The Detective and the Tech Guy
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 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.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series. And I'm making no monetary profit from this story.
Author's Note: Hi. Don't worry. I've got my readers' backs.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
"This is what I mean by infusing passion into nature. Look at how tumultuous this seascape is." Evelyn Jessop waved her hand over the painting they stood beside. "Turner was so good at showing Mother Nature's fury," she said, making her voice deep and raspy as she clenched her fist at that last word. "See how small the subjects are? The ship, the lighthouse, they're so small compared to the sea. She's enveloping them. Makes me wonder if, in fact, he meant for the sea to be the subject…the protagonist, if you will."
"Yes. Yes, I see that now. I completely see what you mean." Chuck nodded sagely.
Seemingly convinced by her younger companion's agreement, the woman continued on to the next painting, and he followed on her heels.
But he glanced back over his shoulder at the painting. Ms. Jessop really had made a good point about the passion and the fury J.M.W. Turner depicted in his ocean. The sea vessels in the painting had no chance of survival. There was so much tumult, the waves going this way and that. They looked so violent, like they had a mind of their own…
And as ridiculous as he felt making the comparison, he made it anyway. The painting was currently how his insides felt. It hadn't subsided since the other night. His insides were churning, tumultuous and violent, reminding him that he'd completely fucked up a day and a half ago.
"So Charles, tell me about this project you're working on."
He shook himself and spun on his heels to face Evelyn. She'd moved on to another painting, leaning in close to take in the brushstrokes, he assumed. Then she turned to glance at him expectantly, pushing her hair away from her neck.
"Yes, of course."
"That is why you agreed to join me at the museum, isn't it? To talk to me about this conference of yours. You want my money."
She seemed amused as he opened his mouth to dispute the fact that it was the only reason. He liked art just as much as the next person, after all. And her amusement made him shut his mouth again, smirking with a bit of self-deprecation that made her chuckle.
"Your father and I operate on a plane of honesty and candidness. I forgot for a second that you're not him."
He held up a hand. "No, no. I mean, I'm not him, but we can do honesty and candidness. I'm sure Dad appreciates it, and honestly, I'd prefer it."
She nodded her head once and gestured for him to continue.
"Just, for the record, I like art a lot. I'd accept any invitation to the Getty, and I'm especially loving this behind-the-scenes look you're giving me."
Evelyn Jessop was easily one of the richest women in California, her father starting and running a major recording studio in the nineteen-fifties and sixties. It was one of the most lucrative studios in the music industry now, pumping top hits out left and right. After Franklin Jessop passed away, his daughter stepped into the driver's seat, running the empire. And she was doing it seemingly effortlessly, appearing on the cover of Essence, Fortune, Ebony, Entrepreneur, and Bloomberg in recent years.
But Bartowski Electronics Corporation had a strong relationship with JesBop, trading technology for patronage and sponsorship. It was one of the most lucrative friendships Stephen Bartowski had made in the last decade since his company's founding.
And now Chuck was trying to take advantage of the friendship to get this convention off the ground.
"The Getty is my home away from home. My father has always been all about the arts scene in LA. That's why he has his own room here. I'll take you there next."
"Thanks. Do you come here often?"
"All the time. I tried to major in art history when I was in college, but I switched to business because that was more lucrative in my father's opinion." She scoffed. "But that conference," she said with a smirk. "You Bartowskis can't stay on track, can you?"
"Depending on the topic, it's sometimes a struggle." He chuckled and followed her through the wide doorway into the next room. "It's actually more of a convention than a conference. The hope is that we get a large number of LA-area high schoolers to come for two days of fun. Well, STEM fun. Coming together, so to speak, over our excitement about science and technology."
"Mmm, I see. So less about learning, and more for students who are already interested?" she asked, stopping in front of a 17th century portrait of a rotund man. He noticed there were quite a few of these.
"I might've phrased that wrong. See, I want to give low-income and/or minority students, especially, more access to STEM. They're underrepresented in the field because they don't have that access." Evelyn gave an approving nod. "Primarily we're working to make this convention a place for them to get their hands on technology white students from affluent families have access to on a daily basis. They get an advantage students from poorer families don't have because they have laptops, iPads…" She turned and gave him her full attention at that. "And, I dunno, just imagine how many of those kids—teenagers, I guess—might grow up to change the world for the better if they have access to the same tools as their rich peers?"
"You think one of the students who go to your convention might cure cancer, huh? Or get us to Mars?"
"Why not? Though, it needs to be said, whether they cure cancer or not, every student deserves the same treatment, the same tools, as any other student. Just because that's the way it should be." Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets and met her gaze confidently, even though he'd been stressed about this meeting for a few days.
That fight with Sarah had only made it that much worse. How could he get Evelyn Jessop to pledge JesBop as a sponsor for STEMCon when he had what happened the other night on his mind? He was such an idiot. He'd screwed up everything. Sarah deserved the biggest apology he could muster. But he had to focus his mind here first. He had to get through this.
"We're giving only a small group of kids the tools they need to be and do whatever they want, go wherever they want for college, work whatever job they want to work. Mostly white, mostly middle class or rich students. We aren't going to get anywhere. You expand things, give those tools to more kids. What I mean to say is, there's so much potential out there that goes untapped because these students don't have access to computers at home, or tablets, Internet. Everyone deserves the same chance I got to get where I am."
She smiled, a small smile, but it was mostly in her dark eyes. "Is that your sales pitch for rich white donors?"
Chuck laughed and blushed. "Yep. But I believe still believe every kid deserves the same tools, whether they become an engineer who programs the next world-changing invention or opens a few chain restaurants in their hometown."
"You sound just like your father."
Chuck tilted his head in question, furrowing his brow.
"My boyfriend, Dale. I'm sure you've heard of Dale Brown."
He let out a whistle. "You're dating Dale Brown, huh? Congratulations. I mean, not that he doesn't also deserve congratulations—I should stop that line of—Nevermind." Evelyn laughed. "Dale Brown is awesome."
"I like him. And I think he'd be interested if you reached out to him, Charles. It wouldn't hurt to have one of NASA's most well-known astronauts at this STEM Convention you're putting on."
"It would be an honor to have him there." He knew how massive of a get it would be to have Dale Brown at STEMCon. But he couldn't muster the excitement he normally would've felt. Because it wasn't like he could show up at Sarah's apartment and nerd out for an hour over martinis. He'd badly damaged that bridge. And it was the most important bridge in his life, damn it. But he wouldn't let Evelyn see his somber train of thought, so he beamed widely instead.
"Good. I'll give you his assistant's number. He knows who you are—or at least, he knows Stephen. Your dad introduced us."
"Way to go, Dad!" he chuckled.
"And you have JesBop's support, too."
Chuck's eyes widened a bit as he turned to face her. "Really? You agree to be one of the event sponsors?"
"It's an investment I can get behind. We can set up sound booths, hand out demos. I had a lot of privileges growing up that a lot of other Black kids didn't get. My papa used to tell me when I was even younger than you that I have to use my position to lift other people up with me. This is a perfect opportunity to do that." She smiled at him and stuck her hand out.
Returning her smile with a grin of his own, he took her hand and they shook on it. "I'm so appreciative, Ms. Jessop. STEMCon is just the beginning. This is going to be a revolution of equal opportunity."
"Glad to do business, as always." Then she paused a little and narrowed her eyes at him, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms over her tailored blazer. "Stephen overworking you? You look a little like you're stressin'. Was it over me? This?"
Chuck shook his head and frowned. "Oh, no no. No, it wasn't—I'm just really determined to make this the best it can be, ya know?" he said, and that wasn't entirely a lie. He really was determined to make STEMCon a success. But the music mogul wasn't seeing stress from his job; she was seeing stress from his fight with Sarah. He needed to fix that as soon as possible. Without things being good between them, he'd be functioning at only a fraction of his capabilities.
This was his mess to fix. And it was up to him to make the apology. He'd hurt her and it was destroying him from the inside out.
"I get you," she said. "You've got a hell of a team working with you, if what Stephen and Mary tell me is any indication. And now you've got my money."
"Hey, tax right off, am I right?"
She laughed at that and shook her head. "You owe me lunch for that one."
"Deal," he chuckled.
It wasn't until he was alone a few hours later, sitting in his car outside of JesBop's Pasadena headquarters, that Chuck was able to really devote his thoughts to Sarah again. Not that she'd ever really left his mind all day, and all of yesterday which he'd spent facedown on his couch, not to mention the sleepless night before that. It was rare that Sarah ever left his mind, even when they hadn't gotten into a fight. But this was bad.
He was such a jackass, letting the rough day he'd had influence how he responded to her that night. He was short with her, drowning in his own pride while not allowing her any of her own, pigheaded, stubborn, unwilling to compromise or even just listen. And then he'd snapped at her in the end, and he'd said something he regretted.
What drove him up the wall more than anything was that he really didn't know why Sarah had grown up without a lot of friends. She mentioned it every so often, that she'd done things alone for the most part, that she focused on her grades, and then on her work when she'd gotten her job with Pinkerton. He knew having a job like that meant always being out of town, traveling for cases… Her job had been her life, she'd said, and of course he figured that friendships were hard when that was the case.
There were probably so many reasons why she'd gone through life without a lot of friends, alone.
None of them were his business.
But he was sure it wasn't necessarily that her demeanor kept people away. Because there was nothing wrong with her demeanor. She wasn't hard. She didn't have ice in her veins. She wasn't mean, short-tempered, or rude. She was brilliant without wearing it like a badge of honor. She was a calming presence, laid back and dependable. And she had the best sense of humor of anyone he'd ever met. Not to mention, she was easily the most beautiful human being to ever exist.
What he'd said that night was downright mean. It was full-fledged meanness.
He didn't know why she was alone for so much of her life. He really didn't. And he was a horrible person for allowing his own hurt feelings to make him feel like it was okay to say something so viciously hurtful to her.
There was no excuse.
Chuck had already wasted the whole day before feeling like a complete asshole, torn up from the inside out, fiddling with his phone and staring at her number on it, deciding to call her, losing his nerve, deciding to do it again, but then chickening out again…
He needed to just stop being childish and take responsibility, march right up to her apartment, get down on his knees and beg forgiveness. His stubborn pride had already abated the moment she walked out that night. The anger was gone before morning broke a few hours later. And now all that was left over was sadness, regret, and the fear that she never wanted to talk to him or see him again.
Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled out of the JesBop parking lot and headed for the freeway. He knew he had to talk to her anyway, whether he was afraid of her reaction or not. Because they were two adults in a relationship. Because they talked about things. They communicated. He would do anything for her. He would do anything to be with her. He would listen this time. He would ask questions until he really understood where she was coming from with this.
He knew that was part of the problem.
That he'd not really understood why she was so vehement, or why she didn't want him helping her when she needed help, but he'd simply nodded and agreed to it anyway. And that meant he hadn't respected her wishes as much as he should have. That meant he'd gone behind her back to do something she'd explicitly asked him not to do, even if his intentions had been good.
He knew that now.
He'd messed up.
And if she let him, he'd try his best to get to know her a little better. Because maybe that was the trouble, too. In spite of how serious this relationship was, he still knew so little about her life before he met her. He wanted to know more than what made her tick, how she preferred her coffee, that she showered in barely warm water, that when her feet were cold the rest of her got cold. Nothing in her past would ever make him love her less, or even trust her less. Nothing would ever change how important she was to him. It was all a part of her path that had led her to where she was now, where they were now. And the sappy part of him insisted it had all led her to where he could meet her, fall in love with her and vice versa. But he still wanted to know it, even if it wouldn't change anything. Because he cared.
Chuck glanced at his watch as he saw the red lights blinking up ahead. Traffic. Of course traffic. It was almost as if he'd forgotten where he lived. The 110 at rush hour was slowing to a stop now. He immediately turned on his radio, flicked the classical station on, and let the comforting violin concerto wash over him. Puppies. Picnics in the sunshine. Sarah snuggled up in his bed when he got home late at night, wearing one of his shirts, her hair all messy, lips set in a pout as she slept. Anything that would bring him peace and calm. Because he was going to have to sit through the supremely frustrating, grating Los Angeles rush hour traffic and he didn't need to be in the same mood he was in two nights earlier.
The car behind him honked when he didn't move up fast enough, and he stopped himself from flipping them off in his mirror. Instead, he looked into the mirror and made a face.
"I forgive you."
He turned his gaze forward again and took a deep breath. He could do this. Peaceful thoughts…
XOXOXOXOXOXO
She knew she shouldn't feel this nervous about something that had always given her the greatest joy. If she had to feel anything at this moment, she thought maybe anger might be easier. She was angry. Livid, even. But mostly, she'd been hurt after what he'd said to her. That last thing…It had felt like a dagger jammed between her ribs.
But all of those emotions had died down for the most part, and now she was just nervous.
Because as she pushed into the front doors of B.E.C. Headquarters, she knew Chuck was in the same building that she was in once more. And she knew in a matter of minutes, she'd be alone with him in a room. And she'd once again have to explain everything to him, the way she'd tried to that night.
She'd lost her cool then. She didn't want to do the same thing now.
Everything hinged on whether or not he really listened this time.
And she would have to apologize to him for getting as furious at him as she had. She knew she'd hurt his feelings, too. But the difference was, he'd been downright mean. He might've apologized to her if she'd stayed long enough to hear it. She'd seen it on his face, that he realized immediately what he said was uncalled for. And she knew he didn't really mean it, even if it might be true. (That was another story altogether.)
She knew Chuck better than she knew anyone. And if there was one thing she knew about him for sure, it was that he never hesitated saying he was sorry when he screwed up. He apologized when he needed to and he did it sincerely. He took responsibility for his actions. It was one of the first things that endeared him to her, one of the first things that made her fall in love with him when she was working on his father's case.
But as much as she'd appreciate and accept an apology if he offered it to her, she needed more than just that this time.
She also needed him to really understand her. And know beyond all doubt where he'd made his misstep. She'd take responsibility for overreacting, certainly. He was only trying to help. And he really didn't know her story. He didn't know why. And obviously, she couldn't just tell him what she needed without really explaining why she needed it. That wasn't how a good relationship worked.
Communication and all that.
But she was afraid he'd agree with her, apologize, and tell her he understood just to make it so the fight ended, just to get to the making up part. And sometime in the future, they'd hit the same problem because he really didn't understand still.
She'd stayed away yesterday, even going so far as to hole herself up in her office and drown in whatever crap on the Internet she could lose herself in: music, movie trailers, pet videos…
She'd been afraid that if she didn't do that, she'd sit at home and drink or cry some more. Even then, she'd cried anyway. And the mail carrier had seen her in the hallway with her tear-streaked face and smudged makeup, damn it. That would be in the woman's head now every time she gave Sarah her mail which was so awkward.
Anyway, Sarah wouldn't avoid Chuck forever. In fact, she refused to avoid him for even a moment longer. She had a day to step back and reflect, calm down, and try to push the hurtful things he'd said to the side so that they could tackle this again in a way that would allow for listening and compromise.
And here at his office, she could corner him a bit. With Adisa right outside the door, they'd both keep from having another yelling match. They'd be forced to be calm and quiet. Hopefully.
But now that she was in the building and stepping out of the elevator on the floor of Chuck's office, she thought maybe she was being completely stupid.
It was too late now.
Gnawing on her lip, she stepped into the room full of work stations, Chuck's employees scattered around, staring at computers, fiddling with tablets, designing, drawing, programming, rushing to one another's desks exchanging ideas and advice. It was a modern example of a top-notch bustling working environment.
But she was fully ignoring it at the moment, as distracted as she was by thoughts of what she'd say to her boyfriend once she was alone with him in his office.
"Hi, Sarah!"
She glanced over to see Bernadette Lopez waving from her standing-desk, pencil tucked behind her ear, stylish glasses propped at the end of her nose. "Hi, Bennie!" she chirped, smiling widely to hide the nerves compounding inside of her.
And just as she was about to step into the hallway that led to her boyfriend's office, she heard her name again.
"Sarah! Hey!"
The P.I. recognized the voice immediately and had a smile at the ready as she spun on her heels to face Stephen Bartowski. He was ambling towards her in that rather nervous way of his. He held up a hand to wave, thought twice of it, and stuck it and his other hand in the pockets of his pants.
"Hey, there. Haven't seen you in a while," he added as he slowed to a stop next to her.
"It has been a bit, hasn't it? How are you, Mr. Bartowski?"
"Good. I'm good. Busy. Always busy. But that's good. How are you?"
"Good," she lied. She wasn't good. At all. She needed to talk to Chuck. "Just heading in to see Chuck. Thought I'd take him out for lunch, maybe." Hopefully get to the bottom of the massive fight we had the other night which you know nothing about, she silently added. It wasn't something he needed to know, and she especially didn't need Mary to find out.
Stephen got a look on his face then, rather more of a wince than anything. Then he reached up and scratched the back of his head. "Oh. Oh, he's actually not here today." Her heart dropped, but there was also a bit of relief that swelled in her and she felt like a coward. "I had an emergency conference about one of our European locations—"
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
He waved his hand to dismiss her concern. "Oh, pfft. Yeah. I-It's fine. Thought there was a break-in overnight, but it was just a false alarm. A lot of paperwork, overseeing a check-up of the alarm system, but that's owning a business." He shrugged. "But Charles, uh, he went over to Pasadena for me, meeting with a potential sponsor," he crossed his fingers and widened his eyes, "Here's hoping he's using that charm to its fullest potential. Probably won't be back 'til later."
"Oh." She sighed, and glanced over her shoulder. "Well, thanks for letting me know."
"Of course. I am, uh, I'm glad I caught you. I mean, to say hello. Since I don't see you as much as my son does." He smoothed his hands down the front of his suit jacket, then smoothed his tie, his brow furrowing. "Obviously." He scoffed at himself and shook his head.
It was a small thing, but it was so much like what Chuck did sometimes that Sarah felt a lump in her throat. She missed her boyfriend.
"Well, I'm sorry I missed him," she said. "You, uh, you don't have to tell him I was here. He'd feel bad he wasn't here when I swung by. I'll just talk to him tonight. It was nice seeing you, Mr. Bartowski."
"You, too." She smiled at him and made to walk away, but then… "Sarah. Uh, Sarah…" She turned back, cocking her head in question. "I know I'm no replacement for Charles, but would you, uh, maybe, uh…Well, er, maybe you'd consider letting me treat you to lunch today instead? That way you didn't make the trip out here for nothing. And you get at least one of the Bartowski men. The lesser one, but still." He chuckled kindly, shrugging without making eye contact.
Sarah hadn't been expecting Chuck's dad to invite her to lunch. And she was struck speechless for a moment. She felt a bit trapped. Could she handle an entire meal with someone who wasn't Chuck, when all she wanted was to clear all of this up? She'd been so ready to talk to him, to clear this up, to make up. And she felt almost bereft that he wasn't here.
In fact, she was almost to the point of unraveling.
Stephen Bartowski knew none of this, however, and he'd also provide some distraction in the form of conversation. And she genuinely liked the man. If she couldn't make friends with Chuck's mom, the detective at least had the option of doing so with his dad, winning over another Bartowski ally.
So she nodded. "I think that'd be nice. Thank you."
"Great. Th-That's great." He grinned and scratched his neck. "Well, uh, are ya hungry?"
"I am, yeah."
"Good. We'll stick close by. I've got the perfect place. Like sandwiches?"
"Absolutely."
And she followed after him to the elevator for a quiet, slightly awkward ride down to the lobby. They talked a bit about the weather as they walked side by side to a sandwich shop two and a half blocks away from B.E.C. Headquarters, Stephen almost seeming a bit out of his element with small talk until he grabbed the door and gestured for her to go in first.
It was quaint, in a small-town sort of way, almost out-of-place in a big city like Los Angeles. But it was clean and the line to order was short.
In fifteen minutes, they were sitting down at a corner table, the front window beside them so that they could watch the people passing by. Sarah looked down at her cashew chicken salad on rye and french fries, her stomach grumbling. God, she really was hungry, but she'd been too nervous to think about eating before.
The nerves were gone now, and instead, she just felt a little antsy. That mostly had to do with this long period of time she was going to spend with the father of the man she loved. He was someone she'd like to impress. She liked him and she wanted him to like her.
She picked up her sandwich and smiled across the table at him before taking a bite. She felt her features crumble as she chewed, letting out a long, "Mmmmm".
"Pretty good, huh?" he chuckled. She nodded. "Glad you like it. I come here by myself mostly, but when I'm able to line up my schedule with Charles', we like to make a father/son trip over here for lunch. Sometimes dinner depending on, uh, if-if the office is, you know, busy. Crazy. Or one of us will come down here, get take-out, and bring it back so that we can work and eat."
Sarah smirked. "You two shouldn't work so hard. Enjoy you meals, at least. If only to keep all of those papers from getting food stains. I've seen Chuck spill on his paperwork before."
That made him laugh. It was a nice sound, albeit a bit nervous. And she wondered if this was a nerve-wracking situation for him, too. Was he reaching out to her, trying to connect with her, for Chuck? It was kind. And really, it was very sweet, wasn't it, considering Stephen Bartowski was pretty shy, by all accounts?
"So that's why I keep finding grease stains on our accounts."
Sarah giggled, taking another bite. "You should talk to him about that," she said when she swallowed. "He doesn't listen to me. Thinks I'm just nagging because I want him to spend more time with me. And I do, but I know how important his work is. Mostly I just don't want him stress-eating."
"Oh God, he got that from me." He chuckled. "He-He really got some of my, uh, bad habits. Unfortunately. But I also think that-that he and Ellie are really the best parts of Mary and I. They are."
She smiled warmly and nodded.
"I mean, the way Charles is tackling this convention. You know, I handed him the reins on the whole thing, and watching that kid work is just…inspiring. He-He's a hard worker. And I know—He makes me proud," he said, thumping himself on the chest and leaning in a little, "Because I can tell he wants to do this thing for the kids. Yeah, for me and for the company. But mostly, for the kids. That old We're All Equal line people use for PR and all that, except that he really and truly believes it…He's helped me be a believer, too. K-Kids should have the proper tools to learn, all of 'em, ya know? Not just the rich ones or the white ones. Charles is somethin' else."
She found a smile growing on her face as she watched Chuck's father get caught up in it. Warmth spilled through her, and then came the pride. She could feel Stephen's pride in his son reflected in her own features. Because who wouldn't be proud to know someone who was so consistently good, so consistently looking out for others and trying to make the world a better place for everyone?
"I-I'm glad he's got you to keep him honest, though," the CEO said then, his mouth twitching in a smile that seemed a little more at ease now. "He, uh, he told me that you show up late at night sometimes to force him t-to take a break." He fidgeted in his seat. "That's good. I don't like him staying overnight. He told me he doesn't do that anymore, but I think he's lying to me."
"He probably is," she admitted, leaning her chin on her palm, elbow on the table as she picked at her fries, the sandwich having already devoured half of her sandwich. "He's tried to lie to me about it, but I, er, I happen to see him if I'm, er, staying over at his place…"
She left it at that, quickly turning to look out of the window.
"Well, it isn't exactly hard to tell when he's tired and dragging. Thankfully he took yesterday off. Surprised me, called me and…" He fidgeted again, scratching behind his ear. "Well, he told me he needed a sick day. He doesn't do that often."
Sarah felt her stomach plummet. He wasn't sick, she knew. He'd stayed home because of their fight. It was bad but a teeny-tiny part of her was glad she wasn't the only one who'd suffered. It was rotten of her to think it, but there it was.
"Oh, th—uh, that reminds me." He wiped his hands on his napkin and set his elbows on the table, leaning in. "How are things with that agency of yours?"
The truth wasn't something she felt comfortable enough to admit. At least, not to Stephen J. Bartowski, self-made man who'd built a tech empire all on his own, and was now one of the richest men in the country. She took another bite out of her sandwich to delay the inevitable. She wanted him to know she could handle herself, that she really wasn't using Chuck's money and status, that she was capable of starting this business on her own the way he did his.
But at least it gave her time to fix the nonchalant look onto her face. "It's going well," she finally said once she'd swallowed.
Stephen's smile twitched a bit and he glanced down at his almost empty plate, before switching his gaze back up to her, looking at her through his eyelashes. It was a look. One that clearly said he didn't believe her.
"Why?" she continued, sitting up straight. "Did Chuck tell you something?"
Anger started to bubble up, but the tech mogul stopped it before it bubbled over.
"No, no. You have a—" He let out soft, amused huff and squirmed again. "I hope you don't mind, but you—I just recognize that look you got on your face just then when you said the agency is going well. I saw the same look in the mirror plenty of times before, when I was just starting B.E.C."
Embarrassment made her sit back against her chair and look outside again. Suddenly, he leaned forward and pat the hand she left on the top of the table with a callused one of his own. It was his attempt to reassure her, she knew, in his own awkward, uncomfortable, but still incredibly kind and dare she say it, dad-ish way.
This man certainly wasn't anything like his wife. She appreciated that more than she could say.
Finally, she sighed, blowing the hair that framed her face away from her eyes and giving in. "Well, I…" She sighed again. "You caught me. It really isn't going too well at all, Mr. Bartowski. In the spirit of honesty, it isn't anything close to what I'd hoped for when I first got it into my head to open my own detective agency."
There was silence for a while as he nodded, and he looked down at his plate, blinking a few times…almost like a twitch. Before he cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his chair to sit up a bit straighter. "But you're doing it, Sarah. And-And that's very important." She flashed a bitter closed-mouth smile and looked out the window again, making him lean forward again. "No, I mean that, Sarah. It's true. You're starting from scratch. That's hard enough as it is. But you're also not giving up just because the first month is rough."
"It's been much longer than a month, Mr. Bartowski."
"S-Stephen, please. You aren't my assistant." He smiled and scratched his head again, his face thoughtful as he glanced outside. "You're working very hard to open this agency, Sarah. Right? Harder than you've ever worked."
She sighed and nodded, her eyes wide. "I feel like I'm tired all the time. Though some of that might be the constant disappointment."
"It does take its toll," he responded quiet. "It-It digs at you, makes you feel like…like some sort of failure." She nodded, looking at him a bit more closely. "No, I-I get it. I can empathize, actually."
"Oh, but of course. You started one of the world's biggest technology corporations."
"I did. Yes, but…Well, it took…" He huffed, shaking his head. …a lot of time. Let's put it that way. More time than I thought it would take. And-And that's just the amount of time it took to get the company to a point where I wasn't actively losing money. It took much longer for me to start turning a profit."
"Really? That must have been rough."
"Oh, it was. It was." He bit his lip distractedly, fiddling with one of the napkins on the table between two fingers. He furrowed his brow, looking a lot like Chuck when he thought back to another time, remembering something from his past. "Charles admires how hard you're working. He told me so." Sarah felt an ache in her chest at that. "But something he probably hasn't told you—Of course he hasn't. Why-Why would he? Not even sure he really understands it himself. He was still pretty young, still learning about the world, taking his first steps—figuratively, not literally." He chuckled at that and she smiled back at him. "It's just that it-it takes more than hard work. And that's so…that's so frustrating. But it's the reality."
"What do you mean, Mr—Stephen," she corrected quickly, shaking her head at herself and rolling her eyes.
"Mr. Stephen! That's a new one," he joked haltingly. And she thought maybe he wasn't used to joking or teasing, at least not with someone new. She thought she counted as new. And she wondered how different he was when he was just with his family. When he was more comfortable and at ease.
"I take it Charles has never really told you about the hard years, a-at the beginning." He shifted in his seat again. Then he fiddled with his ear a bit nervously.
"No, he never told me. I'm sure the start of a corporation like Bartowski Electronics had to be rough at first."
He scoffed and shook his head. "Oh, boy. It was a complete disaster. I had no idea what I was doing."
Sarah giggled and finished off the last bite of her sandwich.
"You know, I thought—I thought all I needed was an idea. I have the skill sets. I'm a technical genius. Gimme a computer and I-I can do anything. I can build anything." He rolled his eyes and snorted. "What an idiot I was. And Mary told me. Her parents were both in business. I should've listened to her. But I was full of ideas, an idealist!" He punched his fist into the air and chuckled at himself, shaking his head. "Well, she was mad for a while, because we had Ellie and Charles already, two kids, and I just up and quit my engineering job."
"Noooo," she laughed. "God, you quit your job?"
"Mhm. It was quite the cushy gig, too. Made enough of a wage that I could support the four of us comfortably. But I quit."
"Can't say I blame her for being mad."
"Neither can I," he chuckled. "I just had all of these ideas for products, the way they were made and distributed, and I was just an engineer sitting at a computer, you know? My ReTech supervisor wouldn't even listen to me, let alone the big guys at the company. So I thought…Fine, I'll start my own."
The man couldn't have known just how much he was sounding like his son. She could still see Chuck's face when he talked about maybe starting his own tech company, breaking away from B.E.C.
"So you did," she said, smiling.
"W-Well." He laughed. "Eventually. Not without some trials. But everyone has trials when they start their own enterprise, right?"
"Right."
"We really did have a hard time, though. Things were really difficult for my family. Bad enough I felt like it wasn't working out, but it was especially worse that I was seeing how it affected my family. My wife, my-my kids." He pushed a hand through his messy hair. "I really felt like such a bad husband, a bad father. You know? Putting my kids at risk for this foolhardy dream of mine. I felt so useless, and I was hopeless a lot of the time. Wallowing in self-pity."
Sarah raised her eyebrows and nodded. She understood that feeling too well after these failed first few months of trying to start her own detective agency.
"B-But I refused to let anything change. When I was with ReTech, my kids just went to school every day, did their homework. Ellie had theatre and soccer. Mary wasn't working. She was driving the kids around to all of their extracurricular…crap." Sarah laughed at that. "And without me having a job, the savings were flying out the window, and I found out Ellie was job hunting. What's worse, Mary got two jobs. I was furious. I forbade Ellie from getting a job. I didn't want us to be one of those struggling families. I was going to fix it. Bartowski Electronics was coming together. I'd make it work." He thumped his fist against the table emphatically. Then he sighed and shrugged. "I just didn't want our lives changing, my family having to work extra hard because of a decision I made."
"I can understand that," she said quietly. "You had to do it yourself. You made the decision to quit your job, start your own company. You figured you should be the one doing all the work."
"That's exactly it." She smiled a little. "But I-I was wrong." The smile faded. "No, really. I was completely wrong. I had these set ideas of what I had to do. Me. Alone. This was my dream, my company I wanted to start. It was something I'd wanted since I was little. So I thought it was something I had to do alone."
That made sense to her. But then he continued.
"But I just couldn't do it by myself. And I had to come to terms with that. I was unrelenting in-in my goal to do everything myself, and that was hurting my family. It got to a point where—God, I really started just d-distancing myself from them without really meaning to." He huffed. "Worrying so much about not being a terrible father, I accidentally became a terrible father. But I wasn't by myself anymore, so of course my dream wasn't just mine anymore. It belonged to my family, my people. My wife and children. I needed their help." He played with a fry on his plate. "They were one hundred percent behind me. I mean, they were all trying to get jobs. Charles was babysitting for God's sake, and he was still a kid himself, thirteen or fourteen. They wanted this for me so bad, they were there every step of the way. I even let Charles help me with coding. Things really started turning around for us once we made it a joint effort." He chuckled, warmth in his face. "By the time we produced B.E.C.'s first tablet, it was a hit. I mean, like an explosion. And from there, while it was still really hard work, we didn't have to be afraid of pinching pennies, selling our cars."
Sarah didn't know what to say, so she just watched him as he reminisced. She could feel his words starting to sink in, though, making her feel unsure.
"I guess my point is…don't try to do everything alone, Sarah." He chuckled and scratched his head again. "And I hope you don't think I'm patronizing you. Th-That isn't my intention. I don't know what you are or aren't doing while you get this agency off the ground. Chuck doesn't tell us much about it. A-as he shouldn't!" he rushed, holding a hand up. "It isn't any of our business."
She smiled and shook her head, furrowing her brow. "No, it isn't that. I haven't told him not to tell his family about it. I-I just—"
"Trust me, Sarah. I understand." He huffed and squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. "My—Well, my wife has her own, uh, ideas. She doesn't mean any harm." He winced. "I really can't even say that in good conscience, can I? M-My point is that I-I understand why you wouldn't want any of this getting to Mary. She'd be ruthless. She's willfully forgetful about what we went through for a few years there." He pulled at his ear in embarrassment. "But I hope you know none of this will get to her through me. You can trust me."
He smiled and reached over to pat her hand again. It was a bit awkward again, like he wasn't sure he should do it, but he wanted to reassure her. And she felt almost overwhelmed by the affection she felt swell in her heart for this man.
She knew without a doubt that Chuck's good qualities, all of his best qualities, came from the man sitting in front of her.
"Thank you for being so candid with me, Stephen," she said, hearing the warmth in her own voice. "You don't know how much I needed this." She didn't even know she'd needed it. "I had no idea your family went through so much to make this corporation a reality. The sacrifices you all made…I just didn't know."
"Oh, nobody really knows about it. Luckily I've got two good kids who didn't lose their minds once the money started coming in. We somehow avoided the press because of it. Thank God." He snorted and shook his head. "I-I just want you to hopefully learn from my mistake before—Well, before you make the same one." He winced as though he thought he'd phrased it badly, but continued anyway. "Don't be ashamed to ask for help. We all need help, every single one of us. Ah, wait…I-I have this quote on a—it's on a plaque one of my old college pals gave me."
She could see he was straining as he tried to remember it.
"It sits on my desk right in front of my face every day and I can't remember it," he said, shaking his head. "Oh. Uh. It's, erm…" He stopped to think again. "I've got it: 'You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality.' That's Walt Disney."
Turning to look out of the window again, Sarah let the quote sink in. "I like that," she said finally, and she popped a fry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"See? Even Walt Disney needed his people." He stuck his hands out, palms up, and shrugged.
"Point taken," she giggled, and they both went back to their food, the air between them much more comfortable.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Sarah stared out of her office window, deep in thought, her pumps propped on her desk.
The realization of everything the Bartowskis went through to have what they had now, the corporation and the money and the success, was still something she was trying to wrap her head around. They'd all made sacrifices to get B.E.C. up and running. Chuck had worked on coding for his dad as a kid, practically. Ellie worked after school, Mary had worked two jobs…That was something she really couldn't picture. Mary Bartowski working even one job was hard to imagine.
Though perhaps that was a little unfair. As much as the woman was a horrific jerk, she hadn't shown she wasn't capable of hard work. She didn't seem lazy. And as far as Sarah was concerned, Chuck's mother worked overtime trying to drive a wedge between her son and his girlfriend.
Sarah rolled her eyes with a huff and grabbed a stray rubber band from her desk, playing with it distractedly.
Her anger with Chuck had already abated for the most part by the time she woke up that morning. She'd made sure of it, not wanting to get into another heated argument with him when she cornered him in his office. But now that she'd sat with Stephen for an hour, listened to his story, the start of Bartowski Electronics, and the struggles he'd faced, the anger was almost entirely gone.
More than anything, she felt like she owed Chuck a better explanation than what she'd given him. And if she were honest with herself, she hadn't really given him anything. She'd felt pride had been enough of a reason. And yes, in a perfect world, a woman should be allowed to have pride, should be allowed to accomplish things by herself for herself. But even if this was a perfect world, Chuck needed to know why she was so vehement in not accepting his help because they were partners. He was her boyfriend and she had every intention of making sure he was in her future. That meant telling him things. If not everything, at least some things.
Because she got a dossier on him when she was first assigned to Stephen's case, but he'd never gotten a dossier on her. Even now that they'd been dating for a year, he still knew practically nothing. And he never badgered her about it or complained, even though she was sure he had questions. He was such a good guy, a good boyfriend.
A good boyfriend who'd also taken a nasty shot at her by saying her reluctance to accept others' help was why she was alone, granted.
She clenched her jaw remembering that.
She'd hurt him and he'd taken a shot at her for it. Eye for an eye, she supposed. But their relationship was supposed to be impervious to that kind of immaturity, wasn't it? She wasn't letting him off the hook for that. She refused.
But she still wanted him to really understand why this felt so important to her, why she wanted Walker Investigative Enterprises to be a success without her having to rely on others. Maybe other things might make sense to him.
The way it made sense to her now in a way it hadn't really before. Or maybe she'd just willfully ignored what was right in front of her face. Stephen's insistence that he never would have gotten the company to where it was now if he hadn't let his family in, if he hadn't changed tack and opened himself to accepting help, made her realize there was something she hadn't been able to get past for years now. An always-present self-doubt that she needed to prove wrong. More than a decade's worth of 'what-ifs' she needed to get rid of now that she had the opportunity.
Chuck needed to know.
She needed to tell him.
But she also needed him to know he hurt her, not just with what he said at the end, the final catalyst for her walking out that night, but also because he'd gone behind her back to pay her rent. The going behind her back part was something he needed to apologize for.
They both needed to make amends. She was willing to do her part, meet him halfway.
But first, she needed to get home and into her shower. That would at least ensure she was relaxed for when she went to his condo tonight. And while she was in the shower, she could think about her approach so that things didn't crumble into another fight in which they said hurtful things they didn't mean.
Shooting the rubber band across the room and hitting the file cabinet with it, she climbed to her feet, shrugged her coat on, grabbed her briefcase, and left her office for the night.
By the time she got back to her apartment, she was nervous. She knew it would go away once she stepped into the shower. Nothing relaxed her better than a good shower. Except maybe good sex, and for the moment, that was off the table.
Rolling her head on her shoulders tiredly, she thought about that Walt Disney quote again as she walked up the last few stairs and stepped into the hallway of her floor. It takes people to make the dream a reality.
Perhaps there could be parameters, ways Chuck could help her and ways she didn't want his help. Paying two months' worth rent on her office space behind her back definitely crossed the line. But were there ways he could help that she might welcome? There had to be.
She would think on that in the shower, too.
When she turned the corner a moment later, she glanced up the hallway and stopped dead in her tracks. Chuck stood at her door, his fist raised to knock. And without a moment's hesitation, the private investigator ducked back behind the corner and pressed her back to the wall.
She immediately felt ridiculous, and she sighed and shook her head at herself.
This was Chuck, the most important person in the entire universe, the cornerstone of her life. He was her everything. She needed to woman the hell up and go talk to him now that he was here.
So she stepped back around the corner and walked towards him.
"Chuck…"
Her boyfriend whipped around, his fist still raised, eyes practically popping out of his head. And she felt her heart race as he smiled at first upon seeing it was her. His sincere, unfiltered pleasure at seeing her would never grow old, no matter how big of a fight they got into. "Uh…Oh. Hi," he breathed.
"Hi."
She stopped a few feet away and just stared, the silence deafening between them.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Author's Note: Of course I stopped it there! Who do you think I am? A nice person? PFFFFTTTTTTT! (Please review, it really drives the muse so much.)
-SC