Snapshot

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Photojournalist Sarah Walker has spent her short and acclaimed career walking the tightrope of societal norms and an inherent yearning for adventure. When her duty to making appearances for her career puts her in Bartowski Electrics CEO Chuck Bartowski's path, their very different worlds collide. Will she discover there is more adventure to him than meets the eye? Charah AU based on Hitchcock's Rear Window.

A/N: Enjoy! This one was fun to write.

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK and I'm making exactly $0 from this story. Per usual.


The city was quiet, save for a distant horn here or there. And the room was cloaked in deep darkness, the moon up in the sky nothing more than a sliver, incapable of sending light through the large windows.

He'd forgotten to close the blinds, as distracted as he was, as focused as he was on her. In fact, if he'd broached the topic of getting up to close the blinds, he thought there was a good chance she'd refuse to relinquish him from her embrace.

Still, in spite of the quiet and the darkness, in spite of the exhaustion in him, both emotional and physical, sleep simply wasn't coming for him.

His mind was still too active, incapable of moving on from the events of the night, pushing them away from his thoughts for long enough that sleep claimed him.

Chuck turned his head and looked at the woman on the other side of the bed.

She was fast asleep, her back to him, her hair falling loose around her shoulders and upper back in waves. His bedsheets were bunched at her waist, revealing the smooth, flawless swoop of her side. She'd been asleep for what felt like a little less than half an hour, and in that time, she'd turned from where she fell asleep facing him, the covers up at her shoulders, onto her back, and back to her side to face him, onto her back, her stomach, and now she was on her side facing away from him.

Was this how Sarah Walker always slept, tossing and turning? Or was something plaguing her dreams?

She'd been still for a few minutes now, so he decided to give up on any attempts to sleep alongside her. There were too many questions on his mind to find any peace, and she was the point from which they all stemmed.

Chuck carefully sat up and crawled out of bed, stepping into his boxers and pulling them up over his hips. He snuck out of his bedroom and wandered down the hallway into the large open living space of his condo.

He stared out through the large windows as he got himself a glass of water, wondering how he managed to find stress and anxiety in this particular moment of his life. Things had been so clear cut in Paris. They connected, enjoyed being with one another, and cut it off the next night. Just like that. Easy.

Now it was complicated again.

Chuck shook his head at himself, rolling his eyes and wandering out by the window, staring out over Los Angeles from the darkness of his living room.

Letting her walk out of his hotel suite and disappear that night hadn't been easy. The ache had been real. Intense. And he'd kept it to himself, letting her go.

Everything she'd said that morning after she translated the gossip column for him was true. There were so many ways this could go south.

They were both on the ascent in their own fields. He was in talks with investors about expanding, meeting with politicians about getting safe electrical systems into rural areas of the country, not these big, unsightly installments that were making people sick. He was getting into positions that would require him to have a clean background if he was going to be respected and listened to. Squeaky clean. He had to step right. And the people he was connected with would also have to step right. It wasn't fair but it was the way things were. And Sarah had to step right inherently because she was a woman in a field dominated in numbers and voice by men. It was already hard to navigate all of that for her, he was sure. This would make it that much harder.

And in spite of what she said at the nightclub—people seeing her success in her field as nepotism because she was on Chuck Bartowski's arm meant they didn't know a thing about good art—that worry still existed for him. He didn't want to be the reason why people questioned her talents. He didn't want to be the start of that conversation, when it wouldn't even be a conversation if she wasn't seen with him.

There was an extra putrid tinge to that article too, and Diane had been clear about it later on when he'd met with her after coming home. Sarah had likely picked up on it too but hadn't said anything out of embarrassment. Which made him even angrier at Barbara Oppenheimer. But there was something in the way she spoke about Chuck's sudden interest in this woman when he'd kept himself out of the fray for the most part. As if Sarah had cast some sort of a supernatural spell on him, put a few drops of some sort of love potion into his champagne. Like she was some sort of gold digger siren, luring him into her clutches.

He was still furious when he thought about it. The connotation was deplorable. And he imagined the American gossip columnists, the Los Angeles regulars whose utter shit he'd had the misfortune of reading in the papers before, wouldn't be much better. They were good at finding the best places to stick the dagger, the places that would do the most damage while seeming harmless to readers.

At the end of the day, it was her decision. And if she'd found a way to render those columnists useless in her own mind, he wasn't going to be the one who argued with her. But it still bothered him to his core to think of her being attacked because of this. Because of him.

He also knew that the large gap between their incomes was lodged in her head, too. And it seemed she was deeming it much more of a problem than he was. The "gold digger" nonsense aside, Sarah worked on commission for the most part. She took contracts, working an assignment, taking her pay, and moving onto the next. It was a very different type of career from his, and what was more, it meant her income was a lot less consistent than his too. She probably struggled here and there, the way he had before all of this.

That didn't have any bearing on how much he wanted to be with her. But perhaps to her it wasn't about that.

What was it about? He didn't know.

Maybe that was something he would never fully understand because his life and his experiences were so different from hers. Maybe that was yet another barrier between them.

A lack of being able to put themselves in one another's shoes.

All he knew was that when she woke up, got dressed again, whenever that ended up being, and left, he wanted to keep seeing her. Tomorrow night? The next day? The day after that? Whenever they could, he wanted to be with her again. As soon as possible, preferably.

And he wanted that to be enough. That they liked each other this much. When they fell into bed together again a few hours ago, the desperation he'd felt between them was different. It was still there, only now it was that knowledge of the three month time that had seemed to stretch so damn long, getting to be together again, touch again, taste again. He didn't have the knowledge that things were over after this. And still, he'd kissed her, held her, he'd moved with the same amount of passion, the same fervor.

Why couldn't that be enough to make this last?

Chuck reached up to ruffle his curls in frustration.

He needed to make it clear to Sarah that they didn't have to immediately dive into something serious. He wasn't going out and shopping for a ring, for God's sake. And sure, the pressure from his money and fame, and her growing fame within her own circles, would add a certain serious element to it. But they were young and free to live their lives however they saw fit. He just wanted nights like this, dinner and drinks, laughter, engaging conversation, dancing in one another's arms, and though he didn't deem it an absolute requirement, climbing into bed with her was a massive bonus.

Chuck moved to put his glass in the sink, then left the kitchen, heading back to his bedroom. Shouldering the door open, his eyes fell to Sarah still in bed. Only she'd moved from where he left her, lying on her back now with the sheets pulled up to cover her breasts. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, spotting him, a quiet smile spreading over her lips.

He came nearer, a smile on his own face, as she slowly shifted up in bed to lean back against the headboard, propped up, clutching the sheet to her chest for modesty.

"Where you been?" she asked, her voice crackling deliciously with sleep.

"Grabbed some water. Would you like some? Since I'm up?" He shifted his weight and swallowed hard.

She reached an arm out towards him and shook her head. "No, thank you. Come back in here."

She didn't have to ask twice.

Beaming at her hard enough to make her giggle, he scrambled for the edge of the bed, picking up the covers, climbing under them, and scooting in close to her, pressing himself against her naked side, kissing her shoulder.

"Sorry if I woke you up," he murmured against her skin, biting his lip and just barely keeping back a soft groan as she wrapped him up in her arms and turned to face him, hugging him tight so that their fronts rubbed flush against one another.

"You didn't. I woke up and you weren't here, so I closed my eyes and waited. I might've thought you left if it weren't for this being your bed."

He raised his eyebrows, kissing her jaw. "You think I'm crazy or somethin'? Leaving you alone in bed?"

Her giggle was pleasantly gusty as she grinned at him. "You're terrible."

"I'm terrible," he agreed, pressing his lips to hers this time. She let out a hum that sent a thrill through him and he slid his hand down her back, lower, lower…lower still.

And just as he slipped his fingers around to the back of her thigh to bend her leg and wrap it around his hip, meaning to dive right back into the spirit of things, they were interrupted by the shrill shriek of his bedroom telephone.

He felt Sarah jump beneath him, and he jumped as well.

Chuck almost groaned in annoyance, but then he realized that it was late. And more than that, everything that had happened earlier on that day, and the reason why he'd had to go to his flagship store for an emergency meeting with a privately contracted security team, popped back into his brain from where he'd shoved it the moment he saw Sarah Walker climb out of the back of a taxi cab outside of Giovanni's.

He winced. "I need to get this. I'm so sorry."

Sarah shook her head and gave him a gentle and supportive push. "Go. Please. Don't apologize."

Huffing in frustration, but filled with concerned, he rolled away from her and grabbed the phone off of its cradle, pushing it against his ear. "Hello?"

"It's me." He'd figured it would be.

"Did it happen?" Chuck couldn't help rushing out. "Are you and your men all right?"

"Heh. Your TVs are fine."

"I didn't ask about my TVs," he shot back.

"Oh." There was a stunned pause. "Well, uh…we're all fine. Nothing happened. I didn't call because they tried to robberize your pretty shop, Bartowski. The whole store's cleared out now. All your employees went home. It's just me an' my men. I wanted to give you one last call before you sleep so that you…well, can sleep. Rest assured, we got it all covered. Even put a few of my fellas on the roof in case they try to get in thatta way."

"You'll call if there are any developments?" He rushed on before the other man could respond. "No matter what time, even if I'm asleep, I need to know if something happens."

"Yessir, you got it."

"Thank you. Hopefully I'll talk to you tomorrow and you won't have any need to call me tonight."

"That's the hope."

"Goodnight."

"Night, Mr. B."

Chuck put the phone back in its cradle and sat back against the headboard of his bed, giving himself a moment to let his nerves settle.

"Everything okay?"

He just barely fought back the urge to jump at the sound of her voice coming from the other side of the bed. He'd been getting much too comfortable with Sarah, letting the rest of his worries drift off with LA's autumn night breeze, and then the second that phone call came in, bam… There were possibly trained robbers planning on ransacking Bartowski Electric's flagship store in downtown Los Angeles and he currently had security flanking the place to keep it safe. He'd nearly forgotten about Sarah then once that all rushed back.

Chuck found that was unforgivable, frankly.

"Chuck?"

"Oh, um…" He cleared his throat and looked at her. "Sorry. I'm, um, dealing with some strange business with one of my storefronts. That was what the phone call was."

"Strange business?" She pushed up to sit against the headboard next to him, holding the sheet up under her armpits for modesty. "You don't have to tell me about your work things if you'd like to keep that…private. I just want to make sure you're all right."

He smiled at her, something fluttering in his chest. "I'm all right. Yes. I'm fine. You—" He huffed, shaking his head. "You're going to think I'm crazy. Or-or paranoid. Overreacting."

Sarah giggled. "Look who you're talking to. I'm not going to think any of those things."

Grinning, he turned to face her better, leaning his shoulder against the wooden headboard. "Okay, I'll try it. Earlier today when you were at my office, I found a, um…note. A warning."

Her eyebrows shot up. "A warning?" She squirmed in discomfort at that, looking off to the side with wide blue eyes.

"Yes. They said there's a team of criminals looking to break into my flagship store in downtown LA, our biggest store, and steal from us. It's had me on edge all day."

"That would have me on edge too!" she exclaimed. "It isn't…some sort of, oh I don't know, prank from some…jerk out there who didn't get good enough customer service at one of your stores?"

That made Chuck snort. "I didn't think about that. But maybe that's because nobody gets bad customer service from one of my stores. Please. Pffft." She giggled at his teasingly affronted look. "But no, I did think about the chances of the whole thing being a prank. I did. It's just that, I dunno, even if there's a slim chance it isn't a prank, I have to take it seriously. I've got too many employees relying on their jobs, and if they mean to do it in the light of day, my people could be hurt…or worse." He shook his head vehemently, facing forward again. "I would never be able to live with myself if innocent people were harmed because I thought something serious was a prank and didn't take action."

Sarah sighed and reached up to settle her hand against his shoulder, squeezing. "I don't blame you for being stressed, or for taking the warning seriously. I will note you're mentioning the safety of your people before all of the…television sets and record players and accessories and toys in there."

"Well, it—" He stopped as he realized what she'd just said. "Record players? You been to my store?"

She looked straight ahead for a split moment, eyes just slightly wider than usual, and then she turned back, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear and giving him a wan smile. "Surely, I've been. I didn't know who you were, but I've stepped foot in a Bartowski Electric store. Maybe I live my whole life with a camera in my hand, but I need other necessities one might find in a store such as yours."

Chuck brushed a hand through the air, chuckling. "Oh. Of course. I'm still caught by surprise sometimes, that-that so many people buy our products. That this is something I started, I built. It creeps up on me still."

"Mmmhmmm. So modest," she teased, but then she sobered up and shifted her hand to his upper back, rubbing him there comfortingly. "What are you doing about the warning then? Did you go to the police?"

"No, uh… That was my head of security on the phone. New head of security. I hired a private security company I know I can trust to keep watch on the store around the clock. It worries me, having my people be there without trained security around to have their backs. And I suppose the hope is if these bad guys are doing reconnaissance and they see the armed security agents around the place, they'll throw in the towel, drop their plans."

Sarah nodded. "Smart. So what then? You just leave them there for a few days 'til you deem the threat is over?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm still in talks with my guys to see what they think is the best way to move forward." He shrugged helplessly. "I've never been in a situation like this before." He winced then, peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. "And now I'm thinking about how I just ran away from my employees and had one of the best nights of my life with an incredible woman and I, uh, well…admittedly forgot all about them. I'm a little ashamed."

She nudged him with the hand on his back. "Hey, none of that now. I'm sure your employees are out with their friends, families, dates, or they went home, and they're all living their lives just like you are. You don't know the threat's credible. You can't stop living your life. You set up protection for your workers and for the store. You deserve a night of doing something for yourself." She wrinkled up her nose cutely then. "Granted, I suppose I'm being rather selfish here. Since I reaped all the benefits of you doing something for yourself." She leaned in close, placing a slow kiss to his jaw that made him shiver, and then she breathed, "You did quite a few things for me too."

Chuck grinned a bit manically at that, and then he pushed his arms around her and turned so that they both fell back down onto the mattress, Sarah pinned underneath him. He caught himself on his elbows to keep from crushing her as she squeaked in surprise and giggled, her giggles becoming a soft whimper as he kissed down her jawline, along her neck, to her throat, and down even further.

But then her fingers curled around his shoulders and before he knew it, she had him on his back and she leaned over him at an angle. Her hair fell down over her face, tickling his own face, shrouding them both in beautiful blond waves.

"I don't think it's a bad thing to engage in activities that make you forget your worries. In fact, I'd say it's a good thing."

"Would you?"

"Yes."

"And do you have any suggestions, Miss Walker?"

"A few." She shrugged one shoulder adorably.

"Photography?"

She laughed.

"Ooo. Landscape painting," he tried as she cackled, shifting herself against him so that she straddled him, her weight pressing down into his lap. "Perhaps we might knit a sweater together," he continued, losing his voice as he felt her front digging into his.

Sarah surged down so that her breasts flattened against his chest, and she set a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his jaw. And when her teeth gently clamped down there, his whole body shivered.

It wasn't until her eyes flashed mischievously, before she slid down his body and tossed the covers over her head, her long fingers tucking under the waistband of his boxers, that he realized how she actually meant to make him forget.

He groaned, reaching up to brace his hands against the headboard.

And he forgot all of his worries.

Did he ever.

}o{

There were no more phone calls from Chuck's private security team throughout the night, and still, Sarah hadn't gotten much sleep. Their bodies eventually reached a limit, they could go no further, and they ended up splayed out on their sides, facing each other, fingers stroking cheeks, eyes meeting, no words exchanged, because they didn't have to be, and Chuck eventually fell into a deep sleep with his arm flung over her torso, hand spread on the small of her back, keeping her close to him even as he slept.

Still, she'd had a hard time falling asleep. And so she wondered if he would mind it if he knew she spent a while just looking at him. He hadn't minded when she actively took photographs of him sleeping, had he? Surely he wouldn't mind her just looking. Especially when even just twenty-four hours earlier she'd been so sure that even with her secret illegal side job crossing paths with his very legal and commendable job, she'd never see the man again, lying there facing him, studying the contours of his jaw, cheekbones, his nose and forehead, felt like a luxury.

A privilege and a luxury.

If she wasn't so selfish, so responsive to her emotional and physical needs, if she had more willpower, she would've protected him better than she did. Sure, she likely got that target off of his store by warning him about it. She'd protected him in that way. But now this was beginning again, or perhaps it was more that it was really beginning for the first time, and she couldn't help worrying that she would do harm here. To him. His company.

His reputation.

Honestly, her reputation was more at risk than his, but still, she didn't want to do anything to harm him.

So she fretted over that for a while.

But there was this tension in her, too, because she was waiting for the shrill ring of his telephone to fill the bedroom again. The call from his security team to tell him Eberle's men struck, that their flagship store was hit by bandits. In spite of not taking the job, not taking Eberle's money, and even warning Chuck about the threat, she still felt responsible.

As if her short but intense connection with Chuck Bartowski in Paris had stirred up the gods of fate and they'd directed Eberle's eye to the Bartowski Electric flagship store as their next big job.

But the call never came, and now the sun was rising and she'd dozed here and there for a total of maybe three hours if you stuck it all together.

She was exhausted. But she also had a lot of work to do today, before meeting Carina and Zondra at the beach. And that was how she finally decided to try to sneak out from under his arm, taking what felt like half an hour at least to do so, not wanting him to wake up and ask questions.

But she eventually got out of his bed, eyeing him again, his arm outstretched over the space she'd been in after they finally settled down, his body unmoving save the slight shifting of his shoulders and chest as he breathed evenly in his sleep.

She found some paper and a pen after she silently slipped her clothes on again, writing him a quick note, leaving her phone number at the bottom. Because she was sunk. There was no way she'd walk in the other direction this time. She had to at least try with him. They'd walked away from each other once, it wasn't happening again. They were giving this a chance first.

There was work to be done, though. She had to finish this job.

A large part of her ached though. Ached to stay in that bed with him, a heinously comfortable bed she'd love to actually try to sleep in when things weren't plaguing her mind so awfully, and she ached to be here when he woke up, to flirt with him in the kitchen while he made their coffee, to eat with him, spend as much time as possible basking in this until she had to leave to meet her friends at the beach.

But she couldn't.

She had a task.

So she snuck out of his condo, into the elevator, ignoring the sidelong look from the woman she walked past as she walked out of the building, her gown clinging to her, jacket flung over her shoulder, hair all over the place.

Who cared?

Nobody could touch her with their stares as she held up her hand in the cool morning air and hailed herself a cab to go home.

It took less than an hour to get home, clean up, change, and head back out. She drove past the Bartowski Electric downtown store first, scoping it out, subtly slowing down just slightly to see how it might appear to Eberle and his goons if they drove past the same way she was.

It was clear there was a security presence there. Men in oversized suit coats, eyes wily under the brims of their hats. If Eberle sent someone to do recon, and that someone was at all smart, they'd go back and tell them to drop the prospect altogether.

But she didn't know if Eberle and his men were smart, or maybe they were just exceptionally gutsy.

Either way, she needed to make sure they stayed away. And she only knew one way to make that happen.

She left the store behind and fifteen minutes later, pulled around the corner of the last place she'd seen the criminal when she handed over the money and told him she wasn't taking the job. She'd been in a disguise as a young man then, and this time she chose a dark wig and large sunglasses. Only because she posed much less of a threat, and was so much less suspicious, walking around as a brunette in front of the building.

She parked a safe distance away, donned the disguise, and slung the camera strap around her neck, getting out of the car and leaving it, walking slowly, taking a few pictures of the trees, the eaves on the buildings.

Just a young woman enjoying her hobby in the early morning as the sun came up and cut beautiful orange beams over the stunning architecture in this part of downtown Los Angeles.

Nobody would notice if she took a lot more pictures of a specific building. Or if she picked the lock on the back door and slipped inside.

She went back and forth along the inside of the building, creeping around in her black rubber soled ghillies, glad she'd been smart enough to leave the heels at home.

But it didn't matter, no matter where she wandered to take photographs of the interior of the building, she didn't meet another soul.

Five minutes into her excursion, she finally found the door they'd taken her through the few times she met Eberle to talk business, get her marching orders for the job. She picked the lock there too and pushed it open. She went slowly, carefully, knowing that just because the rest of the building was empty, it didn't mean nobody would be in this office.

With one hand holding her camera, the other hovering over where she'd hidden one of her knives she absolutely knew how to use thanks to a few soldiers she met and photographed in the Philippines, Sarah crept through the office, her smirk widening as she realized she actually was alone.

She had full access to all of Eberle's plans. Their blueprints. She spent half an hour, using up an entire roll of film, taking pictures of every last document, every chart, every drawing, outlines of their jobs, lists of their next targets, dates, locations.

And when she was finished, when she thought she had everything she would need, she slinked out of the office, locking it behind her, and rushed down to the back door again, stepping out into the fresh morning air, taking a deep breath, locking up behind her, and rushing back to her car.

She didn't stop until she got back to her apartment. As much adrenaline as she had pooling through her, she'd nearly forgotten about the wig. She yanked it off and shoved it in her glove compartment, then got out of the car, clutching the camera like it was her lifeline.

And perhaps it was. And always had been.

But today, it was Chuck Bartowski's lifeline.

She disappeared into her makeshift red room for hours, developing what she'd taken earlier, hanging them up and leaving them behind as she finally donned her bathing suit and fought away the buzz inside of her.

Carina Miller did research for the public library. The woman didn't miss a thing. And for that matter, neither did Zondra Rizzo, bestselling crime novelist. They'd feel or see whatever buzz she carried with her to the beach to meet them.

And they wouldn't relent until she told them what she was doing.

They couldn't know. Nobody could know about that.

Certainly, Chuck Bartowski could know least of all. She'd managed to keep it from Mike, but she'd kept everything from him, and in a lot of ways, she wondered if she never truly let him see her, who she was, in all of her mess. If he'd seen it, maybe their relationship never would've gotten off the ground. But her work had always come first.

And it still would.

That was truth she was going to need to hammer home for Chuck. To get anywhere at all, she needed to prioritize her career over everything. That would mean him, too. She needed to be up front with him so that he could make a decision about whether that worked for him or not. She realized there was a pretty good chance it wouldn't work for him. And they would go their separate ways.

But if he agreed to it, if he agreed to see each other when they could and not to expect her to put aside her whole life, everything she did and was, to be with him, maybe they could make this work.

And she wouldn't expect anything more from him, either.

She'd let the last one believe he'd become her whole world, her first priority. She'd let him fall into a sense of comfort there, and when she hadn't been able to come through for him, when she'd been absent too much, or for too long, while working assignments, he'd called it off and found a woman who catered to his need to be his partner's sun and moon. She was happy for him, in spite of the heartbreak it had caused her. He'd been a good man, their needs just hadn't lined up.

This was a good man too. They started this off honestly. She'd given him honesty in Paris and he'd given her honesty right back. So she needed to be honest about this too.

Maybe that would be the difference. Laying it all out there, dashing his expectations of her before they became too ingrained and he went the same route Mike had.

But this didn't feel…the same. And Chuck wasn't like any man she'd ever met before. The way he took her reaction to that gossip column that called her gold digging trash (but with more flowery words) put him on a level far above everyone else. It had shocked her—his understanding and kindness. In spite of knowing he'd been hurt.

God, she'd hurt herself. It was foolish, but at least she was honest.

What if Chuck meant what he said in his office? What if he really did just want to keep seeing her, whatever that ended up looking like? What if he had no intention of pushing her into things she wasn't ready for? Commitments she knew she couldn't make?

Sarah Walker was going to give this man a chance.

She would keep one thing from him, though, because she had no choice. And that was her connection with the criminal underworld. That wasn't good conversation for first, second, third, or even fourth dates.

Sarah trotted down to her car and got in behind the wheel, setting her beach bag on the passenger seat. When she got home, she would complete her self-assigned mission. And then Chuck would be free, her duty discharged. And she could explore whatever this increasingly powerful pull was between her and the technology magnate.

Gossip columns be damned.

}o{

He grinned as he spotted her backing out of the backseat of her car, arms full with grocery bags. "Hey!" he called out, trotting over as she straightened to her full height and turned her head to grin back. "Lemme help. Here."

Diving in, he took the full bags from her arms.

"Always the helpful one, this guy," she teased, shutting her car door and shifting her purse strap in her hand.

"I was raised right," he shot back, shrugging.

"Come on in." Ellie Bartowski squeezed his shoulder and ushered him to follow her to the bungalow she'd just started renting with her live-in boyfriend. "To what do I owe this lovely pleasure?"

Chuck trotted up the two steps to the small porch and shrugged as best he could with the bags in his arms. "A guy can't visit his sister in the middle of the day?"

"Of course you can." She unlocked the door and pushed inside, holding it for him. "But it isn't like you aren't a very busy man. It's hard for our schedules to line up anyway, but it's rare for me to see you in the middle of a weekday like this."

"Full disclosure, I called and Captain Awesome told me you didn't have a shift today. So I headed over to see you. Where is he?" he asked, looking around the place as he stepped inside. For how small it might've looked from the outside, it was quite the spacious bungalow, and, as Ellie had insisted when they first started renting, it was perfect for two people trying to get to know each other better.

"You and that Captain Awesome stuff," she chastised, rolling her eyes over her shoulder as she tossed her purse on the chair on the way to the kitchen. "He's probably at the gym. You know how he is."

Chuckling, he set the bags down on the counter and began to empty the first one. "I do know."

"And you?"

"Oh, I don't do gyms."

Ellie pushed at his head as she passed him, putting away the groceries, making him laugh. "I meant how are you? What's going on? What are you up to? You goofball."

"I know what you meant. I'm fine."

He left it at that.

His sister made a humming sound, and then she appeared at his side, looking up at him through narrowed eyes. "We both know how you are. If anything in your life goes off-kilter, you appear at my doorstep in the hopes your sister will get your feet back on the ground." She raised an eyebrow.

"That's—" Damn. "Not every time I come to see you, come on," he tried. "Sometimes I just want to see you because you're my sister and I love you. I miss you when you're off saving lives in your white coat and I'm off…selling television sets."

She laughed through her nose, shaking her head. "You do far more than just sell television sets, brother. There's a reason they keep wanting you on magazine covers, journalists clambering to get the scoop from Charles Irving Bartowski."

"It's my breezy good looks. Obviously." He sent her a toothy grin as she rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Okay, enough of that. There is something off-kilter. I can tell. I know you, Chuck." She eyed him closely, waggling a jar of peanut butter at him. "I read you better than anybody in the world."

"Yeah, like a book."

The brunette gave her brother a jaunty little shrug, then kept at her work, putting the carton of eggs in her fridge. "Talk to me."

"Well, gee, El, I don't want every time we see each other to be you saying, 'Talk to me', and me blabbing about all of my issues. That's hardly a functional sibling relationship." He leaned his hip against her counter.

"There are no rules to what makes for a functional sibling relationship. Anyway, since when do either of us care about that? Nothing about this is normal. The way our parents hightailed it the hell outta here wasn't normal. We brought ourselves up, buddy boy, and that's not exactly functional. So who cares about all the mumbo-jumbo? Just give it to me straight. What's going on with you?" She poked his temple a bit harder than was necessary and he gave her a disgruntled look. She noticed apparently because she smirked in amusement, putting away the milk this time.

He'd woken up this morning alone.

Sure, he hadn't been entirely surprised that he was alone. He imagined Sarah Walker had places to be, things to do. This woman had been around the world ten times over and she was probably only in her twenties. (He still wasn't sure. Either way, she was very young.)

But it had made him feel a bit melancholy. He'd allowed himself to plan in his head the night before, during downtime between the vigorous and passionate not-downtime. A big late breakfast once they climbed out of bed. Coffee in bed first. He might coax her to stay longer, and they would talk some more, the way they had in Paris, but maybe they'd both dig a little deeper this time. He might discover what makes Sarah Walker tick.

It wasn't to be, though.

She wrote a sweet note. It wasn't like she just disappeared into thin air and let him fret over whether or not he'd ever see her again. Most importantly, there was a phone number. Thank God. It took everything in him not to call the number immediately. There was no way to know when she'd left, if she'd be home to take his call, or if she was off adventuring around the streets of Los Angeles. So he resisted.

He'd eaten a quick, small breakfast alone.

He went to the store to check on things, found that they hadn't seen any movement to make them concerned, and then drove to his sister's bungalow in Echo Park.

"Nothing's going on, really…" She gave him a look and he knew she knew he was lying through his teeth. "Really! It's just…a development. Of sorts."

"Work or personal?" She huffed. "As if either of us are able to separate the two."

He chuckled. "Sometimes we do!"

"Right," she giggled doubtfully.

The reality was that they'd both had to dive in headfirst. He was trying to find success in a strange new frontier as someone who had no start-up money whatsoever, and Ellie was trying to find success as a woman in a very, very male field. Women made up less than six percent of doctors in this backwards country. He was proud his sister was one of them. Even though he knew they purposely made it almost impossible for women to climb through the medical school ranks, graduate, and actually get those jobs.

They both worked as hard as they did, devoted themselves to their careers the way they did, because they hadn't had much of a choice.

"Well, something strange happened with B.E., erm…really strange."

He wasn't sure if he saw a bit of disappointment in her face as she pulled back from the fridge where she stuck all of her vegetables in the crisper. Did she think she would get some sort of personal news? He was still on the fence about how much he should tell his sister about Sarah at this extremely early stage.

He didn't want this thing getting cursed when it was in its infancy.

"Strange how?" she asked. She held up a hand then. "Hold that thought. I'm a terrible sister. Let me pour you a drink."

"It's only a little after ten, sis. What do you think I am, some kind'a alcy?" She gave him an annoyed look and he snorted. "Have any of that special lemonade you and Awesome make from the lemons in the back?"

She smiled. "I do, actually."

"Oh, see? I timed this visit perfectly."

Ellie giggled, pouring them both glasses, and then she pointed around the corner to the nautical-style ship ladder that led up to the lofted sunroom he'd slept in at least twice now after late nights of cards and watching boxing matches with his sister and her boyfriend. "Let's go up there, huh? It's a beautiful day and I need my sun."

He led the way and they splayed themselves out in the nice furniture, the sun spilling in through the skylights onto the wood floor of the loft. It was nice and warm without the almost cold breeze he'd emerged into when he first stepped outside this morning.

"Okay, so what's this strangeness about B.E…?"

"You aren't going to believe it."

"Try me."

He regaled her with the whole thing from the day before, the note someone left on his desk, the dire warning written on it, and the helpful hire that meant he had security swarming his flagship store now.

Ellie had since sat up straighter from where she'd kicked off her pumps and folded her legs under her. "This is madness! Why would they hit your store?"

"Not exactly carrying the cheapest hardware in there, El. Some of those TVs go for a couple thou, and that store has the biggest warehouse in the back. They get enough of those on a truck and get outta there cleanly, they'd be swimming in dough reselling on the black market."

"I suppose so." She frowned thoughtfully. "They haven't done anything yet?"

"No. The hope is they saw the heightened security and changed their minds. Wouldn't even mind if the original note was someone pulling my leg, honestly. As long as my store doesn't get ransacked, my people are safe and all that."

"Who would do that? I mean, pull your leg like that?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "The big man thinks it wasn't hoaxing. He thinks the threat's real, which is why he's sticking around for a bit until he thinks the threat's no longer a threat."

"Big man? Is that who I think it is?" He winced. "Chuck, you hired him again? Last time you hired him to be your bodyguard after that other threat someone sent, you complained up and down about how rude he was to you."

Chuck blushed. "Well, I didn't get attacked, did I? So he's good at what he does. And anyway, I was…maybe a little too sensitive at that time. What with having my life threatened by a couple pieces of mail. He's fine." He swiped his hand through the air.

"Well, all right. But this is scary, Chuck. What if someone's there when they strike?"

"That's the hope. That's why I hired security."

"I mean your staff!"

"Oh. No, I don't think they'd do that. Staff's gone by seven or eight. Why would you steal from a store while the workers are all still there? The warning didn't say a shoplifter might come in and slip something in his pocket. Seems foolish to try to steal a lot of large TV sets during open hours."

"Not all criminals are smart, brother."

"Fair."

They sat in silence for a few minutes then, and he watched the foggy yellow liquid in the glass he held as he swirled it a little, the ice clinking pleasantly against the glass. His voice came out of him then without him really meaning for it to.

"Ellie, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure."

He kept staring at the lemonade, swirling…swirling…swirling.

"Do you think it's possible for two people from completely different walks of life, on two very different paths, living in wholly differently worlds, existing in different circles…do you think a relationship between two people like that could…survive? Do you think they'd be capable of making that work?"

Ellie sighed. And then she sat up even more. "Why are you asking me that?"

He chuckled. "Don't get so excited. I've just been thinking." That was a lie, and he felt ridiculous for telling it. Then he squished up his face and groaned. "You remember that trip to Paris I took a few months ago?"

"Yeah. You lucky ass."

Chuck laughed. "Tell me how you really feel, sis." She glowered, but he knew she was teasing. "At the gala I went to for charity, I was talking to a group of folks about my business, and this…this woman spoke up and… Well, she…checked me."

"Checked you?"

"Kept me honest. Knocked me sideways, rather. Brought up the impact of technology on communities and the environment and such, asking if I'd thought of any of that as I expanded my company. Looking into the products I use to build my merchandise. And I think people around her were looking at her like she was…some pariah," he chuckled, sipping his lemonade again. "But, um, she made really good points, asked a question I hadn't considered. And I think she was embarrassed by her own outburst, realizing how she might've come off. She apologized and ran away and left me there…breathless."

Ellie leaned in as he glanced up at her, and her eyes widened. "Continue."

He bit back a chuckle at her eagerness to hear the rest of it. She was smart. She knew he was getting to something. "I looked for her for a while after that, trying to find her to ease her discomfort, but mostly, I wanted to hear more of what she had to say. To take notes. To ask my engineers, maybe hire someone to ask those questions in a way that impacts the way we produce our products and where and all that."

"Is she why you came back from Paris with all that renewed vigor to look at climate and community impact?" she asked breathlessly.

Chuck nodded.

"Who is this girl? Did you find her? Please tell me you did!"

He laughed. "I did. Calm down. And we talked for a while. And then we danced for an even longer while. And more talking. And we discovered we were staying in the same hotel and we piled into my suite and talked some more and drank and it was incredible."

"And? Oh my God, Chuck, you never told me you met somebody in Paris!" She reached across the space and slapped his knee. "I can't believe you kept it from me!"

"Because it ended."

She frowned deeply then. "Oh. Well, shit."

"Yes. Well, shit. People noticed we spent all night together, talking and dancing, never leaving one another's side. They also saw her get into the back of my limo with me. So of course the gossip columns came raining down, and Diane called my suite and told me to grab the paper. When it came to her attention, this woman, she—Well, she has a reputation that needs to remain…pristine. In order to be anybody or get anywhere in her field. I'm sure you can imagine the pressure. She has some exposure the way I do, but not nearly as much and not in the same way…"

"Oh. Because you could ride around town with three women, get roaring drunk, and end up popping out of somebody's birthday cake with your pants down and your reputation would be just fine. But she's seen getting into the back of a limo with a guy like you and that's that for her whole career?"

Chuck winced. "Bingo. It was clear to us both that we needed to cut it off. She's leading a very different life from mine. And… Well, anyway, we spent more time with one another in Paris, knowing it'd end but just enjoying things, you know?" He didn't want to give too much detail there. "And then we went our separate ways."

Ellie was quiet for a bit, and then: "And now months later, you still think about her all the time and that's why you asked that question about two people on very different paths."

"Yeah. That about sums it up." He set down his glass and leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. "Is it impossible? To have your relationship survive all those hurdles?"

"It depends on the two people. If they're both willing to work, if they're that…connected. Their dispositions. Their habits. I…don't know. That's difficult, Chuck. Devon and I are literally on the same path. Our paths have merged. Eventually, I imagine when things calm down and we're both in the right place, we'll marry and figure all of that out. But even with us, things can be hard. I have to work on it all the time and so does he."

"And if we're not on the same path, that'd be…even harder."

"Well, sure." She tilted her head. "I'm very curious about this woman. Who is she?" He gave her a look. "What, really? You aren't going to tell me?"

"I'm afraid if I do tell anyone who she is, it'll…I don't know, curse it somehow."

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe so but I'm—"

"Curse it…? But you've already ended things with her—" Her jaw slowly fell open. "You'd better tell me what that look on your face means."

Did he have a look on his face? He didn't think he did…

Sighing, he pushed his hand through his hair. "She found me the other day." Ellie sat up straighter, her eyes wide. "Almost like she searched for me, found my office. I forgot to bring my damn briefcase to a meeting on another floor and I rushed back to my office to find her waffling on whether or not to knock on my office's door. At least, I think that's what she was doing. She was standing out in that hallway looking all sorts of ways."

"What's that mean?" Ellie asked, breathless.

"Like she was of a million different minds, all at once. But…also, I'd never seen anyone more beautiful than she looked in that moment, standing there. I mean, I didn't think I would see her again. And there she was. And being confronted with just how beautiful she was in person—not just the memory of her I had in my head but her, standing there right in front of me—it was like…I don't know, someone hit me over the head with a frying pan."

His sister giggled. "You're so cute and sappy sometimes. Who is this girl?"

"She's…someone very special. We tried the niceties and the polite how-are-you's and all of that and then I just…needed to try. Try to make something happen. Try to convince her that maybe we could just…gah, try. See each other. Not put any sort of expectations on each other and just go on a date and see what happens." He shrugged.

"Please tell me she agreed."

"She did agree."

"HA!" Ellie raised her hands over her head, clasped them together as if in prayer, and leaned her head back. "Praaaaaise all the gods in every religion," she drawled, shutting her eyes.

Chuck could only laugh. "Sometimes you're a real bozo, sis."

"Yeah, whatever. You're the dumdum who nearly let a fantastic girl get away," she groused, leaning over to smack his knee again.

"Touché." He snorted.

"So? You went on this date?" He grinned hard and she chuckled. "Well, that's certainly an answer. So who cares about these different paths? If it's good, it's good. I also want to meet her, like, immediately. Bring her for dinner, I'll make her a feast with all the trimmings."

"Whoa whoa…" He laughed, holding his hands up. "Did you miss the part where I made an agreement with her that we're going to not put too many expectations on it and just see each other and go from there?"

She grumbled, pouting. "Fine. In due time then. I still want to meet her. She sounds wonderful." Her smile was big and toothy.

"All you've learned about her is that she confronted me about my business practices during a gala in front of a lot of other people."

"I know," she drawled again. "That's all I need to know."

He laughed again. "You're somethin' else, Eleanor Faye Bartowski."

"Hmmm. Yes. I am. Now drink that lemonade before it gets lukewarm." She sipped her own. "And in the meantime, I'm going to weasel who she is out of you."

"Not a chance. I'm trying to do right by this woman. I want to step right. I want to be…exactly what she needs me to be. For her to stick around, I mean. I don't want to scare her or push too hard. Hard enough that I push her away."

"Hmm. She that hard to pin down?"

"I don't want to pin her down."

"Of course you don't, because you were raised right." She gave him a proud look. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, she's hard to…peg. Hard to figure out."

"Certainly she is. She's… Ahem, well she travels. A lot. Which is wonderful! But I think it sends her into a…well, a space where she isn't as receptive to…"

"Roots?"

"Yes. Roots. Not that I need her to be…rooted with me."

"Please. That's exactly what you want."

He groaned, his sister always knowing him better than he was altogether comfortable with. "Fine. Yes. It is. I want her to trust me, to trust that she can go out with me and spend time with me and-and be with me and not feel any sort of pressure."

"A relationship is pressure. That's what it is. It's hard. Work goes into it. Try not to change yourself too much, brother…to try to fit into what you think she wants. Hm?" She sipped her lemonade again, leaning closer to him. "You are an incredible man. A good person. Just the way you are. And if you two want different things, you have to decide if it's worth it."

"She's worth it, Ellie."

"I believe you. And still, if this is going to become something the way I can tell you really, really want it to, it will be work. You both need to not only understand that but also…do the work. Remember Jill?"

He groaned.

"I know, I know. I am so sorry. I don't mean to bring up such an awful subject, may she rot in the worst hell imaginable…" His sister's hatred for that specific ex of his would never stop and while it was a little heartening his sister loved him so much, the real vitriol in her sometimes worried him. He'd decided long ago that if Jill Roberts' body ever washed up on the beach or something, he knew absolutely nothing. "But you were the only one doing any work. You morphed yourself into her very own whipping boy. Anytime something went wrong, it was your fault. You screwed the pooch, you dropped the ball, you said and did the wrong thing. And the whole time, she was just a catty little bitch with one hand on daddy's pocket book and the other causing as much damage as possible. Little wrecking ball."

She made a hateful little sound, twisting her face up in fury. She calmed herself then, taking a deep breath, shutting her eyes. And when she opened them again, the outburst was over. "I never want to see you in a situation like that where you fall for some girl and bend over backwards for her while she doesn't even lift a finger."

Chuck nodded and then he took a drink of lemonade and licked his lips thoughtfully. "She isn't Jill. I think there are…things in her life, things I don't know about because I don't know her all too well just yet, and I think those things have made her worldview very different from mine. Granted, she's seen a lot more of the world than I have. But I just mean that…I think she feels she has a lot of reason to need to protect herself from…pain."

"Don't blame her for that." He shook his head because he didn't either. "Are you implying she's a little…cagey?"

"A little."

"Well. This is all strange and new for her too, I'm sure. When you have that fast and deep connection with a person, it feels like you've been hit by a train in a lot of ways. That's…disorienting." She sighed. "Give yourselves time to get oriented." He nodded slowly, her words percolating in his mind. "And then invite her over here for dinner so that I can meet this mysterious traveler of yours and wow her with my cooking."

He groaned, laughing as he set down his lemonade and tipped to the side, burying his face in the couch cushions.


A/N: Just my usual friendly public announcement that Ellie Bartowski is the beeeeeeeeeest.

Thanks for reading. Please review if you're able.

-SC