A/N: Like I wrote in the author's notes of Chapter 13, I got a head start for Chapter 14, but it was very choppy and mostly bits n' pieces, a sentence here and there. But after rewriting and reworking what I had, the chapter got done 2 days ahead of the set schedule, which is pretty standard by now.
An exception to my own set rule of keeping the word count between 3,000 and 4,000 words, this chapter went well over the limit, closing in on 5,000 words, but I didn't want to push back the very scene this chapter was built around to the next chapter.
Like I promised in the A/N of the last chapter, this chapter will have some long awaited Charah, ;-).
Again a huge, huge thank you to all the readers and the reviewers! And to the people who have started following this story recently: welcome.
Nomadic Nerd: Thanks. And now with this chapter written and posted, I am really starting to wonder who your spy is, lol. Gotta ask: how much are you paying my ghost-reader? ;-P As I've said it before, I think she was greatly underused in the series. But the ff-'verse is making up for it big time.
thaolu9: Lol, you were a little ahead of time, but it is quite the compliment to know that there are readers who can't wait for the next chapter, so thank you :-D. I try to post a new chapter once a week, but I do get ahead of schedule most of the time, resulting in early publishing.
Jon: Thanks, :-). Everybody gets to teach Sam/Sarah something, and when I picked Bryce as her potential dance partner, I had something Yvonne Strahovski said about them both coming from a dance background in the back of my mind ;-).
Molotov: Thank you for the explanation, it was very much appreciated. No worries about criticism: I can take it if it is indeed constructive.
In the last 2 reviews, you had a few valid points that I'll address without spoiling. Though I do use a general outline for the plot and subplots, following reviews I tend to stray a little from the main line, because I got new ideas or forgot something or haven't been all too clear on something. For example: I only just got to explaining why Carina's involved in missions in this chapter. It was planned sooner, but in the flow of the story it did not entirely fit where I had intended it to go first so the idea got pushed back.
As for Casey training Sam, it should be explained in a later chapter, but I can say that he was planning a crash course boot camp for Sam, within reasonable limits off course. Nevertheless I agree that it looks pretty brutal, so I pushed it back a little (bit much).
The choice to use 'Chief' I made after watching 24: LAD where Navarro gets addressed with Chief Navarro and saw it confirmed as a correct word to use after a little research on CIA stations and substations. So I assumed it was the correct title.
uplink2: Thank you. It's a big challenge to twist the canon to fit, but that's all part of the fun ;-).
Jimmy_144: Thanks :-).
fezzywhigg: Thanks, and you're right: the story is about Sam's development into Sarah, for the most part ;-). Nevertheless it's fun to include small side-stories that will tie in with the main story at some points.
As always, reviews are most welcome and very much appreciated... Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Chuck'.
The four of them stood looking at the TV screen where General Beckman and Director Graham had been joined by a third person, her boss, Administrator Lilliana Nicholson.
"Good work, team," General Beckman simply stated. "Capturing La Ciudad without it turning to a bloody chaos is an impressive feat."
"Thank you, ma'am," Casey was the first to respond.
She rolled her eyes and let a smirk appear on her face. Casey was always so correct. Her gaze drifted to the two other members of the team; they stood awkwardly together, slightly turned away from each other. 'Now what?' She thought.
So far her plan had seemed to work. Chuck had been uncomfortable and Sam had been jealous, which were two good signs, but the sign she was getting now was a bad one. Seriously, for a couple right for each other they sure had some issues.
"As was agreed with Administrator Nicholson," Director Graham began. "You have done your part in this trial cooperation, Agent Miller, without improvising. Which is commendable on its own. The next mission is one of the DEA's desk, so you will lead and the current team will be at your disposal."
"Thank you, Director," she smirked. "We picked up two new leads tonight. One Allan Watterman, suspected of insider trading and of having offshore accounts in the Caymans. Let's leave that one to the SEC, shall we... And Peyman Alahi."
She waited for it. Administrator Nicholson would be all over this person of interest in a matter of seconds.
"You mean," the Administrator said. "The Woolly Banker? We've been after him for a while now. What's he doing in Los Angeles? Last we heard he was in Asadabad."
"It might have to do with the Nadan-I-Noor diamond, ma'am. We know he acquired it some time ago and might now be looking for a way to offload it and cash in," she spoke her thoughts about the case at hand.
"What do we know about him?" General Beckman inquired interested.
"Financial backer of various Afghan opium cartels. Has a compound in Malibu amongst others. In possession of the Nadan-I-Noor diamond and is most likely trying to fund a weapons deal," Administrator Nicholson summarized. "Maybe with La Ciudad?"
"So if we snatch the diamond," she offered with an evil smile.
"His friends won't be happy," her boss finished.
"Interesting," she smirked as she tapped her index finger against her chin. "We'll take it."
Before there could be any protests, the Administrator cut in: "That's settled. You have your new mission, Agent Miller. As the lead in this, I expect you to make the DEA look their best, so no screwing around."
"Yes, ma'am," she was quick to agree.
"I mean it, Miller. I'm putting my neck out for you, given your reputation of recklessness. Screw this up and you'll be chained to a desk for the rest of your career. Am I clear?"
"Perfectly, Ma'am."
He looked at the lower right corner of his computer screen and heaved an annoyed sigh. It told him it was fourteen past one in the morning. Sam was not home yet.
He had heard her in the courtyard about an hour ago, but she had yet to come home. Raising his fingers to keep score he counted the number of dates she had been on with Ellie's brother. Along with the two dinners, only four times now.
She would not, would she? Before he would have been certain that she would not, but she had not been herself lately. She had not been the Sam he knew and loved like a sister. She had not been his Sam.
The most recent proof lay in the phone conversation earlier this evening when he had called her after the news broke that a very dangerous person had been apprehended at the Wilshire Grand. He had been worried about her, since she had told him that was where she was going tonight. Her tone of voice had been businesslike and he had not bought into her story.
Was she involved in something illegal? It did not make sense to him at all. He knew that he had been slacking in keeping her safe, figuring and hoping that she would come and talk to him eventually. That had not happened so far, and if things were as he feared they were, she was in over her head. Perhaps she would come to hate him for interfering with her life, but he had to help her before it was too late.
He heard the keys in the lock and quickly closed the lid of his laptop, looking up expectantly.
"Hey, Sam," he greeted when she came in.
She looked at him with a curious frown before tossing the keys on the side-table: "You didn't wait up for me, did you?" She asked, sounding a little annoyed.
"No. I was playing solitaire on my computer. Lost track of time... What time is it anyway?" He played the innocent card.
She snorted and shook her head: "Bryce. You're not fooling me."
"Fine," he sighed. "I was worried about you."
"I'm going to go to bed," she stated, looking at him pitifully before making her way to her room.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed once more. This had gone exactly not how he had wanted it to go. Assessing how much time she would need to get ready for bed, he decided on another tactic: the direct confrontation.
"What the?" He mumbled when he found her room to be deserted and the window on a crack.
This was even worse than he had initially thought.
After she had told her meddlesome best friend that she was going to bed and had gone to her room, she had decided now was a good enough time as ever to sort things out, so she had sent him a text. Now she sat waiting for him to show up.
She glanced up for a second when he sat down next to her on the park bench.
"Thanks for meeting me," she said with a hint of a smile.
"No problem... Your text said it was urgent," he smiled slightly lopsidedly.
"Not national security urgent," she smiled insecurely now.
"Good," he grinned. "I think we dealt with national security enough for one night, don't you agree?"
Unsure of how to answer that question, she stared at the water and tried to organize her thoughts again. It had all sounded so simple, so easy in her head when she had repeated all she wanted to say and clarify, but now that it came down to putting it into actual words- No, she had to bite the bullet, her inability to put emotions into words be damned!
"I need to apologize to you," she began with a certain hesitance. "I've been a total bitch and you got the brunt of it."
She could hear him take a deep breath but he did not react, which she took as a sign to continue.
"This isn't easy for me, Chuck, so please bear with me?"
"Okay," was all he said.
"These past few days haven't been fun, and I didn't like who I was. All this anger and frustration, it all came out, especially after I discovered how cathartic it was to put it into violence. Addictive in a way, but it made me lose sight of who I am."
She looked at him to gauge his reaction. So far he was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
"So what brought this on?" He asked in a gentle voice, feeling that she needed to be encouraged to continue. "I mean. What got you so angry?"
"It's a sum of events and emotions, really," she answered. "You could say I've been bottling up quite a few things."
When she paused to ponder her words, he gave her the time and space to do so. There was a lot he wanted to say to her, to tell her, but either it was unwise or it could wait.
"First the bitch screws me over again. This time by sending me this Intersect, this gateway to a shady world of secrets and lies. From zero to hero overnight, without warning," she continued after a few minutes of silence. "Then the brother of one of my best friends shows up. He's nice and acts like a gentleman, turns out he's a spy looking for the Intersect," she taps against the side of her head. "Which has been conveniently stashed in here... Then the Hulk shows up, and, surprise, he's looking for me too, with the intention to drop me in a bunker or in general, whichever he was feeling like at that moment."
He had a feeling where she was going with this, the sarcasm not lost on him. 'Damnit, Zondra, what the hell have you done?' He waited patiently as she took a deep breath.
"I know... I know that if you hadn't been there, I'd be staring at rubber walls or pushing up daisies."
"The Intersect would be quite ineffective if not out in the field," he offered with a gentle smile, dismissive of her covered gratitude, hoping that if he kept it all business it would be easier for her to continue.
Though she could agree with that assessment, it was not the incentive to continue she had been hoping for, but what did she expect? She had been horrible company the past few days, and he had been a good sport all the way, taking it as it came.
"It gets even better," she made no attempt to hide the sarcasm from her voice. "Because of my value, those two get assigned as my protective detail and the nice guy gets to play the role of my boyfriend. He tells me that I shouldn't say anything to my friends to keep them safe, so that means I'm constantly lying to my best friends because I can't tell them anything. Stuck into a lie of a relationship-"
"I'm sorry, Sam," he interjected in a sincere voice.
She raised her hand to stop him. As much as the sentiment was appreciated, and maybe she should acknowledge it, she had to keep going before she would all her verbal courage: "My hopes go up when they tell me that there's chance the damn thing can be removed. The doc turns out traitor, so no go and things stay as is. Then the supposed boyfriend disappears for days on end, ignores any attempt on my part to connect and leaves me hanging in the wind-"
"I'm so sorry about that," he cut in with an authoritative voice, which irked her. "I know the excuse was insufficient. That you need more from me, but I can't... Not at this moment in time... All I can say is that I acted like a real asshole, and you didn't deserve that. You don't deserve any of this."
She bit her thumb nail and looked at him. He almost looked pained by the fact he could not tell her, by the restrictions placed by the higher ups most likely. That he would need authorization from the top to tell her what she deserved but was not allowed to know.
A long silence fell between them, in which she tried to muster as much courage as she could to continue.
"Talk to me, Sam," he said in a soft voice as if he knew she needed a little nudge to continue.
She was not done with her explanation yet. They both knew it.
"I hate to sit and watch and do nothing," she began again. "I hate feeling helpless, useless, and with the so-called boyfriend out of town, I turned to Casey for help. He gets me in touch with all my anger, and I learn how great it feels to give way to rage. Consumed by it, I fail to see how it starts to affect me in daily life."
She looked towards the fountain again, pulling her thoughts together. This was it, the final stretch. She only had to push herself a little more. 'Why am I doing this again?' She had to remind herself.
'Because it's unhealthy not to.'
"So the asshole returns, with a colleague who looks like an overpriced call-girl more than a real Agent, and he acts like he hasn't been ignoring me, saving the very best part for last. He drops the bomb on me: he's an Intersect too, suppressed but still, and the one intended for the last update. Not a word to let me know that he knew how it was. I get that he was ordered not to, but it doesn't make it any easier... To know that someone else knew how I felt, or better, what I feel, and he said nothing," she looked at him. "Really, I get it. You were under orders not to. Still it would've been nice to know that I wasn't the only one sooner."
He kept quiet. She took a deep breath to still her emotions, her hammering heart, hoping it would relieve some of the headache that had been building during her explanation.
"All that accumulated, got me angrier than ever before, turned me into an enforcer of sorts... It's no excuse for my piss-poor behavior, but an explanation," she concluded.
"Thank you," he said with a soft voice.
"The apology is... that I took everything together and took it out on you, even if you were to blame for only a small part of it. The saying my feelings part, I was never good at it, but in this case I owed it to you."
She looked at him expectantly as he kept quiet. For a second time in no more than a few minutes, it felt like she had fallen short, but this was the best she could do, given her inabilities and the circumstances. Seconds turned into minutes and she began to get nervous.
"I get it," he finally said, accompanied by a sigh. "So, I guess, we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe we can start anew?" He offered with a radiant grin before he extended his hand to her. "Hi, I'm Chuck, Ellie's idiot little brother."
An overwhelming urge to giggle overtook her suddenly. It was just so silly. He was just so silly. She regained some of her composure before she bumped shoulders with him.
"Sarah Walker," she smirked, taking his hand in hers and giving it a hearty shake.
After he discovered that she was gone, he had quickly slipped on a jacket and rushed out of the apartment, only to nearly bump into Ellie's little brother when he came out of Casey's apartment. Hiding behind the planters so Chuck would not see him, he concluded that his best shot at finding his missing friend was to follow him at a safe distance, undetected.
Now he cursed inwardly; it was disappointing that the surroundings kept him from getting within earshot. He had never seen Sam talk so much and his curiosity was reaching unbearable levels, but he had to stay put. Still it was another thing he would chalk up to her unusual behavior. If he had believed in hostile aliens, he would have been certain she had been taken over by one by now.
'Why would she meet with him after she spent the evening at some fancy thing at the Wilshire Grand, with him?' He asked himself in thoughts as it made no sense at all.
Something that kept the middle of a gasp of surprise and a groan of displeasure escaped him when he saw her bump shoulders with Ellie's brother. He knew her, and knew that this was her testing the water.
His best friend was quite romantically stunted, a large part to be attributed to his meddling, he was aware of that. But she had been his best friend for two decades, the first friend he had made after his parents and him had moved to California from Connecticut. She was his chosen sister and very early on in their teenage years he had decided that he would keep her safe from the dogs boys and men could be.
Thus he had caused a break-up or two, driven guys away with his investigations and interrogations, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. Chuck seemed to be different kind of guy, which made him even more suspicious.
But if Sam was bumping shoulders and laughing, she had to have it bad. That he knew. Still there was hope: as long as she did not playfully punch the guy on the upper arm, the next stage of her tomboy monkey love act, there was still a chance he had simply misread the situation.
Oh, how he wished he could get closer unnoticed so he could hear what they were talking about. Maybe he should employ Jeff and Lester, who prided themselves in being spies?
"Sarah... Walker," he repeated slowly a few times, as if to taste the words and get a feel for the name. "I like it. It seems to suit you," he finally concluded with a big grin.
Walker made sense, since she had one of those unpronounceable foreign last names. You would have to be Polish - or at least Slavic, Germanic or Romanic language capable - to not trip over the many consonants in a row in her last name. Walker was a simplified derivative.
Odd as it sounded, he understood her need for a new name. Was that not why he had created the Carmichael alias?
"It's nothing official yet, and I still need to talk to my mom about it, but with new beginnings, a new name," she said with a radiant smile.
He quickly looked away. Unaware of it, she had one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. However she seemed to be unaware of a lot of things.
"I never really liked the name Sam. It's just so... dull or something, ugh," she continued. "Sarah's strong and feminine."
"And it doesn't hurt that combined with Connor, you have one of the most iconic sci-fi bad-ass female characters in history," he chuckled. "Along with Ellen Ripley."
She bumped shoulders with him again. It caused him to frown a little, pondering the meaning. Was it just playful or was there something behind the action? She had told him that she was not good with the saying her feelings part, though he thought she had done a splendid job explaining her anger. Maybe this was one way for her to connect?
"You'd take me for an Ellen?" She asked with a smirk, one eyebrow raised daringly.
"Wouldn't dare," he laughed. "One Ellie's enough, thank you very much."
Her eyes narrowed to slits as she observed the civilian watching the duo on the park bench. He could be a complication they would not need.
As she had left the apartment complex to return to her room, she had spotted him, clearly following her partner. She had shaken her head and had decided in the spur of the moment to shadow him. Just in case he was a problem that needed to be neutralized.
He had been introduced to her as Bryce Larkin, Sam's roommate and best friend. However that meant nothing to her. Friends were a certain weakness, especially to a spy, but Chuck was one of the few exceptions she was happy to make, and maybe Sam, if the woman continued to prove her worth.
She had understood Chuck's anger over the last part of the mission. Sam had unknowingly endangered not just him, but herself as well. Still she had to admit: the woman had guts. So she had smoothed things over between them, but they seemed unwilling to accept what was so blatantly clear. At least Chuck, but she knew that he was bound by rules and protocol. Something that would never keep her back if she were to be thrown into a situation like theirs, though it was highly unlikely she would ever find herself in such a situation. Her superiors did not dare to take the risk where it involved her.
She looked in Bryce's direction again and wondered if she should scare the living daylights out of him, but that would put Chuck and Sam in an awkward position. Even more than they clearly already were.
"Being the horrible fake boyfriend that I am, I nearly forgot but congratulations on your first mission," he said with a genuine, proud smile, which immediately warmed her. "You did really great tonight. Identifying and aiding in the apprehension of one of the world's most elusive killers. That's no easy feat."
It was quite the opposite of the scolding she had received from him after she had taken down La Ciudad with a well-placed hit with a tray. He had been pissed off, telling her about safety and assessing the situation when firearms were involved. As hard as she tried to deny it, he had had a point there: she had reacted on impulse, and had endangered the both of them. This time they, she had been lucky. Oddly enough, it had been Carina who had come to talk to her and had put some perspective to his anger.
Still it was nice to hear him so complimentary, especially after the days of hell she had put him through. The strange sensation in the pit of her stomach grew a little. She was no stranger to it, having felt it before, but not this strong. Not wanting to jinx whatever it was, she decided to leave it unidentified for now. Because it would make it easier to dismiss when all the rules and protocol the government had instated would come into play, or so she hoped.
"Stop it," she sighed, loving the compliments but needing to be realistic about it. "I'm not really a spy. The computer meant for you went into my head. All I did was flash on a couple of people and got a lucky hit in with La Ciudad. The rest was up to you, Casey and Carina."
He took a deep breath and cleared his throat: "Being a spy doesn't always mean gunfights and beat-downs. Sometimes it's gathering information and pointing out the bad guys. Which is exactly what you did."
"Okay, sure, but it doesn't change the fact that tonight I helped take down a major international arms dealer and yet tomorrow I still gotta clock in at the Buy More...What good is being a hero if nobody knows about it?"
"In our line of business, the best heroes are the ones who work in the dark. Who don't claim credit for staging a coup in some banana republic or for stopping the poisoning of the entire Senate. The ones who do this job to keep others safe and the world a better place."
"That's why you became a spy, right?"
He nodded slowly: "The wording may differ, but it's the same for Casey and Carina. They're in it to make a difference. Though with Carina you never know. I think she likes the game a little too much."
"Carina and you," she began, grasping for words to put her question into words.
He shook his head: "That was just an act. Watch and learn, remember?" He asked with a smile.
"What was I supposed to learn from watching her throwing herself at you?" She countered tensely with a question of her own. "How to act like a call-girl?"
He smiled: "I agree that she did put on quite the show, but in the meantime she checked for possible situational weaknesses that could either be to our advantage or disadvantage," he explained. "I'm sorry if she made you feel uncomfortable in any way."
She gave a quick shake of her head: "Not at all," she lied.
He leaned back in the shadows of the trees and grumbled a curse under his breath while he surveyed the scene. First there was Bryce, who was not as good as a spy as he obviously thought. Then there was Carina, who was a damn good spy in her own right but had made no attempts to be one this time, and then there was those two.
Whatever was going on, he did not have a good feeling about this. Anything that involved Carina had the tendency to blow up in your face, with tonight being the exception. To be honest, if he had been a superstitious man, he would have thought the end was nigh.
"You know," she began with hesitation. "Technically this was our fourth date, if you include Ellie's dinners. Six if you count the weird stuff, like the ride home from the hospital and playing hooky when I was about to crash from exhaustion."
She stopped for a moment to measure his reaction, hoping she could easily read him. He was looking at her with true interest and a faint smile that spoke of encouragement to finish pouring her thoughts into words.
"If we were really dating," she lowered her voice to nothing more than a whisper.
This saying your feelings thing really needed some working on, because it kept stalling her thoughts and words. In the past it had been easier to let others figure out where they stood, as it saved her from whatever ulterior motive the other one might have, but since he had been honest and open with her, she figured that he deserved the same.
'Com'on, say it,' her mind unsubtly urged.
"I, uh, people might wonder," her throat started to go dry. "Why we haven't kissed yet... For the cover, I mean."
'Lame!'
His eyebrows came together in a curious frown: "Do you want me to kiss you? For the cover, I mean," he finally asked after another long, this time quite awkward silence.
Her question had caught him completely off-guard. She had a valid point though. However he worried about the ramifications. Still it showed that she was thinking like a spy a little, working on their cover. Nevertheless he was not big on displays of affection, especially when they were to be for show only.
Mistaking his silence for unwillingness, she followed up with another question: "Would it be so bad?"
"I'm sure I'd survive," he said, clearly teasing.
"Me too," she agreed, staring at her hands as she pressed the corresponding fingertips together.
Another silence rolled over them, even more awkward than the previous one, and he could tell that she thought it was her doing. As admirable as her attempts to voice her feelings and ideas were, it was clear to him it really was not her thing.
"Sa-rah," he drew her attention from her thoughts while he moved closer to her.
She smiled lightly; the effort to call her by her new name paid off. He was sure that he would not be the only person who would need time to forgo 'Sam' and get used to 'Sarah'. It was a huge change.
"Sarah," he repeated in a soft voice.
"Chuck, we should-"
"For practice purposes only," he cut her off. "Plus we've got a few spectators."
"Who?" She looked all around.
"Your roommate for starters. Clocked him a while ago. Carina, and I think I saw Casey," he said with a shake of his head and a smirk.
Her heartbeat picked up a little. She looked up and noticed that he had moved a lot closer to her. Immediately she looked down again and fidgeted by cleaning under her fingernails with her thumbnail.
Was he-? He was! Her heart jumped frantically in her chest. He was leaning in, his head tilted a little to the side, and instinctively she began to lean into, her head tilted in the opposite direction.
"Chuck," she whispered, feeling his warm breath brush up against her lips.
His mouth was no more than an inch away. 'Last chance to back out,' her reason told her. She closed her eyes. Her heartbeat was off the charts. A strong current jolted her when he pressed his lips, soft and smooth, to hers, and she nearly whimpered at the sensation. The very faint taste of apple juice. Sweet. Tentative. Enticing.
Reason and emotion struggled with each other, fought for supremacy over the other. As the kiss lingered she noticed a shift. A subtle change in them both. His hands came to rest on her cheeks as the nature of the kiss began to change too. Intensifying, burning. She put one hand on the back of his neck, using the other to grab a handful of his shirt, and answered him with just as much enthusiasm and intensity, as if they were standing in front of live bomb with only a few seconds left on the clock and not sitting on a park bench.