The Detective and the Tech Guy

Author: Steampunk . Chuckster

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: No money is being made from this story. I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series.

Author's Note: New arc, who dis? Strap in. There are three parts to "The Detective and the Rift" and here's part 1. And by the way, I'd love it if you shared this fic with your friends. I genuinely and truly love writing it, and I love these characters a whole lot. More than most things. I promise to continue to treat them right, if you promise to come back and read my fics whenever I post. Hehehe. Jk, I'll always treat them right even if everyone stop reading my fic altogether. Enjoy this one. It's good.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She adjusted the strap of her briefcase on her shoulder with a wince, having packed it way too full that morning, along with shoving her laptop into it. And now she was stuck at LAPD headquarters for who knew how long, being read in on one of Detective Casey's cases.

Sarah wasn't entirely sure why he was leading her to a private room instead of just talking to her at his desk, but a few of the officers had stared after them as they'd gotten up to move to the other room and it felt strange. Like the teacher calling you up to your desk in front of the class and everyone watching like you were in trouble for something.

This case seemed like it was a little above her head, honestly. And she wasn't sure why he brought her in on it. Some big shot lawyer was in potential trouble for misusing campaign funds when he was running for Los Angeles city council, and she'd gotten something of a hint from Casey that potential finance laws being broken might also be involved in the investigation.

So that by the time Casey shut the door behind them and gestured for her to take a seat at the table, she was relatively sure that was what this was about. She'd dealt with this kind of case before with Pinkerton—illegal dealings with money, especially related to big business. Not elections, however.

The guy probably had some high-up connections and maybe Casey was playing it safe bringing her in a private room to discuss the case.

"So who is this guy anyway?" she asked as Casey slapped a file down in front of her. She swung her briefcase off of her shoulder and put it on the table, out of the way, rolling her shoulders as she opened the file. "Edward Pasfield," she read, shaking her head. "Maybe I haven't lived in LA long enough, but if he's a big shot, I've never heard of him."

"You haven't?" Casey asked.

There was a certain tone in his voice that made her slowly look up at him, her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. I'm just asking." He pointed to the picture of Edward Pasfield. "Never seen him around?"

Sarah frowned and looked back down at the picture. Edward Pasfield looked to be in his early seventies, his hair grey and thinning. He was clean shaven, grey-eyed, and looked like he could've been handsome when he was younger. She saw intelligence in his features, but perhaps…too much intelligence. Too much confidence.

"I don't think I've ever seen this guy, no. Then again, I mean…he looks a lot like any other white rich guy in his early seventies. They blend into the wallpaper around here."

Casey snorted. "That's true. This guy isn't doin' a great job blending, though. He won his city council seat in the last election a few years ago, and we've got a few fellas downstairs looking into how he got his campaign money."

"Super PAC?" she asked.

"Mm mm. Well, I mean…maybe. That's how a lot of these guys tend to do things. Fishy donations. But it's looking less like a Super PAC and more like blackmail."

Sarah froze, her eyes widening. "Oh shit, that's way more extreme than I was prepared for."

"It gets worse, Walker." He flipped the photograph of Pasfield over and pointed to the next page. "Three years ago, a woman by the name of Sonia Zaoui was found murdered, floating in a Hollywood exec's pool. Circumstances were real confusing, lemme tell ya. She was fully clothed, had been strangled, not drowned—no water in 'er lungs or anything—and there was absolutely nothing that could connect her to the exec whose pool she was found in. He was the one who found her and he called the cops, hysterical. Report's right there if you wanna read it."

Sarah dropped her gaze and started reading. Hollywood producer Anthony Rennie had gone out mid-morning, about ten-thirty, to his pool for a swim when he saw the body of a woman floating there. Without another thought, he leapt into the pool to drag her out and was going to try to resuscitate when he realized she was absolutely dead, that it wouldn't do any good. He cried out for his staff and told them to call the police, and he stayed with the body, shaken, until the police arrived. Casey had been one of the first on scene.

"Did he kill her?"

"Nope." Casey shook his head. "Not only was there an alibi that put him on a film set at the time of the murder and body disposal, he had nothing connecting him to Sonia Zaoui."

"Who was she? Ugh, please don't say she was some kind of starlet. I'll barf."

"An escort. High-priced escort."

"Oh. Shit that's worse. How awful and also how cliché."

Casey snorted and leaned against the desk. "Yeah. But Rennie had no connection to the murder. Who did have connection to the murder, you may ask?" He shook his head. "Three years later, her murder still hasn't been solved. It's been weighing heavy on me since. Case still open, not cold yet, but this is the first inkling we've had of a direction we might look in. And the path is pointing towards—"

"Edward Pasfield?" she filled in. "I figured this whole thing was headed there."

"Well, that's the thing. Feds are looking into potential blackmail."

"Pasfield is being blackmailed?"

"Maybe. Or he's doing the blackmailing."

"As in he knows who murdered Sonia Zaoui and dumped her in some Hollywood exec's pool and he blackmailed them for money to get him onto the city council? Or as in he's the one who murdered her and someone forced him onto the city council to do their bidding?"

Casey smirked. "That's exactly it."

"Which?"

"Either one. Unfortunately, that's what we're trying to figure out. Pasfield's not exactly a stranger to paying for sex. We got a warrant for his phone and there are plenty of call girl numbers on that phone of his. Fuckin' idiot."

"Jesus Christ." She shook her head and let out a long breath. "So he's probably got some pretty powerful connections, then. He's in city council and he's a big shot lawyer." She looked at more of the file. "He's played both sides—defense and prosecution. That's interesting."

"The best lawyers can do both."

"Yeah. His record there is pretty squeaky clean," she mumbled. "Looks like a pretty good lawyer, on the up and up." She cleared her throat and winced. "Minus the paying for phone sex."

"Pretty sure he's paid for prostitutes, too."

"You've got evidence?"

"Mmmmmhm."

"Yikes." Sarah whistled. "They always think they're untouchable, these guys. Divorced, no kids. I guess at least there's that. Won't have to worry about a disgraced family."

"Yep."

Sarah pushed a wisp of hair that escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. She turned the page to the list of donors for Pasfield's city council campaign. Big names. And then Casey's broad, calloused finger smacked down onto the page in front of her. When he lifted it again, she saw "Stephen J. Bartowski".

The breath left her body as she read that Chuck's dad had donated two thousand dollars to his campaign for city council.

"Oh," she muttered.

"Yep, 'oh'. That's why I asked if you'd ever seen him before. The Bartowskis go way back with Ed Pasfield."

Sarah tapped her finger on the document. "There's nothing illegal about this, Detective Casey. Stephen made a legal donation to a city council candidate's campaign, all of this is by the book, none of it under the table. A private citizen is well within their rights to—"

"Whoa, whoa…Whoa, there, lady." Casey held his hands up placatingly, eyes a little wide. "I never accused him or his corporation of anything. They aren't in the hot seat. I showed ya that to let you know this guy Pasfield is a pal of your boy's. He's even done some lawyering for the company. Makes sense when you got a friend who does corporate law and is known for winning cases. He's been helping them for years."

Sarah bristled a bit. "What do you mean by that? Helping them?" Did B.E.C. have lawsuits she never knew about? That hadn't been in the dossier and she hadn't found anything like that when she researched them two and a half years ago when she worked their case as a Pinkerton detective.

"When you're a corporation, you need a lawyer who's on the up and up, helping you navigate general…I dunno, business stuff…and making sure you stay within the boundaries of the law. All corporations have a lawyer for that purpose. I ain't sayin' he's helped them cover bad shit up, or that he helps them find loopholes so they can fuck over the little guy and not get busted for it. It's just…havin' someone to help watch your back so you don't accidentally stray. Someone who knows corporate law like the back of their hand. Makin' sure everything you do is by the book. That's Pasfield."

She pulled in her claws a little but shook her head still. "So what is all of this then, Casey?"

The police detective shrugged and went to sit across from her again. "I want to bring you in on this case."

"What, am I supposed to be some kind of spy? Spy on the Bartowskis? Figure out if they have anything to do with this?" She felt accusatory as she asked the questions. She knew Chuck would never, and what was more, she knew his dad would never. There was no question in her mind. And she wasn't letting the LAPD put a target on them just because they were a big fish acquainted with a potentially corrupt lawyer and city councilman.

"Hey, first of all, watch the tone you use when you talk to me, Walker. We might both be detectives, but my badge comes with a bit more weight and experience than yours—oh wait, you don't even got a badge, just a permit. So cool it, little lady," he groused, leaning closer. He had a point, as much as it rankled he'd just called her 'little lady'.

"Sorry," she mumbled, clearing her throat. "But the Bartowskis are good people. I'm not spying on them."

"I didn't say you gotta spy on 'em! That's not why I'm bringin' you on." She furrowed her brow in question. "You're a good detective. I'd get in big trouble if anybody heard me say this, but you're better than most of the folks I've got at my disposal out in that room, if not all of 'em." Crazy how her attitude did a complete one-eighty at that. "I need you to know that you'll be looking into someone your secretary's potentially pretty close to and he ain't gonna be too jazzed about it if he finds out. I'm trying to warn ya. That's all this is."

"Seriously? Even in this situation, when things are pretty intense and serious, where murder and blackmail might be involved, you still call my boyfriend my 'secretary'? He isn't even here to get all huffy about it. What's the point?"

"Heh. 'Cause you just got all huffy about it," he snarked, smirking.

"I didn't get huff—You know what?" She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm working this case. I want this. I'll handle my own relationship. But…well, thanks. For telling me."

Casey nodded, scratching the back of his head. "You can't give him details. He's a civilian. And you might trust 'im, but he ain't my boyfriend, and I don't want him dishing deets to his daddy, or to the potential suspect."

Sarah frowned. "Yeah. Got it. I don't even know if he knows who Pasfield is. I wasn't lying when I said I've never seen the guy. Granted, I don't hang around HQ every minute of every day, nor do I know who Chuck and his dad meet for lunch. Chuck isn't really the gala or event guy. His dad and mom handle that stuff, and he's more the guy working the gears, dealing with the employees and making B.E.C.'s interior function. Stephen does the exterior stuff. So I've only gone to like…two functions maybe the last two years we've been dating." She shrugged. "There's a lot about the corporation and its connections that I don't know."

Casey pursed his lips. "Well, we know quite a bit." She sent him a worried look. "Hmng. Don't worry, Walker. They've never been in trouble. We aren't spyin' on 'em. They've just got a lot of folks who know 'em. We've yet to run into anything that tells us it's not a legit good company run by legit good people." Casey leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. "And I trust that you're gonna work this case without goin' easy on Pasfield just 'cause he changed your boyfriend's diaper when he was a tike."

Sarah grit her teeth and shook her head. "That isn't how I operate. That's the first thing you need to know about me, Detective Casey. I finish the job, no matter whom the subject is."

He nodded once. "Yeah. I know that. It's why you're here." He leaned forward and shut the file, pushing it towards her. "Take that with you. I got permission to bring you on since your permit is in order. Yeah, I checked on that, too." She didn't like the way he cut her off with a cheeky grin. Jerk.

She shoved the file in her briefcase, feeling a bit heavy even though she had a case to work now. The LAPD gave her pretty fat paychecks too. She just had no idea how she was going to explain this to Chuck. This hadn't been a problem in their relationship yet. But she was stupid for not realizing it might come to this at some point, wasn't she?

Sarah left Casey's office with her head full of rough thoughts.

The Bartowskis were well-connected, and it would be unrealistic to assume all of those connections were as good of people as they were. Bad people were out there, and a lot of them had power they shouldn't have. Like a seat on the city council. People were good at pretending, at acting one way with some folks, and another way with others, behind closed doors.

But how would Chuck take that his girlfriend was investigating someone who might be important to him, someone he maybe could've even looked up to? She couldn't let that affect the case. But she also couldn't let the case affect her relationship with Chuck, either.

This was going to be hard.

Crap.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The lights were on in his condo when he got back from his sunset beach run, when he knew for sure that he hadn't had the lights on when he left. The sun had still been hovering above the horizon and he hadn't needed them.

Which meant…

"Sarah?"

He shut the door blindly behind him as she popped her head out over the bar and smiled a little at him. "Hey."

"I'm so glad you're here. Now you can be effusively proud of me because I cut morning slash afternoon runs from my schedule the last month because I had too much stuff going on, buuuuut…" He held up a finger, moving across his living room and ducking into the kitchen to lean jauntily against the counter. "I forced myself to do it this time." He tossed his keys on the counter and flexed. "A good full hour run on the beach. Your regularly exercising man is back. You proud o' me?"

She gave him a closed mouth smile and nodded. "I am. Very proud."

Something wasn't right. She'd made herself a martini and it was almost gone, he saw now that he'd stopped running his mouth. And she was all wrapped up in one of his sweatshirts, her so-called 'lounging clothes' on underneath it. And she looked tired, maybe even a little…worried.

And here he was, bursting in, chirping about exercising, and not noticing any of it 'til now.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sarah smiled and pushed some of her mussed blond hair behind her ear. She did that either when she was thinking, or when something was bothering her…and sometimes she just didn't want her hair in her face, he assumed. Either way, he was watching closely. "I'm fine. Just working a hard case."

"Oh. Oh!" He crossed his arms, then toed his running shoes off, leaving them there on the floor. "Hard as in it's a lot of work? Or hard as in it's taking an emotional slash mental toll?"

She sighed. "Uh, both."

Chuck winced. "Shit. I'm sorry, baby. Need any help?" She eyed him dubiously. "I'm not horning in on your investigation or trying to play P.I. with you, I swear. Just, you know, being your sounding board. If you need it." He thrust his hand out placatingly.

"No, I don't need your help. Thank you. But it is…something I should talk to you about." She winced this time.

He frowned. "Oh. Oookay. You've got my attention." She bit her lip a certain way that made him think she didn't particularly want to talk to him about it. And she not only had his attention, he was getting a little worried. "Listen, I'm…really sweaty. Like dripping. It's gross…"

"I could stand to look at you like this a little while longer if I'm being honest," she flirted, running her eyes down his body and back up again. At least whatever else was going on, she was still doing her best to make him blush. And like always, it was working.

"Hot, but I'd rather be clean." She giggled at that but he still saw the worry in her. "Hey, is it bad? I can put off the shower…"

"No, no. I'll still be here when you're finished showering, Chuck." She sent him an amused look. "And I'll have a martini ready for you."

Chuck narrowed his eyes dubiously. "Am I going to need a martini?"

She pursed her lips and nodded once. "Yes."

"Oh, hell." He slumped a little. "Is it something with us? I mean, is this one of those talks? Am I in trouble about something? Did I fuck up?"

Sarah furrowed her brow. "What? No. I told you I have to talk to you about this case I'm working. Of course it isn't us. You haven't done anything. You're…" She gave him a bit of a disappointed look and he felt properly chastised. "Chuck. Baby. Do you think if it was something with us, I wouldn't just outright tell you and not put you off to take a shower while I fix you a martini? I don't drag shit like that out. Not with you. Not with anybody but especially not with you."

He let out a slow breath. "Okay. Sorry. I got freaked out."

"I saw that." She widened her eyes. "Are you okay now?"

"Yep. Yep, I'm good. Gonna…ahem…take my shower now." Chuck crept closer to her and carefully leaned in to peck her lips quickly, not wanting to get his sweatiness anywhere near her comfy cleanness.

She giggled as he dashed off to shower. As much as he felt like he needed a longer, more luxurious shower after that run, if only to reward himself for going on the run in the first place, whatever it was she had to tell him was making him antsy. He just wanted to sit down with his martini and have it out. Whatever it was.

At least he could be comforted by the fact that she made it very clear their relationship wasn't the subject of this talk. Maybe she was just struggling with a part of the case and she needed to hash it out with him so she could try to settle her decision in her own mind or something. That seemed plausible.

But he had no idea what to expect by the time he trotted back down to the main floor of his condo, and he was sort of freaking out about it on the inside.

Sarah was waiting for him at the window, sipping her second martini, her free hand gently pushing the curtains out of her way so she could look out over the city blanketed by the darkness of a moonless night.

She glanced up at him and smiled. "It's on the coffee table."

Chuck inched between his couch and the table and scooped the martini up into his hand gracefully, sipping it. "You know, for all the credit you give me about my martinis, you make them really good, too."

"I know." She snorted and shrugged with a wink, closing the distance between them and sitting on the couch. He noticed that she didn't sit close and cuddle up against him when he sat beside her like she usually did, which was a sure sign she had something serious to talk to him about. Shit.

"So…? What's all this about?" he asked, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore.

Sarah let out a long sigh and nibbled her lip. "I'm not really sure how you're going to take this so I guess…I guess if you could just…listen…? And then maybe we can discuss after?"

Chuck nodded, not trusting his voice. He took a bit of a gulp from his martini glass, deciding maybe he'd need to drink this thing faster.

"Okay," she said, sighing again. "So Casey brought me in on this. I'm working with the LAPD again. And the first thing I need you to know is that the suspect is looking…pretty guilty. Like, we're just days away from booking him, bringing him in. Not just for questioning but, he might be legitimately arrested. And indicted. The FBI is involved and everything."

"Oh, shit."

"Uh, yeah. It's not looking good for…this person."

But before she could get much further, he heard Neil Young's voice flare up from his kitchen table where he'd left his phone during his run. Old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were. Chuck winced, glancing over at the table.

"That's my dad. You mind if I just grab it real quick?" he asked. "I can let it go to voicemail. I'll let it go to voicemail," he said, thrusting his hand out. "Just keep telling me about the case."

"No. God, Chuck…it's your dad. Go." She waved him off and with one quick leap, he was over the back of the couch and rushing to answer his phone.

He grabbed it and answered in the nick of time. "Hey, Dad. 'Sup?"

"Oh. Hi, son. Uh, listen…there's…there's a problem."

"What is it? Something happen at B.E.C.? Mom okay? El?"

"Oh, no, everything's okay there. Everybody's fine." Chuck sighed and noticed Sarah was startled as she watched him, worried even. He waved away her fears and mouthed that it was okay and she sagged with relief. "But…" He sighed. "Well, Charles…it's, uh, it's Ed."

Chuck frowned a little, idly pacing towards the window. "Ed? Good ol' Passy? What's up with him?"

"He's in a lot of trouble, Chuck."

He straightened his back and frowned harder. "What do you mean trouble? I mean, he's a corporate lawyer and on the city council. He's kind of, like, the guy you call when you're in trouble, right?" He let out a one syllable chuckle. "Is his business having a hard time?"

"Uh, no. No, it isn't his business. I just found out today that LAPD is planning on putting a warrant out for his arrest any day now. They're just getting the warrant ready."

A chill went through him. "What? Arrest? Jesus Christ, for what?"

"I don't know yet, son. I don't know. I tried reaching out to him to see if I could be of any help, but he hasn't gotten back to me."

"Well, no wonder. He's probably freakin' out," Chuck said, pushing a hand through his hair. "Maybe we can find out more about this and get him a good lawyer or something. What do you think it's about? Something with the city council? One of his court cases?"

"I just don't know," Stephen Bartowski said, sounding worried and miserable. "I'm scared. It sounds like a pretty serious charge."

"What, like murder?" Chuck scoffed, peering out of his window and down into the streets. His dad was silent. "Is it murder?"

"I don't know. Mick said it could be. He's just not sure. But you could find out."

"Me? I mean, I can ask around, but I don't have any contacts at the LAPD. How am I supposed to find out?"

"Well…" Chuck didn't like the sound of that pause. "It seems Sarah's been a pretty big part of the investigation, son. Which leads me to ask if you already knew about this and just didn't tell me for some reason."

"What?" Chuck's jaw fell open. Sarah? "Sarah?" He spun on his heel and saw his girlfriend now perched on the arm of his couch, a permanent wince on her face. Oh God. Oh…Oh God. "Sarah's…Dad, of course I didn't know. If I knew Ed was getting arrested, I would've told everyone. I had no idea."

Sarah was just staring at him, a hard look on her face, but there was guilt there, too. He saw it plainly. And he knew what that talk was going to be now.

"Shit," he muttered, not to Stephen, or even to Sarah, but to himself.

She was on her feet and moving towards him immediately, stopping just a foot away and imploring him with her eyes.

"She must not know he's close with our family, Chuck. I just…didn't know she was doing work with the LAPD."

"When they ask her to help, she does. Listen, Dad. Just sit tight, okay? I'm sure none of it has anything to do with our family or Bartowski Electronics, but people might make some ridiculous connections if they know he did some paperwork for us as our lawyer when we were first starting to make it big." He kept his eyes on Sarah's. She needed to know they were definitely having a talk after he calmed his dad down a bit.

He could tell his dad was trying really hard not to be angry with Sarah. It was in the guy's nature. And he really needed to foster that. He couldn't stand it if this caused some sort of rift between his girlfriend and his family—he'd just explode. Or go to sleep and never get out of bed again. Let them all work it out themselves. He just couldn't do this.

Panic was starting to set in. He could feel tingling in his fingers and toes. Their family friend Ed Pasfield, their lawyer, the guy who'd had their backs and kept them from slipping up, who kept them on the straight and narrow, wasn't on the straight and narrow. Or was he, but he was just being tagged for something he didn't do?

No, he couldn't let himself jump on that idea right away. He couldn't oppose Sarah right off the bat without knowing anything. Sarah Walker was an incredible detective. She did the right thing. She didn't make mistakes often, and especially not in her work upholding the law.

He was confused. His insides were dying.

"Just-Just don't talk to reporters. Okay? We have no comment if anyone reaches out. Tell Mom. No comment. That's all we have for them. And…" He swept his stricken gaze back up to Sarah's. God, she looked so sorry. She really did. She probably thought she was in a lot of trouble. She was in some trouble. She definitely was…

"Dad, call Frankie."

"Your mom's Frankie?"

"Yes. She'll have some ideas on how we can sidestep this fallout if they try to drag us into it. It's what she does." Frankie Bernstein was Mary Bartowski's publicist. After they really started getting B.E.C. off the ground and running and the name and brand spread like wildfire, after Stephen first got into WIRED magazine, she'd felt it necessary to hire a publicist. And Frankie hadn't let them down yet. She was a genius. They needed a genius publicist right now.

"Charles, I don't care about the fallout or the company right now," his dad snapped in a voice he hadn't heard him use in years, not since his dad's new company was flailing in the beginning and he was stressed all the time. "My friend is being arrested by your girlfriend and I want to know why in the hell this is happening! He's stuck by us. We need to stick by him."

Chuck didn't think now was the time to remind his dad they'd never slipped with fraud or money laundering or even used loopholes to get around the law, let alone been involved in a murder—though a guy had tried to have them murdered but that was neither here nor there.

"Talk to Sarah, Charles."

"Dad, I'm not—"

"See if they can't at least explain what this is about. There's no way he's involved in anything like this. I've known him for years! He's a good guy!"

"I know, Dad."

He was just glad his father stopped before he told him to ask Sarah to get them to drop this investigation. Too late for that. Sounded like the investigation was just about wrapping up. And he realized the implications. Sarah hadn't said a word about it to him this whole time.

"Maybe I can put up the money for his bail—" his dad was saying.

"No. Dad, listen to me," he interrupted. "This is going to sound cruel, but at the moment, I think it's best we stay out of it. No bail money." Sarah's hand clamped down on his forearm and he spun to look at her. She shook her head vehemently.

"You're right," she whispered. "Don't get involved. Don't give him money."

Chuck resisted the urge to pull his arm away. That would be mean. He didn't even know what was going on. She squeezed once and let go of him herself.

"Charles, we need to help him. I don't care what it looks like."

"Dad, we have to protect ourselves!" he snapped then, and he saw Sarah's eyes widen in her peripheral. "Maybe that sounds cruel, but if it's as bad as you're saying, and we don't know whether he's really guilty or not—"

"Of course he isn't guilty—!"

"You don't know that! You don't know that, Dad. I'm with you, trust me. Trust me, Dad, I'm with you, okay? We're gonna get to the bottom of it, but right now, we need to hang back. If—If he is guilty, I don't want Bartowski Electronics caught up in it. I don't want you caught up, I don't want to be caught up. It isn't fair to our employees for us to do anything but lay low right now. Am I making myself clear?"

He didn't mean to take a tone with his father, he really didn't. He knew the poor guy was in pain over this; even if Ed wasn't their very best friend, he was someone who'd helped them a lot over the years.

"All right. I need to go."

Chuck could hear in the older man's voice that he was angry now, at Chuck or at Sarah, maybe at both? Or maybe just at the situation as a whole. Chuck was getting angry too, and he thought Sarah might be the subject of his anger, though he didn't know if that meant he was angry at her.

He said goodbye and hung up, then he just stood there, glaring out of the window for a moment. And then he let his forehead thunk against the cool glass and he shut his eyes.

"That-That was what I was going to tell you," Sarah finally said, quietly, after almost a full minute of tense silence.

"I figured that out."

She was silent again, probably trying to gauge his reaction to all of it, trying to see if he was pissed off at her for her involvement in the approaching arrest of a man who probably seemed to her to be very important to him—to his family.

"Chuck, talk to me," she finally said, and he felt her hand on his upper back, between his shoulder blades. When he didn't respond, she asked, even quieter than before, "Are you super mad at me?"

"Not super," he sighed, and then he turned to frown at her. "But I am mad at you. Enough." She looked hurt, but she nodded, as if she'd expected that. So she did know Ed Pasfield was connected with their family in some way at least. And she'd kept it from him through the whole damn investigation. "You didn't think to tell me Ed was under investigation when Casey first pulled you in on it? That might've been something I'd like to know—that my girlfriend was investigating a family friend, one of our most trusted lawyers."

"Well, I wasn't investigating him as your girlfriend, Chuck. I was investigating him as a licensed detective." There was no sarcasm or bite to the way she said it. It was just said as a fact.

He nodded. "I understand that. But you should've told me."

"I was expressly advised not to, Chuck. By the top LAPD detective in charge of the homicide unit." He gave her a droll look and she shrugged defensively. "I trust you not to say anything to the rest of your family about it, but Casey doesn't know you, so of course he wouldn't have the same trust in you that I have. I had orders."

"You're not a cop, Sarah."

"But it's still my job to uphold the law, to do the right thing. It's in my bones, Chuck. When I realized it was big enough, that murder might be involved, I knew I couldn't tell you who I was investigating because you, your dad…you might try to get involved."

"And it would fuck up your case," he said, nodding, hating that she was right.

"No, Chuck. Mostly, I was terrified you'd get roped in by Casey and his deputies. I'd get knocked off the case or have to recuse myself from it because of a conflict of interest and then I'd have no idea what was going on, I'd have no control, I'd be cut out of the whole thing and how could I help you from the outside?" She grabbed both of his arms and forced him to look at her, catching his gaze with those earnest blue eyes of hers. "I know you're pissed off at me, but I have been performing this balancing act for weeks now."

"Balancing act?" he asked, a little confused.

"Yes. A balancing act. You know how important it is for me to do the right thing, follow the law, be on the moral high ground. It is ingrained in my soul, Chuck." He nodded slowly. "I've been helping with this investigation and doing my best to keep the others from straying close to Bartowski Electronics. A few times, they seemed like they might try, and I protected you. I had to get a little wily so they didn't know I was doing it, but I did it."

Chuck's throat constricted a little. "You-You know we have nothing to do with whatever this is, right? I'd never—My dad would never—What I mean is, we've never even misplaced a God damn penny, let alone been involved with murder—"

"God, Chuck! Of course not!" she exclaimed, moving her hands to cup his jaw, her thumbs stroking his face. He was panicking. Maybe she could see him panicking. "But just because you're good people, it doesn't mean everyone you trust has always been good themselves." She ducked her head and looked away. He thought he saw pain there, and he didn't know what it stemmed from. Something told him it had nothing to do with this."You kept this from me for weeks, Sarah. Why'd you tell me today?"

She sighed and stepped in close, sliding a hand down to his chest. "They're sending in a team to arrest him in the morning. At his home."

"Fuck." He groaned and stepped away, pushing his hands through his hair. He began to pace then, the panic rising. "My dad's so upset. He's in this mindset of needing to do something to help Ed. And I'm over here not knowing how to handle any of this. You were one of the lead investigators on the case."

"How did your dad know that?"

Chuck shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe one of Ed's people called him 'cause they knew about my dating you. I don't know. But this is bad. You know that right? This looks pretty terrible."

Sarah winced. "I know. I'm sorry, Chuck. But—"

"I know, I know. The law. Moral high ground. Yadda yadda. My dad isn't happy with you right now."

That looked to genuinely upset her. She moved to the arm of the couch again and slumped down, a miserable look on her beautiful face, and she put her hand to her forehead. "Fuck."

"You didn't think he'd be mad that you investigated his friend? Which is leading to him being arrested for…I dunno what?"

"Murder, Chuck." His eyes snapped up to her face, a cold chill going through him. "It's murder."

"How do you know it was him?" he asked weakly.

"A shit ton of evidence. I wish I could give you better news. It's why I kept going with it. It's why I didn't stop, even though I knew this would hurt you, even if it might…make your family…hate me." She gave him a miserable look again. "At the root of all of this, an innocent woman was killed. Simply because of the work she did."

"The work she did?" he asked, crossing his arms and moving a bit closer.

"Ed Pasfield murdered an escort he'd hired—motive still murky but they'll get it—and then dumped her body in the pool of a nearby estate owned by some Hollywood exec he knew had frequent parties with escorts in attendance." She curled up a little and hugged herself, shaking her head. "There. Now you know."

"The evidence couldn't have been…planted by someone who…has a vendetta?" Chuck asked, feeling how pale he must be. Ed Pasfield—not just a guy who hired escorts, but who then…murdered an innocent person… God.

Sarah gave him a flat, pointed look. "No. Chuck, it was him. It's a sure thing."

"Fuck," he breathed again. And then he repeated it a few times. He put both hands on his head. "Ed, what the fuck?"

He felt tears in his eyes, then. He didn't know if it was sadness, or if it was the panic, or both put together. But Sarah was there in less than a moment, her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in and holding him tight, cradling him almost.

"Chuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He just stood there, his arms at his sides. "This isn't fair. He's a good man. He's been good to us. He's been—He kept us from making stupid mistakes that could've ruined the company. He knows the law like the back of his hand. I can't believe this is something he'd do. It just isn't something he'd do."

"But he did it, Chuck."

He was angry, the tears dry now. "What if he didn't? What if he didn't do it and he's being…framed or something?"

She pulled back a little, and the understanding in her face suddenly felt…well, condescending, infantilizing. Even though he knew that wasn't her intention. "He isn't being framed."

"How could you know that for sure?"

"It's my job, Chuck. I looked into that myself. I looked at anyone who might want him out of the way, who'd frame him for murder. Revenge. All of that. We covered every angle. He did it, Chuck."

"Well, keep looking, Sarah. You don't understand," he said, pulling away and starting to pace. He could feel her patient and understanding gaze following him and as ridiculous as he knew it was, it made him more pissed. Like she'd known he would do this, and understood his reaction, and damn it, why wasn't she stopping him or yelling at him about her duty to justice or the rule of law or something? "You don't get it, Sarah." He rounded on her. "Ed Pasfield isn't like that. Maybe-Maybe the escort thing. Maybe that. I don't know. The guy was lonely maybe, and I can't fault him for that. I know you're a detective and prostitution is illegal, and you probably don't like me saying this, but I don't give a fuck if he paid for sex."

She shrugged. "I don't make it my business to villainize sex workers."

He just gaped at her. She really was making this difficult for him, and he wondered if she simply didn't know it. And then he knew she didn't. This was just her. Supporting him instead of doubling down and getting angry back at him. Damn her for being so understanding.

"Edward Pasfield is not a murderer, Sarah. Maybe he pays for sex, but he isn't a murderer. That goes against everything he's ever stood for. I refuse to believe this. Okay?" He was sure down to his very bones. Or…maybe he wasn't, and that's why he felt so sick. And suddenly, the anger just flared up. "This is going to fuck everything up! I mean, did you think about that at all, Sarah?"

Sarah was silent for about twenty seconds, not looking at him. And then she nodded quietly. "I haven't stopped thinking about it, Chuck. Not even for a moment. It was like this heaviness on my back every step of the way, weighing me down." She sighed, pushing a hand through her hair in frustration. And then she finally looked up at him, her gaze steady and serious. "I knew this was going to hurt you, your dad, your family. Even though I've been able to keep you out of the investigation, I knew there'd still be a toll on all of you."

"You did it anyway," he said, realizing he sounded like a jerk. But he stubbornly stuck with it.

"Yeah." She took a deep breath, lifting her eyebrows. "I did it anyway."

He just stood there staring at her until she became a little uncomfortable, shifting her weight back and forth.

"I love you. And I care a great deal about your family. But Sonia Zaoui deserves justice. It doesn't matter what her profession was. She was murdered in cold blood and her murderer should be tried and sentenced. Whether he's your friend or not, Chuck, there are consequences for taking someone else's life." Her eyes were glassy, and he thought tears lined them for just a moment. But she blinked them away. "Maybe I could look away in some other…situation. I don't know. All I know is I can still love you more than anything and investigate a murder that ends up putting a friend of yours behind bars. I can pursue justice and still care about your family."

He huffed and hung his head, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. "What am I supposed to do here, Sarah? My dad's ready to fight this thing."

"He doesn't know that Pasfield murdered someone. He doesn't have the details," she reasoned.

"Yeah, of course not. Neither do I. My girlfriend the detective went off with the LAPD to investigate a family friend for a couple of weeks and kept me in the dark about it the whole time!" She winced. "Part of me gets why, but there's another part of me that really doesn't. I want you to know that. Like, this is serious and I would've liked to have known about it from you earlier. Not through a fuckin' hysterical—for my dad anyway—phone call."

She nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry, Chuck."

"Well, you're not as sorry as I am. Because now my parents are going to be pissed that you went after a family friend. And I'm really gonna be in the middle of it now." He let out a bitter, breathy chuckle. "Did you think about that at all? That this was gonna stick me in the middle of you and my parents? You're putting their lawyer, their old friend who did a lot for them, in prison."

Sarah clenched her jaw then, lifting a hand. "I know you're mad at me, and upset about this, but you know I don't deserve what you just said. Pitting me against your parents. I don't deserve that."

He huffed, a bit of guilt pricking at his heart. "Sorry. I'm sorry. You're right. But for all they know, you're putting their guy away—someone they trust, someone they're sure would never do anything wrong, let alone something like this. I'm even having a really hard time believing any of this is true."

"I told you it's true. All the evidence points to it. It's a mountain of evidence," she argued, thrusting her hand out, palm up. "You don't trust me? I wouldn't just say this shit about someone I know you care about."

"I know that, but it's still hard, okay? You don't get it, Sarah! You've never had someone close to you be accused of a crime! You've never had to see someone you trusted almost your whole life get carted away by the cops!"

She was just silent, staring at the floor in abject pain. "Yeah," she said quietly. "It isn't gonna be easy, Chuck. And you might be pissed at me…I even get why. I understand it… But I'm still here. Your girlfriend. None of this changes that. None of this changes that I love you more than anything."

Chuck just nodded, silent for a while. And then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, Sarah. I love you, too. Nothing will change that. Ever. But you've really put me in a shitty spot."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." He groaned and ruffled his hair with his hands in frustration. "I have a lot to think about. I need to think. I need to figure out how to keep my dad in check, how to keep my mom from flying off the handle. And whether it's fair or not, you have a lot to answer for to 'em both. You realize that, right?"

She shut her eyes tightly and opened them again, sighing. "Yeah. I realize it."

"This is so fucked. And I know it isn't reasonable, but I'm mad at you." She nodded, hurt. "I need to be alone. To think about this."

Sarah looked a bit like he'd slapped her across the face, but then understanding spilled over her features and she bit her lip. "Yeah. I get it. I'll, um, I'll go—"

"You don't have to go, Sarah. Jesus." He walked up to her and cupped her jaw gently, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "We have a lot to talk about. I need you. I'm mad at you. I'm really mad. But I need you…to…be here. With me. I have a lot to come to terms with and figure out. And I need to do it alone for a bit. But not…alone, alone. I don't want you to go anywhere. Please? I'm just gonna grab my coat and sit up on the roof for a bit. But don't leave."

"Okay," she breathed. "I'll be right here."

He moved away and grabbed his coat, a helpless bubble rising in his chest. He needed to wait until he got upstairs before he dealt with that. And as he shrugged on his coat, he moved towards the martini he hadn't finished, then thought again. And instead went to grab the entire bottle of gin.

Sarah didn't say a word, but he felt her eyes on him as he walked out onto the balcony, climbing the stairs to his own personal hellscape of terrible thoughts and conclusions.

Because fuck this entire situation.

Fuck everything.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah sipped her coffee slowly, waiting, staring at the door to the balcony. It was in the lower fifties outside now that the sun was down, and he'd only taken his coat—if memory served her right, that jacket wasn't lined or anything. He had to be cold up there on the roof, whether he was guzzling gin or not.

And he'd been up on the roof, the cold roof, for almost an hour and a half.

She wondered if she should climb up there to drag him back down so he didn't get sick or something.

But the truth was that she was kind of angry with him too. She didn't want him ending up sick, but letting him sit out there to stew was probably for the best. He'd lashed out at her, and she understood it to a point. He was in a really tough spot, and maybe this did create a rub between her and his parents.

She should have talked to him about it earlier. She knew that.

But the crack he made about her not understanding how this felt…

He was the one who didn't understand. He didn't understand what she was feeling through all of this. And of course he couldn't. Not unless she told him. And she wouldn't do that.

Pushing that out of her mind altogether, she thought maybe she'd bring a blanket up to him at the very least and then come back down here. She checked her watch. It was after ten. He'd been out there for longer than just an hour and a half. Shit.

Had he fallen asleep? Did he finish the gin bottle and pass out? Had he somehow gotten drunk and fallen over the edge?

Now she was in a panic, and she spun to grab a blanket and go up there, whether he wanted her to or not, but then he was there, his hand pushing against the door. He was swaying a bit but he was alive and standing. He hadn't fallen off of the roof at all.

She hurried to open the door for him, sliding it open just enough that he could squeeze through. He hadn't finished the bottle, but he drank a lot of it, and he tripped a little on the threshold as he came in.

Sarah snagged him by his sleeve and kept him upright. "Whoa…You okay?"

"No," he said miserably. "My entire outlook on life z'skewed, you know? I-I really try to be—I'm a pretty pozitive guy. This iz filled me with-with-with bad. Negative feelings juz…all over. It feelz bad. An' iz really cold out-outside…" He swallowed hard as she reached around him to slide the door shut and lock it. "I'm surrounded by…by murderers. An' bad people. Peop-People are bad. They're bad."

"Not everyone," she said, slipping the gin bottle from his fingers without him even noticing and setting it on the nearest horizontal surface. She'd put it away later. He was really swaying, his eyelids drooping.

"No. But a lotta people, though! You think—think you know a guy! You know?"

Sarah lifted his arm and put it over her shoulders, walking him towards the stairs that led up to his bedroom. Crap, maybe letting him pass out on the couch would be easier for her. But no, she wanted him in his bed where he could be more comfortable and warmer. His skin was freezing to the touch. She'd wanted to give him space, but she really shouldn't have let him sit out there so long with nothing but his pajamas, slippers, and a jacket. Damn it.

"I know, Chuck. I'm sorry. We'll handle it together tomorrow, okay? You'll be all right."

"I juz want it all to go away," he moaned. "I want people to st-stop doing awful thingz."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" she muttered to herself with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Why aren't people good? I know—Iz hard, it iz. Iz hard to be good, to do good. All the time." He waved his hand that wasn't around her off to the side so hard that she nearly toppled, but she held tight, got her footing, and sighed, keeping them going to the stairs. "But not murdering somebody? Tha'z not hard! Iz not hard to not murder somebody!" She winced at how loud that was in her ear. At least he'd gotten to the point where he believed her while he sat up there thinking.

"Come on, Chuck. There are stairs here. Careful."

She guided him up the first and second step, but he swayed. "Sarah, everything hurz. I'm hurting. In my heart. In my everything."

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry. Let me get you to your room and we can keep talking about it. But I need you to focus so you don't fall down the stairs. We can't let anything happen to you."

"Oh," he muttered. And then his chin fell to his chest and he glared down at his feet, taking a determined step up…then another.

She thought she'd never felt so protective of anything or anyone ever in her life as she felt right at that moment, helping her drunk, heartbroken, frazzled boyfriend up the stairs. "I should have told you," she said quietly into his ear. "I should've just told you right in the beginning. I could've trusted you to keep it between us, as big as this is for your family. I thought I could protect you," she explained. "But I should've just told you, so we could be a team."

"You should'mmf told me," he agreed, just as quietly, his speech getting more slurred. "We're a…good team. Nobody teamz lik uz." She couldn't help a soft giggle at that, squeezing him with the arm she had wrapped around his torso. "But I wuz mean. An' you dinnit d'zerve it. Okay, Sarah?"

"Okay," she breathed, helping him up the last step so that they were safely on the landing in the middle of the staircase. He leaned heavily on the railing and messily slipped his cold hand over her neck, then down to her shoulder. She shivered but let him keep his hand there.

"Di'she—Di'she have a fam'ly?" he asked, his brown eyes glossy but still plagued with sadness.

"Yes," she said honestly. "She had a son, but he lived with Sonia's aunt."

He cursed brokenly and swallowed.

He understood. She could see it in him. He'd just needed some time to get past his own hurt about the revelations. He needed the information to settle. He needed to get to place where he could come to terms with what a person he trusted had done. There was a line of tears at the bottom of his eyes, shimmering there for a moment, and he shut his eyes tight.

When he opened them again, the tears were gone.

"C'n … c'n you help me get up th'rezt of th'stairz so I c'n jus' pass out? I'm sad. An' very…very drunk."

"I've got you. C'mon." She wrapped her arms around him and started guiding him up the rest of the steps. He leaned heavily on her as they went and she found she was really starting to struggle. He was lanky, but he had muscle and was extremely tall…

She just needed to get him to the bed and the rest of it would be a piece of cake.

She did get him to his bed, and she was able to pull the sheets down and help him climb in. She had to take his slippers off of his feet and help him shrug out of his jacket, but it was easy enough. And as he flopped down against the pillow, he buried his face in it and groaned.

Sarah pushed her hand through his hair. "You want some water before you fall asleep?"

He turned his face so that he could blink up at her. "C'n you make thiz all go away while I'm 'sleep?"

She knelt down at his side and stroked his cheek. "No, Chuck. I can't. It's still gonna be here when you wake up. But so am I."

"Yer sujja good person," he muttered. "M'still mad atcha. But yer so good. Y'know if… It izzint g'nna come down to it, I know, but if…if it did…" She watched as his eyelids became so heavy that they shut, his jaw going a little slack, and she stayed kneeling at his side, thinking he'd fallen asleep. She leaned in to kiss his forehead softly, then stood to her full height, turning to go downstairs and maybe do some work to get her mind off of this horrible situation for a bit.

But then she heard his voice again, so soft she was surprised she was even able to make it out.

"I'd choose you."

Sarah turned and looked down at him. He was asleep now, his face smushed against the pillow, a soft snore coming out of him.

She let out a slow, quiet breath. And the things he'd said to her, things she'd been prepared to hear when she told him about Ed Pasfield, about how she'd been investigating him for weeks without telling Chuck, things that had genuinely hurt … well, they paled in comparison to what he'd just said, half passed out already.

"I know," she said back quietly. "But thank you for saying it."

He hadn't heard her, but it didn't matter. She put a glass of water and some aspirin on his bedside table and turned off the light, spending some time reading reports downstairs on the couch before she wandered back up to climb into bed beside him and fall into a fitful sleep.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A/N: Thanks again for reading. More to come in this arc. Big things happening. Big, big things. It's gonna get deep. Strap in.

-SC