock. Oh, and despite the fact she comports herself as the consummate professional, a tough as nails agent, she still likes to be told she looks beautiful in an evening dress. I theorize it's because she hasn't had many people tell her that. At least, not by people who didn't have ulterior motives."
Chuck took a deep breath before going on.
"As for the world I'm living in, yeah, it's scary as hell. Truth be told, I'd rather run and hide. But since I don't have much choice in the matter, I might as well do what I can, because if I don't, people could die. As for Sarah, she is not responsible for dragging me into this world. She has saved my life more times than I can count. Frankly, she's the main reason why I'm still sane. It's through her compassion that I've gotten through all this."
Ellie sat quietly, staring at her coffee cup. Softly, she asked, "Can I... Is it okay if we hug?"
Chuck pretended to debate it. "Oh... alright."
Ellie practically ran into his arms, burying her face in his chest. She squeezed him so tight he feared he might turn blue.
"There, there," he said, patting her back.
As Ellie continued to squeeze, Devon thoughtfully sipped his coffee.
"So, when you go on a date, do you buy her gardenias or a box of ammo?"
Chuck thought for a moment. "Depends on the occasion."
----------------
The noon meeting went... well. Beckman only busted out a couple more scathing criticisms regarding the previous night's events. She also declared that the mission status wasn't compromised to the point where relocation of Chuck was necessary. Since the entire Bartowski apartment was already under surveillance, and because Devon and Ellie had passed extensive background checks, it was deemed that Sarah and Casey could adequately provide cover to all three.
"Great," Chuck joked lamely, "I put incarceration in a secluded bunker off for another day."
On most days, the three would make lunches at home and store them in the Orange Orange freezer. On this day, only Casey brought a lunch. Chuck stopped by Quizno's to grab lunch for himself and Sarah. So as they sat around the counter, Casey was left to eat a chilled pastrami sandwich, enviously watching his counterparts eat something warm.
"It's a matter of appearances," Chuck explained. "A boyfriend is expected to bring a turkey sandwich, easy on the mayo, on toasted bread to his girlfriend at work. If I bring you something, well, then that's just weird."
Sarah bit into her sandwich, making sure to add an extra look of satisfaction as she chewed. "He's right, Casey. It'd just be weird."
"Of course, if you'd slipped me a ten this morning and said 'Hey Bartowski, how's about picking me up a sub on your way to the meeting?', that wouldn't have been weird."
"He's right, Casey," Sarah chimed in. "That wouldn't have been weird."
Casey offered Grunt #7, a long, exaggerated rumble. The sort of sound a bear makes when it's woken prematurely from hibernation. He really hated it when Bartowski and Walker ganged up on him.
The door jingled to announce the arrival of a new customer. Sarah pushed aside her sandwich and said, "Welcome to Orange Orange, how are... Rachel? What are you doing here?"
Chuck and Casey both turned to look. In walked a beautiful redhead wearing skintight black jeans and white t-shirt. Chuck turned and looked curiously at Casey when he muttered, "Oh baby."
"Sarah Walker," the redhead smiled. "How are you, babe?" Then, with a coy smile to Casey, "Hey Johnny. Miss me?"
Chuck and Sarah shared a look. Johnny?
"You stood me up in Dresden, Johnny," the redhead continued. "Hurt my feelings. I really thought we shared something special in Krakow."
"Yeah. And I was on antibiotics for two weeks because of what we shared."
Redhead simply turned to Chuck and Sarah, completely unperturbed by Casey's crude comment. "He loves me," she smiled, sauntering towards the NSA agent. She then straddled him, gripping the counter behind him for leverage. Casey looked completely entranced by her. Then suddenly, Red's expression turned serious. Casey squirmed.
"I'm only gonna ask once, okay? When you stood me up in Dresden, was it because of Carina?"
"No ma'am," Casey gulped.
Red seemed to judge his truthfulness. "Was it because of Margot?"
"Yes ma'am," Casey shyly admitted.
Red nodded, relieved. "Okay then. Long as it wasn't Carina. I hate that bitch. But Margot, she's a good girl." She planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "I forgive you."
"Okey-dokey," Casey mumbled.
Chuck looked to Sarah. Both were equally shocked as they together mouthed "Okey-dokey?"
Then, suddenly upbeat, Red dismounted and plopped down on the neighboring stool. Casey, who looked bewildered and out of breath muttered, "I should get back to work."
He hurriedly made a beeline for the door, but stopped when Red called out, "Johnny!" With his hand on the door, Casey looked back. "You are one NSA agent I always enjoyed liaising with."
The beginnings of a goofy smile appeared on his face. He was about to wave goodbye when he finally realized that Chuck and Sarah were watching him with amused smirks. His expression quickly soured. He then delivered Grunt #3 before leaving in a huff.
Soon as Casey was gone, Red turned her focus on Chuck. He couldn't help but squirm.
"So, Sarah, tell me. Who is this piece of scrumptious?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Rachel Roe, meet Chuck Bartowski. Chuck, meet Rachel."
"Can't say I recognize you," Rachel said as they shook. "Operative or analyst?"
Rachel caught the ever-so-brief look they shared before Chuck answered, "Analyst."
"Judging from your uniform, I take it your cover is Nerd Herd at the Buy More?" Chuck just nodded. Rachel gave him an appreciative once over and drawled, "Computer emergency." She turned to Sarah with a sly smirk. "This is one flash drive I wouldn't mind inserting into my USB port for a download."
Chuck futilely tried to cover his astonishment by coughing. Sarah bristled at Rachel's obvious flirtations. Rachel made careful note of her reaction.
"Listen, sweetie," she started, "much as I'd like to continue making your acquaintance, could you give Sarah and I some alone time?"
He looked to Sarah, who nodded imperceptibly. He gathered up the remnants of his sandwich and said his goodbyes. Sarah's eyes were on him as he left. Rachel's were on her.
"Now that's interesting," she said.
"What is?" Sarah asked.
"He's more my type than yours."
Sarah tried to laugh it off. "What are you talking about?"
"I always had a thing for tall, dark, and geeky. But you always went for the James Dean type. Be honest, babe, how often does he fix your hard drive?"
"Never. He's an asset, not an agent. It would be inappropriate."
"Really? Damn. Guy works on computers all day, gotta figure he's skilled with his hands. Seems like a waste."
Sarah shot her an annoyed look as she returned to her sandwich. "What do you want, Rach?"
"Nothin'," she innocently replied. "I'm between gigs at the moment. Needed to see a familiar face."
Sarah's annoyance evaporated. Sympathetically, she asked, "Coming off a tough one?"
"You have no idea."
It was a moment of understanding. Sarah knew the rigors of the job. How tough the assignments could be. And at the end of the day, there were only two people an agent could talk to about their experiences. The first was a CIA shrink, who no agent spoke to unless the brass mandated it. The other was another agent. And agents tended to stick together.
Rachel looked around the shop, trying to quell her emotion. "Looks like you're doin' okay."
"Been worse," Sarah admitted. "Beats schlepping through a South American jungle."
"I bet," Rachel laughed. "Of course, that's why I stick to Europe." A beat, "So, tell me about Chuck. Are you playing his girlfriend or is Casey playing his boyfriend?"
Sarah narrowed her eyes, slightly suspicious. "Why?"
"Since I was planning to ask if you'd drop by my hotel for drinks tonight, I was wondering if I needed to invite him along, too." Sarah seemed hesitant. "C'mon, Sarah, how long have we known each other? This isn't a play. I'm not a double agent. I just need a drink with a friend."
Sarah considered it. She had known Rachel for a long time. They graduated from the Langley training academy the same year. Ran numerous operations together. Sarah knew, without question, Rachel wasn't a double agent. And she certainly wasn't Fulcrum.
"Where are you staying?" she ultimately asked.
----------------
That night, Sarah, Casey and Chuck found themselves walking the hallway to Room 807 of the Regency Hotel.
"Well this is exciting, right?" Chuck exuded. "Bunch of us coming together to talk shop, share a few drinks, have a few laughs."
Casey offered Grunt #5 before turning to Sarah. "Did we have to bring him?"
"Actually, the invitation was for Chuck and myself. Be thankful I thought to invite you. And hope that Rachel doesn't kick you out."
"Please. That woman adores me."
"Right," Chuck drawled. "Women love men who insinuate they passed on a venereal disease."
"Oh, you caught the reference," Casey mocked. "I was wondering if you would. Thought I'd have to whip out a diagram and teach you about the birds and bees."
Chuck turned to Sarah, incredulous. "How does he bag so many secret agent hotties?"
"I have no idea," she answered honestly.
"My ass," Casey retorted. "Every day you fight your love for me. Still not interested though."
Sarah made gagging noises as she knocked on the door. "Rach? It's us."
After ten seconds of silence, the door unlocked. Then came a muffled, "Enter."
Sarah pushed open the door. Inside the room, about ten feet away, stood Rachel, weapon drawn. Team Bartowski tensed at the sight, but then Rachel saw that indeed it was Sarah and crew. She holstered her pistol and set it aside. With a wide smile, she beckoned them in.
"Come on in! I see you brought Johnny! The more the merrier. Take a load off. The fridge is stocked with booze. Let's get this shindig started."
-----------
Everybody was two sheets to the wind. Laughter filled the room. Gathered in the hotel room's living area, Rachel was regaling Chuck and Sarah with a story, waving her beer to emphasize her points.
"And this guy is massive. Swear to God, he could play defensive end for the Cowboys. He's about 6'3, 250 pounds. Chiseled like a Michelangelo statue. The guy literally lifts me up by the throat with one hand and holds me about three feet above his head. I mean, I'm hurt bad. I got a bullet in my shoulder, my right leg is broken. I am literally seeing my life flash before my eyes, but none of the good stuff, just the low points. I recall Kyle Miller dumping me the night before prom to go out with my best friend. I remember the first time I actually had to shoot someone and peed my pants afterward. Oh, and let's not forget the time I didn't put a c-note on the Patriots to beat the Rams in the Super Bowl.
"So, anyway, the guy slams me into the wall. And in this thick Ivan Drago accent he says 'I crush you like bug'. Now I'm not ashamed to admit it, but I'm about two seconds from peeing myself again. But then, like a white knight, guess who shows up?"
Rachel smirked at Casey. Chuck looked astonished. "Casey? How'd he get away from the four guys in the poker room?"
"I have no idea, and to this day, he still won't tell me. But he's got a huge gash above his brow and can barely stand up, let alone walk. And he is angry as hell, too. I mean 'Hulk Smash!' angry. Fire could have shot from his nostrils and I wouldn't have been surprised. So somehow he walks over and rips Dmitri's brand new flat screen plasma television off the wall. And then he says, and I kid you not, 'Hey, asshole! You're on TV!'. And he slammed that TV right into Dmitri's skull. I mean, the dude dropped like a rock. Like Wile E. Coyote getting crushed by an anvil."
Even Sarah was impressed by the story. Casey was actually blushing at the attention.
"Oh, but it gets better," Rachel insisted. "He then carried me the four blocks to the extraction point. Not only that, but the elevator was busted, so he had to carry me up eight flight of stairs to the helicopter waiting on the rooftop. Like an absolute sweetheart, he stayed at the hospital in Kiev with me for three days before the NSA finally pulled him out. Ever since then, I have been an official member of the John Casey Fan Club."
"And here I thought you didn't like us CIA skirts," Sarah teased.
"Oh, don't let his gruff exterior fool you," Rachel advised. "Casey's a teddy bear."
"No I'm not," he pouted. "I'm a Cold School Killer."
The other three laughed at his weak defense. Casey tried to get angry, but found he couldn't quite manage it.
"Actually, I think he's a master of bad puns," Chuck said. Mimicking, "Hey, asshole! You're on TV!"
Rachel burst into a new fit of laughter. "Don't tell me he still does that."
It was Sarah's turn to poke fun. "Oh yeah. He drove his Crown Vic through the front window of a Chinese restaurant. First words out of his mouth were..." Chuck joined her to say, "Did somebody order drive-thru?"
Everyone burst into laughter, even Casey. Rachel had to wipe tears from her eyes. "Oh baby, you are a sweetheart, but I swear, sometimes I think you've seen too many Schwarzenegger movies." She was giggling as she stood up and went into the kitchen. "I think it's time to switch to the hard stuff. Johnny, are you still a scotch man?"
"Yes ma'am."
"How 'bout you, Sarah? I got OJ and vodka. Be just like that time in Glasgow. "
The boys cast curious looks. Sarah actually appeared to be blushing.
"Yeah, how 'bout we not tell that story?" she pleaded.
"Oh, come on," Rachel teased. "I'm sure Chuck would love to know who you think is the better kisser: me or him."
Sarah appeared very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of both men. Lamely, she said, "The job, you know. The things we do for it."
As Rachel mixed drinks, "Really? I seem to recall us being between missions at that point."
Sarah was turning bright red. She suddenly found her shoes incredibly interesting. "Shut up and fix our drinks," she mumbled.
Rachel laughed. "Chuck, baby, what would you like?"
"I'll have what you two are having."
Rachel mixed up three screwdrivers and a scotch on the rocks. She carefully clutched the glasses, headed back into the living area and dispensed the drinks. She then eased back into her armchair.
"Thanks again for coming. The last several months have been rough. I really needed a night like this."
"Are you sure you're okay, Rach?" Sarah asked with concern. "You just don't quite seem yourself."
Rachel stared at her drink. Melancholy seeped into her voice. "You guys know how it is. This job... the things you gotta do." Sarah and Casey took pulls off their drinks, nodded solemnly in agreement. "The things THEY make you do. The way they expect you to check your conscience at the door along with your coat. It's a thankless job, isn't it? You go in, take care of the baddies, then slip away into the night. That's what our lives are – a serious of encounters with the scum of the earth. Drug dealers, arms smugglers, human traffickers, and various other sociopaths. Of course, that's what they turn US into. Sociopaths. How else can we be expected to commit the atrocities that we do in the name of justice?"
The agents took pulls off their drinks and nodded in mute acknowledgement. Chuck was riveted to the conversation, trying to process it, to glean some understanding of Sarah and Casey.
"Then, once in a while, we meet someone," Rachel continued. "Someone who sheds a little light into our darkness. Who gives us that glimpse of the so easily forgotten good side of humanity. Who makes us long for something else, for something more."
Rachel clearly caught the subtle glance Sarah flashed to Chuck. What's more, Chuck caught the glance. For the briefest of moments, they locked eyes, a wealth of communication passing between the two.
'Crap,' Rachel thought. 'This is gonna be tougher than I hoped.'
"Anyway. This night has been incredible. Truly, it has. Sarah, Johnny, I love you both, I want you guys to know that. No matter how this thing ends."
Both agents looked to her, sudden concern rising. It was Sarah who vocalized her feelings. "Rach? What do you mean?"
"Babe, I lied earlier," Rachel regretfully informed her. "This was a play."
Sarah and Casey suddenly began to feel drowsy. Looking to their drinks, they instantly understood. Their faces showed betrayal. Rachel hated it.
"Please, don't look at me like that. If you knew the situation, I think you would both understand."
Casey was slipping into unconsciousness. Sarah tried to get to her feet and pull her weapon. Rachel easily disarmed her and gently pushed her back onto the couch. She took a moment to ensure her blonde counterpart was comfortable.
"Sweetie, I am so sorry. Maybe one day you'll forgive me." A moment, then, "But I doubt it."
Sarah slipped into unconsciousness.
Rachel turned Sarah's weapon on Chuck. While suffering the effects of alcohol, he didn't seem to be suffering any other effects. At least, not beyond incredible confusion and fear.
"Rachel?"
Rachel cocked the weapon. "Sorry, babe. This hurts me more than it hurts you."
Chuck gulped, his eyes fixed upon the gun. "I seriously doubt that."
END PART