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: And here it is . . . the end of The Detective and the Tech Guy. The first arc, that is. :-) This chapter marks a major turning point in the story and sets up the next arc, so who better than Steampunk . Chuckster to write that, since she had this idea in the first place? And let me tell you, she pulls out all the stops in this chapter. If anyone doubts the power of the connection between Chuck and Sarah, those doubts are put to rest here by Steampunk . Chuckster's amazing writing. So please, settle in with your martini and see how The Detective and the Tech Guy Tie Up Loose Ends.

XOXOXOXO

Sarah Walker shifted her weight to her other foot as she stood outside of the revolving doors that led into the lobby of Rosebreen Electronics. She had wanted very badly to go inside with the police officers and watch as they clapped the handcuffs around Rosebreen's sleazy wrists. To feel that sense of accomplishment and pride, knowing she had finally done it.

She and her assistants had gathered every last bit of incriminating evidence to prove to the LAPD once and for all that he was the suspect in the Robert Gerheart murder case. On top of that, they managed to nab him for the death threats on Stephen J. Bartowski, as well as the successful and unsuccessful attempted murders.

Without a doubt, she wished she could be in there, maybe increasing the bastard's degradation by kneeing him in the groin. All of that crap he had pulled with the strange, film noir drive by that had resulted in injuries and a few sleepless nights as she worked tirelessly to finally lay the case to rest…

God, if she could just arrest him herself, she could be sure that Rosebreen would be locked away. She could be sure that the Bartowski's were safe from the greedy, immoral son of a bitch.

But as she watched Rosebreen exit the building, his hands cuffed behind his back, his comb over fluttering in the late-morning Los Angeles breeze above the supremely disgruntled look on his face, Detective Walker decided this was good enough. Especially with the way the officers on either side of him were holding his arms painfully tight in their vise-like grips. She hoped it hurt.

They had done it. In spite of everything Rosebreen and his minions had attempted to keep her from succeeding, she had. Pride swirled through her as the LAPD officers shoved him into the back of a police car, ignoring the press crowding around, taking pictures and yelling questions.

She was still smirking as she pushed off of the pillar she'd been leaning on, quietly and gracefully moving through the crowd of press and walking down the street to where she'd parked her car. The smirk became a wide grin as she silently congratulated herself and her team again.

All they had needed was the extra shove when it came down to it. And for her, having to rush Chuck to the hospital after the drive by four days ago had been that shove. Luckily, working through nights and beating the pavement since she left Chuck's side that morning had paid off. Rosebreen was going to be behind bars for everything he'd done to the Bartowski's, and to the innocents caught in the scheme.

As she dropped into the driver's seat of her car, Sarah felt the grin on her face dim until she was frowning at her steering wheel. Fatigue washed over her and she tried to remember the last time she'd slept more than three hours in a row. She had just been working too hard. Sleep became an afterthought. But she silently admitted to herself that even if she hadn't been working on the case, she still wouldn't have been able to sleep much. Because seeing Chuck with blood staining his shirt, watching his eyelids flutter as he lost consciousness, watching the EMTs lift his usually upright, confident body and placing it on a gurney…

She'd worked so hard in the last four days securing the case that she hadn't had time to think about him, worry about him. She received reports of his condition, that he was fine and that his family was caring for him. But then she would shove all remaining thoughts of Chuck Bartowski into the deepest recesses of her mind to focus on Rosebreen and bring him to justice.

And now she had done just that. Her team was already en route to Chicago and she would follow after wrapping it up with the client. Once in Chicago, she would debrief with her superiors, turn in the official report, and wait for a new assignment. It was protocol. And usually she looked forward to it.

But at the moment, as she maneuvered her car through the LA street traffic, Sarah Walker found the usual thrill dulled significantly. It wasn't just that she was tired…and incredibly thirsty to boot. But she was so confused.

Sarah had since admitted to herself that this case could have been solved a lot sooner than this, which was part of the reason why she worked so hard the last few days. She didn't need Mary Bartowski accusing her of dragging her feet to eke more money out of the Bartowski bank accounts. Because she knew she had been dragging her feet, but not for money. It was something less nefarious, but worse in her opinion. And certainly much more confusing. It was Chuck. Plain and simple.

She hadn't worked as hard or as quickly because the end of this case meant the end of…whatever it was that thrived…no, burned between her and Chuck Bartowski. Her client. And quite possibly the most infuriatingly wonderful man she had ever met. Would anyone really blame her for it?

Yes. Her superiors would, as well as her Pinkerton peers. And she blamed herself, too, it had to be said. It was so unprofessional. So terribly dangerous.

And he had been hurt. He could have been killed.

Letting the consequent shiver overtake her body, Sarah bit her lip and took a deep breath to try to settle her thoughts.

She just had to tie up the loose ends on the case, get Stephen to sign a few things, and she would be done.

She could leave.

But did she want to leave?

What would happen if she just…didn't? If she instead dragged Chuck and a bottle of wine up to that roof deck of his and just stayed there for days on end? God, she hated herself for it, but now that everything was over and she wasn't drowning in thoughts about the case, she realized that she had missed Chuck. She had come to rely on him settling her with a brilliantly mixed martini, or forcing her to take a break to sit on his couch and just talk for a few minutes. She had gotten used to his words of encouragement if she hit a brick wall and had to backtrack. His positivity. His warmth. His smile. And God, his eyes.

Granted, even without all of that these last four days, without Chuck, she had done her job and she had done it well. But until she could tell him she'd solved the case, that he and his family were finally safe, it wouldn't seem real.

And that was incredibly jarring.

Sarah took another deep breath and let her eyes slip shut for just a moment while she sat at a red light.

She wasn't sure she wanted this to end. From the intense moments between them, during aikido lessons and the handful of times they'd almost kissed, to the wonderfully comfortable moments in which they merely sat quietly in each other's presence, sipping on their drinks, kicking their feet up on his coffee table after a long day, even flirting at her desk in her cubicle.

There were times when she left his side feeling completely off-balance because of a particularly slow smile or a glint in his eye, or something he said that was completely sincere, a thoughtful gesture, shameless flirting. And then there were other times when she left his side feeling like everything was right with the world, as shamefully cheesy as that sounded. The constant fluctuation of how she felt around him should have bothered her more, and the fact that it didn't bother her…Well, it bothered her that it didn't bother her.

She shook her head, her own thoughts leaving her more befuddled than before. And wasn't thinking things through supposed to simplify everything?

And then there was that moment outside of Bartowski Electronics Corporation in the middle of the night, when she was walking down the sidewalk.

She had been distracted by the pleasant exchange she'd just had with Chuck in his office.

It was such an incredibly quiet scene between them. They'd been completely alone, in the low light, the sounds of the city outside of his window. And it was so comfortable. The way he had spoken to her, with a perpetually warm glimmer in his brown eyes that had been especially golden in the dim lamplight. The way his body seemed to melt into his chair; he had looked so vulnerable and it didn't seem like he had any intention of hiding it from her, not even a bit. Something about him wasn't merely fatigued, but maybe a little lost as well. Lonely, even.

That last thought made her chest ache, not just because she cared about him and wanted him to be happy, but because she knew what that was, loneliness. Annoyingly, it wasn't something she'd thought about before Chuck Bartowski. She was usually by herself, working cases, having the occasional drink with her fellow detectives, but mostly keeping to herself and being perfectly content in the meantime.

Then she'd been assigned this case. It had been long, complicated, and more emotional than she'd bargained for thanks to the wonderfully perfect, amazing idiot she was tasked to protect. And now that it was over, now that she was leaving said wonderfully perfect, amazing idiot behind, she felt crushingly alone.

She had been lost in that thought as she walked along the sidewalk toward her car at three in the morning—that fateful morning—deaf and blind to the sights and sounds around her until Chuck's voice pierced through her calm and sent an icy stab of fear straight through her.

Immediately acting to protect him, she pulled her pistol and spun to take in her surroundings, in detective mode once more. There had been so much desperation and terror in his voice when he said her name. It had nearly disabled her.

But nothing was more paralyzing than turning away from poor Agent Frederick a few minutes later in the lobby and seeing Chuck in a lifeless heap on the ground. The thought that he fainted because he'd been hurt, or…God, it all hurt too much. Even now as she neared the very same building in which it had taken place, her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard her fingers were numb.

She parked along the street and got out of her car, seemingly in a daze as she thought of the implications of Chuck's actions that morning. He hadn't just warned her of impending danger as anyone else might. He hadn't stood rooted to the spot and watched in horror as she was mowed down by Rosebreen's gangsters. Chuck Bartowski tackled her to the ground, mindless of the bullets being sprayed in his direction, ignoring the fact that one of said bullets had caught him, if only barely, during the attack.

He had jumped in front of not just one bullet, but many bullets, to save her life.

Sarah shook her head and opened her car door, stepping onto the street and shutting the door distractedly behind her.

Did Chuck even know what he was doing in that moment when he risked his life for her? Or did he just act on impulse? Was it an unconscious need to protect her because of his feelings for her? To think that she'd spent months protecting him, keeping him alive, and the thing that finally did him in was his trying to protect her. But that hadn't happened. Chuck was alive. He was okay.

And she hadn't seen him since she left him in good hands at the hospital. Truth be told, she hadn't been up to a lecture from Chuck's mother, which was extra incentive for getting the hell out of there once she ascertained that Chuck would be alright.

Sarah idly wondered how he had been the last few days. Not just if his wound was healing fine, but if he—nerdy, gangly, selfless Chuck—was okay. Was he still being his sometimes frustratingly positive self? Was he driving his family crazy by overworking himself? Was he thinking about her?

Mentally kicking herself, she hid that thought away. It wouldn't help to wonder about things like that.

She moved through the lobby of Bartowski Electronics Corporation as if in a dream, ignoring the raised eyebrow from the administrative assistant sitting behind the desk.

When Sarah stepped into the elevator, her finger automatically reached out and pressed a button and the doors slid shut. Her eyes closed as well and she leaned her head back against the wood paneled wall behind her.

He was such a damn mystery. Always throwing her off with little comments that meant more underneath than what was there on the surface, and when she least expected it. He was the only person, the only person, in the entirety of her existence who had ever had that effect on her. It had driven her half mad so many nights during this damned case. How was he so good at making her brain stagger? Her heart ski—No.

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she rubbed a shaky hand over her mouth. She stood straight and swallowed.

There were so many sides to Chuck Bartowski. She'd seen his softer side, in which he'd seemed laid back almost to the point of malleability. Then directly thereafter he would stand up to her, argue with her, give her a hard time. And she'd seen him go from being facetious to the point of getting on her nerves, to being startlingly serious. He was charming, brave, unbelievably smart, and hilarious. He was ridiculous, nerdy, a little embarrassing sometimes…and yet she found it really adorable.

So many times, she thought she had him figured out, and she would revel in her own brilliance in the quietude of his living room as she played with the olive in her perfect martini. And then he would say something that would knock her flat on her ass again, and she would have to start over.

It was like she was staring at a puzzle. Pieces that she thought went together didn't go together at all, and what she assumed was a finished puzzle suddenly seemed like a daunting mountain of disconnected bits of cardboard instead.

Her whole life was a flurry of puzzles, and the pieces had always fit in the past. She solved cases, worked through problems, and was generally successful at just plain figuring things out.

Chuck was the one thing—the one person—she just couldn't figure out. And she had never tried so hard at anything ever before in her entire life. Harvard law school had nothing on Charles Irving Bartowski, the jerk.

She bit her lip and stepped off the elevator when the doors slid open.

Could she leave a mystery unsolved? Could she leave the table with only part of the puzzle complete?

Her hand was on the doorknob of the office before she knew it and she straightened herself, putting her professional mask on her face and opening the door. Her briefcase was clutched in her hand, the proper paperwork in the topmost file. And that would be it…

Chuck looked up from whatever he was sketching, his brown eyes meeting her blue ones in less than a moment. Sarah was lost not for the first time, and she realized she hadn't been walking to Stephen Bartowski's office at all, but Chuck's.

It was the type of error one made while supremely distracted. Which, strictly speaking, seemed to be Chuck's forte. He was the only thing that distracted her so much that she might find herself somewhere she didn't mean to go, without knowing how she got there in the first place.

And that was why this was dangerous.

A wide grin exploded on Chuck's face as she slowly shut the door, keeping her eyes on his. "Sarah!" He stood up and she took in his neat but slightly scruffy appearance. He wore a nice suit, but it was unbuttoned. And his tie was loose and askew, his usually tamed curls a little wild. "Is everything okay?

"Chuck," she found herself saying. "Yes."

"I was wondering where you were. I mean, I haven't seen you and—Sarah, I'm so glad you're here."

He walked around his desk towards her and she felt unnervingly melted in light of the genuineness of his words. God, he could have said almost anything else. But no, of course not. He was Chuck.

Chuck stopped a few feet away from her and just looked at her happily.

What made him tick? Just when she thought she had it figured out, he would obliterate her theory, sometimes with just a particularly flirty tilt of his lips.

His lips.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the distance between them and gently took his face in her hands, brushing her lips against his smile tentatively. She pulled back to survey his face for only a moment, receiving nothing but a blank look, and then she moved in to press her lips onto his fully. He was obviously surprised, as she felt his body tense and heard him breathe in harshly through his nose.

He tasted like the coffee she remembered from the first morning of the case when he made her refill her cup from the fresh pot he'd just brewed in his kitchen. It was unforgettably delicious, and she couldn't deny this was just as—

All thoughts vanished.

Because Chuck awoke from his stupor, wrapped his arms around her torso, and pulled her flush against him, his lips coming alive against hers. Sarah let out a soft mew and tugged his face even closer. She took a step further into him even though she had nowhere else to go, losing all sense of where she was in the room, where she was in the world even. Chuck staggered backwards a bit, holding onto her so tightly that she went with him, until he half landed with his backside on the edge of his desktop. He grunted softly into her mouth.

Sarah kept kissing him even though he was in a precarious position, trapping his face against hers by sliding her hands around to the back of his head and tangling her fingers in his curls. She opened her mouth against his and swept her tongue over his lips, hearing a deep rumble come from his chest in response. A heady shiver swept over every last bit of her body and she liked it so much she repeated the action.

This time when she opened her mouth, he copied her, their mouths melding together even further as Sarah pressed most of her weight against him. The sensation was so unexpectedly pleasurable that she unconsciously dragged a hand over his stubbly jaw and down his neck until she got a firm grip on the length of his tie.

Chuck tilted his head and began to explore the inside of her mouth with his tongue, his hands sliding over her back and making her shiver again.

And then he moved one hand to gently cup her chin and the kiss became painfully tender.

Sarah's hands slid down against his chest, tucking beneath his jacket, before she stopped to clench her fists in the material of his shirt.

Their lips pulled apart a minute later and Sarah weakly rested her forehead against his, leaning over him as he sat on his desk. She kept her eyes closed, trying to relearn how to breathe, how to use her brain, attempting to slow her heart rate.

Something happened. In that moment when he took her chin in his hand and slowed things down, something had changed. Something had…clicked.

But she wasn't able to wrap her head around it now, because Chuck was gently dotting her lips with warm, steady kisses, and she could only respond in kind, even though a part of her was screaming she shouldn't.

And then everything came back at once, her facilities roaring to life again, her eyes snapping open. It took only a moment for her to figure out what that clicking something had been.

The last puzzle piece.

Cleanly and neatly slipping into place amongst the others, creating the full picture. The puzzle was complete. The riddle solved. The case closed.

She knew him. Understood him. She got him.

And she loved him.

As she stepped back, she took in his handsome, gaping face. His eyes were so soft, so heartbreakingly stunned and beautiful. Everything that was him was there in front of her, his lips red and thoroughly kissed, his brow furrowed, his hair an absolute adorable mess. Splayed clumsily on top of his desk with his legs akimbo.

She loved him. Unabashedly. Every last piece of him.

Stepping back out of his embrace, she smoothed her hands down her front and was startled by the realization that she was smiling a little. How long had that been there without her knowing? She covered her lips with a shaky hand and just stared back at him.

Detective Sarah Walker had solved two mysteries in one day. It was quite an accomplishment, but it left her numb all over. And she thought, for just a split second, that she might cry.

"The LAPD arrested Rosebreen today. The case is closed," she said to distract herself from the rioting emotions boiling over inside of her.

"What?" he asked, blinking. "W-That's fantastic, Sarah!" He still looked completely dazed.

"Your dad," she continued. "I'm supposed to have him sign all of the paperwork. Immediately." Her voice was misleadingly strong and clear.

"Uh…" He pushed himself to stand up straight and smoothing his large hands down his front, swallowing so loudly that it reverberated throughout the room. "Of course. 'Course. Tying up loose ends."

"Tying up loose ends," she repeated.

A piece of paper suddenly fluttered off the end of his desk, startling him so badly that he jumped. She didn't laugh like she usually would have, because all she could think was that she was in love with him.

"Congratulations, Sarah Walker." His face melted into a warm, proud smile that literally made every part of her tingle.

"Thanks."

She turned and walked to the door, not looking at him for fear she might go back and kiss him again like she desperately wanted to.

"I'll see you later," he called after her, his voice still so soft and reverent, like he still couldn't believe what had happened.

Neither could she.

Sarah looked over her shoulder at him as she opened the door, taking him in. All of him. From his converse sneakers that were so strangely attractive when paired with a tailored business suit, to his kinked tie from when she'd held it so tightly, to those lips he'd just used to literally turn her world on its head.

She looked in his warm adoring eyes for longer than she meant to.

Sarah didn't say anything as she ducked out of the office and shut the door securely behind her.

As she walked down the hallway, she wondered how her legs were even functioning. She was on autopilot. And she was absolutely and thoroughly terrified out of her mind.

She loved Chuck Bartowski. And she didn't know what to do about it.

XOXOXOXO

He was weightless.

Floating.

And nothing could stop Chuck from dancing like Fred Astaire down the hallway towards his dad's office. He tap danced as best he could with canvas sneakers on the carpet, slapping his palms against the wall in a merry beat as he spun.

It made him a little dizzy, but whatever.

Nothing made him dizzier than thinking about Sarah Walker.

Because she had kissed him. She kissed him. Granted, he made sure to thoroughly kiss her back once he realized what was happening. But the way she'd just gone all in, literally knocking him on his ass. Like she'd wanted it as bad as he had.

But hadn't he known that? Weren't the signs there?

It didn't matter, he thought as he hopped into the air and landed less gracefully than he intended. Because she had kissed him. They had kissed. And holy hell but it was some damn kiss. Everything inside of him was just buzzing. He wanted to sing. He wanted to find her and run up to her and tell her he loved her.

He wouldn't, though, not yet. She wasn't the type of woman to appreciate a gesture like that. This wasn't a cheesy eighties romantic comedy. Hall & Oates wouldn't be blasting from some unseen source.

All in good time, right?

Right.

This was it, though. He felt it in his bones. The case was over. Sarah Walker, the brilliant detective, the most brilliant detective Pinkerton had, was no longer under his father's employ. She had solved the mystery, Rosebreen was arrested, and everything was alright. Better than alright. Everything was great.

But he had to stop. Because as much as he knew Sarah was capable of solving the case, the fact that she had done it—even with the crazy and misleading acts of the culprit, the insane twists and turns, and everything that had confused and thoroughly befuddled him—was incomprehensibly impressive. Sarah Walker was the most impressive woman—person—he had ever met.

He bit his lip a little, discouraged that he hadn't the facilities to tell her how proud he was of her. And how grateful he was that she worked so hard to solve the case as quickly as she had. But that kiss had left him so muddled that he'd forgotten.

He wondered if she'd sped the case up because she was also eager to start an actual relationship with him. It was maybe a little big-headed of him to think that, but he was just so ready to finally start things. With the end of the case would come the beginning of something he knew would be amazing. Maybe even the best part of his life.

After he woke up in the hospital, he didn't see her for four days. He missed her. He would wander out to her cubicle and surreptitiously glance inside as he walked past to see if she was working there. She must have used it in that time, considering the way things would move every time he looked. But he consistently timed his visits poorly.

Chuck didn't blame her. The faster the case closed, the safer his family would be. And, because he would be lying if he didn't admit this, he was so ready for Sarah. Ready for them. Ready for the casual chats and the wine on the roof, and more aikido lessons that might end differently now that they didn't have to hold anything back.

They didn't have to hold anything back.

He absently wrapped his hand around his tie where it was still a bit wrinkled from her clutching it so tightly during the kiss. A dreamy smile crossed his features as he felt the ghost of her lips against his again.

God, life was good. Life was the best! He loved life.

Trying not to let his imagination run away with him before he got to his father's office, just in case Sarah was still in there finishing up details, he schooled his features and cleared his throat.

It had already been two hours since the kiss, and it was still like it had just happened. He was brimming. He had to force the feeling back behind his casual mask.

And then he knocked.

His dad's voice rumbled a "Come in" and Chuck swept into the office with a subdued smile. "Hey, Dad."

Chuck's eyes surveyed the room quickly. No Sarah. She was probably debriefing with her people.

"Son! It's over!" Stephen J. Bartowski looked ready to burst with relief as he jumped up from his desk chair and hurried to Chuck, wrapping him in a tight bear hug. Chuck hugged his father back just as tightly.

"Yeah. It's over. We're safe."

Stephen pulled back and sighed in relief, running his hands over his unruly hair and shaking his head. "I cannot tell you how glad I am that this is the end. What a mess that was."

Chuck just laughed, his relief just as palpable as that which he saw in his father. "Did you call Mom and Ellie?"

"Yep. After Detective Walker had me sign off on everything, I called them both. We're celebrating tonight! What do you say?" Stephen clapped a hand on Chuck's shoulder.

Chuck winced a bit. "Uh, I've actually, uh…I've got plans tonight. If that's okay."

"You do?" His father paused, then shrugged. "Tomorrow then!"

"Tomorrow. Sounds great."

"Good."

"So…everything's over, huh? All the paperwork done?" Stephen nodded. "I told you Detective Walker was good," Chuck couldn't help saying. She was so good. So perfect.

"You're right. She did a fantastic job. And I told her that, too."

"I'm glad," Chuck said, and he was a little startled by just how glad he was. His father telling Sarah she did a fantastic job after the way he talked about her to him in the hospital was incredibly good to hear. She deserved praise. And, if he was honest, he wanted his dad to like her. He wanted everyone to like her.

"I even offered her a drink," Stephen continued. "But she said she couldn't. She would be late."

Something niggled at Chuck suddenly and he tugged a bit on the end of his suit jacket. "Late for what? She had a meeting?"

"Nope. She had a flight to catch. Back to…wherever it is she was going. She didn't tell me."

The earth shifted under Chuck's feet and he felt like he was falling for a moment. He surreptitiously reached a hand out to steady himself against the back of the nearby chair. "A f-flight? She left?"

"Yep! Right after I signed everything. She looked like she was in a hurry. They must really work their people to the bone, those Pinkertons…"

Chuck didn't hear anything else his father said with the way the blood was rushing through his ears, and he thought he might just fall into a heap at his father's feet.

Because Sarah Walker was gone.

"I'll see you later" he had said before she walked out of his office. She hadn't answered because she knew that wasn't going to be the case. When she walked out of that door, she was walking out of his life, too.

A sharp pain rocketed through his chest as realization crashed over him. He would never see her again. He knew it. She had changed his life, made him whole, given him something to hold on to, and then she disappeared into thin air. Like a ghost.

He could go after her. Pinkerton's main location was Chicago. He could find her. Ask her what the hell her problem was. Why she'd left without even saying goodbye.

But what was the point? She left. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

Chuck tried so hard not to feel lost in that moment, incredibly hurt and just plain downtrodden. His heart was literally shattered into a billion pieces and he had to swallow repeatedly to keep from letting out the pitiful sound he felt rising in his throat. "Dad, I'm really tired now that this is all over." The word 'over' left a terrible taste in his mouth. "Think I'm gonna head home and sleep for a bit."

"Good idea, son. You okay?" His father narrowed his eyes in concern.

No. Never again.

"Yeah. Just so tired. And relieved." And incredibly heartbroken. So much so that he felt a little sick.

"Alright, bud. You get some rest. I'm proud of you."

Chuck just nodded with a sickly smile and swept out of the room. As he stepped into the hallway, he held his head with both hands and shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. With a shake of his head, he straightened again, let out a shaky breath, and walked down the hallway towards the elevator. He needed a drink.

He needed one hundred drinks.

He needed a minor case of alcohol poisoning.

Anything but a martini.

End.