A/N: First of all, sorry that it took so long to get this chapter posted. I really envisioned this chapter to only be about 8000 words, but it turned into over 13,000, making it the longest chapter so far.
Of course, I have to thank mxpw for taking the time to beta this. This chapter is a beast, you guys, and mxpw truly is an awesome guy! He's been my sounding board these last couple of days.
I hope you guys like this chapter, because it's my personal favorite so far. And as always, I thank you for the feedback! Reviews do help give writers a push, so thanks so much, you guys!
October 2, 2007
Orion's Den
11:20 PM PST
Chuck walked down into the basement, and pulled off his jacket. He saw Bryce and Stephen, both looking up at their computer monitors, and typing furiously.
"Where's Jill?"
"She's in the other room, working on your new suit," Bryce replied. "She says she'll have it ready before you go to Virginia."
Chuck nodded. "Tell me what I need to know," he said, while walking into his office so that he could put on his suit. He began to strip away his clothes.
"We could only guess as to why Walter's here," said Stephen. "I couldn't get a hold of your mother to see whether she could confirm or deny our theories though."
Chuck rolled his eyes. Of course they couldn't get a hold of his mother. They only spoke to her once every couple of months. He squeezed into his armor.
"Anyway, it turns out that he's Ted Roark's bastard son," said Bryce. "And he just got a job at Roark Industries, so we're assuming that he's going to make nice with his long lost father, and sabotage the company from the inside."
Omega's main goal was to start an economic crisis, so it made sense that they'd start putting their agents in successful companies. He made a mental note to check over every new hire for the corporate branch of Legends as he strapped on his wrist computer. "Where's he staying?"
"The Marriot on South Figueroa, room 732," Stephen replied.
As Chuck began to button up his shirt, something occurred to him. This was the first time that he was going to confront an Omega operative. He remembered Daniel Shaw, and how Bryce was going to shoot him when he wouldn't give up any relevant information. Oh, God! Was he going to have to kill Wally?
"Wait," he said, forgetting about the buttons, and walking back out to Bryce and his father. "I'm not going to have to kill him, am I?"
Bryce and Stephen exchanged cautious looks, causing Chuck to gulp. Yes, Wally was an ass, a gigantic one at that, but still. He knew what he had gotten himself into when he had downloaded the Intersect. But was he ready to actually take a life? No, he didn't think it was.
Stephen turned to Chuck, and shook his head. "Just tranq him, and bring him here for questioning. We'll have the holding cell ready."
He wanted to ask whether they were just going to keep Wally in the cell until the war with Omega was over, or if they were going to execute him once they got all the intel that they needed, but he held his tongue. He needed a clear head if he was going to flash later.
"Charles," said Stephen, walking over to Chuck. He put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it. If he has nothing to offer us, we'll keep him in the cell."
He responded with a confused look. Were his facial expressions so easy to read that they broadcast his thoughts to other people?
"Maybe we can turn him so that he works for us," said Stephen. "If we can't, we'll just keep him in the cell."
"But why?"
Stephen looked up at Chuck. "Killing Omega agents isn't going to accomplish much. But capturing them and holding them in captivity? That'll accomplish so much more. It'll show Omega that we're learning more about them from their agents instead of your mother. It'll keep her safe."
Chuck nodded in agreement. His mother was risking a lot by being a double agent, and by capturing and holding Omega agents, he knew that would help ensure her safety. "Yeah, I see what you mean."
"So just tranq him, and bring him here," said Bryce. "We'll have the cell ready for him."
"Okay," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. "One less thing to worry about."
Chuck began to button up his shirt again, and he noticed the watch that Sarah had given him. He was about to unclasp the watch, but his father grabbed his wrist.
"Did your handlers give you that watch?"
Chuck nodded. "Yeah. I need to take it off so they don't track me to Wally's hotel."
"Wait!" Stephen exclaimed. "There might be a heart rate monitor on it. If you take it off, it'll send an alert to your handlers. Sit down." Stephen led Chuck to the closest chair, and sat him down. He turned to Bryce. "Can you bring over the toolbox?"
But Bryce was already holding the toolbox up, and he handed it to Stephen. A moment later, Stephen pulled the face off.
"What happened tonight?" asked Bryce. "How did you ditch your handlers?"
Chuck sighed, and shook his head. "It's a long story, man."
October 2, 2007
Club Aries
9:55 PM PST
Sarah knew that she was overreacting, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a little hurt by Chuck's actions. Sure, he was being his normal, sweet self, but the way he smiled at that Lou girl just rubbed her the wrong way. Chuck could do so much better than some girl who owned a deli and nearly had a seizure because her phone had frozen. She wasn't even that pretty either, Sarah noted to herself.
Sarah saw Chuck and Carina exchanging looks with each other. She knew she was being unprofessional. Maybe it was a mistake to flirt with Stavros, but she had only done it because it was he who took notice of her. Sarah sighed. It would have been better for her and her cover to just cozy up to Chuck to show Stavros that she wasn't interested in him. There was also a part of her that knew that she had only flirted with Stavros to see how Chuck would react. The end result was that he naively flirted with that tiny sandwich girl.
Sarah was about to apologize to Chuck for her unprofessional behavior, but she stopped when she noticed a tall, thin, blonde woman walking into the club with a large group of people. Outside the door, there were a countless number of paparazzi. She suddenly came up with a plan.
It was a silly plan, maybe a plan hatched-out of selfishness, but, with the amount of paparazzi outside, this was an excellent opportunity for her and Chuck to sell their cover. And she'd wanted to do this again ever since their fateful meeting at the hotel in San Francisco ten years ago.
"Hey, Carina, you step out first," she said, looking around Chuck at Carina. "Chuck and I will meet up with you in a bit."
Carina sniggered as she left the club. Sarah turned to look up at Chuck, and she felt hurt when she saw that he was looking fearfully down at her. "Why can't we all leave together?" he asked. "Is there something wrong?"
"I'm going to kiss you."
Chuck's mouth dropped down in shock. She didn't expect any other expression from him. After all, her statement came way out of left field. But it didn't change the fact that it stung her a bit.
"Ex—excuse me?"
Sarah nodded to the door. "There are more than two dozen paparazzi outside. I want to—" she stopped herself, mainly because if she finished that statement, it would have sounded insanely desperate. "We need to sell our cover."
Chuck scowled. "Listen, Sarah, while it would be really awesome to kiss you, I…can't." He offered an apologetic shrug. Sarah couldn't help her face falling in disappointment. "I have to think about my public image, you know? It's bad enough that they're going to get shots of me leaving a nightclub that's famous for attracting partying socialites, but to actually kiss you in front of everyone, and for them to take pictures that everyone I know will see? That's just…I can't. It's not only bad for me, but it's bad for you too."
Chuck had a point, Sarah realized. Sometimes it was easy for her to forget that Chuck was in charge of a successful company, and that he maintained a wholesome public image, because he was the same Chuck from back when they were kids. Sure, there were some subtle changes about him. She never would have thought that he would ever be into fast cars, let alone handle one so well. But the fact of the matter was that he was probably the youngest CEO running a Fortune 500 company. If the shareholders of his company saw him popping up on gossip magazines and websites, outside of a nightclub, then it could ruin his image.
What a stupid idea it was to kiss him, she thought.
"Chuck, I'm sorry." She looked down at her feet, feeling ashamed, but mostly stupid. "It was a stupid thing to suggest."
"It wasn't stupid," he said, gently lifting her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "I have a better idea on how we can sell our cover for the public though."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yep." He grinned and pulled her toward the door. "I'm going to give them a short interview about us."
"Chuck, wait—"
"I won't compromise you," he promised. "Trust me."
Sarah looked up at Chuck smiling warmly at her in a way that reassured her. "Okay."
"Yeah?" he asked, still smiling.
She nodded.
"Okay, then. Just let me do all of the talking." He pushed open the door, and they walked out, holding hands.
It took a few seconds for Chuck to be recognized, but as soon as someone shouted, "Charles Bartowski!" a storm of flashing bulbs began to blind her. It didn't surprise Sarah that Chuck was so recognizable.
Chuck gave Sarah's hand a squeeze, as a bold, balding man, holding a handheld video camera, approached them. Chuck continued walking. The man was following him, holding up his camera.
"Mr. Bartowski, how are you tonight?" he asked.
"Good, good," Chuck replied, but not making eye contact with the paparazzi. "Just out on a date with my girlfriend."
Sarah began to tense up as more photographers crowded around them. She wasn't used to being so out in the open. Her eyes began to hurt from all of the bright, flashing bulbs. It made her feel vulnerable. But Chuck ran his thumb along hers, and gave her a reassuring look. Oddly enough, it comforted her. Wasn't it her job to protect Chuck?
A series of questions rained down upon both her and Chuck:
"How long have you two been dating?"
"What's your name?"
"Are you happy?"
"How did you meet?"
Chuck spoke to the balding camera man. "All right, I'll answer a few of your questions."
The camera man smiled widely. "Thank you! I know you're a busy man, so I'll make this fast."
"Thanks," said Chuck.
"So who is she?" The man pointed his camera at Sarah. She fought the urge to yank the camera out of his hand and smashing it to the ground. It was part of her training. She was not to be noticed, but not memorable, while out on missions. But never in her career was she ever in a cover relationship with a famous CEO.
"This," he said, wrapping his arm around Sarah's shoulder and pulling her close to him, "is my best friend from my childhood." He smiled sweetly at her. Sarah couldn't help but smile back. "She was my first crush."
A wave of warmth rushed over her upon hearing what he had said. She felt giddy, all of a sudden, and she secretly hoped that Chuck would take more questions just so she could hear what Chuck had to say.
"Why didn't you guys date any sooner?"
"Life happened," Chuck replied. "You know, she had to move away. But luckily, we just happened to run into each other at a Buy More while I was buying some videogames."
"What game did you get?"
What the hell kind of question was that? Did people really care about what kind of videogames Chuck played?
"Halo 3," Chuck replied. He nodded to their limo. "Listen, man, I really need to get going. My ride's here."
"One more question," the man went on. "Are you happy that you found her?"
Chuck looked at Sarah, and then back at the reporter. "Of course, I am. Like I said, she was my best friend from childhood, and my first crush. She's the funniest, smartest, and the most beautiful person I know. I know this sounds cheesy, but…" his voice trailed off as he turned back to Sarah. "I really do cherish every second that we spend together."
It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed to not kiss Chuck. Instead, she leaned in closer to him. She knew that she must have been grinning like the Cheshire Cat. But even with all of her years of training, whenever she spent time with Chuck, she would sometimes forget that she was even a spy. There was a nagging voice that told her that he was just saying that for their cover, but she reasoned that Chuck was never a good liar.
"All right, people!" Casey's voice boomed loudly, as he walked around the limo. "Back up, let the man get into his car!" Casey shoved her and Chuck into the limo. The paparazzi were still taking pictures of them as the door slammed. "Get a real job!" she heard Casey yell to the paparazzi.
Once they settled into the back seat, facing the front, Chuck took Sarah's hand. Whether it was intentional or by accident, she didn't know. "So what'd you think?" he asked, grinning as he looked out the tinted window. "Not bad, right?"
"What?" she asked, distracted by the way Chuck was running his thumb along hers. "Oh, yeah, it wasn't bad at all."
"You guys can drop the lovey dovey act now," said Carina, causing both Sarah and Chuck to jump back in surprise. She had forgotten about Carina. "No one can see you."
Sarah released Chuck's hand as Casey stepped into the driver's seat.
"Bartowski!" Casey yelled, as he drove the car forward. "What the hell was that about in there?"
"What do you mean?" asked Chuck.
"You almost blew it with Stavros," Casey replied. "You weren't supposed to talk during the mission."
"How did you know what happened in there?" asked Chuck.
"Sarah and I were wired," said Carina, pulling a wire from her purse.
"Oh, right," Chuck said, looking cautiously at the wire. "I'm sorry about that, but at least we set up the meeting for tomorrow! You guys will be able to get what you need!"
"The point is, you broke orders—" Casey began.
Chuck scoffed loudly. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't know I was an official employee of the government. I must have missed the memo."
Casey growled, but Sarah spoke up before him. "Cool it, guys! All that matters is that the meeting is set up. Sure, Chuck went off mission a bit, but that isn't any different from Carina improvising while we're out in the field."
Carina gave a slight nod in agreement.
"Well, Bartowski," Casey grunted. "Because of your moronic efforts, you're going to have to pay up half a million dollars to Stavros tomorrow. Don't think the government's going to compensate you for that."
"Enough with the name calling!" Chuck yelled, startling even Sarah. She had never heard him yell in anger before. Hell, she had never even seen him angry before. "Jesus Christ! I've been doing everything you guys have asked of me, and yet you still treat me like shit! I know you didn't ask for this assignment, and it must suck for you guys, but it's not my fault that you guys are stuck with me! I just tried to do what I thought was right, and I dealt with everything you've thrown at me. I didn't do anything wrong." He shook his head, and looked out the window. "I found the bug in my office, by the way. Thanks for letting me know about that."
"You found out about the bug?" Carina asked.
"You weren't very subtle about planting it," said Chuck. "But why the hell am I being bugged?" He held up his wrist and pointed at the watch. "Why are you guys tracking my every move? I'm not a criminal."
Sarah had assets before in the past, and yes, she knew she was guilty of treating them harshly at times. To an agent, having an asset was like being forced to babysit someone when you've already made plans for the night. It was just a hassle. But Chuck was right. He was being treated poorly by everyone.
Hell, even she was guilty of treating him badly. She thought back to the day before. At one moment, she'd be cold and distant to Chuck, but the next, he would catch her off-guard somehow, and she'd be warmer to him. She felt terrible about it, and that was why she was more like herself today. The last thing she needed was to push Chuck away. Not when he was the only real person left in her life.
"Chuck, we should have told you about the bugs," said Sarah. "And I'm sorry that we didn't. But those bugs aren't there because we think you're a bad person. They're there so we could keep tabs on who's contacting you. And that wristwatch? Well, that's to make sure none of the bad guys get you. I know it sucks, Chuck, but I need—we need to know that you're safe."
Damn it, she slipped up again. In front of Carina and Casey no less.
Chuck face softened, and he nodded his appreciation. "I just don't like being treated like I'm an idiot."
"No one does," she said, smiling. "And we know you're not an idiot."
She saw Carina parting her lips to speak, most likely to say something along the lines of, "this is boring. You guys should make out or something," but Chuck's phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket, and Sarah could see a picture of Bryce smiling up at her.
"Hey, man," Chuck answered. There was a pause. "Hmm…let me call you back." He hung up and looked at Sarah. "God, I feel like a little kid, but is it cool if I go over to Bryce's tonight?"
"At this hour?" asked Casey.
"Yes," said Chuck, rolling his eyes. "I'm still going to go to work at the usual time tomorrow, but I was a scholarship student at Stanford. I'm used to not getting much sleep."
"What are you guys going to do?"
"We'll probably play videogames," Chuck replied.
Casey groaned.
"Let him go, Casey," said Sarah. "He deserves a couple of hours of privacy. Like he said, he didn't do anything wrong."
Casey grunted in response. Sarah had known him long enough to decipher his grunts. His last grunt meant, "He almost blew the mission." Sarah wasn't sure if that was true. After all, Stavros would never have given up an opportunity like that.
"Okay," she said. "So maybe Chuck did disobey our orders. But, Casey, Chuck's a business man. He knew what he was doing, and the important thing is that he was able to set up the meeting for tomorrow." Chuck smiled gratefully at her, and she nodded. "And without Chuck, and his satellites, we would have never been able to find out who…" she trailed off. Chuck wasn't supposed to know about Fulcrum or the Ring. "The bad guys had in our agencies. He's a patriot."
There it was, Sarah thought, as Casey twitched his head in a small nod. Casey always showed respect to those he considered patriots.
"Fine, Bartowski can go," he said. "But if anything happens to him, Walker, it's your ass."
Sarah chuckled, and gave Chuck a wink. "What are the chances of anything happening to him?" she asked Casey. She turned back to Chuck. "All you're going to do is play videogames with Bryce, right?"
He nodded. "Probably. We might play a short D&D campaign, but—you don't know what that is, do you?" he asked when Sarah raised an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, you insult me," she said, chuckling. She couldn't believe that Chuck still played that game. It was so nerdy, yet at the same time, it was cute, and reassuring to know that Chuck was still a nerd. "You don't remember that time you tried to get me to play Dungeons and Dragons with you and Morgan that one weekend?"
Chuck's eyes squinted in concentration, then they widened. "Oh man!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I can't believe I forgot about that!"
"That really hurts, Chuck," Sarah pouted playfully, putting her hands together in a heart shape, and pulling them apart. "How could you forget popping my D&D cherry? I thought it was a proud moment for you, but I guess I was wrong."
"I'm sorry!" cried Chuck, still laughing. "Oh, jeez! I remember that you were a Half-Elf named Stoiries Urthadar, and you got mad and threw the dice across the room!"
"I got mad because you and Morgan were cheating!" she insisted.
"We were not!"
Casey cleared his throat loudly. Sarah had forgotten, once again, where she was and who she was with. Damn it, Chuck, she thought. He was constantly throwing her off her spy game.
"Hold on," Carina piped up, looking concerned. "Bryce plays that nerdy game?"
"Yeah," Chuck replied. "We used to play it back in our Stanford days."
Carina crossed her arms across her chest, and leaned back in her seat. She let out a huff of air. "That explains so much."
"What do you mean?" asked Chuck.
Sarah already knew what Carina was going to say, but she couldn't help but laugh at Chuck's shocked expression as Carina responded.
"Well, the first time me and Bryce did the dirty, I had to fake it," said Carina, shrugging. "Had to give him a few pointers after that night."
October 3, 2007
Marriot Hotel
12:32 AM PST
Getting into the hotel was a huge hassle. It wasn't like Chuck could just walk in past the front desk without attracting attention. Even if he didn't have his mask on, he most likely would have attracted attention. Sometimes, being a billionaire sucked.
He snuck in through the kitchen door outside of the hotel. Thankfully, it was late, and no one noticed him. Unfortunately, the kitchen was located on the bottom floor. Wally was on the seventh. The blueprints that he downloaded into his wrist computer showed him that that there was a cargo elevator not too far from the kitchen, but it was under repair. It was just his luck.
He walked into the broken elevator, and climbed up to the top. As he looked up the elevator shaft, he really wished he had Batman's grappling gun. It would have made life so much easier for him.
"Bruce Wayne, you have no idea how lucky you are, you son of a bitch," Chuck said to himself.
Making a mental note to ask his father if he could build him a grappling gun, Chuck flexed his fingers. He exhaled a breath, grabbed onto the thick metal cable, and he began to climb up.
By the time he reached the seventh floor, he realized that he had come across another problem. Even with his long limbs, he couldn't reach the door to save his life.
He stretched his arm out in front of him to try to reach the door. He'd be damned if he came this far only to be thwarted by a door. "Come on," he groaned, his arm reaching out. He pulled it back, and made a punching motion. "Shazam!" Nothing happened.
The next thing he tried to do was swing, but the cables were taut. If only he had a utility belt filled with gadgets—his belt! He could wrap one end of his to the cable, and he could hold on to the other end. That should provide enough length for him to pry open the door.
With one hand unbuckling his belt, the other held on tightly to the cable. He silently thanked Mr. Gottlieb, his high school gym teacher, for forcing him to climb the ropes in gym class. He remembered that he was pretty good at it, even though he was afraid of heights.
Finally, he was able to pull his belt from his waistband. Holding the belt buckle between his teeth, Chuck wrapped the end of the belt around the cable with one hand, by reaching his left arm over his right, and behind the cable. He pulled the end of the belt close to his mouth, slid it through the buckle, and pulled it tightly.
When he was done, he wrapped his left leg around the cable, and held on tightly to his belt as he leaned forward. He guessed that he was at a thirty degree angle, and he was easily able to reach the sliding metal doors with his right hand. Digging his finger into the crack of the door, he pulled it to side as hard as he could. The door opened all the way.
Chuck pulled himself back to the cable, and unwrapped his belt from it. He threw the belt through the door, and he took a deep breath. To be safe, he decided to flash. It would not only be painful, but really embarrassing if he made it this far up, only to not make the jump.
His limbs felt stronger, and his body lighter, as Chuck launched himself off the cable and through the door, landing in roll. He picked his belt up from the floor, and quickly began to put it around his waist as the flash faded. He felt heavy again, and his arms were extremely sore.
"Gah!" he groaned painfully, rolling his arms and massaging his shoulders.
Remembering that he needed to create a loop in the security feed, Chuck began to hack into the hotel's wireless network from his wrist computer. The computer did most of the heavy lifting, and seconds later, he was in the security feed. His finger raced across the screen as he began to set up a video loop to five minutes prior to his arrival.
Chuck needed to come up with an escape route, because there was no way that he would be able to safely get Wally down the elevator shaft. He loaded up the blueprints on his wrist computer. He saw that he was in the loading room. There were only two options to get Wally out. The first was that he could try to hold on to the roided out man and climb back down the cables of the cargo elevator. The chances of Chuck not dropping Wally down the shaft to his death were low. The next option was risky, but it did ensure Wally lived. There was a large, thirty foot pool right outside room 732. They were only seven stories high, and although it was cruel, Chuck would be able to push Wally off the balcony to land safely, well, alive in the pool.
He decided to go with option two. After all, Wally was extremely rude to Sarah earlier.
As he approached the door, he detached the ultrasonic frequency emitter from his wrist computer, and slid it underneath the door. Straightening up, Chuck activated the device. The visors slid down over his eyes, and for a brief second, all Chuck could see was white until three dimensional images of the hallway outside began to form. No one was outside, so he shut the sonar off.
Opening the door as quietly as he could, he bent down to pick up the frequency emitter off the ground, attached it back to his wrist computer, and tiptoed down the hallway toward Wally's room. The hallway was dark and empty. It was eerie. Every few steps, he would stop to look behind him to see if anyone was there. It was an extremely slow process, but he couldn't risk exposing himself if someone were to leave their room to get some ice.
After what seemed like hours, he was finally in front of Wally's door. He took a blank magnetic card out from his pocket, and inserted it into the door. Then he pulled an extension from his wrist computer, and hooked it up to the door. Immediately, his computer began to process the code.
The door unlocked, letting out what seemed like a deafening clicking noise that seemed to echo down the quiet hallway. Almost instantly, the door shot open, sending Chuck back into the wall behind him. The next thing he saw was an angry glare radiating off of Wally's face as his Hulk hands made contact with Chuck's face. The force of Wally's punch snapped Chuck's head back against the wall.
Chuck sucked in a deep breath, and cleared his mind as he flashed on Tae-Kwon-Do. The flash cleared in time for him to see Wally about to deliver a wide, right haymaker to his face. Chuck braced himself by performing a left hook block, and he felt Wally's arm colliding with his wrist computer, causing the visors in his mask to slide down.
All Chuck could see was a blinding white light. He felt as though someone shot a bowling ball from a cannon into his stomach when Wally either delivered a body punch or a low snap kick to his gut. Once again, he was thrown backwards into the wall. Wally grabbed him by the shirt collar, and threw him off to the side. Chuck barrel rolled down the hall, hoping it would give him enough time to deactivate the sonar.
"Sonar off!" he yelled into his left wrist. Finally, the visors slid back up.
As he tried to adjust his eyes back to the darkness, Wally pulled him up from the ground, and flipped him around to put him in a sleeper hold.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it," Wally snarled. Once again, Wally's high voice would have been extremely funny under different circumstances. "I only want to know two things before I kill you: who's your mole inside Omega, and where's Orion?"
"I have an idea," Chuck choked out. "How about you tell me who and where the Architect is, and I'll tell you where Orion is? We can make a game out of it!"
Thankfully, Wally was as dumb as he appeared. He loosened his arms around Chuck's neck, and Chuck kicked off of the wall sideways, causing Wally to lose his balance. As he and Wally fell back down to the ground, he gratefully sucked in a breath of air. He somersaulted backwards up to his feet. Wally began to stand back up as well. Chuck ran toward him, attempting a twisting butterfly kick.
He kicked off the ground with his right leg, and he twisted his body in the air. Wally was fast. He ducked underneath the kick, and as Chuck landed, Wally landed a right jab to Chuck's nose. This time, Chuck heard a loud crunch as Wally's fist connected with his nose. Blood began to gush down his face as he stumbled backwards from the force of Wally's punch.
Chuck shook his head, and he flashed again. This time, he flashed on Krav Maga. Wally rushed toward him, his fist cocked back, ready to deliver another haymaker to Chuck. He caught Wally's arm and twisted his wrist back, jumping up to wrap his left leg around Wally's throat. If Wally weren't such a big man, he would have been down on the ground by now, allowing Chuck to keep him in a triangle hold. However, Wally was a big man. An angry, big, roided out man.
Chuck's hands held Wally's arms in a wristlock, while his legs tried to deprive Wally of oxygen. No matter how much he shifted his momentum, Chuck just could not bring Wally down. He released the wristlock, but kept his legs wrapped around Wally's neck. He pulled himself forward and delivered right and left hook punches to Wally's face. Instead of collapsing to the ground, Wally grabbed both of Chuck's arms, and slammed him down hard.
The breath was knocked out of him. Wally was like Bane from the Batman comics, Chuck realized. Except that he wasn't from the Caribbean, nor was he a genius. But he still had the strength of ten me, and he was tough as hell.
Chuck quickly stood up, ignoring the pain from all of the punches that Wally had landed. He looked down to see that Wally was down on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. Flicking his right wrist, his tranq pistol sprang into his hand. He quickly fired a dart into Wally's neck, and tried to lift the bastard into a fireman's carry, but he was too heavy.
A door creaked open, and Chuck looked up to see a man stepping out of his room. Luckily for Chuck, the man was looking down the other end of the hallway.
If Chuck was seen by a civilian, then there was no doubt that the wider public would know about him. If he went back to his handlers all busted up and bruised, and they heard about a break in by a masked man at the Marriot Hotel the same night that he was able to slip past them, they would be able to put two and two together.
Wally was too heavy for Chuck to pick up in a hurry. As the man by the open door slowly began to turn his head, Chuck pulled the dart out of Wally's neck, and pocketed it. He quickly turned around, and sprinted inside room 732.
Slamming the door shut, he tore off the computer from his wrist. There was a tiny crack on the screen from the haymaker that he had blocked earlier, but it should still be fine.
Chuck unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, and stretched his armor out to keep the computer in there. He couldn't remember whether the suit was waterproof or not, but he didn't have time to think about that. Striding across the room, Chuck slid the glass door to the balcony open. He took a few steps back so that he could get a running start. As he was about to sprint forward, he hesitated, suddenly afraid. What if he didn't jump far enough? What if his foot got caught on the railing?
He shoved his fears aside. Inhaling in a deep breath, he sprinted toward the railing. When he was roughly two feet away from it, he jumped, and kicked off of the railing. As he plummeted down to the pool, he was thankful that he lived in California where the sun was always shining, and swimming pools rarely closed.
October 3, 2007
Sarah's Penthouse
12:55 AM PST
She was sitting on her bed, leaning her back against the headboard. Sarah was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She was used to nights like this. Nights where the adrenaline from her previous mission pumped through her veins, feeling wired. But tonight was different.
Kicking the blanket off her legs, Sarah got out of her bed. She walked over to her window, and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Her breath fogged up the window. Taking a step back, she amused herself by drawing a stick figure in the fog. She chuckled as she drew a crooked smile on the stick figure. It reminded her of the last time she saw Chuck in San Francisco; tall, and lanky, complete with a goofy grin.
As the foggy stick figure faded away, she heard Chuck's voice echoing in her head.
"My best friend from childhood."
"She was my first crush."
"I really do cherish every second that we spend together."
A few years ago, Carina had told her that she wanted to quit the CIA. When Sarah asked why, Carina had responded with, "There's a reason why never falling in love is the cardinal rule of spying, Walker. Because when we do fall in love, then that's the only thing that matters to us. We don't care about anything else."
Sarah wasn't in love. At least, she didn't think she was. Not yet. But she knew it was going to happen. The longer she stayed here, the more time she spent with Chuck, her feelings for him were going to grow stronger with each passing day. She tried to fight them, but she couldn't. She tried to be cold to him, treat him like she would any other assent, but she couldn't.
He's Chuck, she reasoned. How could she push him away when he made her laugh, and blush, and feel good about herself? How could she push him away when he was already so close to her?
There was a gentle knock from her door. "Walker, it's Casey. You up?"
Frowning, Sarah walked over to her door. What was Casey doing here so late? He wasn't following Chuck, was he? "What are you doing here so late?" she asked when she opened the door.
Casey held up two large duffle bags. "I had to get the rest of my stuff."
Sarah stared at the bags, and stepped aside so that Casey can come in. "How many guns did you plant at Chuck's house?"
"About twelve," he replied, dropping the bags by her door. "But I can't sleep without an M4 at least thirty feet away from me."
"So you came back to grab your rifle?" she asked, walking over to the mini-fridge. She held up a bottled water.
"Yeah," replied Casey, catching the bottle after Sarah tossed it to him. "I came to get the rifle and some other supplies. I was thinking about going to Large Mart to get a microwave for myself. Lady Bartowski doesn't like them; neither does his sister," he finished with a chuckle.
"You know, Casey," said Sarah frowning. She sat down on a chair across from him. "You should be nicer to Chuck. There really is no need for you to be such an ass to him. It's not like he asked for you to be his butler."
"Yeah, I know," he said, scratching his head. "I'm not gonna lie, I feel bad about it. The kid did a lot to help our team, not only tonight, but with his satellites. I was out of line."
Yeah, you were, Sarah silently agreed while she took a sip of water.
"That's why I let the kid go over to Larkin's tonight," said Casey. "I felt bad for the guy. The kid had a tough life."
"Aw…is the ice around your heart finally melting?" Sarah teased.
"I'm serious," said Casey. "Did you know that his parents left him and his sister when they were kids?"
"I was there when his mom left," she said, remembering how hurt Chuck was that night.
"Yeah, well, the kid's had himself a tough life," Casey repeated. "Working his ass off in high school, working his ass off in college, and starting up that company of his? I have to respect that."
She nodded in agreement.
"Anyway, my point is, while I do respect the kid, we can't let him go out on his own like this. Fulcrum and the Ring are still out there. By tomorrow, when those pictures that the paparazzi took of you hit the websites, they're going to know that Bartowski has handlers. That's going to put all of us on their radar."
"I know," said Sarah, realizing something. As long as Fulcrum and the Ring were around, Chuck would always need to have handlers around him. She grimaced at the thought, feeling sympathetic for him. He would never be able to live a normal life until they were out of the way. "This is pretty much his last night living a normal life. I feel terrible for him," she sighed.
Casey frowned, and studied her for a moment, making her feel slightly uncomfortable; as if she was a book lying open on a coffee table. "You really care about Bartowski, don't you?"
"Yep," she replied bluntly. There was no point in sugar coating it.
"So what are you going to do after we catch Osiris?"
Sarah looked at Casey with an abashed expression. "I'm going to have to go back to DC," she said. "It's not like I have another choice."
He responded with a look mixed with skepticism and regret.
What did he have to regret? Sarah wondered.
"We all have the right to make a choice to leave," he said gravely.
"Why would I leave for Chuck?" she asked. It's not like he would have her, anyway.
Casey chuckled. "You can deny it all you want, Walker, but everyone around you can sense your lady-feelings for Bartowski. Just know, when we catch Osiris, and the time comes for us to pack up and go back to DC, if you regret leaving Bartowski behind, you're probably going to compromise your future missions. The CIA will most likely have you pushing pencils if that happens." He stood up and placed the lid to his water bottle back on. "Anyway, it's just something for you to think about."
As he picked his bags off the floor and walked back over to the door, Sarah remained seated in her chair. She knew the process of a field agent retiring from the company was long. She'd have to attend workshops, and go through rigorous tests to see how well she'd adapt to civilian life. Afterwards, she'd have to go through a cover process, and sign a secrecy agreement. Supposedly, that was all it took, but Sarah had a feeling that there was more to the process. She wouldn't be surprised if Graham would send agents to monitor her from time to time.
"Night, Walker," said Casey, making his way out the door.
"I take it that you made the wrong choice?" she called out to him before he shut the door.
Casey glanced over his shoulder, and remained silent for a moment, regret etched on his face. "Yeah," he replied. "Sometimes it feels that way."
She nodded as Casey left her room, gently shutting the door. It was rare for Casey to give her advice, but when he did, he knew how to pack a punch. She wanted to ask him some more questions about his past, but she decided not to. It was enough to admit that even he—the stone-cold NSA agent had more to him than bonsai trees and Ronald Reagan—did have his doubts about the life he chose to live.
Sighing, Sarah moved off the chair, and cranked her neck to the side until she heard a popping noise. She decided to worry about all of this later. They didn't even know where Osiris was. For all she knew, Osiris was probably not in California.
There wasn't any evidence indicating that he lived here, she thought, yawning.
Sleepily, she walked back over to her bed, and threw the covers off. Just as she had bent down to plop herself on the top of her bed, her phone began to ring.
Sarah walked over to her dresser, and grabbed her phone. Chuck's name was flashing on the screen. Before she answered, she looked at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was 1:40. Why would Chuck be calling her so late?
She flipped her phone. "Hey, Chuck," she said.
"I'm sorry for calling so late, I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No, you didn't wake me," replied Sarah, sitting on the edge of her bed. "What's up?"
"I…uh...got carjacked," he replied. "Do you think you can give me a ride home?"
"Oh my god!" she cried, smacking her hand up to her forehead, and hoping that Chuck wasn't hurt. This was all her fault. She was the one that convinced Casey to let Chuck out for the night, and then he ended up getting carjacked. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine," he said, chuckling nervously. "Just a little…scraped up."
"What?"
"It's not so bad!" Chuck insisted.
Sarah hoped that Chuck left the GPS on his car on. She was going to find the bastard who carjacked him, and kick his ass. Leaning her phone between her ear and shoulder, she walked over to her laptop, and searched for the coordinates on Chuck's watch. He was roughly twenty miles away. "I'll be there in a bit. Stay where you are."
"Yes'm," said Chuck. Sarah was about to flip her phone shut, but she heard Chuck's voice again. "Sarah, I am so sorry!"
"It's not your fault," she said. "Just hold on, okay? I'll be there soon."
Flipping her phone shut, she slammed it back down on top of her dresser as she began to change her clothes.
October 3, 2007
Orion's Den
01:25 AM PST
His entire body ached as he made his way down the stairs. His face was covered in bruises and his lips were busted open, making it look like he had tried to kiss his razor. Water was still dripping from his hair and his suit as his shoes made a wet smacking noise after each step he took. What hurt the most was the look of disappointment on his father's face.
Not bothering to ask whether Chuck was okay or not, Stephen just shook his head. "Why isn't Johnson here?"
Chuck sighed. "Apart from getting punched repeatedly by Bane's sledgehammer-like fists, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
"What happened, Chuck?" piped up Bryce, rotating his wheelchair around so that Chuck could step up on the back spokes.
"Wally ambushed me in the hall—he was expecting me—and a civilian came out of their room, and I panicked," he replied as Bryce wheeled him to the office. "I had Wally tranq'ed, but he was too heavy to carry. I didn't have time to think, so I ran. I didn't want a civilian to see me."
Stephen let out a frustrated groan. "You didn't want a civilian to see you, yet you expose him to an unconscious man lying in the middle of the hallway? Now the cops are going to be involved, and it'll only be a matter of time before the CIA finds out that a masked man—the same masked man that they're looking for—was responsible."
Chuck plopped down on a chair in the office, and let out a disappointed moan. He didn't even think that far. "I'm sorry, Dad! I panicked! I didn't have time to think!" he insisted.
Stephen ignored him, and turned to Bryce. "Check Graham and Beckman's phones," he instructed. "See if they got any calls from any of the field agents from LA." Bryce nodded, and went over to a computer, placing a pair of headphones over his ears. Stephen turned back to Chuck. "Charles, you're smarter than that! You should have sedated the civilian."
"You know what, Dad?" Chuck felt a wave of anger rushing over him. "I've never even had proper training when it comes to this stuff! In case you forgot, I've only been at this for six months! Without proper training! In those six months, how many successful missions have I been on? And I say again, without having been properly trained?"
"That's not the point, Charles—"
"In six months, I went on five missions that have all been successful," he interrupted. Although the 2.0 did most of the heavy lifting, it didn't do everything for him.
"And you failed the last two."
Chuck leaned back in his chair in frustration, and looked away from Stephen. There was no winning against his father.
"No calls were made to either Beckman or Graham," said Bryce, moving back next to Chuck. "But it could be because Wally's still unconscious. I wish we could see what happened after Chuck left."
"Wait," said Chuck, remembering something. "I'm still tapped into the hotel's security feed. I blocked a punch from Wally, and he cracked the screen on the wrist computer." He pulled the wrist computer out from under his armor. "But we can still see the security feed if we hook it up to the main computer."
"He—what?" demanded Stephen, grabbing the computer from Chuck's hand.
"That wasn't my fault," said Chuck quickly, pointing at the computer. "Wally was going for a knockout punch, and I had to block it."
"No, I know," said Stephen, hooking the wrist computer up to the main module. "It's just going to take a couple of days to fix."
"Oh…"
"And you leave for Virginia tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh," Chuck repeated. "Maybe we can set the meeting back?"
"No, just take one of my laptops," said Stephen. "It's clunky, but that'll get the job done."
"Yeah, fine," said Chuck. Although, it wasn't fine; he was sore, and he hasn't slept very well for the past couple of nights. He really just wanted to take a break, but he knew that his father wouldn't like that.
He looked up at the large monitor as the hotel's security feed loaded. "We were on the seventh floor."
Stephen hit a key on the keyboard, and a familiar, empty hallway filled the screen.
"It was about thirty minutes ago," said Chuck. "Rewind the feed."
"There it is!" Bryce exclaimed when he saw a masked Chuck getting thrown back into a wall.
Chuck winced as he saw himself on the receiving end of a right cross from Wally. "Yeah, we can just fast forward through this," he said uncomfortably.
"Wait," said Bryce, looking excitedly up at the screen. "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, laughing as Wally landed another punch on Chuck's face that sent him flying a few yards back. "This guy's a beast!"
"Yep…so why don't we—"
"Did you just flash on Krav Maga?"
"Yeah, we're wasting a lot of time by watching this, so let's just fast forward—" Chuck insisted.
"You look like a monkey trying to bring down a big tree branch!" Bryce laughed, ignoring Chuck, and looking gleefully up at the screen where Chuck had his legs wrapped around Wally's throat. "OH!" he exclaimed loudly when Wally slammed Chuck down to the ground. He turned back to Chuck. "You need to use your speed, man, if you want to take him down next time."
"Yeah, I know that," said Chuck, rolling his eyes. "But seeing as I was blinded for a good twenty seconds, it was kind of hard to be fast."
"Maybe you should watch Bloodsport again," Bryce cracked. "Or Rocky III."
Chuck ignored him as Stephen finally began to fast forward. The man that caused him to leave Wally and run, came out of his room to check on Wally, and called someone (the police, Chuck presumed) on his cell phone. A few more seconds went by, and two paramedics showed up to the scene accompanied by two police officers.
"Well, as you can see, the cops are involved now," said Stephen in a disappointed tone. "It's only a matter of time before the CIA gets wind that Johnson was attacked by a masked man."
"Wait," said Chuck, moving his chair closer to the screen to get a better look at the police officers. He squinted at the female cop. She had dark brown hair, heavy eyelids, dark eyes, and an angular face. "Pause the feed."
A 1950's New York taxicab
Sydney Prince
DOB: 08/16/1972
OMEGA: Field Agent
A 1950's New York taxicab
He gasped and pointed to the screen. "She's Omega. They all are."
"They must be members of Johnson's team," said Stephen.
"They're covering it up," said Chuck, watching as two of the Omega operatives lifted Wally from a stretcher. Why would Omega not want the CIA to know that Osiris attacked someone? Wouldn't that make the search for him easier? "Why would they cover it up?"
"You and Johnson spoke to each other before he activated your sonar, right?" asked Stephen.
Chuck nodded. "Barely."
"What did he say?"
"He wanted to know who our mole inside Omega was, and where you were," Chuck replied. "But Omega already has people in the CIA. It would be easier for them to let the CIA know what happened, wouldn't it?"
Stephen looked lost in thought for a moment. "Not everyone in the CIA is a part of Omega. I'm pretty sure they don't want Johnson to be investigated. By now, the CIA knows enough to know that Osiris wouldn't attack random civilians. They would want to know why he was a target."
Chuck nodded. He guessed that even if the CIA couldn't dig up any dirt on Wally, they'd keep him under constant surveillance. That would definitely make it hard for Wally to try to sabotage Roark Industries if that was what he was trying to do.
But if Wally was successful in taking RI down, that would cause a pretty serious dent in the economy. Roark has over 60,000 employees around the world, and if they all lost their jobs then Omega was one step closer to their plans of creating a global economic crisis.
"You got lucky tonight, Chuck," said Bryce, clapping Chuck's shoulder. "Man, if your handlers see you covered in all those bruises after hearing that Osiris got in a scuffle with Wally, they're probably going to guess that you're Osiris. At the very least, you'd probably be a suspect."
He was lucky that Omega decided to cover up what happened earlier that night, but he couldn't help but feel that if he was truly lucky, then his face wouldn't be covered in bruises, and that his nose wouldn't have swelled to the size of a softball.
Chuck was about to ask how he was going to explain his injuries when Jill walked into the room. She let out a shocked gasp and rushed over to Chuck. "Oh my God, Chuck! Are you okay?"
"I guess I am."
"Why didn't any of you tell me that Chuck was hurt?" she demanded, glaring at his father and Bryce. "I'll go get you an icepack and the first-aid kit."
"No, don't do that," said Stephen.
Both Chuck and Jill's mouths dropped. Sure, there were times when his father was slightly cruel, but this was crossing the line! Chuck was still in pain! He had indeed messed the mission up tonight, but it wasn't entirely his fault. If this was a way for Stephen to punish him, then this was a really out of character for him.
"Sarah's going to take care of you," said Stephen.
"What?"
"In September alone, there have been fifteen people that filed reports that their cars had been jacked."
"Wait—you want me to tell them that someone stole my car and beat me up?" asked Chuck. "What happens when we find my car and it's still in one piece?"
For the first time since Chuck could remember, his father had an apologetic expression on his face.
"What happens when we find my car, and it's still in one piece?" he repeated sharply. Fearing for the worst, his heart began to pound in his chest.
"Charles, your car…won't be in one piece," Stephen replied softly, purposely avoiding eye contact with Chuck. "I'm going to strip the engine, and ditch the body by the L.A. River."
He sprang to his feet. "That is just OVERKILL, Dad!"
"Everyone who had their cars stolen in the past month, had their cars found stripped of their parts by the L.A. River."
"Look at it this way, Chuck," said Bryce, grinning. "When the CIA gets wind that one of their associates had their car stolen, they will want to find the guy who's been stealing peoples' cars. You'll really be doing the community a favor, because the CIA will probably find him in a few days."
Chuck wasn't in the mood for one of Bryce's stupid jokes. He was the funny one; not Bryce. Bryce was supposed to be the man-whore, and Chuck was supposed to be the comic relief.
He flashed a glare in Bryce's direction before he turned back to his father. "Listen, Dad, why don't I just douse myself in scotch, and we can say that Bryce had to give me a ride home because I'm drunk? While driving me home, we can say Bryce's van was stolen, and that's how I got beat up?"
"Well, first of all, Charles, Ellie thinks that Bryce is dead," Stephen replied. "Secondly, who would want to steal a man in a wheelchair's van?"
"I don't know," Chuck huffed in frustration. "A hungry, obese man who's too lazy to climb into a car? Maybe a woman in labor's husband whose car just broke down by the side of the road? I'm just spit-balling here, but I'm sure we can come up with something better than me actually having to give up my car!"
"What's the big deal, Chuck? You've got tons of money. You can get another one."
"No, I can't!" He was lucky to even get his M5 when it first came out. "I called about six months ahead to get that M5, and now, there's a two year waiting list! If Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark were real, even they couldn't get one right now if they wanted to!"
"Maybe you should have driven your Aston Martin," Bryce suggested.
"'Maybe you should have driven your Aston Martin,'" he mimicked childishly. "Well, maybe you should be a standup comedian!"
"Chuck!" Jill reprimanded, scowling at him. But Bryce just laughed.
The little comment was uncalled for, he knew, but he had just had an all-around bad night. First, Wally had talked to Sarah as though she was a piece of meat. Then, Sarah got mad at him for "flirting" with that sandwich girl. After that, Wally kicked his ass. And now, he had to give up his car. He loved that car! It was fancy, but in a subtle way. Not to mention, he and Sarah had fun racing their cars together. They already shared something due to that car.
"I'm sorry, Charles, but we don't have much time to think about other options at the moment," said Stephen. "I'm sure that John Casey is waiting up for you—" Bryce snickered. "—and you need to get home soon before he comes here looking for you."
And if Casey saw the bruises on his face before he had a chance to tell him his cover story, then they would be even more difficult to explain.
"You smell like chlorine," Stephen continued. "Take a quick shower, and we're probably going to have to reopen your wounds so that they look fresh. I'll drop you off close to Sarah's hotel, and she'll take care of them for you. I'll bring the car back here, and I'll strip it for parts. It'll show up by the L.A. River Thursday night."
Chuck wanted to argue, but there was no point. Stephen was probably the most stubborn man on the planet. Once he had his mind set on something, then they always had to do things his way. Grumbling, Chuck tore off his shirt, and made his way up the stairs to take a shower.
October 3, 2007
Sarah's Penthouse
02:15 AM PST
"Ow!" Chuck yelped, wincing as Sarah tried to clean out one of his cuts with a rubbing alcohol soaked cotton swab.
"I'm sorry! I know it hurts, but keep still, Chuck," she said, slapping his hand away from his face. "It only stings for a little bit anyway."
She found him about thirty minutes ago at a bus stop bench in Encino. After arguing for a good ten minutes about whether he should go to a hospital or not, Chuck had won. Now, they were sitting across from each other while Sarah cleaned his wounds. Casey and Carina were watching them from the loveseat across the room with bored expressions on their faces. Every time Chuck winced, Sarah winced back in sympathy.
She felt terrible, feeling as though what happened to him was her fault. She just tried to do one nice thing for Chuck, and it backfired on her. Casey was beyond pissed, but Sarah guessed that was mostly due to the fact that Large Mart wasn't open for twenty-four hours. Luckily, Chuck had called his publicist to make sure his car getting stolen wouldn't be in the papers the next morning. Upon Chuck's insistence, everyone agreed not to report what had happened to Graham and Beckman, since what happened to him was a freak accident, and they were all lucky that Chuck wasn't kidnapped. Technically, Sarah and her partners were in the clear, but that didn't stop her from feeling guilty about what had happened to Chuck.
She placed one last band-aid on Chuck's cheek. "Okay, we're done with the cuts," she said, grimacing at Chuck's crooked nose. "But your nose is crooked…um," she turned to Casey, "Casey, can you pop Chuck's nose back in so that it's straight when the bone heals?"
Casey grunted his consent, but Chuck just had a horrified expression on his face. "Can't you set it?" he asked her pleadingly.
Sarah frowned. "I could, but Casey's better at it," she replied.
"Don't be such a girl, Bartowski," said Casey, nudging Sarah out of her chair. She stood out of the way as Casey pointed to his nose. "See this baby? It's straight as an arrow. Wanna know how many times it's been broken?"
"I don't really care, to be honest."
"Five times, it's been broken." Casey cracked his knuckles, and placed his thumbs on the bridge of Chuck's nose.
Chuck's eyes widened in fear. "No, wait—"
Sarah turned away in time to hear a soft pop and a shrill yelp escape Chuck's throat.
"There you go, princess," said Casey, brushing his hands off on his pants. "Try to avoid touching it for a few days. It'll heal up nice and straight."
"Guh…thanks," Chuck murmured weakly. "And I'm sorry that I'm depriving everyone of their sleep."
"You can make it up to me tomorrow night on our business trip," Carina called from the loveseat.
Unintentionally, Sarah flashed a glare in Carina's direction. For the most part, Carina was predictable in the sense that Sarah always knew that she would improvise while on missions and that she would always say something inappropriate. She liked Carina, she really did, but Carina had a habit of taking things that Sarah wanted. There was once a time when Sarah had a slight crush on Bryce, and Carina took him. It didn't matter that much, because although Bryce was handsome, he was also arrogant and cocky.
But Carina really needed to cool it when it came to Chuck. Even though Carina was a good person, Chuck could do better than her. She wouldn't get Chuck's nerdy sense of humor.
She was relieved when Chuck rolled his eyes and ignored Carina.
"It's better to ignore Whore-ina, Bartowski," said Casey. "She's a global bicycle."
"I'm sorry that I've got needs, Johnny-boy," Carina deadpanned.
Casey snickered, and got off the chair so that Sarah could sit back down. "Well, I'm sorry to say this, Bartowski, but no more going out on your own from now on. I know what happened was an accident, but we gotta keep an eye on you at all times. It's our job."
"Yeah, yeah…I know," said Chuck, sighing disappointedly.
There was another tugging feeling in her chest. It wasn't fair to Chuck that someone would have to watch him around the clock, she thought.
"Do any of you know if there are any stores selling microwaves that are still open?" asked Casey.
"Ellie doesn't like microwaves," said Chuck.
"I know that. I'm going to keep it in the pool house."
"Do you really need a microwave that badly?" Sarah grinned amusedly up at Casey.
"I've got a bulk package of Hot Pockets, variety of flavors, and a man's gotta eat, Walker."
"There's a twenty-four hour Super Large Mart not too far from here," said Chuck.
"I already went to the one by the Buy More."
"That's a regular Large Mart. You want the Super Large Mart. Just head southbound on the Five, and take the first exit. It's right there. You can't miss it."
"Alright," said Casey, nodding. "I'm going to pick up a microwave, and I'll be back to take you home. Walker, why don't you teach the kid how to apply his makeup?"
Sarah nodded, and was about to reply, but Chuck cut her off.
"Why do I need to learn how to put on makeup?" he asked quickly.
Casey chuckled and stalked out of the room. Sarah smiled at Chuck. "Because you have a meeting in Virginia in two days, and you want to look presentable, don't you?"
"That would be pretty cool," said Chuck. "They'll think I'm in some underground fight club."
Sarah chuckled. "Either that, or they'll think that your girlfriend beat you up."
He tried to grin, but he winced. He quickly recovered and held his arms out to his side. "You think you can take me, Walker?" he quipped.
"Definitely," she teased back, sweeping her leg behind his, and kicking it up to her lap. She quickly began to untie his shoelaces.
"What—what are you doing?" Chuck yelled. "No! Don't tickle my feet!"
She held firmly onto Chuck's leg as he tried to squirm away. She nearly let go from laughing so hard, but she was finally able to pull his shoe off. From there, it was clockwork. She tickled the bottom of his foot while he let out a series of high-pitched giggles.
"Stop! I'm sorry! You can totally kick my ass!" he cried, trying to catch his breath from laughing. "Uncle! Uncle!"
"I'm not going to stop until you do the truffle shuffle!" she yelled over his laughter even though he most likely had no flab to jiggle. This was a game that they had played when they were children. She would tickle his foot until he gave in, or he would tickle her underneath her ribs until she gave in. The loser always had to perform the truffle shuffle.
The parts of Chuck's face that wasn't bruised were beet red. His hands were balled into fists, and his body convulsed as she continued to tickle his foot. "No! Never!"
Sarah wriggled her fingers into his foot harder.
"Okay! Okay!" he cried, taking in a deep breath. "I'll do it!"
Sarah ceased tickling, but she still held on to his foot. "You promise that you'll do it?"
Chuck nodded, still trying to squirm his foot away from her grasp.
"You better not run," she warned.
"I won't, I promise that I'll do the truffle shuffle."
Sarah released his foot, as he begrudgingly stood up. He lifted his shirt, causing Sarah to hold in a gasp. When did Chuck get abs like that?
She couldn't stop staring at his nicely toned abs and his light happy trail as he wriggled his torso.
"There! You happy? Uh…Sarah? Hello?"
She shook her head. "What? Yeah!" She was really happy. "That's good. Uh…you can…" she swallowed, noticing that Chuck hadn't put his shirt down yet. "You can sit back down now."
He sat back down on his chair, and grinned crookedly. "I can't believe you still remember that."
"Remember what?" she asked, still dazed by the memory of his magnificent abs.
"To tickle my foot."
"Oh, yeah," she said, laughing. "What can I say? I've got a good memory."
"That's for sure," he agreed.
He was still smiling, and Sarah didn't know why she wasn't sitting in his lap, kissing him (and maybe more) like there was no tomorrow. And then, Carina spoke up.
"You really need to get laid," she said, getting up from the loveseat, and making her way toward the door. "The both of you. Together." She opened the door and put one of her feet outside. "Leave some for me, Sarah. I'll see you later, Chucky."
At that, she left Sarah's room, slamming the door behind her. Sarah felt her cheeks burning, and she couldn't bring herself to match Chuck's gaze. Instead, she stared intently down at the table, embarrassed.
"So…uh…I'll teach you how to apply the concealer," she choked out. "Don't worry, Chuck, even guy spies use it. Actually, you should ask Casey how to apply it. He's better than I am," she joked to break the awkward tension.
To her relief, he chuckled. "Fine. I guess I'll have to endure it."
She grabbed a bag from underneath the table, ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest, and began digging through it. A few seconds later, she held a tube out in front of her. "This is concealer. What you want to do is…"
October 3, 2007
En Route to LAX
3:30 PM PST
Her day was uneventful. Sarah spent most of her day filing through most of the employees inside the corporate branch to see if there were any Fulcrum or Ring agents. Then, she had interviewed three people hoping to get a job in the finance department. The only one worth hiring was a recent divorcee named Sydney Prince. She had worked as the head accountant at the corporate branch for a major bank in New York City for the last seven years, and had moved to Los Angeles to start a new life for herself.
People, mostly women, gave Sarah dirty looks whenever she went into the break room to fix herself a cup of tea. At first, she was baffled, but she quickly realized that they were jealous that she was dating Chuck. They also seemed to think that she only got the job because they thought she was sleeping with him, which didn't make any sense to her. If she did get her job because she was sleeping with Chuck (to her slight disappointment, she wasn't), wouldn't she have a higher position?
Carina and Casey went to the meeting with Stavros. That was uneventful as well. Everything went according to plan, except Sarah had come up with the idea to have Chuck call Carina before the meeting ended to say that he found someone else to run his fictional club chain. They got all the intel they needed, and by this time tomorrow, Sarah and Casey were going to be parked outside of Fulcrum's new headquarters in West Covina to see if Osiris would show up. She made a mental note to ask Graham if she and Casey could just go into the headquarters, and capture the Fulcrum Elders. Maybe then, Fulcrum would be taken care of, and Chuck would be that much closer to living his old life again.
Now, she and Chuck were sitting in the back of Carina's rental car, a Lexus IS300. She was tired, and she could see that Chuck was also tired. His eyelids were drooping down.
Sarah turned to look out her window. Remembering what Casey had told her last night, she sighed. Graham wouldn't let her go until Osiris was killed or captured. There was no way that he'd let an agent quit while they're in the middle of a mission. She knew that she had the right to quit the agency, but would it be worth it? Chuck may not even want her.
"You okay back there, Walker?" Carina asked in Swedish, eyeing Sarah from the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, just tired," she replied back in Polish.
"I bet you are," said Carina teasingly. "I mean, your mind must have been racing all day."
"About what?" she scoffed.
"You know who, back there…sleeping all cute-like."
Sarah turned back to Chuck to see if he fell asleep. He was snoring softly with his head tilted back.
"You can just ask me, you know."
"Ask you what?" Sarah had really had enough of Carina's mind games. They were just annoying.
"Not to sleep with him, dummy."
She choked on a bit of spit and began to cough.
"I mean, he's a hot boy, I'm a hot girl," Carina pushed forward, "it would only make sense for us to have a good screw, but if you ask me not to, then he's all yours."
"Carina, Chuck is our asset," said Sarah defensively. "Just leave the guy alone, okay?"
"Chuck may be a nice guy, but even nice guys know they would be idiots to pass a girl like me up. I see it as doing him a favor."
Sarah knew what Carina was doing. The redhead was trying to expose her weaknesses; to get her to admit that she had feelings for Chuck in front of him. Normally, Sarah wouldn't feel threatened, but Carina was right. Although Chuck was an incredibly kind man, it didn't change the fact that he was a man. Spending the next thirty-two hours alone with Carina would be more than enough time for her to seduce him. All of a sudden, Sarah felt threatened.
Her face burning red, she made eye-contact with Carina through the rearview mirror, barely caring that she was about to admit defeat. She responded with the deadliest glare that she could muster, and in response, Carina giggled. "Okay, okay, I'll leave him alone, Walker."
Satisfied, Sarah glanced back at Chuck, grateful that he was still asleep.
Carina pulled up to the curb next to the private terminal. Outside, Sarah could see the paparazzi, most likely hoping to get a shot of a celebrity leaving or entering Los Angeles. Ignoring them, Sarah shook Chuck awake. He responded with a loud snore, and sprang up.
"Wha's ron?" he asked groggily.
"We're here," said Sarah, smiling kindly at him.
Chuck looked outside, looking slightly surprised. "Oh…cool." He unbuckled his seatbelt, and let out a long yawn. "Wow! I'm so tired!"
"Get some sleep on the plane," she instructed.
"For sure," he agreed. Sarah made a move to open her door, but Chuck grabbed her wrist. "I'll get it. Just give me a sec."
She was about to tell him that he didn't have to, and that she could open her own door, but Chuck already zoomed out of the car. Sarah bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. It was odd, because whenever she went on missions, and men would offer to open her door, she would fight hard to keep from rolling her eyes.
The door opened, and she took Chuck's outstretched hand as she stepped out of the car. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said, grinning. Still holding her hand, Chuck led her to the back of the car to pull his and Carina's suitcases out of the trunk. When Carina came around, he handed her bag to her.
"Thanks," she said. "Walker, you think you can do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Return this car for me," said Carina, nodding to the Lexus. "It's freaking slow. Tell them I want a black, 2008 Mustang GT?"
"Okay," said Sarah, rolling her eyes. Three agents, all driving black cars. Were they really that boring?
"Thanks." Carina turned back to Chuck. "Let's go, boss."
"Go on ahead," he said. "I'll catch up with you in a bit. I just want a word with Sarah."
She could see Carina biting back her retort as she rolled her eyes. "Fine, but make it snappy. We're running late."
"Dude…it's a private plane," said Chuck. "I own it."
"I'm tired, and I want to take a nap!"
"Okay, I'll make it fast then. Sheesh!"
As Carina stomped away, he turned back to Sarah, chuckling. "So I'll see you Friday morning at the office, right?"
She nodded.
"We have to go out with Ellie and Devon later that night," he said. "You going to be okay with that?"
"Yeah, of course. I want to meet her boyfriend."
"He's a pretty cool dude." Chuck's eyes looked passed her, and he quickly returned her gaze, looking intensely into her eyes. "Those darn paparazzi are back."
Sarah didn't know what to say. She was too busy trying to calm her heart, but she realized that was impossible. "Indeed they are."
"I think we need to help them put their kids through college."
She looked up at him in confusion, wondering what he was talking about. He wasn't going to suggest what she was thinking, was he?
"I think we need to kiss," he said, nodding to agree with his own statement.
"Are you being serious?" Because if he wasn't, she was going to be pissed. In turn, Casey was going to be pissed as well, since she would probably kick and break something of his.
"Yep."
"But you said you had your public image to worry about." She realized that she should just shut her mouth, and regretted saying anything at all, so that he would just kiss her.
"I said that outside of a nightclub frequented by drunk socialites," he reminded her. "We're at an airport, and it's totally normal for a girlfriend to kiss their boyfriend goodbye."
At this point, if Sarah opened her mouth to respond, she would probably let out a high-pitched squeak that only dogs could hear. So she nodded.
He chuckled nervously, moistening his lips, which caused her to stand up on her toes, making her look way too eager. Before she could mentally curse herself for acting like an adolescent teen, Chuck brushed some stray strands of hair away from her face. He rested his hand just below her ear so that his palm was cupping her cheek. A pleasant tingle ran up her spine as he slowly moved closer to her, tilting his head slightly.
Grateful that she decided to pass on Chuck's offer of burritos for lunch, opting for a garden salad, she moved her head closer to his. Before their lips met, she closed her eyes. She felt Chuck's moist lips gently pressing against hers, and subconsciously, her hands sprang up around his face.
Throughout the last five years that she had been a spy, there were times when protocol dictated her actions, and she was forced to kiss someone for a mission. It was safe to assume that Sarah had kissed a fair share of men of all different shapes and sizes. But no one had ever made her feel like this; as though the world around her disappeared, and the only two things that mattered in the world were Sarah and Chuck. She had only felt this way once. Back then, nearly ten years ago, she barely had the chance to feel it. It had happened so quickly that it didn't hit her until minutes later that Chuck was an excellent kisser.
He pulled away slowly, leaving Sarah wanting more. "Wow," he breathed.
"Yeah," she agreed breathlessly.
"Um…so I'll see you on Friday?"
Unable to break eye-contact with Chuck, she nodded. "Definitely. And dinner with Ellie and Devon later that night."
"Well, I guess I better get going then," he whispered, placing another kiss on her forehead.
"Have a safe flight, Chuck."
"Thanks, Sarah. You need to go home and get some rest, okay?"
"I will," she promised, but unsure that she'd be able to keep it. She was going to be up all night with the images of Chuck's rock hard abs and the feeling of his lips against hers. "Bye, Chuck."
He winked. "Later, Sarah."
After one last embrace, Chuck pulled the handle from his suitcase and walked toward the airport entrance. When he got to the sliding glass door, he turned and waved to Sarah. Feeling a huge grin forming on her face, she waved back and watched as Chuck walked through the doors.
A/N: Bet you thought they weren't going to kiss, huh? :-) Thanks for reading! I've said this many times before, but I sure do love getting reviews! I promise the next update won't take so long. I pinky promise!