Summary: Down on her luck, America's Sweetheart Sarah Walker flies to Chicago for a job interview. When she meets a charming, bumbling nerd on the same flight, her life takes an unexpected turn.
Author's Note: There are so many great Chuck fanfics out there to read, that I sometimes forget I'm writing my own as well (woops). Truly, you all are a bunch of crazy talented and fun people, and I'm so glad I get to add to the ever growing pile of Chuck fics. Thank you for those who're still around, and those who leave such lovely comments. I appreciate them immensely. Feel free to keep reviewing ;)
Disclaimer: I read a funny disclaimer in someone's fic the other day, and I was so ready to plagiarize it here but then I forgot how it went. So yeah, no creativity today, sorry. Just as sorry as I am that I don't own Chuck.
The sky was clear; an eternal blue lay before them. If Sarah leaned a little more forward, she would see the beds of fluffy, white clouds floating carelessly below her. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the airplane's window, casting large shadows in the small cabin. She was happy in that moment. As careless as the clouds, she looked over at her dad, sitting on her left. His hairs had started to whiten recently. His hands on the steering wheel, headphones on, his gaze set onto the distance in front of him.
"Look, Sarah," he pointed at the screen between them. "What do you see?" he asked, as she scooted a little closer. Sarah took in the different numbers, read the altitude, the pressure, noted how long they still had to go, how many other aircrafts were currently flying in the same airspace. Only when she was positive she hadn't missed a thing, she told him everything there was to be said about their current location and status.
For as long as Sarah could remember, he would quiz her like that. They'd often be flying for about an hour before he'd question her, and then, she would try her best to relay the facts as accurately as possible. As she got older, the details became more intricate, the tasks more challenging. At first, he'd been satisfied with her simply telling him at which altitude they were flying.
Now, he was training her to start planning the route with him. Before take-off, he would sit back, his arms stretched behind his head, an eyebrow raised in expectation as he'd say: "Alright, Captain Walker. I'm all ears. What'll be our course of action today?"
That would be the fun part of their outings, the part that she'd always look forward to. There was something about the feeling she would get when the plane would speed up, its first hesitant movements off the ground before heading straight towards the sky at an almost upright position. The way the plane would move so seamlessly through the sky, break through the clouds, and flirt with the cusps of the ozone layer.
Later, once the airplane was airborne and most of the heavy lifting had been done, she would be allowed to wonder, look out at the vast spaces in front and below them. Her dad would teach her some more about the various operations and lately, he'd started to prepare her for what to do when disaster struck.
The latest hypothetical case had been a high jacking. Her father had laid out all the facts; Sarah was flying the president home, when one of the security guards revealed themselves to be a terrorist tasked to kill the leader of the free world. "What do you do? Go," he'd said.
She would mention procedures she remembered him telling her earlier, and depending on her answer, her father would say "eh, now your dead," or "eh, now the president's dead." Eventually, she would figure it out, and she'd save the president and the rest of the world.
"It's time, sweetie," her father now said, to which Sarah sighed. Play time was officially over.
"What is it this time?" she asked, sulking a little, her fingers fidgeting with some of the fray on one of the holes in her pants. When she was younger, these "missions," as her father liked to call them, had been few and far between. The most Sarah had to do was walk through the air cabin, introduce herself to whomever it was that time, and invite them into the cockpit. Her father would have a chat with that person then, while Sarah would play around with one of the flight attendants.
Ever since she'd hit puberty, however, the "missions" had seemed to have increased, and they had become far more elaborate. Sarah's active involvement had become necessary too. Something which she'd started to detest more and more. But how could she refuse to help him; this was the most she got to see him, and no matter how often he'd stand her up, or shift around their appointments, in the end, she still loved her dad.
If this is what she had to do to spend time with him, have him teach her about flying, then she'd have to suck it up. Besides, most of the missions weren't half bad. She especially enjoyed the ones where she got to team up with this other boy, Daniel. He was the son of a colleague of her dad, and he'd started to join them on flights more frequently in recent months. She'd liked to believe he was there for her.
Today, Daniel wasn't there though, and Sarah would have to fly solo.
"Her name's Ophelia Sanchez, she's in 3B. Curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Arts, currently on her way back from an art gallery in San Francisco. She believes she's transporting a very rare sketch of the one and only Vincent van Gogh. What she doesn't know, however, is that this will be part of her luggage," Jack reached into his captain's vest and took out a little plastic bag filled with a white powdery substance.
Sarah snatched it out of his hands, inspecting the powder from up close.
"Why her?" she asked, turning the bag in between her fingers.
"She's got a weekly schedule, a lot to lose, and the perfect trajectory for the Ring," he said, as he adjusted some settings to avoid possible turbulence.
Sarah waited in her seat a few moments longer, glancing at the view in front of her to remind herself why it was okay for her to most likely ruin an innocent person's life. It wasn't her job to care, she told herself. As she got up from her seat, she ignored the loud nagging voice in the back of her head telling her that wasn't true. She couldn't afford to listen to that voice, because she was already far too complicit to do or think otherwise. Most of all, she couldn't do that to her father. His life would be ruined, and so would hers.
It was better to shut out the voices. Shut out the guilt, the feelings of embarrassment and shame over the fact that she valued her and her father's lives above those of countless others. It was better to shut all of those sentiments down, push them aside and appreciate the things she could control. Be grateful for the things she did have.
These days, the things she was grateful for though, started to wear thin. The new grown attention by male magazines was becoming more and more of a burden; people objectifying her, an underage girl; brands using her as a commodity to increase the sales of their products. Her dad putting her in the field more and more often to outrun the growing mountain of debt he was in. The rising amount of innocent people being pulled into a countrywide scheme of smuggling, and money laundering at the hands of a fourteen-year-old girl who was supposed to be in math class.
At least she had flying, she told herself. That would have to be enough.
The letters on the page were a blur to her. The words having lost all their meaning after Sarah's fifteenth attempt to read them. She grunted in frustration, a hand combing through her hair. Come on, Sarah, she told herself. You can do this.
Petitioner and Respondent should be divorced because they are incompatible, and they are no longer able to live together.
Correct, she huffed. Alright, one line down, thirty more pages to go… As her fingers flipped through paragraphs upon paragraphs of legal jargon, images of last night filled her mind.
Daniel hadn't changed one bit, she thought. He still was the ever charming, but ever spineless little prick he'd always been. Still sucking up to his own father without him even being present. She learned afterwards that he was though, recognizing the man's voice immediately as she and Chuck had been hiding behind the curtains.
It was the Russian man's voice that she hadn't heard before. Given the nature of their talk, however, Sarah guessed he must be one of the higher-ups her own father had always been scared of.
When she had first stumbled into Daniel, she'd thought it a cruel but accidental joke of the universe. When Chuck had returned sooner than she'd liked, however, and Daniel had immediately identified Chuck with their cover names, she had realized this wasn't a coincidence at all. The only thing about the whole evening that hadn't been planned seemed to be Sarah's presence.
She could have seen it coming, though, she now realized. She knew how they operated, had heard enough of their stories. Yet, she had hoped that she'd be wrong. That Chuck wasn't dealing with the same people she had come to know in and out over the years. But when she had recognized Daniel Shaw Sr.'s voice, the puzzle pieces had fallen undeniably into place.
This was Chuck's test. To steal something from the organization itself, to prove what he was capable of in a somewhat controlled setting before being sent on real assignments. That's why Shaw must have been walking around the security room; to gauge Chuck's reaction as they'd bump into each other. See how trustworthy of an "asset" he would be in the long run.
The diamond must have been chosen to see whether Chuck would continue his assignment or be enticed enough by its richness to steal it for himself and flee the country. It was probably a fake one just in case. They were cautious like that.
And now they had their answer. Chuck had done exactly what they'd asked, and he had done it extremely well. Why wouldn't he, he was Chuck.
She let out a sigh, feeling a little flushed as she thought back to that moment in front of his door. Standing there, the temperature comfortable, the atmosphere electric, a lone cricket singing its song, his sister peeking from behind a window curtain, Sarah had allowed herself to let her hand trail over his shoulder. Finally.
She had been wanting to touch him all evening, but every time, something had managed to intervene. First, it had been her own insecurities, then it had been the mountain of unprocessed darkness that came with the encounter with Shaw, and then, there was the confirmation that Chuck was in fact dealing with the same people Sarah had worked the majority of her life for.
She had planned to simply get rid of an imaginary piece of lint, but once she'd started touching him, she couldn't get enough. A thrill had come over her, as her touch on him not only affected her but also him. He a little flustered, his voice a little hitched as he'd asked what she was doing.
Eventually, she'd had to stop. Finding no more excuses to keep touching him. But then, he had dared to voice what had been on her mind for longer than she'd allowed herself to admit to.
"You know, if we were really dating, this would be the part where I'd be forced to kiss you goodnight," he had said, and before she could think about it more thoroughly, her mouth had already responded on its own.
"Forced?" she had barely managed to say, her heart thumping faster in her chest. "Would it really be so bad?" the words a whisper on her lips. And then, he had moved in closer, his lips inviting, his eyes a darker shade of amber than she'd ever seen before. Somehow, all the fears and insecurities she'd felt earlier in the day had become pointless, forgotten, for there was only him now.
She had felt his breath on her lips, her eyes fallen shut already. Just a little closer, and their lips would have met. Just a step closer, and she would have finally surrendered to the emotions she'd been depriving herself for years. She had been ready to let her guard down, to lower her bridges, to let this man before her in.
But then, he had called and reality had come crashing down.
As if a bucket of ice had fallen over her, her eyes had sprung open, her legs had moved backwards. Her walls had never been refortified this quickly before, but they had to. She had to. Hide behind her walls, that is.
She had seen the dejection in his shoulders, the dimming in his eyes. It was for his own good, she had thought, as she had said goodbye and walked over to her car, not daring to look back at him. Not wanting to see any more hurt and disappointment in his eyes.
While she had been furious at first to have Bryce calling be the thing to interrupt their moment, the voices she had managed to shut out for that split second of an almost kiss had returned with full force now, fighting for her undivided attention. The loudest of them telling her that she didn't deserve him, that she wasn't worthy of him.
Impossible to ignore, Sarah'd become grateful for Bryce's interruption. Someone like Bryce was what she probably deserved. Someone who'd cheat on her. That seemed about right. Not someone like Chuck, definitely not Chuck.
As she had sped off towards Carina's place, she'd become angry at herself. Angry for letting herself get carried away this much. But most of all, for giving Chuck hope. It wasn't fair to him. To give him the idea that there might be something more between them, that they could become more than the unusual partnership they'd found themselves in.
While he might be attracted to her physically, he'd recoil if he'd know the things she had done. He'd get furious, feel betrayed, and rightfully so, if he'd learn that she had been one of the biggest contributors to the success of the Ring that was currently threatening him and his sister life. That she had known all along who was behind his blackmailing.
And then there was the absolute mess she was in besides her long list of wrongdoings. There was the current divorce she was in, there was the emotional baggage she had decidedly not dealt with, the lingering feelings of betrayal, distrust, regret and remorse in her own life that kept her awake at night.
She didn't deserve him, Sarah now groaned out in frustration, the divorce papers crunching in her fists. She couldn't let this happen again, she told herself. No more flirtations, no more side glances, no more touching. She would help him with his assignments, since it was the least she could do, but that would be it. That would have to be it. With a final grunt, she left the papers for what they were, got up from the table and walked over to the coffee machine to pour herself another cup.
The machine sputtered to life before giving up all together. Great, just my luck, she gritted through her teeth. She opened the backside of the machine, trying to figure out why another thing in her life had decided to fail her, when her phone buzzed in the right back pocket of her jeans.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself down a little before reaching for her phone. While she tried her best not to, she couldn't contain the grin on her face from growing as Chuck Bartowski smiled back at her.
Crap, so much for her new set boundaries, she thought to herself as she accepted the phone call and Chuck's warm and inviting voice filled her ears.
"Hello, Agent Walker," he rolled his r as he said so, and Sarah couldn't help but chuckle a little as she moved away from the damned coffee maker that had started to make some very concerning sounds.
"Hello to you too Agent Carmichael. How may I help you on this fine Tuesday morning?" her earlier frustrations long forgotten as she heard Chuck laughing on the other end of the line. Eventually his laughter simmered down, and his voice got serious. As he kept talking, however, she realized he was still doing a bit to amuse her.
"I've received the most interesting mission this morning, and I was wondering if I could acquire the assistance of one of your agents, preferably someone who's familiar with the ins and outs of airplanes, someone who, oh I don't know, is training to become a commercial pilot," she was about to reply that she might know someone when he continued:
"Preferably a woman, blue eyes wouldn't hurt, blond hair's always a plus. A killer sense of humor, highly intelligent, easy on the eyes. You know, whatever you can give me. I'm not that picky," he ended, his voice still completely serious.
"Oh yeah, did I mention she needs to be pretty? The more beautiful the better," it took all Sarah's effort not to burst out in laughter, her cheeks already reddened to the point that she couldn't be bothered, when she eventually responded in a tone matching Chuck's:
"Hmm, I see. Tough order, Agent Carmichael. We do have highly intelligent, professionally trained and extremely qualified women available, but they are all brunettes I'm afraid. Will that work too?" she held in her breath as Chuck pondered her question.
"Hmm, no, I'm afraid that wouldn't do. I definitely need her to be blond. What about you, Agent Walker, would you be available?" he then asked. Cheeky, Chuck, cheeky.
"I would have offered my own services but I'm afraid I don't tick all your boxes, A-," she cleared her throat quickly as Carina entered the kitchen with one eyebrow raised, still wearing her nightgown.
"Oh really," she could hear the smirk in his voice," are you not extremely funny, highly intelligent, training to be a pilot and," he sighed then," extremely beautiful?" There was no humor left in his voice. Instead, he sounded so sincere a shiver ran down her spine.
But Carina was still watching, and she'd promised herself to stop doing this.
"So, what have you got for me?" She asked now, dropping all pretense. If her shift in demeanor fazed Chuck, he didn't let on. Instead he simply dropped the voice he'd been doing, and told her about their new mission.
As he explained the details, Sarah's face went white and her mouth became dry. Aware that she was still being watched by Carina, she moved to the dining room and pulled the door shut behind her.
"Sarah?" she heard his voice now, a little hesitant, "you still there?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Still here. Um, Chuck," she said, not knowing how to breach the topic. She guessed she took too long to respond though, as Chuck's panicked voice travelled through the phone. He must have made the wrong assumption based on her silence, and who could blame him. Great job, Walker.
"I'm sorry about the whole agent thing, that was way too much and out of line. I- uh, thought it would be funny, but it's clearly not. I'm really sorry, Sarah," she sighed now, her hands going through her hair.
"No, it's not that," she forced herself to say. He went silent then. She heard him breathe on the other side of the line, but she couldn't get herself to talk.
"Oh," he eventually said. He then cleared his throat and carefully asked after another beat of silence: "What is it then if I may ask?"
How could she explain to him that the idea of doing this new mission made her physically sick? That the notion of having to go back to her past made her insides crawl? That she couldn't return to the thing that had ruined her and her dad's life? That she had vowed at the funeral of her father never to do something like that ever again?
How did you start a conversation like that? Hey, Chuck, so I used to do that on a regular basis with my dad and now he's dead? I'd prefer not to do it again even though I've promised to help you in every way possible?
She had to say something though. As she paced around the room, a sheet of paper on the dining table caught her eye. It was half laying under the divorce papers she had yet to sign, the bright colors faded by incessant sun light. Beckman's schedule. And then she knew.
"Chuck, I know I promised you I'd help you out in whatever way possible but I need to be on my flight to Chicago on Monday. If I'm not, I will never get a job as a commercial pilot ever," she heard some ruffling on the other side of the line then. Like he wasn't alone.
"Chuck, I'm really sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can't this time." She heard some more noises she couldn't quite make out, and then suddenly, she heard his voice again loud and clear.
"Sorry, Sarah. There was a client who wanted to know how to turn on her computer. Got distracted for a sec. But, I'm back now. You were saying?"
Sarah repeated why she couldn't help him, and as she said it, her heart sunk with guilt. Even though she technically wasn't lying, she couldn't help but feel like she was letting him down because she was too coward to face her own past.
"Oh," he said. "Of course, that makes total sense. Don't worry about it, Sarah. This isn't your burden to bear. You didn't do things you weren't supposed to, so," he laughed self-deprecatingly.
Of course, he would be forgiving and understanding. His reaction only made things worse, as Sarah barely managed to keep in a groan of frustration. Mostly at herself, but a little geared towards Chuck for his too kind and understanding personality.
She apologized again, but he wouldn't hear it, and eventually they ended the call with a good luck, and a "call me for the next mission."
She was such a mess.
Not a minute after she'd dropped her phone, it ran again. She picked it up reluctantly, surprised when she saw it was Montgomery calling.
"Walker, Captain Roan Montgomery here." Sarah hadn't said so much as a hello when he already continued.
"Listen, Sarah. I've been invited to this high-class event in New York coming Sunday. Now, I know Beckman devised this schedule for you, and you should follow it to the T, yada yada, but now, it is coming in between me and my schedule and we can't have that. Instead of our planned flight to Chicago, I will be flying out of JFK on Tuesday morning back home. What do you say?
You're more than welcome to join me on Sunday if the Martini awards are at all your thing. Otherwise, I suggest you fly over when it best suits you, and I will expect you on my flight back to LA bright and early on the 22th. Sounds good?"
He asked, his tone, however, revealing that it wasn't really a question at all. So, Sarah agreed. And then, the phone conversation was over.
Sarah had been wondering what would happen now that the Ring knew she was in some way linked to Chuck, and it'd become apparent quicker than she'd expected. While she didn't doubt Montgomery's interest in Martinis to be genuine, she couldn't fail to notice that the event took place exactly when Chuck was supposed to fly to New York as well…
It had been ten minutes since Chuck had ended his conversation with Sarah, when his phone buzzed. His eyes were shut to avoid the brightness of the Buy More's harsh lighting surrounding him. It was a Tuesday morning, and he'd been at it for too long for it to still be morning.
It had taken him a while to fall asleep the night before. The events of the evening still freshly imprinted in his brain, the ghost of a certain pilot's lips almost touching his still lingering as he had closed his eyes.
He'd admonished himself first thing upon entering his apartment. Chuck, you don't go after married women. But he hadn't gotten much further, as his sister and her perfect boyfriend – in his underwear, might he add – had pushed him onto the couch, and fired a dozen or so questions at him in close succession.
Ellie had first wanted to know why he had failed to mention that he'd met someone. Once that was out of the way, she'd asked him more about what they'd gone off to do, what she was like, when he was planning on taking her out again.
And as she asked him question after question, Chuck started to get lost in the story he and Sarah had decided to tell. He lost his grip on the fiction of it all, and let himself get swept away in the warmth and the excitement he felt whenever he was around her.
"Wow, you really seem to like her, Chuck," his sister had said, Devon sitting on the couch's armrest nodding along.
"Yeah, bro. She seems special."
"Yeah, she is, and I guess I do," his voice had trailed off. He hadn't even noticed when he'd started to frown until Ellie reached out to his shoulder, her eyes a little worried as she'd asked:
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Chuck had sighed, not knowing how to answer her question. How was he supposed to pretend like everything was normal? How was he supposed to pretend that the girl, better yet, the woman he was pining after was into him too, while in fact, she was as unavailable as they came. Meanwhile, he was falling harder for her with every passing breath.
"Hey, talk to me, Chuck. What's wrong?"
He'd guessed he could say something that came close to the truth, at least, in some respects.
"I guess I don't want to create excitement for a relationship that seems doomed," he'd eventually said, his eyes lowering to the chucks he was still wearing.
"What? Why is it doomed?" she had asked, sharing some concerned glances with Devon.
"Because she's not into me," he'd sighed, shutting down the memories of various moments in the past week that had given him hope, the almost kiss just moments ago being the most difficult one to discard of.
"Uh- I wouldn't be so sure of that," she'd said with a conspiring grin.
"Wha- what do you mean?" he'd looked between Ellie and Devon who were giving each other knowing looks.
"Come on, bro. You're not being serious, are you? Devon had asked.
"I- um," Chuck had said at a loss. What was he missing?
"Ellie?" he'd asked, when they continued to grin at each other instead of just telling him what the hell it was he was so clearly missing out on.
"Okay, Chuck. Obviously, I barely know her, so I could be wrong but…"
"But? Come on, Ellie, you're killing me over here," his voice had started to sound a little desperate.
"It's just the way she looks at you. Don't shoot me, but, um, I was watching through the window just now and-"
"Yeah, I know," Ellie's face had turned red, embarrassed at his admission.
"Okay, well, anyway, I didn't watch the whole thing because I didn't want to invade on your privacy, but I did see the way she looks at you, Chuck, and trust me, that girl, she's into you."
Without wanting to, the corners of Chuck's mouth had lifted. Could they be right, he'd thought. Could it be that he wasn't imagining things after all and the pilot did in fact like him too? At least to the extent that both his sister and her boyfriend agreed that she looked very much into him?
"Dude, your phone's a-buzzin'" Chuck reopened his eyes, jumping back slightly as Jeff stood mere inches from his face.
"Thanks, Jeff," Chuck said, shaking his head slightly. How was this his life, he wondered. He pulled out his phone, surprised to see the pilot he'd just been thinking about staring back at him.
"Woaw, babe," Jeff muttered, his eyes a little dazed.
Thinking it best to remove himself from the situation, before Jeff could do something utterly inappropriate again, Chuck accepted the call and headed towards the break room. On his way over, he ignored the glares of one very angry Harry Tang who luckily was in the middle of a sale and couldn't run after him to shout at him for taking unlawful breaks.
"Yellow," he said, wondering why she was calling him back.
"Hey, what are you doing next Monday? Care to join me to New York?"
A/N: Sooo, hopefully some of your questions have been answered with this chapter... but, the story's far from over!
This chapter is a little shorter than my previous ones, but it felt more natural for me to end the chapter here, and I'm sure you'll agree when you read the next one :)
Next on Chuck vs the Pilot: You'll be on a plane some more, and Casey as a flight attendant will make another guest appearance!
As always, I love to hear your thoughts, comments, questions :)
