The Knife Thrower

by MySoapBox

"Pizza!" came the call from the kitchen a few minutes later.

No one had to tell Morgan twice. "Here ya go, Chuck-o . I'm so far ahead you can't lose," he said as he thrust the control at Chuck and headed toward the kitchen.

Chuck took the controls and started to play Morgan's abandoned character. He watched Becky out of the corner of his eye as he played. He noticed that as she focused on the game, she bit her lower lip and her whole body swayed back and forth with her character, as if physically leaning into a punch or a kick would help her character along. Becky wasn't that good, and Chuck was the best in the neighborhood, well, most days anyway, but somehow when Chuck refocused on the screen, Becky had caught up in score and his character only had two hearts left. Becky must have noticed as well because she started to breathe a little faster, and she started to bounce her leg up and down, as if her excitement was leaking out of her somehow, making her whole body shake. This too caught Chuck's notice, and one more sideways look that lasted a little too long spelled his doom.

"I did it!" Becky shouted and jumped up, waving her controller in the air. "I beat you!" Her character strutted and flexed on the screen as fireworks burst all around it.

Chuck shook his head. "Oh, I wouldn't say you beat me. I let you win." He started to wind the cord around the controller as nonchalantly as he could muster. "Good game though."

"Let me win? You're such a bad liar, Chuck."

Chuck's ears felt hot. "I'm not lying. You're a guest and I'm just trying to be… respectful."

"Is that right?" Becky said laughing.

"Sure. I'm a nice kind of guy."

Becky stopped laughing and turned to face him. She just looked at him, a calculating look in her eyes as she seemed to consider him and after a few moments Chuck started to feel a bit like a bug under a magnified glass. Then one edge of Becky's mouth turned up in a smirk showing her slightly crooked front teeth. "You've got three tells that say you're lying right now," she finally said.

Chuck's heart started to beat a little faster but he dropped his arms casually to his side trying to look cool. "Do not," he said.

"Do to. Anyone could see it."

Chuck swallowed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Ok, then." She stepped closer. "Your ears are red."

Chuck reached up and felt his ears. "It's warm in here, that's all"

She took another step forward. "Your voice is higher."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Is not," he said in a low, what he hoped was a manly-but-still-normal-sounding voice.

"And you have a twitch." One last step and she was face to face with him.

"Twitch? What twitch?" His heart was really hammering now and he stepped back from her, but he still tried to play it really cool. "Now I know you're making this up because I don't twitch," he insisted.

"Yes, you do." Becky's voice had softened as she stepped forward again to close the gap. "At least when you tell a lie you do." She reached her hand up towards his face. Chuck stood frozen and instinctively closed his eyes as she gently brushed her thumb across the outside corner of his left eyebrow. "Right there."

Her finger felt rough and cool on his face and her breath felt warm on his neck. Chuck wasn't sure how a simple touch could make his knees feel weak, but it did, and there it was.

He was afraid to open his eyes; she was standing so close. What would he do? He knew what he wanted to do, but he'd never done it, and he didn't know how to do it, or if she wanted him to, or even if he was ready to, and he didn't want to look like an idiot, and so for a paralyzing moment he just froze.

And then the moment was gone. He opened his eyes and she had already backed away.

After an awkward pause, Becky said in what sounded like a falsely cheerful voice, "I'm starving. Let's eat."

Chuck recovered quickly and gestured down the hallway with a flourish. "Lead the way."

Becky was quiet while they ate. It was okay though because Morgan filled in all the silence going on to Chuck's dad about "secret Audio Visual club stuff". Chuck wasn't sure that any of what he was saying was truly secret so he didn't have anything to add. He also may have been distracted by trying to watch a certain someone out of his peripheral vision, without her noticing.

"It's really a big responsibility, Mr. B.," Morgan was saying conspiratorially. "Tape recorder number three has a nasty habit of eating cassettes, so we put that one on the back shelf. But this one time, when Mrs. Harmond asked Chuck to go get a filmstrip projector, Chuck here grabbed number three on purpose. You know how Chuck never liked her class…"

Chuck nudged Becky. "You should have told me," he said quietly, not wanting to interrupt Morgan's story.

Becky's eyes widened a second. "Told you what?" she whispered back.

"That you don't like olives," Chuck said, gesturing to the pile of black offenders on the edge of her plate.

She smiled. "Oh, It's no big deal," she said pushing them around with her fork.

She took another bit of her pizza and looked up at Morgan like she was enjoying the story.

Another minute had passed when Chuck whispered, "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put yourself last?"

She looked down at her plate. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"With the pizza, with your dad…"

She turned to look at him. "You've known me a whole of three days, it's not like that makes you an expert."

Chuck turned back to Morgan's story. He should let it go. Really. It's just olives and pizza. Not a big deal. And so she doesn't like doing the magic act, and she fought with her dad, and she doesn't want to talk about it. All kids fight with their dads. But on the other hand, she was something amazing, she could throw knives, she listened like she was really interested, she liked meticulously stitched blue zigzags; and somewhere in Chuck's heart he knew that she deserved better.

As Chuck's dad laughed heartily at the punch line of Morgan's story, Chuck leaned in next to Becky's ear. "You never have to do that with me. Just so you know."

She didn't say anything but Chuck saw her brow furrow so he clarified, "If you don't want olives just say so."

She didn't turn her head to look at him but the corners of her mouth turned up, just a bit.

As they road together in the back of the Maverick towards Becky's hotel, Chuck was acutely aware of how their legs brushed with each bump and turn. When they arrived in the dimly lit parking lot, Morgan got out and slid the seat forward so Becky could climb out.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr. Bartowski," she said politely.

"Anytime, Becky. Good luck tomorrow night."

She turned to Chuck. "Thanks for everything, Chuck." She reached out and squeezed his knee, leaving her hand there a little bit longer than was necessary before climbing out. "Bye, Morgan," she added and headed for her door.

The three men watched her until she was safely inside.

"Nice girl," Chuck's dad said, "Where is she from again?"

Chuck thought back through their conversations from the past few days. "You know Dad, I'm not sure. "

xxOOxx

"Morning, Sis. You're up early."

Chuck's older sister Ellie was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee; a piece of toast sat half eaten in front of her.

"I'm opening this morning," she responded tiredly.

Chuck got down a bowl and headed to the refrigerator for milk. "Opening? Didn't you close last night?"

"Yeah, I took an extra shift." Ellie finished her coffee and put the mug down with a thud.

"You're killing yourself, sis."Chuck poured his cereal, Nuts and More, into his bowl.

Ellie rubbed her eyes, "I know. But it's only for a few more months. I need the money."

"Yeah, I know you need the money but you can't go to UCLA if you fall asleep, fall into the fryer vat and burn off your hands. How can you be the world's best surgeon without hands?" Chuck tried to grab his spoon between his wrists to prove his point, flinging milk sprinkles across the table.

"Hardy, har, har," she pushed him on the shoulder. "Luckily, there's no chance of that this morning, I'm working the register. Speaking of work." she looked at her watch, "I better get going."

Dumping what was left of her toast in the trash, she grabbed her purse and keys. "Can I drop you somewhere?"

Chuck shook his head, his full spoon paused above the bowl. "Naw, I'm just going over to the community center. I'll take my bike."

Ellie paused to look at him, her eyes sparkling. "Going to see that girl again?"

Chuck felt his ears turn pink. "What girl?"

"The one dad told me about. The one that came over here last night."

"Oh, that girl. Maybe...I mean, she might be there. I'm not sure."

"Do you like her?"

Chuck focused on the last few bites in his bowl. "She's not staying in town. She's just here for, you know, the show."

"But, you like her?" Ellie insisted.

"I mean she's pretty; if that's what you're asking."

"You do like her." Ellie reached over and ruffled his hair. "You're getting so big!"

"Thanks, Sis," he said sheepishly. "Oh, El, are you still coming to the show tonight?"

Ellie smiled. "Wouldn't miss it."

xxOOxx

By the time Chuck arrived at the community center, the place was already bustling.

"Where do you want this Mrs. Benson?" a man asked from behind a folded table.

"Right over there against that wall. We'll need four tables there, and four on the other side, with two chairs behind each one," the older woman directed.

"No problem.," said the man. And when the man put down the table and started straightening out the legs, Chuck saw that it was Mr. Franco.

A couple other people were bringing in boxes and stacking them in a pile in the center of the room. Mrs. Benson, the director of the community center was looking into the boxes and making check marks on a clip board. Chuck approached her to ask her what he could do to help when he saw Becky walk into the room, dragging two folding chairs. "Where do these go, dad?"

"Right behind the tables, darlin'," he answered, flipping the table and sliding it into position by the wall. Hey you! Curly hair!"

It took a second to realize that Mr. Franco was talking to him. "Me?" Chuck asked pointing to himself.

"Ah, yes. Stage boy. My daughter could use some help bringing in chairs."

"Chuck," Chuck clerified.

"What?"

"My name's Chuck."

"Whatever," Mr. Franco said as he left the room, probably in search of another table.

Becky's face was apologetic. "My dad can be… well…he can be direct sometimes."

"I can see that," Chuck replied, taking one of the chairs from her hands. "Um..where…"

"Just two behind each table," Becky answered, pushing her chair open and sliding it under the closest one.

On the next trip, Chuck grabbed three chairs from the stack. Becky followed suit. When he saw Becky finishing up before him, he hurried with a jog to the stack. This time he picked up four chairs.

"Oh, I see how this is going to be," Becky said, grabbing four chairs of her own, fumbling with them slightly, and trotting off towards the tables.

"It's so on," Chuck replied, lengthening out his strides and leaving Becky behind.

He beat her back to the stack once again.

"This is so not fair," Becky complained, "for every two steps you take, I have to take three."

Chuck smirked and picked up four more chairs. "Can I help it if I have a genetic advantage?"

Becky grunted and picked up four more chairs. She broke into a jog and accidently bumped into Chuck as she passed him by, and he nearly tripped.

"Hey!" Chuck protested.

"Sorry," she called behind his shoulder.

Still, Chuck made it back to the stack of chairs again, though Becky tried to hurry she couldn't keep up with his longer legs and arms.

As Chuck hurried away with his chairs he heard Becky cry out behind him. He turned to see Becky on the floor grabbing at her ankle.

He hurried back to her side. "Oh, my gosh, Becky, are you okay?"

She answered by whimpering in pain.

Chuck put his chairs down and knelt beside her.

"I'll be fine..." she said. And then she pushed him to the ground and jumped up. "I'll be fine when I get these chairs set up." Smirking, she snatched up Chuck's chairs and hurried off.

"Not fair!" he complained. "So not fair!"

After placing his last chair, Chuck saw Mr. Franco handing the clipboard back to Mrs. Benson and saying his goodbyes. "Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Franco. This silent auction will run much smother thanks to your advice."

"I'm happy to help a fine charity like yours. I hope the evening is a big success," he said, sounding sincere. "Becky?" he called, turning around.

"Here," Becky said, stepping in from the custodial closet. Chuck wasn't sure what she was looking for in there but she must not have found it because her hands were empty.

"Let's go grab something to eat before call time, shall we?"

"Can I stay? Chuck needs some help with getting the microphones set up."

This caught Chuck by surprise. He did need to get the sound system going, but he hadn't said anything about that to Becky. He started to say that it was ok, that she could go and eat, but then he saw Becky looking at him with a hard stair.

"Don't you, Chuck?" she said a little more forcefully.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, yes. Yes. Of course I do. Can't do it alone, you know. I need help. Yes. Lots and lots of help… If that's okay with you… Sir." He turned and looked at Mr. Franco, who appeared to have already lost interest in what Chuck had been saying and was pulling on his jacket.

"Fine, fine. See ya later, darlin'," he said and headed for the door.

As soon as Mr. Franco left, Becky turned a beaming smile towards him that made all the anxiety he felt from telling the lie melt away.

"So…" Mrs. Benson drew out the word to show that though Mr. Franco may be oblivious, she had not missed what had just happened. "Since Miss. Franco seems to be staying with us, perhaps you and she could put tablecloths on all these tables." She pointed to a box market "tablecloths".

"No problem," Becky said.

"Sure thing," Chuck agreed.

A/N: Finally! New content. Fun fact: most of this chapter was written two or three years ago, but I never posted it because I didn't want to post again 'till the story was finished.