The Detective and the Tech Guy
Authors: Steampunk . Chuckster & dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: A case of mistaken identity and murder brings Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, to sunny California. Protecting the heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation should be just business-but Chuck Bartowski fills out a suit nicely and makes a mean martini. Chuck lobbied to hire the Pinkerton Agency, but had no idea that the detective they'd send would be as alluring, intelligent and fascinating as Sarah Walker. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man movies co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot.
Disclaimer: Neither of us own Chuck. If we did, there would have been a 1940s flashback episode. And a musical episode. And . . . you get the idea.
Author's Note: When we discussed this chapter, I knew 100% that I wanted dettiot to write it. Not just because she's a fantastic action writer, but because I knew she would handle the emotions that went along with it. It's such a serious twist, an emotional upheaval, and my writing buddy handled it like a pro. When I read it, I was so on the edge of my seat that I literally almost fell off of it. So make sure you're all nice and scooted back in your chair proper-like. And enjoy this chapter!
XOXOXOXO
As she ran through the corridors of Bartowski Electronics, Sarah Walker cursed her choice of shoes. Why would a woman in her line of work wear three-inch heels? Just because Chuck Bartowski had a good six inches on her and she liked knowing that even in her highest shoes he was still taller than her and she hated getting a crick in her neck from craning to look into his spectacular eyes, it was no excuse to wear such impractical footwear.
She had let herself get lulled into bad habits. Habits that might get Chuck killed. And if Chuck Bartowski died because it was her fault, she would never be able to forgive herself. Not simply because she had failed in her job, but because … because she—
Throwing open the door to his office, Sarah ignored Chuck's secretary and barrelled towards the door to the inner office. "Chuck!" she yelled as she got closer, desperate to get to him before it was too late.
When she set foot into his office, there was a collection of sensory flashes that told her what was going on. Tinny music coming from the cell phone on Chuck's desk. The slightest plasticky odor in the room. And Chuck, reaching for the phone, naturally responding to the ringing phone by answering it.
"No, don't!" she shrieked, diving to simultaneously knock aside the phone and push him out of the way.
And then came the explosion.
XOXOXOXO
Two hours earlier …
For years, Bartowski Electronics had made sizeable contributions to local charities. Therefore, there were many times when a senior member of the company had to attend galas, receptions, or benefit concerts, in order to be recognized. Due to his mother's lack of interest in the company and his father burying himself in his newest project, that responsibility had increasingly fallen to Chuck.
That was why he was shaking hands and engaging in small talk with several of southern California's wealthiest entrepreneurs on a Tuesday morning, a cup of coffee in his free hand. Although he felt like all he was doing was avoiding questions he couldn't answer.
"Any news about that ugly business with Gerheart, Chuck?"
"When is your father going to release that top-secret project of his, Mr. Bartowski?"
"And who's this pretty little lady?"
Finally, something he could answer! Even if the question came from "Bronco" Billy Barton, a Texas businessman who had never heard of "too much information."
Chuck turned and drew Sarah a bit closer, resting his hand in the middle of her back. "This is Sarah Walker, an old friend of the family who's visiting for the summer."
"Keeping you company, eh, Charles?" Bronco's eyebrows, which were full and bushy, waggled as he eyed Sarah. Chuck could feel Sarah stiffen under his hand. "Bet she's taking care of you real good."
"You don't know the half of it, Bronco," Chuck said, quickly steering Sarah away. In a low voice, he said, "Sorry about that."
"It's not like you stood there slapping your thigh as you talked about how I 'take care of you'," Sarah said, looking up at him. She stepped away from him enough that his hand was left hanging in the air instead of against her back. "I'm going to get some more coffee."
"Okay," Chuck said softly, watching as Sarah walked over towards the refreshment tent. Ever since they had gone shopping for Ellie's reception, things had been a bit … tense. He wasn't quite sure why, but the easy camaraderie between them had definitely taken a hit. And to Chuck's dismay, he found that he really missed her. He missed having drinks together, laughing and talking. He missed making her smile, hearing her tease him, getting to watch her beautiful, engaging face.
With a small sigh, he turned, bumping into another guest. "Sorry," he said, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder in order to steady himself. Chuck didn't recognize him, but then, he certainly didn't know everyone in the greater southern California business community.
He went back to pressing the flesh, trying not to let his problems with Sarah distract him from his job. But he resolved that he was going to find a way to get through to her. Just because she was protecting him didn't mean they couldn't be friends. And since he was determined that as soon as the job was over, she would know how not-friendly his feelings for her were, friendship was a good place for now.
Unfortunately, Sarah seemed to sense what was up, because during the drive back to Bartowski Electronics, she carried on a long, in-depth phone call to someone. Given the amount of yelling she was doing, Chuck left her alone. But once he was in his office, he picked up his phone and called her extension.
"Sarah Walker," she said, her voice full of quiet competence.
"Sarah, can we talk, please?" he asked.
"What is it, Chuck?" she asked absentmindedly. He could almost make out the sound of papers shuffling on her end of the line.
"You used to like me. What changed?"
Dead silence. He waited and waited, until finally he had to make sure she was still there. "Sarah?"
The sound of her clearing her throat came over the line. "This isn't appropriate, Chuck."
"I get that as long as you're working for my dad, nothing can happen," he said, pacing as much as the phone cord allowed. "But there's nothing that says we can't be friends."
"Actually, there is," she said. "Being friends would lower my guard too much. Let someone slip in and hurt you."
"That's ridiculous," Chuck said. "C'mon, you'd be like a tiger if someone tried to hurt me. Because you like me."
"I'd be like a tiger, as you put it, for any client," Sarah said a bit primly.
"You can't tell me that you don't miss me buying you drinks and making you laugh," Chuck challenged. "And it lets you stay close to me, watch me, without attracting any attention. This distance between us, it's not good."
He was pretty sure he was pushing too hard. That she'd make some cutting little speech and hang up on him. But to his shock, Sarah stayed silent for a moment, before quietly admitting, "You might be right."
His knees felt a bit unsteady, so Chuck sank down into his desk chair. "Y-yeah?"
"Yeah." She blew out a breath. "Okay. It's nearly lunch time. I'll grab some sandwiches and we can go eat outside in the courtyard."
Chuck couldn't help grinning. He'd done it. He'd gotten through to her. They could go back to spending time together. He'd get a chance to show her just how perfect they were for each other. Feel that thrill he got from bantering with her, watching her eyes sparkle as she tossed the perfect come-back at him. Because nothing was as exciting as talking to Sarah Walker.
"That sounds awe—"
The ringing of a cell phone—a ring tone that he didn't recognize—made Chuck stop mid-word. "What's that?" he muttered, looking for the source of the noise.
"Chuck?" Sarah asked.
He drew a Nokia candybar phone out of his jacket pocket. "I've got somebody's cell phone. They're calling me."
"What?" He could hear the change in her voice, how she went from Sarah to Pinkerton Agent Walker.
"It's a restricted number, calling this cell phone that I found in my jacket."
"Don't do anything—don't answer it! I'll be right there."
"Sarah?" he said. "Sarah?"
But she had left, not even bothering to hang up the phone.
Chuck set the phone down on his desk, looking at it curiously. What was going on?
The phone kept ringing, the jaunty little tune quickly growing annoying. He reached for the phone, hoping there was a way he could change the phone's ringer to vibrate, when Sarah burst into his office.
And then everything went white and silent.
XOXOXOXO
Dust hung in the air heavily. Her ears were ringing and Sarah shook her head, feeling the disorientation that came from temporary deafness. She coughed and looked around, trying to see in the dim emergency lights. Trying to remember just what had happened.
Something—no, someone—stirred beneath her. Squinting, Sarah realized it was Chuck. And suddenly, she remembered.
"Chuck!" she said, unsure whether she whispered or shouted his name. She crawled up enough to see his face. There was blood gushing from a cut at his hairline, and his skin was covered in powdery dust.
Sarah quickly ran her hands over him and said his name again. "Chuck!" Her ears were finally beginning to clear, so she could hear just how worried and upset she sounded. "Chuck! Answer me!"
He let out a raspy cough, his body shaking. Then he winced. "Ooomph."
That little moan of pain sounded beautiful. It meant he wasn't seriously hurt. "Chuck? Does anything hurt?" she asked, trying to sound no-nonsense. Trying to keep her hands from shaking as she touched him, checking for broken bones or wounds.
"My head …" he muttered, one hand gesturing up towards the wound just above his forehead.
"Shhh," she said. "Easy, there." She pressed her hand against the oozing blood, trying to balance the need to apply pressure with not wanting to cause him any further pain.
Chuck's eyes fluttered open, revealing those same beautiful whisky eyes that she— "What happened?" he croaked.
She licked her lips, barely noticing the acrid taste of the dust that also covered her face. "The phone you found—it must have been a bomb."
"What?" he yelped, trying to sit up. "A bomb?"
"Don't move!" she said, gently pushing him back down. "You might have a spinal injury."
"Sarah …" he said, confusion and worry and fear on his face. "Why would someone want to blow me up?"
"I don't know, Chuck," she said, giving in to her urge and lightly stroking his hair. "Stay still."
His hand settled on her side, stroking up and down slowly. "Are you okay? You're okay, right?"
It was all she could do not to sigh and press into her hand. And that was the strangest reaction for her to have, after surviving a bomb blast that might have killed her … her client. She did her best to smile at him, even though she could already feel the bruises forming and she was pretty sure her back was a mass of small cuts. "I'm fine, Chuck."
He was starting to look woozy. Whether it was from a potential head injury or simply the loss of blood, she couldn't tell. "Liar," he said, slurring a little.
Sarah turned and yelled loudly. "Help! We need help here!" She turned back to Chuck. "Hang in there, Chuck. Help will be here soon."
"Don' need help. Jus' need you …"
She didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know how to respond. She knew that Chuck was drawn to her … as much as she was to him. But it was something they hadn't talked about, hadn't put into words. Not until today, first with Chuck's no-holds-barred phone call, and now with his soft, dazed words.
Swallowing, she looked at him, ready to respond with more words of comfort, only to find that he had passed out. So instead, she turned and started hollering, fumbling in her pockets for her phone.
Chuck needed medical attention. And Sarah had to find the person responsible for this. Because she wasn't going to let anyone hurt him again.
End.