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: So this is an incredibly important milestone of a chapter. And of course our very own dettiot handled it with aplomb. To take such a delicate and HUGE moment and weave it so brilliantly...well it's something special. This is why I think you're all going to enjoy "Play Doctor" more than you have any of the others.
XOXOXOXO
Even after emptying his stomach, Chuck still felt that queasy, unsettled feeling inside himself. He swayed a little as he waited for Sarah to finish her phone call, adding Agent Frederick's assault to her report on tonight's strange activities. Shuffling his feet, he tried to move farther away from the puddle of sick on the floor, the smell making his gut clench.
Was it only a half hour ago that he was sitting in his office, staring out at the darkness and wondering at the twists and turns in his life? How quickly things could change in just thirty minutes. All his thoughts about Sarah, about wanting her to be his, seemed very selfish and small right now. Watching that car speed towards her, spraying bullets whose only purpose was to pierce her perfect flesh … in that moment, he would have traded any chance with her to guarantee her safety. To ensure that nothing bad would ever happen to Sarah Walker.
It hadn't been enough to use his body to shield hers. He was just Chuck Bartowski, a software exec who made a pretty good martini and was learning aikido. And she was Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, resourceful detective and martial artist. He couldn't keep her safe, even though everything inside him wanted to do just that. Wanted to protect her and take care of her and … and love her.
As Sarah crouched down, talking quietly with the revived Agent Frederick with her phone still pressed to her ear, Chuck stared at her. Took in her messy hair, her skinned knees and tense shoulders, and all he could think was that he was totally in love with her. Not infatuated, not feeling a passing whim or the burning passion of lust.
What he felt for her was richer and deeper and purer than that. He loved her.
His knees felt weak. Like they might not hold him any longer.
Chuck frowned. He thought love would make him feel strong. Was something … ?
A sharp slice of pain cut across his back. He reached behind him, realizing that his jacket and shirt were torn. There was something wet on his fingers. And when he pulled his hand up towards his face, the wetness was red.
It would be just his luck to realize he loved Sarah Walker right before he passed out from the sight of his own blood. He sank down to the floor with a thump and, as always, looked for Sarah's face before his eyes closed.
XOXOXOXO
The soft thud of something hitting the floor made Sarah whirl around. Not something—someone. Chuck was sprawled across the marble floor of the lobby, looking all the world like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Her heart leaped up into her throat and she hung up her phone, not caring that she had a vice-president of the Pinkerton Agency on the other end. Her whole focus narrowed from the hundred different thoughts in her mind to just one: Chuck.
Dashing across the lobby, she knelt beside him and took his face in her hands. "Chuck? Chuck!" She ran her eyes over him, trying to figure out why he had fainted. She had checked him outside—he said he was okay!
Leaning down, she looked at his face, so pale and slack, and she couldn't help stroking his hair back. "Chuck?" she said softly.
When he stirred, she felt a huge wave of relief. And when his eyes opened, revealing those brown orbs that held the whole world, Sarah sucked in a shuddering breath.
"Chuck, what is it? What's wrong?"
He weakly gestured towards his right side. "My … my back … blood … "
Sarah reached down and carefully pulled him up to a sitting position. Her fingers felt clumsy as she pushed at his jacket, sliding it over his shoulders. Chuck moved his arms as if he was in a daze, barely able to help her get the jacket off.
Ignoring the twinge from her scraped knees, she crawled around so she could see his back and let out a small gasp. His snowy white dress shirt was marred with a long streak of blood, soaking into the gaping edges of the fabric.
For just a moment, she let her eyes close, let herself feel the panic and fear and worry. Then she opened her eyes and got to work.
Frederick was hovering at the corner of her gaze. She turned and snapped at him to call for an ambulance and then wait outside for it, knowing she was being too harsh on the poor man but unable to stop herself. Once he was gone, she turned her attention back to Chuck.
The shirt was ruined and she needed to see his back, so she took the material and yanked hard. Damn it, why was he so rich and could afford shirts made out of lovely thick fabric that flattered him so much? She pulled again, finally getting the shirt torn enough to reveal the graze that ran diagonally across his back, starting near the edge of his rib cage and running down towards his waist on the opposite side of his spine.
"S-Sarah? I … I hope you won't think less of me for feeling faint."
"When you've been walking around bleeding for twenty minutes? I'll overlook it this once, Chuck," she said, using banter to hide how she was feeling. But her voice shook a little.
"Is it bad?" he asked, turning just enough to see her before he winced.
As lightly as possible, she probed the wound, noticing idly that his skin was so soft and warm. "You might have a scar."
"Really?" he said. It sounded like he was also trying to keep the situation light, because his voice had a wistful tone. "I always wanted a scar. Ladies love scars. They think you're tough then."
"No, they don't," she said, scrambling to her feet and going over to the receptionist desk to grab the first aid kit that was stashed there. "Women hate scars. Because it means the men they care about got hurt once upon a time."
Fumbling open the box, she grabbed an antiseptic pad and used it to start wiping away the blood. Hating the sight of the crimson red splashed across the warm tanned skin underneath her fingers.
"You think so?" Chuck asked. "I dunno about that. My mother never really cared when I fell off my bike and skinned my knees. She would just yell at me to not get blood on the carpet. Because I'd usually be woozy. From the blood."
Her hands were shaking a little. She was no nurse, and Chuck needed real medical attention. Where the hell was that ambulance?
But he was bleeding because of her. Because his enemies had become hers, too, and they had tried to kill her tonight. And if it hadn't been for Chuck, they might have succeeded. If Chuck hadn't followed her outside, if he hadn't been more observant, if he hadn't tackled her and covered her with his long, lean body …
Sarah felt her throat tighten as she tried to keep her breathing even and steady. She couldn't let on what she was feeling. Not now. She had to take care of Chuck. "How do you feel?" she asked, shifting so that she could see his face.
He was sweating a little, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Woozy," he said with a small, lopsided expression. "Because you look even more beautiful than normal. I can see the halo."
"The halo?" she said, swallowing as she reached for her phone.
"Yeah, the halo. My guardian angel's gotta have a halo—wouldn't be an angel without one," he said.
Chuck being delirious couldn't be a good sign. But she'd be lying if his words—sweet, honest and a little bit slurred—didn't make her melt. Something hard and solid deep down inside her suddenly turned into warm liquid.
And all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and kiss him.
Before she could do something stupid and dangerous like that, he swayed and she caught him, holding him upright.
"Hold on, Chuck," she said softly, bracing him. "You're the guardian angel tonight and I need you to just hold on, okay?"
He couldn't answer her, having sunk into some kind of stupor. As she held him, waiting impatiently for the ambulance, that warm liquid inside her ignited into a flame.
Rosebreen or whoever was responsible for tonight wouldn't get away with this. If she had to work twenty-four hours a day until the case was solved, she would. Because this had gone on long enough. She had dragged her feet, wanting to maximize her time with Chuck. And because of that, he had gotten hurt.
She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
XOXOXOXO
When he opened his eyes, the smell had already told him he was in the hospital. Slowly turning his head to look around, he took in the pale blue walls, the scratchy bed linens, the soft beeping of the machines. And there was his father, slumped down and snoring softly in an uncomfortable-looking chair.
Chuck did his best to clear his throat, which was a sensation akin to two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together. He croaked out, "Dad?"
Stephen Bartowski awoke with a start, then gave Chuck a happy smile. "Look who's awake." He stood and lifted a green plastic cup, directing the straw towards Chuck's mouth.
Gratefully, he drank a few swallows of cool water, each drop soothing his parched throat. "Thanks," he said, looking up at Stephen.
"You gave us a scare," his father said, setting aside the cup before perching on the edge of Chuck's bed. "I can't believe someone tried to shoot you and Agent Walker outside our very building."
"Me, neither," he said. The mention of Sarah made him look around again, craning his neck to see if she was in the vicinity. "Where is Agent Walker?"
"She's hard at work," Stephen said. "Trying to find out who's responsible for all this. And you, young man, you are to rest and recover."
"Dad, I didn't get shot … it was just a graze—" He stopped when something registered in his memory. Some kind of banter with Sarah about having a scar, hearing her voice shake … oh, holy crap, she had ripped his shirt off!
Stephen's hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the bed, made Chuck realize he had sat up. "Dad, I'm okay—I need to talk to Sarah—"
It wasn't often that Stephen Bartowski got firm, but this seemed like one of those times. "Charles Irving Bartowski, you need to let Agent Walker do her job. As soon as she got you to the hospital, she started working to find out who did this. It's about time—she's moved very cautiously this whole time, but the time for caution is past."
If this was his mother, he could understand such criticism. But coming from Stephen, he felt the sting as much as if his father was criticising himself.
"She's done amazing work, Dad—she's kept us both alive, she's nearly got Rosebreen—"
"Enough, Charles," Stephen said. "If you don't calm down, I'll get them to give you a sedative. I'm not about to lose my only son."
To say that his father was overreacting was putting it mildly. But his back was aching and fighting Stephen wouldn't change anything, not when his father was being so stubborn. So grudgingly, Chuck reclined back against the pillows.
"There we go," Stephen said, pulling the blankets up. "Get some more sleep and we'll take you home tomorrow morning."
Chuck sighed. He was a fully grown adult; he didn't need to be coddled. At least, not by his father. But for now, he did need to rest.
But first thing tomorrow morning, he would get his hands on a phone and call Sarah. Because things had changed now that he knew how he felt about her. He had been waiting for the end of the investigation before broaching a potential future with Sarah. But now … now, he would do everything in his power to make that future a reality.
Because he was pretty sure that Sarah Walker was his destiny.
End.