A/N1 Whew. Feeling better. Miracles of modern meds.

Still, whew. This write-a-chapter-then-post-it, write-another-then-post-it daily schedule is...um...invigorating. It is also a lot like playing Russian roulette with a story: the next chapter could be the one that kills you. I keep spinning the chamber, though, pulling the trigger, and here I go again.

You folks have been so kind in responding. I have been trying to respond to everyone. If I missed you, forgive me. Being headachy makes me more stupid than usual. Please keep the reviews and PMs coming! Each one is a little Excedrin dose for my aching head.

Timeline hijinks continue unabated.

Don't own Chuck.

Sarah vs. Omaha

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Espial

Whenever I put my foot in my mouth and you begin to doubt
That it's you that I'm dreaming about
Do I have to draw you a diagram?
All I ever want is just to fall into your human hands
-Elvis Costello, Human Hands

The previous day, late afternoon

The pain. It had crossed over a line and moved down his neck and into every joint of his body. He did not have a toothache; he was a toothache. He finished the file only barely able to look at the final documents. He closed it with a groan. He could hear June get up; she was standing over him, looking at him. "More meds?" He nodded and she handed him more foil packages. He did not wait for water. He opened the packets and downed the Excedrin dry. He felt June's strong hands on his shoulders, massaging them, his neck. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he could not. It was helping. There was nothing suggestive about her touch, no sign that she would push it into anything else. After letting it go on for a couple of moments, he put his hands on hers, stopping her. "Thanks."

"I think Casey is probably waiting outside. He said he would take you to Ellie's and get you something to eat, then he would bring you back to my place."

"I thought we were joined at the hip?"

"Anatomically, not the best spot for us to be joined, Intersect. Nature had a better plan." Nothing suggestive had been in her touch but there it was in her tone.

Chuck turned to face her. She was looking at him much as she had the night before. He was afraid again, not so afraid of her, although he was still afraid of her, but, rather, afraid of what she wanted. A lyric from a Smiths' song wafted into his mind unbidden: And pretty girls make graves.

"Um...June...Look, I meant what I said the other day, what I didn't say last night. I'm not going to be...handled."

She studied his face for a moment, sizing him up. "It's Walker, right ?" He had rarely heard so much hatred crammed into two syllables as she managed with 'Walker'. It helped him clear his head. Yes, of course, it is Sarah. I am in love with her. "But she's off with Larkin." June's face twisted. "What's it matter?"

What's it matter? He and Sarah had talked about Bryce but not really about the mission, not really about the Andersons. Sarah told him she was not with Bryce, and God, help me! he believed her, trusted her. Even after everything, he did: he trusted Sarah. He had not stopped. Not really. Never. Not during her running away, not during the days afterward. His trust had wavered, maybe, but had not been extinguished. He needed to make June understand.

"It matters. I'm not...the sort of guy who...can...um...My feelings don't...go on and off like that, like a traffic light. Walker is gone, yes; I know. We were not together before she left...but…but..." He was not sure how to finish without saying something he did not want to say, without giving too much away.

"But...what? I'm not asking you to feel anything...not like that, anyway. Emotions. I can make you feel other ways, other things…" She stepped to him and stood on her toes in her sandals, putting her mouth near his ear. "All you have to feel is pleasure. And it would be for us, you and me, not the job. No one needs to know. You are sleeping at my place anyway. Why not get off...the floor, Chuck?"

He pushed her back gently but firmly. "Look, those two kinds of feelings go together for me, June. I won't...not if it doesn't mean anything, not if it isn't a way of expressing emotions…if it's not oriented toward the future... " God, Sarah, I want you so much. I love you so much. "Maybe that makes me some kind of chump, some kind of a throwback to some...I don't know...chivalrous, courtly...ideal." He felt silly saying the words, but they were the ones he wanted. "But it's how I am...It's how I am wired."

June studied him again, but this time as if he were speaking a language she didn't understand, Chinese or something. She gave him the shrug he was beginning to get used to, although he did not like it. "Whatever. I am going to give you some time with your family. As long as Casey is with you, we'll be keeping the spirit of Graham's orders, if not their letter. See you tonight."

She led him to the door and out of it. The Crown Vic was running, Casey seated in it, waiting. Chuck climbed in. Casey gave him a hard look. "You've been better. Bad day?" Chuck nodded but said nothing.

"June? Full court press?"

Chuck shot Casey a glance. "How did you know?"

"I saw her watching you walk to the car. I see things. I ain't blind."

"I didn't Casey, I wouldn't...Sarah…"

Casey took one hand off the steering wheel and waved it. "Hell, I know, kid. But this is a complication we don't need. It was better when the only worry was that she would hurt you." Chuck looked down. Casey went on. "Sorry, but you know what I mean. She's unstable at the best of times. Her taking an interest in you, well it just adds more variables to the algorithm stew we are already simmering in."

"I know. And I don't know how to fend her off without making things worse for me or revealing how things actually stand between me and Sarah."

Casey drove for a while without speaking. At a red light, he turned to Chuck. "How do things stand between the two of you? Are you coping with the fact that she's not here? That she's there, and with him?"

"I'm making it, Casey. I trust her."

"Have you told her that?"

Chuck knew a pained look crossed his face. "No, not yet. Not in so many words."

Casey grimaced. "You two are going to 'not in so many words' yourselves into serious trouble. She needs to know. She thinks she ruined that, your trust, and she's going to blame herself until you make it clear to her."

"How do I do that?"

Casey was thoughtful, moving the car ahead as the light turned green. "Goddamnit if I know. But she made a big gesture, coming here. A big one. Acted against a lifetime of habits to see you. She took a chance on you, on the two of you. A big chance."

When they got to the apartment, Ellie had dinner ready. Chuck's appetite returned as his headache receded. Ellie grilled him about his physical condition and he tried to answer without worrying her too much. But he knew he could not take too many more days like this.

Casey took him to June's and walked him to her door. "Weird, goddamn weird, her being here, in Walker's place. Wrong."

Chuck sighed and knocked. June came to the door wearing a short robe and a towel around her hair.

Luckily, despite the apprehension the robe created for Chuck, June let the evening go by without pressing him. She filled out paperwork and sent the digital recording to Langley. She climbed into bed. She glanced at him once, making clear that the invitation was still open. Chuck quickly looked back down at the graphic novel he had been pretending to read while he thought about his earlier conversation with Casey. Once June was in bed, Chuck got up and went into the bathroom, a t-shirt and sweatpants hiding the burner. It was late. He was hoping Sarah would text him soon.

She did.

I'm sorry it's so late. Bryce and I had mission stuff to work out. Are you ok?

Chuck's misery, physical and emotional, lifted immediately. He suddenly had a plan. Not necessarily a great plan, but Casey was right. She needed to know where his head and heart were at. It was his turn to make a gesture, to say what was true.

The longest day with Thorne.

Pause.

Bad?

He steeled himself.

Yeah. But *much* better now.

Hardly a pause,

That's sweet. :)

He smiled.

Sweet? Golly.

She responded.

It's a good word, Chuck. I *love* you. Another good word.

He forced his fingers to work and held his breath.

I love you too. Marry me?

He could not breathe. He stared at the burner. Had a sudden image of Casey kicking him in the ass.

No response.

No response.

The burner glowed.

Tonight?

He let his breath out a little and typed.

No, probably not in the cards for tonight. But when we can. When we can find a way.

He waited again, his nervousness returning. He was unable to take a deep breath.

Yes.

He almost fainted; he almost shouted; his eyes filled with tears.

Another text from her. He wiped his eyes to read.

And, Chuck?

He typed.

Yeah?

Immediate response.

Thank you for asking.

"Hey, Intersect, did you fall in? You need my help?" June's voice, loud.

"No, no. Just changing." He changed as fast as he could, clicked off the light and felt his way to his pallet on the floor.

Yes, she said yes. Who knew how long it would be before they could make it happen? Maybe it would never happen. But: Sarah said yes.

ooOoo

I said yes. He asked me. Sarah scrunched herself up on the couch, clutching the burner to her chest. She had...butterflies. A flutter of monarchs a-wing inside her. He asked me. He asked me to marry him. She was terrifyingly happy, terrifyingly happy. She knew it was his gesture to her, his response to her return.

And she knew that it might not happen. Maybe probably would not happen. And if it did, it might be ages away. She knew everything was still a jumble. But she had run, abandoned him, and still, he asked. He asked her a question she had only imagined being asked in the deep of night, on the worst of assignments, and then only when she was contemplating the things that happened to other women that would never, ever happen to her.

She had no idea how to be in love with someone. She had less of an idea, if that was possible, how to be married. Less than zero. But there were no manuals for any of these things. There was only the two of them and their commitment to each other. Nothing important in human life came with a manual, with a set of files, with parameters.

Love was not a mission. Marriage was not a mission. It was life, a real life, maybe not simple, but real. It was everything. She held the burner close and scrolled through the texts, just making sure she was not imagining it all. It was all there, just as she remembered. She hid the burner and stared at the ceiling. She felt the weight of the Andersons' ring on her finger. She took it off and put it on the nightstand. She was an engaged woman. Not a married woman. But maybe someday. There was no hurry, only the facts of wonderful record: He asked; I said yes.

ooOoo

Mid-morning, the next day

A knock on the hotel room door. Bryce muttered. He was very unhappy about Josephine, pissed about it, and pissed at Sarah. Sarah slipped on her shoes and answered the door, ignoring his mutters.

Josephine was there. She was in her chair. A tall, handsome elderly man was standing behind her, his hands on the chair's handles. Josephine glanced back at him. "Robert, thank you. Please wait downstairs. And remember, if anyone asks, I'm at my physical therapy class." He dipped his head, put on his cap and walked away. As he left, Josephine turned a generous grin on Sarah. "It's pool day, my favorite." She rolled her eyes; she did not sound like it was. Sarah stepped back, allowing Josephine to wheel herself into the room.

Sarah had earlier moved her pillow and blankets off the couch and thrown them on the bed. Bryce walked in from the bedroom, a cloud of disapproval nearly visible over his head. "Josephine." He tried to sound pleased to see her.

"Bryce." There was little warmth in Josephine's tone, although she did not sound hateful. Her disapproval of Bryce was clear, though.

Sarah sat down on the couch. Bryce walked in front of her, between her and Josephine, and plopped down heavily on the other end.

Josephine wasted no further time on formalities. "I think I heard something this morning that is going to be important for the two of you…"

Bryce cut her off. "I don't know what mistaken impression my wife may have made on you, but we are who we say we are, the Andersons. There's nothing more to us than that. You really should just head to your...pool class?"

Josephine eyed Bryce. "Tut, tut, Mr. Anderson," she said the name with an artificial emphasis, "don't make me call Robert back and have him kick your ass."

Bryce glowered at her. Josephine looked from him to Sarah...and then to the table next to the couch, where Sarah's wedding ring was still sitting from last night. She gave Sarah a wink. "Or maybe your wife can teach you some manners, because, unless I miss my guess, she can surely kick your ass."

Bryce reddened and looked away. Sarah used the moment to grab the ring and put it on but made no effort to hide the action from Josephine.

"Someday, Mr. Anderson, you'll make some lucky girl a terrible ex-husband." Bryce whipped his head around but then just gaped. He took a second to process the remark, then could think of no response.

Josephine leaned forward in her chair, taking on a secretive air. "So, here's the sitrep. Earlier this morning, Gretta was on the phone with someone important, someone who could order her around. Nobody in the family, nobody in town, would dare, so I took it that she was perhaps talking to someone who would be of interest to you." Josephine's inflection rose, but never quite to the level of a question.

Bryce leaned in, but Sarah spoke. "Did you get a name, Josephine?"

"Please, Sarah, make it 'Joe'. And no, not in the way you mean it. She was talking about attending an 'Executive Meeting'. She was trying to get permission to bring along...a plaything."

Joe shifted her glance to Bryce. Her glance intensified into a glare. He started to say something again then cut his loses and stared at his brown leather shoes.

"Did you get a date, a location?" Sarah asked.

"No, not yet," Joe shifted back to Sarah, "but I think I can. I just need to get to her digital planner. She keeps everything on it. Like pictures of past...exploits." She gave Bryce a flat look. He kept staring at his shoes. "She's a fool, though. I figured out the password to the thing long ago. Like old people can't do technology. I tried to find evidence on it about...my son. But no luck. I am willing to bet the information about this meeting is on it, though. A date, a location, maybe both, if we're lucky. I just need someone to distract her for long enough for me to wheel into her office at home and look at it. She won't have it on her at the party. I have a key to the office that she knows nothing about. Bryce, I assume you can be the distraction since you've been reading for that role for a while…"

Bryce nodded. He had gotten past his muttering stage and was listening now. "She's planning a tea this afternoon. I will tell her I ran into you two at the Club and invited you." Bryce started to object but Joe waved him off. "She never goes except for formal functions. She keeps a membership primarily for me. If Bryce can keep her occupied...and if Sarah can be the 'lookout'...isn't that the term?... I could be in and out in a jiffy. Maybe as fast as Bryce, here."

Bryce looked lost for a moment, then he frowned deeply.

Sarah worked to hide her smile. "But, Joe, why not just give me the password and let me take all the risk?"

Joe smiled at Sarah's half-hidden smile. "Because I want to be part of this in a serious way. When Gretta's done, I want to wheel onto her grave and roll the dirt down. I want to know I had a hand in it, that I had skin in the game." She paused and her tone changed, her outrage subsiding. "Also, it would be better if you left the party with me. We can say that you want to see more of the house, although why anyone would want to see that cash mausoleum is frankly beyond me. Still, Gretta will believe it, especially if she believes she is also getting to you, driving you out, by fawning on Bryce. To use a polite word for what she'll be doing."

They talked for a while longer about the plan, Bryce clearly warming to it as the discussion went on, although Joe did not warm to him. When they finished, Sarah pushed Joe to the elevator. Joe glanced around at Sarah as best she could while they waited for the elevator to arrive. Sarah moved around the chair to face her.

"You seem different this morning, Sarah, if you don't mind me saying so. More...settled, less...uneasy." Joe smiled kindly but curiously. She waited.

"Yes, I guess you could say that. Some things have...changed for me."

"Positive changes, I take it?"

Sarah pursed her lips, then let herself smile. "Yes, very positive. But very...vulnerable."

Joe sobered. "Well, Sarah, take it from an old woman who has seen a lot of life. Only vulnerable creatures can be happy. If we were invulnerable creatures, happiness would be meaningless. Vulnerability is a qualification for happiness, not a disqualification." The elevator arrived and Joe wheeled herself on before Sarah could move back behind the chair. "See you this afternoon...partner."

Sarah could not stop a grin. "Ok, partner."

As Sarah walked back to the room, she stopped. She looked at the ring she had put on and she knew, all at once, knew.

Sam had never put that ring on. Sam had never awakened, not once, during Sarah's time with Bryce. She slept through it all. But Sam was awake now, and she was not happy about the mission and not happy about the Andersons. She was not happy at all. At all. Sam was not a spy.

Sarah's struggles with the mission, her difficulties staying focused, were because Sam was awake, active and involved. Sam had not made the compromises Sarah had made; she had not hardened herself in ways that Sarah had. Sam became fully awake with the kiss, but, lost in her reaction to it, Sarah had slipped the decision to run past her. But Sam caught on, caught up, and began to assert herself.

Sarah looked again at the ring and it revolted Sam. And Sarah. It revolted her.

Sam had other plans and they oriented on her lanky sweetheart back in Burbank. Sarah rather liked Sam's plans. She went into the room.

ooOoo

Lunchtime in Langley. Susie Lou crept to Graham's office door, a large laptop clutched to her breast. She had done it. A functioning...well, a kind of functioning prototype of the sort Graham wanted. She was clutching it to her to try to keep her heart in her chest and to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

She was so unsure about what she was doing. She did not want to give this to Graham. She did not know what his plan was for it. Worse, she was still not sure about her other decision, her decision about Dan.

She made herself knock at the door, knowing how meek the knock sounded but unable to rap the door harder. She had made up her mind. For once in her life, she was going to take a chance, leap outside the boundaries of her programming and go with her...gut.

Graham called for her to come in. She walked to his desk like she was walking to the gallows. She put the laptop down gingerly. "As you asked, the current prototype of the Intersect." Graham reached out, ignoring Susie, and caressed the computer. After a moment of silent communing with it, he looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "So, how do I use it? How does it work?"

"I've streamlined the download delivery. Plug it in and play, basically. A screen will appear with a red button that reads 'Begin'. You click on it and...it all starts."

"That's it?"

"Yes, sir...that's it. I've done some work on visuals, the items in which information is encrypted. As soon as the person downloading it begins to watch, a precipitate first-stage of the programming locks in, making it the case that the downloader cannot look away. The downloader will remain in eye contact with the visuals until the programming ends."

"Impressive. I knew you were the woman for the job, Susie Lou. Is there any danger for anyone else? Could it," he gestured to the laptop, "explode?"

Susie Lou grinned in exasperation despite her nervousness. "Well, only in the sense that occasionally a cell phone 'explodes', but that is hardly an explosion, really. It would be more of a...melt down."

Graham rubbed his hands together, unable to keep glee out of his eyes. "Very, very good. Now, remember, this project is top-secret. You are sworn to secrecy. No one may know that you brought this to me, that I got it from you. You are on the verge of another pay raise, Miss LaRussa. Soon, you will be able to buy that car you wanted.

"House."

Graham was puzzled. "How's...what?"

"No, sir, house, I want to buy a house, not a car."

"Fine. Fine. All the same. You are dismissed. Take the rest of the day off, if you would like."

Susie Lou nodded once and scurried from the office. Escape!

She had refused to tell Dan anything about the project this morning when he asked about her work again and asked her to tell him more of what she had been telling him on their date.

Then he stopped, turned red, and told her to forget that he had asked about her work. He took her hand and asked her to go to dinner. A second date. Then he had looked guilty and started stammering. He confessed. He told her about their first date, about the NSA, about Beckman. He told her what he had been asked to do. He said he was sorry again and again, abjectly. She left in tears, unsure if she believed his apology, although she believed him about everything else.

She had decided on her way to Graham's office, though. She would call Dan, go on that second date, and she would tell him everything. Graham was a first water son of a bitch. Susie Lou was shocked at herself. She did not talk like that. But she was not going to let him hurt anyone, not if she could stop it.

She got her things and hurried to her car, her normal scene for dinner. Not tonight. Tonight she had a date, a date! and she had a story to tell. Please be real, Dan, please be what you seem.

ooOoo

Chuck was agony-deep in another thick file. His head kept growing and shrinking in size. He rubbed the eyes that felt like they had fallen on the table and dried out.

At least June had been less...handsy. She seemed anxious. She had mentioned that Graham had called and confirmed the video conference at the end of the day. As far as he could tell, and as far as he could read June, she was nervous about what evaluation Graham would have of the work Chuck had done over the past couple of days.

The thought of facing Graham again made Chuck's head swell and contract faster, like a beating heart beginning to race. Shit.

He thought of Sarah; the pain decreased. She said yes.

ooOoo

Graham owned several people in Langley. A few psychiatrists, a few analysts, even a couple of janitors. Two of the analysts, computer guys, and one of the janitors were with him, down deep, deep in the bowels of the building, in an area that did not exist on any blueprints of the massive structure. It was Graham's special place, his Little Shop of Horrors. Few living souls knew anything about it.

Graham told none of the men with him what he was doing. The janitor unlocked the doors and turned on the electricity to the room. The analysts got the equipment ready for a video conference. Graham sent them away. He got the laptop out of his briefcase and hooked it up. He checked the toggle switch beside his monitor. It would allow him in one of its two positions to see Thorne and Bartowski, and in the other to see what they were seeing. He made sure he had that switch carefully placed and memorized.

He turned on the monitor and checked the laptop screen. Red button. 'Begin' He punched in the connection to Burbank. It was time to shove a fork in Bartowski's ear and scramble his brain.

Langston, indeed. Who's your daddy, Bartowski?

That made Graham double over with laughter. After a moment of hilarity, he wiped his eyes and forced himself to calm down. He looked at his watch. Almost showtime.

ooOoo

One hour earlier

Beckman looked up when she heard her assistant arguing with someone at the door. Her assistant lost. The door opened and Dan Ansley walked in. He was not alone. Susie Lou LaRussa was with him. They were holding hands. Oh, Sweet Mother Mary! What a world!

Susie Lou peered closely at Beckman. "Hey, I know you."

A/N2 Susie Lou ain't wrong. A race against the clock in the next chapter, Chapter 17 "From a Whisper to a Scream." Tune in!

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