ShinyJayne19's A/N: Hi everybody! Since Aerox was nice enough to take care of the last update, it's now my turn. Muahaha! The reasoning behind my absence was purely school related, so naturally I'll blame midterms. Anyway, thanks to all that reviewed for chapter one! I'd like to preface by saying that just because you haven't seen Dexter, doesn't mean you'll be totally in the dark about this story. Trust me. But for future reference, watch Dexter anyway. It's the best thing since…well, Chuck. Sure, that doesn't make any sense since Dexter came before Chuck, but I digress. And I'm rambling now…
Please, please review! If you know anything about psychology, then I'm sure you're well aware of the concept of conditioning. Someone does something good (i.e. updates their story) and you reward them for their efforts. This is known as the circle of life. And my petty attempt to cultivate more feedback. So sue me.
R&R and enjoy!
Chapter Two
The clock's alarm went off early that next morning. Chuck groaned loudly from his spot on the floor, and was subsequently taken aback by a sharp pain emerging with his gradual return to consciousness. There was no way to accurately describe how he was feeling. The sheer unpleasantness equated to what he may have thought it'd be like to jump off the Empire State Building and live. That being said, there was no brain matter needed to be scraped off the metaphorical pavement of Chuck's subconscious. His brain remained intact within the confines of his skull; though it had been sufficiently jumbled into disarray.
When Chuck finally opened his eyes, the finer details of his surroundings began swirling into view. It had been very blurry at first. But then as time progressed, he could discern the square box shape set in front of him as it transformed into his desk, and the searing light on his cornea was registered as simply the sunrays reflecting off the white walls of his room. He apparently never made it back to the comfort of his bed. Instead he found himself lying sprawled out on the floor, for what he assumed could've been the entire night.
There was another agonizing stab provided by his hellish migraine. Chuck buried his face in both hands, a last ditch effort to elude the sun's glare that was currently bearing down on him. It was this sensitivity to light and mind-numbing pain that roused Chuck's suspicions. The sensation was all too familiar. He calmly forced himself upright before being struck by a troubling realization.
How in the world did Bryce Larkin from Connecticut get a hold of an Intersect?
His question immediately triggered a response, eyelids fluttered as he succumbed to a flash. Images of Bryce sped by at an alarming rate—test results in Stanford, surveillance images from around the world, official CIA credentials, and his personal dossier accompanied even by photos of him romantically involved with Jill Roberts.
The mental strain induced by the Intersect slowly subsided until there was only a dull throb. Now a feeling of wonder suddenly descended upon Chuck. So, Bryce Larkin was a spy. It made such perfect sense. He knew there had been something amiss about Bryce. Seven years prior to where they were first introduced, Chuck speculated that Bryce was some variation of himself; a wolf in sheep's clothing. It looked like he assumed right in that respect.
Guess I'm not the only one with a secret then…
Chuck picked himself up off the floor. After enduring another bout of dizziness, he proceeded to stretch his muscles until they slowly regained some of their former limber. Meanwhile, his thoughts diverted away from Bryce (he'd investigate that later on) and to the night before. Jacob Williamson was no more, his corpse stored in the morgue-esque room for future use. The cause of death: a severed carotid artery. While there had been a lot of blood involved as result of rupturing a major vein, the kill itself was quite lackluster. It was actually wholly underwhelming. His dark urges may have been curbed temporarily, but how long would it last? If he was no longer satisfied by just the thrill of the hunt alone, what would have to change, if anything at all? Maybe he was expecting too much. Or maybe it wasn't enough?
Chuck's frown deepened. What happened to the profound burst of euphoria, that feeling of pure release as his heart would race away to oblivion? He used to feel so alive if only for the briefest of time. Now he felt dead again. Empty. Hollow. Had it been because of Jacob's resistance to cooperate with Corvus' playful mood, making him resort to the simple and effective, yet so very boring scalpel? Or had this routine become such a common practice, so repetitive that the act of taking life had inevitably denigrated into monotony?
Was he actually bored?
Or did he crave more?
Whatever the reason, it was neither the time nor the place to dwell. It was too early for such deep thinking, and besides, he had to get ready for work. Therefore Chuck made the executive decision to try and not worry about his lessening fulfillment or why Bryce had sent him an Intersect (though he did appreciate the birthday gift), and just focus on the present. He'd figure it all out eventually. Hopefully…
Chuck sighed and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. He glanced down and realized that he was still wearing the same clothes from last night, the only exception being the ruined shirt he left back in Encino. There was dried blood caked onto his skin underneath the clean shirt Morgan had so helpfully provided him. Red blotches had already begun to seep through the white material. Knowing that Ellie would freak out and demand an explanation for the stains, Chuck removed the shirt and promptly tossed it into the trashcan beside his nightstand.
Why do I have the feeling that I'll be spending most of this month's salary on a new wardrobe?
He jammed both hands into the pockets of his jeans. His fingers prodded something plastic and retrieved it. It was the CIA credentials once owned by Jacob Williamson; analyst turned Fulcrum mole. Like with anyone of his former playmates, Chuck liked to keep some form of identification as a reminder of each individual kill. It was a little macabre, but he felt like a trophy was necessary. Without it, how else could he reminisce about his past conquests?
Chuck dropped to his knees and peaked beneath the bed to find where a shoebox was safely hidden in the underside of the mattress. He pulled it out from its secret location and fell on his heels before finally opening the lid. He grinned at the stacks of neatly aligned cards stored inside. It had everything from drivers' licenses, to FBI badges and even several CIA credentials as well. Chuck carefully placed the most recent addition into its new home, letting his fingers skim over his ever growing collection. Pleasant memories of the past returned to Chuck with striking clarity. Each told a different story. All of which ended in blood and liberation.
He sighed, desperate to recapture that missing spark which made all those little moments so memorable. Placing the lid over the shoebox, he returned it to its rightful place, shrouded in total darkness. Like all monsters, hidden underneath the bed where it naturally belonged.
Now Chuck was ready to start the day.
He was a creature of habit.
Rituals had become a very important part of Chuck's life. They were integral to shaping who he was, or who he wanted to be. The notion of having a routine was another belief instilled by his father. According to Orion, it was the epitome of normal human behavior. People didn't fare well when their lives were in a constant state of flux. For some strange reason, they feared change. Chuck didn't quite understand what the big deal was. Change could be good. Like for instance, he needed to revise his own dark and demanding schedule. Or else he'd probably be driven to do something he would no doubt "pretend" to regret. However, when in Rome…
The morning got underway with Chuck getting undressed, and then hopping straight into the shower. He unconsciously turned on the radio, listening to the LA traffic report while enjoying the hot water as it loosened up his aching muscles and left him happy, relaxed. What remained of Jacob Williamson had raced down Chuck's upper torso in the form of bright red streaks. The blood dyed the bathwater crimson, circling the drain in a hypnotic fashion. Chuck watched, mesmerized.
"The 101 is clear at Universal City. Watch out for delays near Burbank Airport…"
Suddenly, he felt a second flash hit him without warning.
"Security's checking all vehicles. Got a stickler on the I-605 San Gabriel River Freeway southbound. A fender-bender on the I-5 Freeway, northbound from 91 Freeway to…"
Chuck shook off his disorientation, frowning confusedly. This Intersect is definitely unlike my dad's. This one has been heavily upgraded with serious altercations in the programming.
The Intersect he downloaded over a decade ago was mostly for facial and voice recognition. It had been designed with the purpose of tracking down Fulcrum and other traitors in mind. Now this updated version (Chuck assumed it was CIA property since Bryce, a spy, had sent it to him) had even more tools and uses than he thought was possible.
At least I got the heads up to not take the 5 to work today. Cops in a fazed deployment, wonder what's going on?
After toweling off, Chuck got dressed. He wore a fresh pair of black pants, a white buttoned up shirt, a grey tie and of course, his favorite converse shoes. This ensemble made up most of his Nerd Herd uniform. The Buy More. He sighed and shook his head sadly. I can't believe I'm still stuck there. Sometimes covers really, really suck.
Since both Ellie and Devon were working shifts at the hospital, Chuck had found the rest of the apartment empty. He discovered a note on the kitchen countertop left by his sister. It told him that she hoped he felt better and that there was plenty of leftover cake in the refrigerator. Cake didn't sound too appeasing for breakfast, and while Chuck appreciated the kind gesture, he decided that a bowl of cereal and coffee would suffice.
A few minutes of satisfying his appetite, followed by tending to his hygiene, and Chuck was ready to leave. He exited the apartment, clutching the keys of the Herder tightly in his grasp.
The ride over to the Buy More was boring as usual. It'd been the same uneventful drive for the past five years. He could've taken the identical route a thousand or so times by now, but it wasn't like Chuck kept an ongoing tally in his head. The only difference today was that according to the Intersect, the 5 Highway was busy. So he took a detour until he arrived to the Burbank Plaza; parked the Herder in its designated spot, and proceeded to walk through the loading docks.
Chuck was always punctual. He clocked into work precisely at eight am, taking his rightful place behind the Nerd Herd help counter. As the title suggested, he was the supervisor of the other members of the Nerd Herd crew. It'd been a job promotion that came rather unexpectedly, though it gave him the freedom to pencil in installs that did not exist, just in case something 'personal' came up. His team however, seemingly made it a top priority of theirs to deter Chuck from carrying out his dark double life. They were often successful, and sometimes he'd get the briefest glimpse for how it'd feel to satisfy those urges in another way, and to just plunge a knife into….
NO! His mind was not going to go there. Not again.
He unceremoniously slumped into his chair, eyes focused towards the ceiling for no particular reason other than to convey his boredom and lack of self-control. Here was just another day of mindless repairs and dealing with inept customers. Repetition became somewhat of a nuisance when he had been forced to relive the same mundane activities without an end in sight. He had the intelligence and the drive to pursue a better, more fulfilling life. But that would break his cover. Chuck Bartowski was supposed to be a reluctant, wildly insecure underachiever. Not the confident and manipulative thing that lurked beneath the surface.
However there was a silver lining.
While Chuck loathed confronting most of the drivel that went in and out of the store, the only exception was he enjoyed interacting with the kids. No, he wasn't a pervert who got off on children. That was a sick assumption. Those people (if he could even call them that) were on whole different level than he was. There wasn't a punishment that even Chuck the Avenger could inflict worthy for them. They were much better suited in a special circle of Hell. But that was beside the point. Chuck believed that his amiability towards kids had to do with his unconventional childhood. His innocence had been all but ripped away in one cruel act. So to see a child happy and naive would brighten his day. It also posed an interesting question: Was he as screwed up as he always made himself out to be, or maybe there was still a shred of humanity buried way down inside of him?
And that will forever be the million dollar question…
Chuck shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He fell into a state of deep thought. His pensive expression faltering into that of great exasperation once his finely tuned senses detected four new bodies approaching him at the desk.
Oh look, and here comes the cavalry.
"Dude, what's this impromptu meeting about?" asked the puzzled voice of Morgan. "I mean, I'm assuming it's for Nerd Herd employees only…so why am I being included?"
Brown eyes reopened, fixing a flat stare with Morgan. "Does Irene Demova ring any bells?"
"I…uh, well—"
Morgan's face turned scarlet and he fell silent. The rest of the Herd—Jeff, Lester and Anna, snickered in amusement. Even Chuck was humored by his friend's embarrassment. With a tiny smile brandishing the corners of his lips, he rose from his seat.
"Fellow nerds," he announced, "Today is going to be a very bad day. As you should've probably gathered by now, there's a new computer virus dubbed the Irena Demova."
Lester snorted.
Chuck rolled his eyes, resuming. "Yes, it's named after the Serbian porn star. Lonely dude call volume will be high. If you'd please turn your attention to the display version of our Prism Express laptop…"
He opened the laptop and the monitor was instantly bombarded with graphic pictures, videos and sexually provocative sounds blaring from the speakers. "Thanks to dirty Uncle Morgan, we can at least isolate what caused the virus to corrupt the hardrive's files. Needless to say, just find some self-restraint and please refrain from entering Miss Demova's website."
"Will that be all, Charles?" asked Lester, impatiently. Jeff nodded in agreement. His stare, blank and unblinking. "Because the rest of us have some installs to get over with."
"I guess so," sighed Chuck, resigning to defeat. He waved them off. "Just go and do whatever it is that you do…"
After the group disbanded, only Chuck and Morgan remained at the help desk. The two best friends traded bored glances before going back to work. Or whatever constituted as work at the Buy More.
At first, Chuck could've sworn he was dreaming, but the idea was quickly shot down once he remembered that monsters were incapable of such human feats.
For the last ten minutes or so, he had been forced to wait on a phone call with Corporate per Big Mike's orders. Since then, he'd been on hold, listening to elevator music play nonstop. That was enough to drive anyone insane. Even monsters like him didn't appreciate their patience being tested in such a way. Chuck was fantasizing some random faceless death, conjuring new ways to sate his bloodlust when the front entrance doors slid open. He was immediately pulled from his dark thoughts as his jaw literally dropped and suddenly forgot why he'd been so upset in the first place. Because all conscious thought ceased the very instant that she appeared. The most stunning woman Chuck had ever laid eyes upon, had graced the Buy More with her otherworldly presence.
Chuck may have been officially diagnosed as a sociopath, but he wasn't so emotionally despondent that he was absolutely disinterested in the opposite sex. He could fully appreciate feminine beauty for what it was. Why else would he vow to never harm a woman, Fulcrum agents notwithstanding? He had standards. Unlike him, chivalry wasn't dead yet.
He watched blindly as she made her slow approach. She moved in her own way, with the slightest sway of her hips, expelling confidence and purpose with each step. Her blond hair shimmered as the sunlight bounced off the store's glass windows and set her aglow. She looked positively erotic while wearing a beige leather jacket, tight-fitting (did he emphasize it was very tight-fitting?) jeans, and a pair of brown boots to complete the flawless ensemble. While she was fixated with the phone resting in her palm, Chuck could not find it in himself to shy away.
What the hell is wrong with me today?
Chuck mentally scolded himself. This woman wasn't anything more than a a potential customer who deserved his best behavior, and to be serviced accordingly. Anything less would be perceived as rude, and ruin his cover. He inhaled a deep breath and forced a sober smile. There was no trouble faking it this time around. Oddly enough, it came naturally to him for once.
However, his smile faded once the woman glanced up from her phone. Her pale blue bombardier's eyes caught him ogling. She smirked and simply resumed her advancement, brushing a strand of hair from her face. There, Chuck saw a giant sapphire ring protruding from the middle finger of her left hand. He suddenly felt an onslaught of images dance across his waking vision.
Why am I not surprised? The flash receded and Chuck inwardly groaned. He managed to recover pretty fast, knowing a lot more about the mysterious blond beauty than he initially had upon her arrival. The grace in which she walked suddenly morphed into the posture of a hunter. Her soft baby blues, reduced to that unmistakable predatory gleam. Chuck now saw her for what she really was: Agent Sarah Walker of the CIA. He planned to keep the pretense of her being just the average customer, and act cordial, polite. Though if he could discern an ulterior motive, well he'd have to play that one by ear.
So what are you here for, Agent Walker—business or pleasure?
Chuck let the worry lines in his face recede, burying them away. He put up his mask and would maintain it this time. Agent Walker wouldn't suspect a thing. As he listened to Morgan blab about Vicky Vale, Chuck watched the blond spy come forward. He took this as his cue to launched into a vague sounding rap, knowing it'd calm him down if temporarily.
"Vicky Vale, Vicky—Vicky Vale, Vickity Vale…"
He was fiddling with his pen like it were a makeshift murder weapon, and still holding the phone as he kept repeating his nerdy mantra. Then once he heard a feminine throat being cleared, Chuck looked up and did a classic double-take before dropping the phone in mock embarrassment.
It's show time.
Agent Walker commented bemusedly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I uh, that's from Batman?" He offered meekly.
The spy smiled. "Because that makes it better?"
Well played.
Chuck swallowed, asking. "Can I help you?"
"Actually, you can…" she trailed off. Chuck waited a few beats, but just as he intended to open his mouth and respond, Morgan jumped in seemingly out of nowhere. If it wasn't for his keen self-restraint, Chuck would've gutted his best friend by accident. He managed to deter his impulse by clicking the pen in quick repeated succession.
Morgan leaned over the counter, out of breath. "Chuck, his name is Chuck! My name is Morgan!"
Thank you, Morgan Grimes for that very insightful revelation.
Chuck rolled his eyes. The agent, however, continued to play along.
"Wow, I didn't think people still called their kids Chuck…or Morgan for that matter."
Fortunately for Agent Walker, Chuck and Morgan knew the perfect explanation. They'd been using the same joke to entertain their peers since the sixth grade. "Well, my parents were sadists," explained Chuck. "And Morgan's parents found him in a dumpster."
"But they raised me as one of their own," Morgan added solemnly. They quickly broke out into satisfied grins once Agent Walker reciprocated with an amused look on her face.
Then came the awkward silence.
"So…" began Chuck.
"Sarah."
"Sarah, what can I help you with?"
"This," she said and deposited a dinky looking cellular phone on the countertop. Well, at least she had a legitimate excuse.
"Oh yeah, the Intellicell!" Chuck nodded, explaining. "It has this little screw that pops loose right in the back here…" He skillfully tended to the appliance with just a screwdriver in hand. "So with a few twists and, good as new!" He then returned the fixed phone to Sarah, silently gauging her reaction.
She examined the phone, responding with a bright smile. "Wow, you geeks are good!"
"—nerd, I'd say is the more appropriate term, what with the Nerd Herd and all," Chuck spoke quickly, gesticulating to the massive sign that was above them.
When Sarah's smile broadened, she held eye contact a long longer than Chuck thought was necessary. He felt strangely uncomfortable by her piercing gaze. Morgan however seemed to interpret this standoff as some sort of mating ritual and was now grinning like a fool. This only further impressed how awkward Chuck was in these kinds of situations. But thankfully the moment was disrupted when a man came running up to the desk with young girl dressed in a ballerina outfit in tow. They both looked equally distressed.
"Excuse me," the man butted in sounding panicked and very frantic. "I have an emergency. I don't know what I did wrong, but I shot the entire recital…but, um, now it won't play back."
Chuck sighed. Saved by a clueless customer. Who would've thought?
"Ok, ok, we'll just take a look," he replied in a calm tone. Chuck took the camera from the man and carefully inspected it. It seemed to be functioning just fine. He peered through the lens and saw that the camera worked. He found his answer when he popped open the tape holder. "And you don't have any tape in here…"
"But, its digital!"
"Right, yes, but you still need digital tape," Chuck explained with false sympathy. Inside, his darker half was squirming and laughing at the poor soul. He was unsurprised to find the same reaction in the man's eyes as he previously had seen in Jacob Williamson. Utter defeat. But while this man was incompetent, he was also innocent. Plus, the girl beside him looked extremely upset. If there was one thing that Chuck couldn't stand, it was a helpless child.
That's when he got an idea.
He turned to his bearded companion. "Morgan, I need the wall."
"As you wish!"
Chuck saw Agent Walker watching all of this unfold. There was no hint of impatience in her expression, the evident twinkling in her blue eyes told him as much. Her scrutiny evoked a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was one that was reserved for when the darkness reigned supreme. His heart raced, thoughts became clouded and convoluted. Maybe this was his instincts at work?
I can't trust her, that much is true. Especially since she's CIA. Who knows, maybe she's Fulcrum too? This could be my lucky day…
"My apologies," said Chuck to the female spy. "Duty calls. I'm sure you can understand that."
"Of course," she said and the soft smile on her face looked genuine. Chuck was unfazed. Why would she be willingly flirting with somebody like him? She was obviously working an angle.
Chuck stepped away from the counter and left Agent Walker in his wake. But he came to an abrupt stop when the ballerina was still standing nervously in front of the desk. Puzzled, he knelt in front of her.
"Hey, is something the matter?"
"I'm usually in the back row," the girl replied with a sulk. "I'm too tall. I block the other ballerinas."
Chuck pondered this for a moment. His face lit up and he leaned forward, beckoning the girl to do the same. "Can I tell you a secret? But you can't tell that other girls."
She nodded.
"Real ballerinas are tall."
The little girl suddenly perked up and gave him a grateful hug. Chuck was caught off guard, returning the gesture after the surprise wore off. He saw a curious expression appear on Agent Walker, who hadn't moved an inch the entire time.
The ballerina moved with such grace that even Chuck couldn't ignore the fluid movements emanating from the young girl in the silly pink tutu. She wove over the space and was thriving on the attention bestowed upon her by the shoppers and bystanders. Agent Walker included.
When the music ended, so did her routine. The little girl finished with a bow and the crowd erupted in applause. Chuck gave her the thumbs-up before sneaking out of the sea of people, wading through the masses so he could finally deal with Agent Walker. If she was still even there. Unfortunately, he was thwarted once again. By what could quite possibly be the bane of his existence—well that was maybe a bit harsh.
"Chuck," said Harry Tang, drawling out his name.
He stared at Tang impatiently. "Look, I was just getting back to work."
Tang looked over Chuck's shoulder to find the blond otherwise known as Agent Walker lingering by the Nerd Herd counter. His eyebrows shot up when a devilish smirk curved onto his lips.
"Oh, so that's your definition of work, huh Chuck?"
Chuck rolled his eyes. "She has been waiting on me for a good five minutes, Harry. Do you want me to provide her with acceptable Buy More etiquette, or make her experience here a one-time thing?"
Tang had yet to break contact with the CIA skirt. "I'd like to teach her the proper Buy More etiquette with a good ole fashion Australian kiss."
Chuck was afraid to ask. "Ignoring the fact that you're married, what exactly is an Australian kiss?"
"It's like a French kiss," said Tang, and then lowered his voice. "Only that it's down under."
He then had the audacity to laugh at his own stupid joke. Chuck set his jaw, eyes flashing dangerously while Tang continued with his incessant giggling. It made him visibly cringe; mind suddenly racing to locate the nearest item that could dual as a weapon. To have Harry Tang choke on blood till death's stupor overcame him would be a pleasant thing to witness. Just anything to shut the pervert up forever would be pleasant.
Chuck's face remained stoic and impassive. I could probably kill him before anybody realized what happened.
Sadly, killing your superior didn't exactly reflect well on a person. It'd violate every rule that Orion had been so kind to implement. So he simply shoved Harry aside and continued at the same brisk pace till he reached Agent Walker. His mind now chock full of violent, wayward thoughts, Chuck tried desperately to push them back into the bottomless abyss that was his conscious.
"Hi, sorry about that," Chuck said once they were alone.
"Don't be. That was a really sweet thing you did for that little girl over there," she replied, the sincerity of her tone evident.
"Uh, thanks…it's my job." Chuck stammered. He really didn't need to be thanked. There were brief instances where the real him, the one buried beneath all the layers of psychobabble and Lithium supplements, would come out to play. And while he didn't like people because they fucked him up, he did have that soft spot for kids.
Agent Walker shook her head. "No, it was your job to point out that the camera needed tape. What you did went above your job description. It was…nice. You don't see much of that anymore."
Chuck was beaming on the inside. The beast residing within purred, appreciating her praise. Sure, he knew that what he did was selfless. But she couldn't know that he was eating her compliments up. He looked away shyly, "It was nothing, really."
"Well, whatever it was, it was sweet." Agent Walker glanced at her watch. "Damn, I have an appointment with a realtor. I just moved here."
Of course you did, Agent Walker. "Oh, that's great. Welcome to Burbank," greeted Chuck, smiling from ear to ear.
"Thanks. Hey, I hope it's not too forward or anything, but I was…I was wondering if you'd like to get coffee some day?"
Chuck frowned. How was he supposed to respond to that? He understood that she was a CIA agent who was here decidedly not for pleasure. But no one else knew that. To the average spectator, it simply looked like a gorgeous woman had just asked him out.
…Actually, the truth makes a lot more sense.
"Oh, oh, I'm so sorry. I was getting too ahead of myself," she said, her voice trailing off in a self-chastising whisper. "Dammit, Sarah."
Chuck was shocked by her sincerity. He stopped her, "No, no that's not it at all. Just uh, I don't really know when I'll have some time off. So why don't you just write down your phone number or something and I'll give you a call when I can?"
Smooth.
Agent Walker hastily began scribbling her digits on a card. Chuck was torn, wondering whether this was all an act. It was pretty convincing and almost fooled him, the master of manipulation himself. The CIA really knew how to train their operatives in the art of deception. He hadn't come across someone so on par with faking it as the blond standing before him. She was the ultimate temptress. The original sin. Something stirred inside him again. Restless.
"Here you go," she handed the card with a smile. "Just call me when you have an opportunity."
"Will do," Chuck said giving her a dazzling smile of his own. He swore that Agent Walker had blushed, but that was probably a misconception on his part. It was unusually warm for September. So that could explain her flushed appearance. Walker continued to try and find the right words to no avail. Eventually, she gave up, turned and walked out of the store.
Chuck watched her leave. His head tilted in a confused expression.
That was the weirdest thing I think I've ever seen in my entire life.
"Ho-oly shit dude! I can't believe that just happened," exclaimed Morgan, his voice sounding a touch breathless.
Chuck asked lamely. "What happened?"
"What happened? What happened?" You just got a date with freakin' Vicky Vale, that's what happened! Dude, that's so sick."
Chuck nodded, mind reeling. Agent Walker was undoubtedly attractive. Even by DC comic standards, she was one in a million. Somehow he doubted that if they were to end up going for coffee, it'd be all but pleasant. It was probably in his best interests to ignore her and the CIA, and whatever they wanted. Hopefully, it wasn't him.
He sighed. "Hold on, Morgan. I don't think I'm going to call her. She'll find her own way eventually, and she can definitely find someone much better suited to get coffee with."
"Dude, are you kidding me right now? Please tell me that you're kidding."
Shooting him a dry look, he said. "I'm not, Morgan."
"I'm gonna try and be honest here, Chuck," Morgan began seriously. "Because you're my best friend and I love you like a brother. But have you actually seen that woman? You're going and that's final."
Sometimes I think he forgets that I'm the sociopath in this relationship.
Half of him was warming to the idea of taking Agent Walker on her offer. Maybe it wasn't going to be that big of a deal. Or maybe it was just a trap set up to finally apprehend Corvus, dead or alive. Conflicted, He took the card and stuck it in his back pocket.
"Happy?" he asked Morgan.
"Immensely?"
"Really, immensely?"
"I figured I'd try to expand my vocabulary."
Chuck smiled, patting his friend on the back. "Why don't we get back to work before Harry finds another reason to chew us out, huh?"
Morgan rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Well we can't have that now, can we?"
His shift at the Buy More was done by the afternoon. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, just beginning its descent over the fiery hillside. When he returned to Echo Park, Chuck was whistling jovially to a random tune as he walked from the Herder and back to the apartment. The card of the CIA agent sat like an anvil in his pocket. It just wouldn't be proper for a serial killer to talk with a spy, no matter the underlying circumstances. They were polar opposites. Like oil and vinegar, never meant to mix. For now, he'd simply ignore her existence as a minor inconvenience. But if she'd come back, he'd find a way to deal with her. Whether he liked it or not, staying under the radar took precedence over everything. Rule number one, don't get caught.
He stepped through the door and was greeted with the sight of Ellie cuddled up against Devon "Captain Awesome" Woodcomb. They seemed to be acting particularly carefree, a far cry from how rigorous their jobs were as a neurologist and cardiothoracic surgeon. Chuck often felt relatively small compared to the two of them, despite the fact that he was essentially ridding the world of evil. Yet, all anyone would see was the lovable guy who worked for $11 an hour at the Buy More. Not a monster, vigilante or dare he say it, hero.
"Hey Ellie," he greeted with a curt nod. "Devon."
Ellie smiled warmly, "Hey, Chuck."
Devon beamed as well. "Chuckster! Good to see you, mi amigo!"
After the colloquial greeting, Chuck headed for his room. He didn't get far as Morgan all but ran into the apartment. He came thundering across the wooden flooring, skidding to a stop as he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Chuck's got a date!"
"What?" Ellie cried as she immediately shot up from her resting place on Devon's lap. "Tell me everything!"
Chuck shot a murderous glare towards Morgan who visibly faltered. "No, I do not have a date."
Morgan rebounded quickly, arguing. "Chuck, man, she was all over you. Just give her a call and you're golden."
Ellie was now in full fledged matchmaker mode. Usually, Chuck only had to deal with her in this mood during his birthday but Morgan had just inadvertently added gasoline to the smoldering fire and made it a raging inferno. Dante would be proud if he also wouldn't be so terrified.
She began her rigorous version of Twenty Questions: "Who is she? Is she nice? What does she look like?"
"Sarah is a customer who wanted to get her phone fixed," explained Chuck flatly. "She's new here and wanted someone to show her around. And she looks…nice."
"Nice?" Morgan cried, affronted. "You call that nice? No, Chuck. Jill looked nice. This girl… whoa."
"Seriously, it's not a big deal. Nothing is going to happen."
"Charles Irving Bartowski, you will call this woman and you will go on a date! Do you understand me?" Ellie shouted. Chuck actually felt a drop of sweat permeating from the crown of his curls. The last time he sweated, there was a knife fight involved. He didn't lie when he told Morgan that Ellie could be intense.
"Fine," he grumbled and pulled out the card. "I'll call her." He proceeded to dial the number, and then listened to the phone ring. "It's ringing," he said in mock-enthusiasm.
The three pairs of eyes settled upon him were clearly not amused by his sarcastic wit. They were currently more interested in invading his personal life. When did that become appropriate human conduct? And if so, why hadn't he gotten the memo?
There was a long pause and Chuck prayed no one would answer. But then again, luck didn't appear to be on his side today.
"Hello?"
Why did she actually give me a real phone number? What happened to that six-digit fake out?
"Sarah?" He began. "Hi, it's Chuck, from the Buy More."
"Oh, hey Chuck! It's really good to hear from you," she said candidly. CIA training paying dividends. "I'm assuming you found a hole in your schedule?"
His busy schedule was a flimsy excuse. She deserved more creativity. "Uh, yeah, I uh… got tomorrow between noon and two off… so how about then?" he asked, adding a hopeful tinge to his already wavering voice.
"That's perfect! I'll meet you at the Buy More then, alright?"
"S—sure," Chuck hesitated. At first he was honestly surprised she agreed to a day date. He couldn't believe he was going to go through with this. "That's great."
There was another short pause. "Chuck, are you ok?"
No, not at all. I'm just mentally bashing my head into the figurative wall of my sick, deluded psyche. Don't mind me.
But what he really said went along the lines of this. "Oh, who me? I'm just peachy. Just not used to talking to somebody…like you…and now I sound like I'm eight."
He heard Agent Walker laugh. It wasn't boisterous or anything. Just a simple, heartfelt laugh. "That's okay, Chuck. I appreciate the compliment. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay… bye." He ended the call and waited for the inevitable barrage of Ellie to fall down on him like an angry torrent of rain.
"I knew you could do it, little brother!" Ellie squealed.
Devon added with a nod of approval. "Way to go, Chuck. That's awesome."
"Yeah… hey, what are you watching?" Chuck said, managing to switch the topic with the subtlety of an elephant attempting stealth.
"Oh, just the news. We don't really have time for anything else as we've got to go to the hospital soon." Ellie replied.
"Oh… alright," Chuck said as he turned to catch a brief glance of the TV set. The local news was in the midst of reporting on the fact that a General Stanfield, a former commander of NATO would arrive in Los Angeles later that night. He was due to present a speech at the peace conference. Chuck almost let out a sigh of annoyance when the fourth flash hit.
Flight plans followed by memos from the NSA with regards to General Stanfield and the fact that he would be arriving in Los Angeles much earlier than expected. A memo from the NSA suggesting that General Stanfield might be the target of a possible attack.
Well, that's great. Someone's going to try and kill a General of the United States. That ought to blow over just fine.
He shook the thoughts from his head. Even though Orion's law was mostly aimed at Fulcrum, Chuck was pretty sure that he'd want his son to do everything he could to make sure that there wouldn't be an assassination, especially on someone in the military. Still, there was nothing that Chuck could do about it. At least in his current predicament.
I need to get out of here before I flash on anything else life-alerting.
He shunned the television and turned his attention to Morgan. "Hey buddy, want to get some Sizzling Shrimp?"
Morgan's stomach growled. "You know I do! Let's go."
Chuck turned towards Ellie and Awesome. "Can I get you guys anything as well?"
"No thanks, Chuck. We've both got the nightshift. We'll see you tomorrow," smiled Ellie.
"Guess it's just you and me, buddy," Chuck said.
A smile ghosted his lips as he saw Morgan rubbing his hands in pure delight.
Yes, we without a doubt have the weirdest friendship.
Later that night, they returned home with full bellies of shrimp. Their excursion to China Town in the City of Angels was well earned. The food was rich and filling. It preoccupied Chuck of his darker urges; discussing Call of Duty strategies and his latest kill helped ease the call of something sinister.
"So, how did this guy react?" asked Morgan cheerfully. He took a giant gulp of his soda, always one for an entertaining story.
Laughing, Chuck stuck the key into the door of the apartment. "You should've seen the look on his face, buddy, when I told him that he'd get to choose how he could—"He stopped in mid-sentence. What the…?
The door flung wide open to reveal the confines of La Casa de Bartowski. Inside the living room was a ninja, carrying his PC. If there was one thing that could possibly warrant a death wish faster than being involved with Fulcrum, it was touching Chuck's computer without permission. He just sort of had a pet peeve about that. It was unacceptable. Suddenly, the restless feeling of his darker half resurfaced. Chuck saw red veil his vision. The beast inside clawed at him for blood to be spilt. He handed the bag of Asian delicacies to Morgan.
He remarked. "Really, a ninja?" A much darker tone had creeped into his voice.
Morgan stole a nervous glance at his best friend. The change in Chuck's countenance was as swift as it was deeply unsettling. His mask slipped to reveal something dark and foreboding. Morgan had been lucky enough to confront this Chuck only on a few separate occasions. Most of which occurred during their childhood where getting pummeled by the school bullies, only to be saved by Chuck, was a frequent thing. Back then, it wasn't that scary. Mostly because Chuck was tiny and somewhat innocent looking. Now on the other hand…
"Morgan, stay back." Chuck's colder voice called. "I'll handle this."
The first strike came from the ninja at an unexpected angle. The ninja's left hand shot up in a straight line, only clenching to a fist at the last possible moment to increase torque. Chuck, well Corvus to be precise, barely saw it coming. Whoever he was fighting was obviously a professional. The hand grazed his cheek and Corvus tried to retaliate with a closed fist to the abdomen. The ninja's right hand shot down and blocked the punch before twisting around and launching a vicious heel kick at his temple. Corvus' left arm shot up, blocking the oncoming leg and grabbing the heel in mid air. He tried to sweep the leg, but the ninja jumped and managed to perform a standing somersault.
Corvus knew he was in trouble. This ninja was good. He'd have to lure him in a trap. When he saw a punch that was aimed for his trachea, Corvus pulled his chin down and managed to catch the blow by stumbling along with it. The ninja saw his opening and went for the knockout. He spun and stuck out his foot, intent on getting the roundhouse to connect with Corvus' temple, pretty much knocking him unconscious in one smashing blow.
Corvus however, ducked and avoided the blow completely, bringing the ninja off balance. Like a coiled viper he struck, a clenched fist heading for the solar plexus. He connected without a single deflection. The ninja fell back gasping for air. But there was something else that he had noticed after the punch. His hand had grazed something decidedly not male. Two inflated spheres protruded out of his enemy's chest.
And just like that, the red faded back into a pair of large, doe eyes. Chuck stumbled backwards in alarm, blurting. "You're a woman!"
The ninja glanced at Chuck sideways before launching into another assault. Chuck was still dazed by the revelation that his attacker was female and he couldn't do anything about the blur that was formerly the ninja. He felt his legs being swept from under him before a devastating kick to the solar plexus caused him to fly backward. Before losing any sense of coherency, he felt his elbow connecting with the jaw of Morgan who got knocked unconscious before Chuck fell to the ground gasping for air. He felt a painful sting in his back and noticed that he had landed on his PC which was totally and utterly destroyed. He groaned in defeat and let his head fall down to the floor. He saw the ninja running out of the apartment. At least she was gone.
It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Chuck was able to regain a semblance of control. His breathing slowed down and while the throbbing got progressively worse, he felt that he could actually move again. He sat up and went to check on Morgan. He was still out cold, but it didn't seem like anything was broken. He would probably have a killer headache. The Sizzling Shrimp remained somewhat intact though.
There's always a silver lining.
He gingerly crawled up to his feet and started gathering the food that had strewn across the apartment. It wouldn't do for Ellie and Devon to come home to this. He had just placed the food on the table when he heard Morgan groan. "What the hell just happened?"
"I don't know," Chuck lied. He had an inkling of what might've caused a ninja to appear in their house.
"Dude, how are you not freaked out about this?" Morgan asked. "There was a freaking ninja assassin in your apartment! Aren't you scared that they might come back?"
That was a stupid question. Why ask somebody devoid of feeling whether he was afraid. He was fearless. But confused as well.
"No," Chuck shook his head. "She won't be coming back; I think I scared her off."
Morgan's eyes went wide. "Wait a minute, did you say she? Dude, a girl just kicked your ass."
"She…did not…how do you mean she kicked my ass?" Chuck snapped angrily. "The only reason she got a cheap shot was because I got distracted by the fact I was fighting said girl! If that didn't happen, I would've beaten her without question."
"Uh huh, sure." Said Morgan, the skepticism flavoring his speech.
"Whatever. Let's just eat." Chuck said before moving over to the table. He looked back on the living room that had turned into a makeshift warzone for the time being. He'd have a ball cleaning it all up.
There was one thing however, that was really bothering Chuck. In the past forty-eight hours, he had only learned of one woman who could moonlight as a ninja. Chuck didn't like the conclusion that he was drawing. The CIA was interested in Chuck Bartowski.
Oh boy.
The next day proved to move excruciatingly slow. Chuck had decided that he procrastinated long enough. It was now time to get some answers from Agent Walker. He didn't want to constantly have to deal with random intrusions by ninjas or whatever else she'd have in store for him. He already spent his month's paycheck on getting replacement parts for his computer. The CIA was going to be in for a rude awakening if they didn't foot the bill.
Chuck shook himself from his thoughts when a customer approached him at the counter. He felt his eyelids starting to flutter and prematurely cursed the oncoming headache. What the Intersect relayed to him in the flash consisted of detailed blueprints of bombs, reports of explosions all throughout Europe, and the passport of a certain Vuc Andric, known Serbian demolitions expert.
"Hi, and welcome to the Buy More," greeted Chuck, his tone delightful but suspicious. "How may I help you?"
"Good day," the Serb spoke with a heavy accent. "You sell Prism Express laptop, yes?"
Chuck nodded. "Yes."
"I would like one."
"Alright, let me just go out back and get one for you." As Chuck started towards the cage, his mind was spinning ways to get this guy alone for a private conversation. It was still broad daylight, but he could find a way to get the Serb back to Encino in one piece. That was until he took him apart, limb from limb. However, it seemed an impossible feat to accomplish. While he could easily stalk and deal with this terrorist, that'd mean Chuck would have to cancel the coffee date with Agent Walker. But there were more important things at stake. Unless…
He grabbed his phone and dialed Agent Walker's number. He was halfway at the cage when she picked up. "Hey Sarah, its Chuck. Hey, I got some time off now, how about we go for a quick lunch or something?"
"Yeah, that's perfect timing actually. Shall I pick you up?" She asked happily.
"Thanks, yeah, I'll be waiting out in the parking lot." Chuck smiled at his good fortune. "Meet you in five minutes?"
"Sure, I'll be there."
"See you then."
Now all I need to do is stall him until Agent Walker gets here and I can find out what his game is. And maybe after that, I can have another playmate.
Chuck felt the beast gradually stir from its brief period of hibernation. Sure, it'd only been two days since Jacob Williamson took his last breath, but maybe what Chuck really needed right now was to blow off some steam. Another opportunity to kill so soon might be just what the doctor ordered.
It took him a while to locate the correct laptop but when he found it, he briskly walked back to the center of the store. Timing was essential in this case. He saw the Serb impatiently scanning the crowd.
"I'm sorry for the long wait, sir." He lied convincingly. "Here's your brand new laptop. Hope you enjoy all those new features, and if you could please take it over to check-out that'd be just perfect."
The Serb nodded and walked off. Chuck threw down his pocket protector and darted to the front of the store, desperately scanning the lot trying to find Agent Walker. He found her leaning against her Porsche, her eyes fixated on the Buy More entrance. Chuck approached her, the Serb walking in his trail with the laptop clutched to his chest.
He waved to Agent Walker and she reciprocated the gesture, a smile ghosting on her lips. "Nice car," he remarked.
"Thanks, it's my favorite. A Porsche 911," she said, patting the car lovingly.
"It's beautiful," Chuck said. That wasn't a lie, but a honest observation. He may have not been the biggest of car enthusiasts, but he could recognize a gorgeous car when it was in front of him. "Hey, I know of a great place. Why don't you drive and I'll give you directions?"
"I was going to drive anyway," she replied, smirking.
There was something about that devilish gleam in her eye that roused something foreign inside of Chuck. He had no time to contemplate what it was, and so he joined her in the car. Agent Walker turned the key in its ignition and Chuck's seat started vibrating comfortably. She revved the engine once, then twice. It growled violently, reminding him of his darker half. Restless and starving. It was just scratching away at his insides. It demanded freedom. Agent Walker peeled out of the parking lot at incredible, but reckless speed. Meanwhile Chuck began directing her along, all the while making casual small-talk.
He asked first. "So Sarah, what is it you do?"
Her eyes focused on the road ahead, replying offhandedly. "Actually, I'm kind of in-between jobs. I just moved here from DC."
Chuck raised a brow. "Bad memories?"
"You could say that. More like a bad breakup."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that… turn left here."
"It's okay," she gave a noncommittal shrug. "I never really thought that the relationship was going anywhere. But everything in that city just reminded me of him, so I had to get out of there." She sighed and glanced at Chuck. "What about you? Any bad breakups?"
He smiled lopsidedly, answering. "There is one, but I'm ordered under the penalty of a kick to the shin to not speak of it."
Agent Walker's eyes sparkled with mirth. "A kick to the shin huh? That sounds brutal."
"I know, mostly because Ellie, that's my sister, got Captain Awesome to be the one to kick me if I do end up breaking my vow. He used to be the tight end for UCLA."
"Captain Awesome?"
"Oh, yeah, my bad," Chuck apologized hastily. "That's what we call him. It's because everything that he does… turn right, there… is simply awesome. White water rafting, rock climbing, surgery, clipping his nails, breathing…"
Agent Walker's laugh came easy. Chuck found himself to enjoying it, the sound of her honest-to-god laughter. It was a wholly different sort of sound he was used to hearing. Not the usual plea, or bloodcurdling scream. It was just...nice. Realizing this had startled him greatly.
Uh oh.
He forced his mind elsewhere. Back to the objective at hand. The car that Chuck was tailing turned left and came to an abrupt stop in front of a hotel. He squinted to read the name of the resort, flashing as he did so. His eyes widened to the size of saucers. The Serb was going to blow up the room where General Stanfield would give his speech that night. Chuck knew it was time to let up the façade and lay all the cards on the table.
Doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it...
"So Sarah," Chuck shifted in the leather seat. "How's your chest?"
"What?" Sarah nearly shouted, stomping on the breaks. The Porsche jerked forward before skidding in front of the next four-way intersection. The force of the stop had left Chuck breathless, the seatbelt bruising his ribs as every wisp of air left his lungs.
At the red light, Sarah shot him a dangerous glare.
He actually withered under her scrutiny. Collecting himself, Chuck explained in his haste. "Oh crap, that's not at all what I meant. I mean, I wanted to know... because I hit you pretty hard last night... oh man, this sounded better in my head."
Sarah's eyes diverted back on the road, but he saw her pupils dilate. It was impressive to not get a reaction to a bomb like that being dropped on you. Still, Chuck couldn't help but add, "The CIA owes me a new computer, by the way. Where can I hand in the bill?"
She said evenly. "How did you know?"
"Please Agent Walker," answered Chuck. "The reason I knew is the same reason that you came down here, isn't it? Bryce Larkin has access to the Intersect and you guys are bending over backwards trying to find out how."
Her mouth fell open a tiny bit before snapping shut. Chuck looked at her and it was obvious to him that she was weighing her options. Eventually, it seemed like she had made her decision. "So you're Bryce's accomplice…"
"What?" Chuck shouted, appalled. "What do you mean accomplice?"
"Bryce Larkin went rogue and stole the Intersect before sending it to you."
"What? I haven't spoken to Bryce for five years! He just sent me an e-mail with the Intersect attached to it. I didn't know that he was a spy!"
"Sure you… wait." She narrowed her eyes. "How did you even know about the Intersect in the first place?"
Chuck shrugged. "Don't freak out, but I'm kind of Orion's protégé."
"Orion?"
"Yeah, you know, Orion. The guy who created the Intersect? He told me all about it. I'm a computer geek, remember? And apparently, I now have one stuck in my brain."
She sighed. "And here I was thinking you were really just a nice guy."
"Hey!" Chuck said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I wasn't acting,"Well, I sort of was, but you don't need to know that."And better yet, I didn't try and deceive someone by making him think that I was interested in grabbing some coffee!"
Agent Walker pulled the car over and dragged a hand over her face. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Now if you knew that I was a CIA agent, we didn't go here for lunch. So spill…"
Chuck huffed, explaining. "A Serbian demolition expert walked into the Buy More today and bought a Prism Express laptop, the same laptop that was used in several bombings throughout Eastern Europe. I had you follow him to the hotel behind us. That hotel is reserved for General Stanfield's speech tonight. So, a Serbian demolition expert is going to detonate a bomb during his speech, killing everyone in the room."
Her skin had turned a shade of pale white. "Are you sure?" she asked. Chuck nodded. "Alright, well we can't just run in, we'll have to do this the right way." The blond spy frantically looked around her trying to find a way to take out the Serb. Eventually she shrugged and turned 180 degrees. She raced down to the front entrance, crossing intersections at a scarily high speed.
Chuck looked to his left and saw a black SUV racing through a red light. In his mind he already knew that the SUV was going to hit them head on. "Fuck!" he managed to shout, before the Porsche was demolished by the SUV's grill.
The airbags shot out and hit Chuck square in the face. He winced but didn't say a word. He looked to his left and saw Agent Walker with a deathly look in her eyes. Her prized car had just received a massive dent and she wasn't too pleased. Though it could still drive alright, and he was sure that the CIA would pay for the damage it'd sustained, Chuck suspected that it didn't matter to the blond dynamo.
"Get out," she nearly growled. "I may have to point a gun at you, so just… don't freak out, okay?"
"Uh, could we maybe do without the guns?" He asked with honest fear in his voice. "I'm really not that big a gun person."
She looked at Chuck trying to find an answer to… something. Eventually, she nodded having seemingly found her answer. "I'll do my best." She stepped out of the totaled Porsche and started shouting. "Are you out of your mind Casey?"
Chuck peered out of the window to see an angry looking giant casually sitting on the hood of his SUV, caressing a pistol. He winced as the flash smacked him right between the eyes. Images of a Major John Casey, NSA. Marine Corps Scout Sniper, over sixty confirmed kills, did tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. By the very definition, he was an assassin.
He's just like me, but only with a licence to kill. Interesting...
He stepped out of the car where Agent Walker was squaring off against Casey. "I really don't care what you have to say Walker; your boy over there is coming with us. The Intersect is property of the NSA."
"CIA gets him first!" she retorted.
"Really? Wasn't it Larkin who blew the damn thing up? And wasn't Larkin CIA? I'm pretty sure that negates any claims to the Intersect that the CIA thinks it has."
She held her ground. "It doesn't matter. I found him first, that means he goes to the CIA."
"I'm standing right here, you know?" Chuck waved his arms, adding. "My name is Chuck by the way."
"Shut up, Chuck," snapped Agent Walker.
"Shut up, moron," Casey growled at the same time.
"Shutting up," Chuck sighed.
"Well, CIA. What are you going to do about it?"
At once, Agent Walker whipped her gun towards Chuck, aiming at his forehead. "Whatever I have to do to make sure that the NSA doesn't get him."
"Sarah… Sarah, seriously put the gun away." Chuck was starting to freak out. His ears filled with the noise of that awful dripping sound. He could almost feel the blood of his mother on his face. His hands started to shake.
"Sorry Chuck can't do that," she said, her eyes fixated on Casey. "You're too valuable to be handed to the NSA who will treat you like a walking computer."
"Sarah!" Chuck shouted before it all became too much, and he suddenly collapsed to the pavement, reduced to a sobbing mess. He clutched his head, screaming as the images of his mother flitted in front of his sight. The gaping hole through her head a constant reminder to the horror that he had experienced in the desolated cell in Moscow. The thick blood dripping down her face, hitting the floor with a sickening sound. Drip, drip, drip. Chuck's vision started going blurry. He tried to forget, tried to forget that there was a muzzle being pointed at his head. Tried to forget that there was a room chockfull of people about to blown to bits by an insane Serb and his proclivity towards making bombs. All he wanted was the guns to go away.
"Chuck!" Walker yelled as she saw him writhing in the middle of the street. Pedestrians had stopped walking and people were getting out of their cars to see the spectacle. She stowed her pistol in the small of her back as she ran towards him, while Casey kept his eyes firmly on the wailing man. "Chuck, are you okay?"
"Please Sarah," he sobbed. "Please no guns."
Walker looked at Chuck in a panic, contemplating what to do. She did the only thing that came to her at that moment and sat down on the concrete. She grabbed Chuck's head and started cradling it, hoping it'd be enough to quell his frantic state.
The images slowly faded back to the recesses of his mind and he heard a calming voice speak to him, telling him that she had put away the gun and that he would be alright. He also found himself clinging to the source of the voice. That'll leave a fantastic impression on her. He shot back, out of the blond Agent's grasp, mortified with himself. He didn't want people seeing the real him so vulnerable, so defenseless. Sure, seeing him pretend to show fear was going to probably be a common occurrence, but this was too close… too real.
"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't… I didn't know what I was thinking," he mumbled.
"It's okay," She said, features softening considerably. Her smile conveyed pity with a touch of sadness.
"Walker! Get the moron in the SUV, now!" Casey shouted. She glared at the larger man before she looked around and noticed the stares emanating from the public.
"Chuck, we have to go," She whispered, holding out her hand and hoisted him up. His knees were a bit wobbly from the after effects of his little public display of PTSD but he managed to get to the car without falling. He dragged himself in the backseat, before slumping against the leather clad seats.
"What the hell was that out there?" Casey asked as soon as he and the blond were in the car.
"No time Casey, there's a bomb in the hotel down the street from here. It's set to kill General Stanfield. If we're fast, we can take out the bomber."
"What? How do you know that?"
"Chuck told me."
"You mean the kid who just sobbed for a solid five minutes because there was a gun pointed at him? Why would you believe anything he says?"
"Casey!" She said in a very harsh tone. "Not everyone is like you and me, okay? Chuck received Bryce's email, but accidently saw the images. For all intents and purposes, he is the Intersect. So I'll believe everything he says within regards to national security." Casey remained stoic, with his eye on the road. "Alright, stop here. Chuck, stay in the car."
"What?" Chuck slurred. "No, no, I can't… I know… I know how to defuse the bomb."
"Just tell me."
"I… I can't, it involves overwriting the lock on the computer so I can access DOS which in turn allows me to access Internet so I can… you lost me didn't you?"
Walker gave him a blank stare and Casey looked annoyed. He exited the SUV and quickly rounded to the back; flinging the door open before yanking Chuck out and into the open. "You stay close to us. If anything happens, you make a dive for it, understood?"
Chuck wiggled himself out of the man's grasp. Being manhandled provoked him into a speedy recovery from his unfortunate breakdown. His eyes were bloodshot and dry as a bone. With newfound vigor, he snapped. "Or how about you shut up and follow me so I can make sure that we won't have to read over a hundred obituaries tomorrow?"
"Don't make me take out my gun, moron."
He amended. "…Sir?"
"Better. Now move it."
Chuck took off, running for the gold-framed doors. He yanked them open and started frantically looking for the Serb he had seen earlier. If I was a mass murdering sociopath, which I totally am, what would I do? Orion would have me disappear in the crowd and… that's it.
"Look for anyone posing as a member of staff! He's probably going to try and smuggle the bomb in that way," Chuck said, his voice a commanding tone he honed so well.
"Since when are we taking orders from you?" Growled Casey. "Last I remember you were bawling your eyes out on a street."
Chuck sighed. "You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"
"If you're still alive and not locked up in some godforsaken hellhole? Yep."
Walker interjected. "Casey, he's right. How else would you smuggle a bomb in here?"
Chuck heard Casey muttering a reply, but he already lost his focus. The little tattoo on the inside of the wrist of the waiter that was wheeling in the cart caused Chuck to flash again. It's him!
"Sarah! That waiter, with the cart! I just flashed on him. That's the guy!"
Casey growled in delight and took off. "Keep the nerd safe! At least until I get back!" He ran past the fountain that was conveniently set up in the middle of the room. He came up close and barged shoulder first into the Serb. He released the cart that he was carrying and flew backwards, Casey jumping on top of him. A vicious punch to the Serb's face knocked him out. He grabbed a pair of plastic handcuffs and tied the Serb up. He took a hold of the cart and lifted the drape, revealing the bomb. "Alright Bartowski, you're up."
"You know my last name?"
"I read your file. Didn't explain why you were showing off just how tough you really were on the road a few minutes ago."
Chuck sighed again, and took off in a dash. He skidded to a halt in front of the bomb. "Alright, we've still got a few minutes left. This should work."
"Should?" Walker asked. "I thought you said you knew what you were doing."
"I do… I do… I just… I don't really know how much protection this guy put on here. It might take a while."
"You've got five minutes," Casey said.
"Gee, thanks Casey. I couldn't read the clock from right up here, hovering over it."
"Just shut up and get to work."
Chuck's hands flew over the keyboard. It only took him two minutes to get out of the bomb timer program and onto his desktop. "Alright, so now I just click… Oh hell!"
"What? What is it?" Walker asked, her voice betraying the fact that she was slightly panicking.
"He's got Internet Explorer! Seriously, we're in 2007. Everyone uses Firefox nowadays."
She frowned, confused. "Does it matter?"
"Well, no, not really, it'll just take a little longer to start up and I'll have to deal with a ton of pop-ups, but… type in 'Irene Demova' and…"
"You're searching for porn?" Casey asked, the disbelief plain in his voice.
"Just… wait it out… Look, we go to this site and…" Multiple windows of the website popped up, the speakers on the laptop emitting metallic moans that had Chuck blushing. It took an excruciating seven seconds, but finally the hiss told him what he needed to know. "And now the power supply short-circuited and fried the motherboard. The bomb should be disarmed."
There was a long pause.
"Wow, Chuck… Just… wow," Agent Walker mumbled, speechless. "That was… that was brilliant."
He was inwardly gushing. His darker half feeding on her praise like it was a life force sustaining it. However, Chuck kept up the false pretense. "Thanks Sarah," he said with a faint blush.
"Glad you didn't get us all killed, moron."
"You're welcome Casey and thanks for all the support."
Casey grunted and walked away. I bet he grunts a lot.
Chuck grinned and looked down at the bomb when a stroke of inspiration hit him. No, he was never afraid to die, well, not unless it involved guns anyway. Or needles. But he couldn't let this opportunity slide to cement his cover. "What if… what if I was wrong?"
"Chuck, you weren't."
"No, but what if I was… It would've blown up… and we would've all… and you… and Casey… and everyone… Oh God!"
He turned and stumbled to the door, a hidden smile grazing his face. He heard Agent Walker run after him, but he walked on ahead. He knew where he was going to go. The one spot that had always provided him a safe haven from everything and everyone. Even himself.
Chuck loved the beach. He felt truly at peace there, content with just listening to the waves for a long while. His mind ran through everything that had happened in the past several days and he knew that he was in trouble. The government was interested in him, that much was clear. That probably meant that he'd either have to face bunker, being baby-sat by Agents or death by bullet to the head. Chuck shivered and it didn't have anything to do with the freezing wind that was quickly causing his skin to develop goose bumps.
He forgot time as he kept listening to the tranquil sound of the surf crashing on the shore. It soothed him and it had often abated his dark urges. It was only a temporary solution of course, but it did help him keep things under control. Chuck was very aware of the fact that whatever option happened, he would find it very hard to keep his own routine going. For perhaps the first time in nearly five years, Chuck found himself cursing the name Bryce Larkin
If he hadn't sent me the Intersect, none of this would've happened.
He heard the crunching of sand beneath a pair of feet and it was an easy guess as to who came for him.
"How long have you been there?"
"Long enough to know that you've been here for a long time," The blond spy responded as she sat down.
Chuck gave a dramatic sigh. "Why did Bryce do this to me?"
"I don't… I don't know."
"Was he a good partner?"
"What? Oh, the Intersect… right…"
Chuck shook his head, smiling grimly. "Actually… no. Every time someone mentioned Bryce, you would get a brief look of disgust over your face and I figured he either cheated on you and you only just found out, or you and him were connected some other way. I just took a stab in the dark, is all."
She sighed. "Well, let's just say he betrayed me in more than one way."
Chuck nodded. Bryce Larkin and Sarah Walker. It wasn't hard to see the similarities. "I'm sorry." Well that is a blatant lie.
"It's okay. I learned from it…" she said, trailing off and simply staring at the ocean.
Chuck waited for a suitable amount of minutes to let Agent Wa… Sarah deal with her own demons before his curiosity got the better of him. "So what's going to happen to me?"
"We're establishing contact with our superiors and ask for their instructions," answered Sarah. "I won't sugar coat it, you'll either get put in a bunker or terminated."
"Well, those two options don't seem very healthy. Especially because of my… uh… reaction to guns earlier today."
Sarah nodded. "That's why I'll be lobbying for a third one. Keep you where you are with a protection detail."
Crap! Despite being the lesser of three evils, it still meant that Chuck would not be able to quench his thirst for vengeance for the foreseeable future. "Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate it… but why would you go through all that trouble?"
"Because… because I think you're a nice guy who doesn't deserve what's happening to you and I'll be damned if I let the government ruin yet another life."
If only you knew, age… Sarah. If only you knew.
"… Thank you, Sarah."
"You're welcome," she said, while smiling sweetly at him. She stood up and mimicked her actions from the day before by holding out her hand. Chuck grinned and took it. He patted himself off before walking to the Porsche.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
"Casey's hotel room," was all she said.
"Can I drive?" he asked with a teasing grin.
Sarah turned and eyed him carefully. She reached into her pocket and dangled the keys from her thumb and forefinger. Chuck tried to grab it, before Sarah yanked them away.
"Nice try, do you think I want another dent in my baby?" she remarked before slipping into the car. Chuck simply watched her for a moment, perplexed as to why she made his so called 'emotions' go haywire with just a simple glance or smile. He felt the darkness purr contentedly. There may have not been any death involved, but the thrill of preventing an international incident sufficed. With a sigh, Chuck sat in the passenger's seat. He changed one last glance at the shine on the ocean courtesy of the daunting full moon.
Chuck sat propped up against the headboard of the bed. Sarah was giving her After Action report of the hotel.
"…Mr. Bartowski proceeded to defuse the bomb in a way that we didn't even know was possible."
"So the Intersect works?" General Diane Beckman asked.
"Well, yes ma'am, but the Intersect only helped in locating the target. The bomb defusal was all thanks to Mr. Bartowski."
"Agent Walker, why did you feel it pertinent to have the Intersect close to a live bomb?" The CIA Director, Langston Graham inquired, the venom dripping from his inflection.
Sarah was unfazed. "Mr. Bartowski was the only one who could correctly identify the target. He was convinced that he knew how to defuse the bomb and since neither I nor Major Casey had any idea on how to proceed we figured that having the world's greatest intelligence asset at our side could only help in the long run."
"And what do you suggest is the course of action, Agent Walker?" Beckman prompted. "The NSA would love to have Mr. Bartowski in our possession and one way to achieve that would to have him go underground."
Chuck scowled, but a hand motion from Sarah stopped his verbal reply in its tracks. "I believe that the best way for Mr. Bartowski to operate would be by letting him live his life. I think that placing him underground would have adverse effects to the Intersect."
Beckman looked miffed, but didn't say anything. Graham however didn't seem to be convinced. "So what are you saying? That we place him under daily supervision?"
"Yes, sir. That is what I think will be the best for both parties in the long term."
"And you're telling me that one of the best spies the CIA has ever had is suited for a long term baby-sitting assignment?"
"Yes, sir."
"Major Casey, what do you think?" Graham asked. It was obvious he was displeased with his Agent's insubordination.
Give it a rest already, will you? She's not going to be changing her mind anytime soon.
Casey stood ramrod straight. "I think that Agent Walker's assumptions are correct. Mr. Bartowski has shown a remarkable amount of guts by defusing a live bomb. It would be very wise for us to consider taking him on as an unofficial analyst."
Chuck looked at Casey. What the hell? Isn't he supposed to talk about how I had a freak out on a freaking intersection?
Graham backed down, but the anger on his face was unmistakable. This would have consequences. Beckman spoke up though. "Major Casey, we both know of your… distaste for the CIA. Are you suggesting that we partner you with Agent Walker?"
"Ma'am, I follow orders," stated Casey. "If me being partnered with a CIA agent means that we can protect the free world, I'm more than happy to make that sacrifice."
Beckman looked thoughtful for a second. Chuck didn't know what he was rooting for more. Both roads led to one simple truth. Chuck couldn't kill anymore. Knowing this really bummed him out.
Finally, Beckman spoke up. "Very well, Agent Walker, Major Casey. We will leave Mr. Bartowski in Burbank for the time being. We will see how it goes, but I expect a report from every scrap of data that the Intersect gets. We will reconvene at a later time to discuss the various covers you will have to be employing. Is that understood?"
"Yes ma'am," Sarah and Casey both briskly replied.
"Very well then," Beckman said and she closed the video link.
Chuck looked to the bigger man. "Thanks Casey, I never thought you'd end up helping me out."
"Listen Bartowski," growled Casey. "You did a good job by defusing that bomb. Honestly though, I don't really care about you. As long as you don't screw up, we can be considered somewhat reluctant colleagues. But that's as far as we go. You got that?"
"Crystal." Chuck said dryly and threw off a crisp salute.
Casey grunted somewhat disinterested. "Now get the hell out of my room. I have a date with Walker."
"What?" Chuck and Sarah comically blurted out in unison. Terror was etched into both of their expressions.
Casey pulled out a bottle of Black Label. "Not you, Walker. Don't get your panties in a bunch." He twisted the cap off and poured himself a glass.
Chuck watched the burly man take a long sip of the liquor before slipping off the bed and heading towards the door. He was ready to bolt. "Alright, well, I'm beat. I'm going to go to bed. Mind if you drive me home, Sarah?"
And now I make my escape before either of them tries to call me out about—.
"Wait, there is one more thing I have to do, Chuck. It's important." Sarah turned towards the laptop and typed in a series of commands. The monitor suddenly displayed the two respected leaders of the United States government once again.
"Yes, Agent Walker?" Beckman said. Graham was still scowling.
Sarah said calmly. "Ma'am, in the interest of full disclosure, Mr. Bartowski had somewhat of a panic attack of sorts on the intersection closest to the hotel after having a gun pointed at him. I thought you should know this."
Chuck groaned. Et tu, Sarah? Still, his vocal protests didn't stop her and she kept her gaze on the laptop.
Beckman sighed before allowing Graham to come into the picture. His scowl had somewhat diminished. "In the interest of full disclosure, it is pertinent that you two know about Mr. Bartowski's youth. His mother was the famed spy, code named Frost."
Sarah gasped. Her eyes darted from Chuck and back to the screen. "Frost? She was a CIA legend!"
Graham nodded. "You are correct. She is still a legend now thanks to her ridiculously successful mission rate. She was killed in Moscow after trying to infiltrate a Russian arms conglomerate. Someone tipped off Volkoff and he had her killed. Charles Irving Bartowski was the bait they used to lure her to the cell that she was killed in. She died in front of his eyes, courtesy of a gunshot wound to the back of the head."
Chuck knew that he was supposed to pretend to be upset, but he didn't have the willpower exert any other emotion. What he felt now was exhaustion. That much was real. All he could do was to keep staring in front of him, an unreadable expression on his face.
Graham continued: "Mr. Bartowski was stuck in the cell with his dead mother in his arms for almost two full days. Reports are inconclusive on how he eventually escaped. Ever since that day, there hasn't been a single word uttered about that tragic mission. I'm sure Mr. Bartowski could confirm that after some psychiatric evaluations during his youth, he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That could explain why he had his episode when a gun was being aimed at him."
Sarah looked crestfallen. "Thank you for the information, sir," she muttered before closing the connection. She looked at Chuck and he saw the pain that he had felt so often reflected in her eyes. He knew that in her own way, she was just as damaged as him.
"Oh Chuck," she muttered and shook her head.
He had trouble focusing his gaze elsewhere. Something stirred in his depths, but there was no way to identify what it was. It was a foreign sensation. An emotion maybe. Feeling. No matter the case, he knew exactly what caused the confusion, the pain and wonder all wrapped into one. It was her. The spy. Sarah Walker.
Chuck felt himself get sucked into her grey-blue eyes. Now, there was no escape. What have I gotten myself into?
A/N: Oh, my god. That took forever. It's just past two in the am and I'm dying. There's bound to be mistakes, inconsistencies and whatever else you can spot. Believe me, they're there but I just don't care. This chapter was excruciatingly hard to write/edit/whatever for me. For some strange reason, rewriting the Pilot is just too demanding and repetitive. Nevertheless, I hope everyone enjoyed it. Next Chapter will pick up from where this left off. While Aerox and I will follow canon, we're going to take serious liberties. There will be no season 1, rather than a combination of 1 and 2.
Oh, and Aerox thought it'd be prudent to say that Chuck and Sarah are going to have relations. By relations, I mean sex. And by sex, I mean, not for a long time coming. But that doesn't mean Charah isn't going to be a huge factor. Because it totally is. Also, if you didn't already know, CS Lee plays both Harry Tang and Vince Masuka on Dexter. So that's why he was so perverted. Huhuhuhuhu.
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