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: This is going to be a whooooooooooole arc so get your popcorn or if you're not a popcorn fan, whichever snack you prefer, hunker down, get cozy. There's more coming.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"I've got 'im!"

"Walker…? Walker, don't you d—" She hung up and watched as a pair of Nikes disappeared around the corner. Then she dashed to her left, cutting into a restaurant and running through it to the shock of the diners enjoying their dinners. As she burst into the kitchen, getting a "Hey! What the—?" from the cook, she yelled, "Police business!" and kept running until she found the door that led out to the back dumpsters.

She staggered out into the dark, moonless night, skidding to a halt at the bottom of the steps, then sprinted down the short back alley and stopped right at the corner of it, waiting…waiting…

She heard footsteps coming closer, closer, heavy breathing…a curse…shouting of Casey's men from far, far behind the assailant.

And this was exactly why she was here.

Sarah Walker, P.I. did a fast countdown, listening to the footsteps, the breathing, gauging a bit of physics in her head, and then she stepped out and stuck her arm up, straight, clenching the strong muscles in her biceps and forearms, locking her elbow.

Marcus McConnell slammed into it so hard, his feet were swept up off the ground, his head jerked backwards, and he landed with a painful sounding thump on the sidewalk, letting out a strangled cry.

He was semi-conscious by the time Officers Gregson and Martinez arrived to roll him over and cuff him.

"Jesus Christ, the man left the ground for a good five seconds!" Martinez panted as his partner knelt down to do the honors of cuffing their perp. "Where'd you learn that shit, P.I.?"

Sarah let out a slow breath and put her hands on her hips, trying to control her heart rate as she shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I've mastered a few of the arts. Comes in handy sometimes."

As Martinez hoisted the woozy criminal to his feet and started walking him towards the police car that screeched to a halt beside them, Gregson sent her an appraising look and tipped his hat back a little on his head, grinning. "I've seen stuff like that in WWE Raw, but none of those folks are as pretty as you are, Ms. Walker."

Sarah just smirked and shook her head. "Stop before you even start, Officer. I'm very taken."

"Shucks." They walked together down the sidewalk and she turned to watch as Martinez and the third officer who'd pulled up put McConnell in the back of the car, shutting the door after him. "Why don't I see a ring?"

"I said I'm taken, not married. And I don't see how it's any business of yours, either way."

He whistled as she stepped away from him and approached Casey as he climbed out of his own car and made his way towards her. "The hell are you doin' hangin' up on me?" he demanded.

"Oh, did you want me to put it on speaker as I took down your perp for your guys?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey! We would'a got him!" Gregson said, frowning a little, but still giving her that look. Apparently only a ring was going to deter this guy, at least for today. Typical.

"I called you for a meeting, not to get you to help us take down perps," Casey said, pointing in her face. She tilted her head calmly and reached up to push his pointer finger away from her face and he looked almost embarrassed, crossing his arms at his chest instead.

"Well, I was on my way to the meeting and figured I'd help since it seemed like you all sort of needed it."

"We didn't, but whatever you say, gorgeous."

"Officer Gregson, have some damn respect. Go with your partner and take the perp back to the station for questioning. On the double."

Gregson cleared his throat and saluted his captain, hurrying away, looking a bit like a dog that had just been swat on the nose by a newspaper.

"Thank you," Sarah murmured. "That was getting a little tiresome."

"Maybe stop batting your eyelashes around my officers, and it won't be a problem."

"Shut up! I don't bat my eyelashes! I don't even do that shit for my actual boyfriend, let alone other men." She laughed, still, shaking her head. "So what's this meeting about?"

"Why don't you meet me at the station? I'm sure you parked your car illegally somewhere."

"Hey. My papers are in order. It's fine." She shrugged cockily.

"I hate it when you get cocky. You take one guy down and suddenly you're insufferable." She giggled and grinned with her tongue between her teeth. "Hey, wait a minute…" He narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know where we were tracking McConnell?"

Sarah froze, masking the oops look that threatened to plaster itself on her face. "I don't know what you mean. I'll see you at your office in a few, Detective Casey."

She spun on her heel and hurried away from him, not wanting him to know she'd splurged on an incredibly high tech police scanner, one that Chuck had secretly gone through some back channels to learn about and figure out how to purchase. She'd been wary of him doing that for her, afraid it might get him into some trouble, but he'd assured her it was legally obtained. And she had paid him back. Though she'd had no problem letting him help her figure out how to set it up and use it.

Sarah had every intention of going straight to the station to meet with Casey, but when she heard he was on the chase as well, and Officers Gregson and Martinez announced they were losing him on foot, she felt the need to jump in.

Her phone rang as she got back into her car and she smiled, answering it on her bluetooth so that his voice filled the interior of her car. "Hello, there," she chirped.

"Well, hi. I am leaving the office a little early today and wondered if you want to do dinner. My treat. I'm thinking somewhere that's stupidly fancy and expensive."

She giggled and melted back into her seat a little, guiding her car through LA streets as the sun began to dip behind the buildings. "Stupidly fancy and expensive, huh?"

"Yeah. I feel like it's high time I treat my woman like she deserves to be treated. Wine and dine, dropping major bucks."

Grinning, she turned onto the street for the LAPD headquarters, waiting for a jaywalker to scurry across the street before going again. "So you're saying you want to spoil me."

"Hell yes, I do."

"I mean, I could stand to get a little spoiled tonight. I have to meet with Detective Casey first and I don't know how long that is going to take. He wants to discuss something with me."

"You getting arrested?" he asked.

Sarah laughed and pulled into the visitors lot. "Uh, no. Not that I'm aware of. And he wouldn't dare. I just helped his officers catch a perp a few minutes ago, soooo…"

There was silence on the other line for a moment. "Wait, seriously? You helped the LAPD catch a perp? Was it…?"

"What, a chase? Oh, yeah. I took a shortcut to cut him off, then popped out from an alleyway to clothesline the bastard. God, it felt good, too. You have no idea." She took a parking spot a few rows away from the building and just sat there, leaving the car running.

"Are you telling me the truth, Sarah Walker, P.I., or are you just trying to turn me on?"

She burst into laughter, shaking her head. "You're so dysfunctional. That really happened."

"I might be dysfunctional, but trust me when I say I'm gonna make sure you reap all the benefits from my…dysfunctionality."

"Dysfunction?"

"Dysfunctionality is a way cooler word. But I think you missed the point of what I said maybe 'cause you were so focused on grammar. I'm gonna make sure you reap all the benefits," Chuck repeated. "As in sex."

"Hmm," she hummed, squirming a bit in her seat. "I'd ask you for more detail, but it's probably not a good idea to engage in phone sex while I'm sitting in the parking lot of the LAPD headquarters."

"Uhhhhh probably not?" he said in a high-pitched, cute tone. "I can just keep it in my pocket for later, as it were."

"I request that whatever it is you have in your pocket right now, you take it back out later on, after this fancy dinner you're treating me to."

"Oh. That's the plan."

She grinned and took a deep, satisfied breath. "You really do spoil me."

"Well, how else is a big ol' dopey nerd supposed to keep a radical perp-clotheslining bad ass P.I. around?"

"The money helps," she joked, and he let out a burst of laughter.

"God, I love you."

"I love you, too. But that's a yes on dinner if you can hold off for a bit. And if it's really that fancy, I'll need some time to get gussied up. How hungry are you?"

"I can wait. Just keep me posted and I'll come get you when you're ready."

"Deal. I'll send an update when I'm done with this meeting."

"Call me if you're arrested. I'll bail you out, baby."

She laughed, gave him a parting, "shut up", and hung up the phone, turning off her car and grabbing her bag to go inside. She had to work really hard to wipe the big smile off of her face before she got inside.

By the time she got to Detective John Casey's desk, he seemed to have just arrived and was pulling his jacket off, dropping it over the back of his chair. He looked up and nodded his greeting. "Good. I need to bend your ear about somethin'."

She felt her heart skip a beat, her blood pumping harder through her veins suddenly. "Oh, yeah? A case?"

"A case. It's givin' us hell. Have a seat."

Sarah sat immediately, in the chair she usually sat in when Casey called her in, or when she solved a case of her own and had to pass it on to the LAPD once she collected enough evidence. They'd formed a partnership over the last month or so now, an unofficial partnership, though Casey would probably never call it that, or admit to it in any way, shape or form.

Casey went into the filing cabinet behind his desk and pulled one file out, then went into a drawer to pull another out, before coming back and putting them on his cluttered desk. He opened the first file and pushed it towards her.

"Greta Olsen, age thirty-nine, found in the dumpster behind the restaurant she co-owned with her uncle. Death by strangulation."

"Shit," Sarah breathed. "And they just tossed her in the dumpster?"

"Mhm. Luckily a busboy from the next door restaurant spotted her when he went to dump the trash while closing up around midnight that night, because trash day was the next morning and who knows if she would've ever been found once she got taken to the dump."

"That's horrific. Poor woman. And that poor guy who found her, too."

"Yeah, he was shaken up. To say the least."

"So what are the details then?" she asked, perusing the contents of the folder and skipping past the photographs of the crime scene for now. She would look if she had to. Until then, she'd afford the victim at least some integrity in death. "Her uncle a suspect?"

"Not yet. But the guy basically raised her. She was like his daughter. By all accounts, they were pretty close. He seemed sincerely busted up over it. Highly unlikely he had something to do with it."

"Business was going well?"

"One of the top restaurants in Santa Monica. It's got the whole…Zagat thing too."

She sniffed quietly in amusement. "Then, yeah. Probably not the uncle. Was she married?"

"Mhm. Was. Divorced. Within the last few years."

Sarah gave Casey a significant look and he shrugged. "Eh, it's too easy to say it's her ex. And anyway, he lives in a rich suburb just outside Seattle. He was up there when she was murdered. When we called him up to tell him, he lost his shit. Definitely still somethin' there even though there seemed to be some disagreements about money and that was what ended up in the divorce. We questioned him thoroughly about the details of their split. Sent a few of my detectives up to have a sit-down with him."

Sarah shook her head, reading some of the details of the night she died. "So she closed up the restaurant on her own, closed the registers, locked away the money in the safe, and headed out the back door into the alley, like she usually did according to her uncle. No money was taken?"

"From the safe? Nope."

"So no one broke in for that." He shook his head. "And she was found with her purse?"

"The purse was there in the dumpster with her, but her wallet got swiped."

"Which I'm assuming leads you to believe it's a burglary."

"Mostly."

She gave him a look as she realized what he meant by mostly. "The strangling."

"Exactly. That's a gruesome way to kill someone when you just want their wallet. Most small time muggers carry a knife or a gun, but they'll just threaten the person, grab their purse or wallet, and bust outta there. If things get ugly, the victim's stabbed or shot."

"But a strangling feels very purposeful. Like they meant to murder her, not just steal her wallet."

"You got it," he said, grabbing the file from her. He turned a few pages and then handed her one. "Look at that bit there. Dark car with no license plate was parked on the street for over four hours after the restaurant closed. According to Mr. Olsen, Greta's uncle, it took a few hours after closing at nine pm for the cleaning and prepping to get done before opening. The money stuff, the reports, et cetera. If he was the last one there, he'd end up getting out around midnight, sometimes closer to one. She did the same thing. So a car was just waiting around there for hours."

"Who reported the car?"

"The owner of the laundromat it was parked in front of. She was pissed 'cause usually her customers tend to park there and every time she looked, it was there. So she took note of the time and everything."

"Thanks, lady."

"Pfft. Really."

"So this person was waiting for Greta to leave."

"Yep. It ain't no regular burglary, though they tried to make it seem that way."

"By taking the wallet. Nice try, asshole."

Casey sniffed and nodded. "But that ain't the thing I need your help with. It is, but it's…somethin' else. Somethin' bigger than this." He pushed the other file towards her and took the document back from her to put back in the first file.

"What's this?"

"Another murder. San Gabriel this time. Time of death more or less around the same time as Greta Olsen. Leonard Van Sant, age fifty-seven. He's a prominent enough lawyer in the area…"

"Wait, I read about that one in the paper. He did criminal cases, didn't he? Put a lot of guys behind bars, so cops are—er, you I guess are looking for guys who were sent up the river and have since gotten out. Vengeance."

"Exactly."

"So why you telling me about these two murders at the same time?"

"Look, this is a big town, and an even bigger county. People get murdered all the time. But these were two murders that were pretty similar—strangulation, had their wallets taken, but have people who saw suspicious vehicles around their places of work which makes us think both were premeditated." He shrugged. "Two murders that similar, in close enough towns…" He gave her a significant look. "It has my detective gut acting up."

"You think this murder of a youngish restaurant owner is connected to this murder of a middle-aged criminal prosecutor?" She held up the other file, lifting her eyebrow.

"Yeah. I do."

"But if the time of death is so similar, and both had people waiting around for them to come out of their respective places of work…" She looked at the details of Leonard Van Sant's murder and saw he'd been found in the bushes outside of his San Gabriel law offices. "One person couldn't have killed both of these people."

"So then we've got two murderers. And it was planned."

"Did they know each other? The victims?"

"Literally nothing at all connecting 'em. Nothing."

Sarah sat back in her chair and twisted her lips to the side thoughtfully. "This really is bizarre."

"Yeah. We've been on it for over a week and still got nothin'. We know it's two killers. We know the situations of the murders are too similar to ignore. And at the same time on the same night. But nothin' connects the victims."

"Then maybe something connects the murderers," she reasoned.

He thrust his hand out towards her. "Thank you. Not that my folks aren't following the lead, but I can tell none of 'em really buy that they're connected. Might be my fault, though, since I mentioned I'm getting a Strangers on a Train vibe from this business. Shoulda just kept my mouth shut."

"A what?" she asked, frowning.

He snickered as if she was joking, shaking his head, but she continued to stare at him and he stopped. "Wait, really? You don't know Strangers on a Train?"

Sarah shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I've heard of it? Is it, like, a famous case or something? A book?"

"How's a private eye not know Strangers on a Train?" he asked. "Hitchcock? Really?"

"Oh, so it's a movie. I mean, I know who Hitchcock is. But if it isn't Psycho…" She shrugged. "Also, careful. You sound like my boyfriend with these wild movie references out of nowhere."

"Your boyf—Oh, the secretary?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "That was funny, like, the first and maybe second time you did that."

"Still funny to me," he snickered. "And that's all that matters. Anyway, this ain't a wild movie reference. That movie made me wanna be a detective."

Casey gave her a serious look and thumped his pointer finger on the top of his desk emphatically a few times.

"Honestly, I'm concerned by how much you people are so stuck on depictions of law enforcement and detectives in movies and TV shows, like it has any kind of bearing on what happens in real life in this business. Sometimes I genuinely think Chuck gets off on this image of me sitting at my desk in a fedora smoking a cigar with the whole Venetian blinds and the moonlight shining over my desk or whatever."

"Never tell me what your boyfriend gets off on ever again, first of all." She snorted at the disgusted look on his face. "And secondly, it doesn't matter whether you saw it or not. You should, but it doesn't matter. It's about these two guys meeting on a train and deciding to bump people off for each other. Two people totally unrelated so that they don't get caught. One of 'em changes his mind about it, especially when he realizes the other guy went through with it. Seems like with these two, though, they both went through with it, huh?" He raised his eyebrows then took a long gulp of coffee from a mug that must have been there for a while. Which was…really gross, actually.

"So you're basing this whole case off of an implausible movie from last century. A Hitchcock movie." She was still a little fixated on the coffee. How long had it been sitting there? Really… She shook herself a bit. "Isn't that the same guy who made a movie about birds attacking people?" she asked with a flat voice.

"Hey. I still freak out sometimes when I see a lot o' crows sittin' up on those telephone wires. Don't shit on that movie. It's terrifying."

She laughed and shook her head, shutting the files and pushing them back towards Casey. "Well, listen. You might be right about the killers being connected somehow. But I'll keep thinking on it, and I'll let you know if I come up with something. For now, I think it'd be best to go off of hard evidence instead of what you saw in a murder mystery Hitchcock made three thousand decades ago."

"Yeah, yeah… Just watch the damn movie. That's your homework."

She got up from the chair and shook her head at him. "I'm not one of your officers, Detective. You don't get to give me homework."

Casey grunted and then dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Snorting to herself, she walked away from him. And in spite of what she'd said, she had his theory stuck in her brain. Two killers related, but unrelated…if they'd met somewhere random to plan this, how on Earth were LAPD supposed to figure out where? Or how? Or who they were?

It all just seemed a little too complicated, a little too cinematic.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

He dotted kisses on a path down towards her knee, then back up again, kissing her hipbone, over to her bellybutton, then up her toned abdomen, his tongue darting out to taste her dewy skin. His intent was to make the sensations linger for her, and he continued to kiss and taste and touch, listening to her sighs, whimpers…until her fingers tucked under the sheet he'd thrown over his head and slowly tangled in his curls, pulling him up so that he was face to face with her.

"You are really good at that," she panted, pulling him down to kiss his lips in a fiery, passionate embrace. And when she pulled back with a teasing nip at his bottom lip, he let out a quiet groan before affecting modesty.

"Well, you know, I try."

Sarah giggled as he gently scooted off of her so that he was leaning on his side, propping his head up with his elbow on the pillow her head rested on. And he looked down into her face happily.

"Were those the benefits you talked about in the car?"

"My dysfunctionality, yes," he said with a chuckle. "Did you reap enough? 'Cause if not, give me a few minutes, and I can keep going. Or I can just keep going now. This is in working order still…" He pointed to his mouth and made to duck back down under the covers, but she giggled and let out a cute squeak, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back up.

"Whoa there, tech guy. Hold on. Maybe I need a few minutes myself."

"That's fair." He gave her a teasingly proud look, self-satisfaction in every bit of his face, and she laughed, still breathless. His teasing aside, though, he wasn't above feeling some pride at the way she was blinking rapidly at the ceiling and pushing her hands through her hair. It was a nice boost to his ego to know he could still make her react this way.

When she rolled into him a few moments later, tossing an arm over his chest and snuggling her face into his shoulder to kiss him there, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.

"So what's your plan?" he asked, filling the comfortable silence.

"I'm going to lie here and think about how wrong I was a few years ago when I thought that bartender in South Africa would end up being the best sexual partner of my life."

Chuck tensed and turned to look down at her, his brow furrowed. "What? A South African bartender? Damn, I can't even have, like, one minute of pride before you cut me down, P.I., daaamn."

He was smirking, but just as he wasn't above pride, he also wasn't above jealousy. Who she slept with before they began dating was none of his business, but he couldn't help the discomfort.

"Oh, come on. It was a one night stand. I'm not saying I regret it, but it probably wasn't advisable." She leaned up to kiss his jaw. "Anyway, I didn't say that to make you jealous. I said it to pay you a compliment."

"Mmmhmmmm," he hummed dubiously, giving her a look. She raised her eyebrows innocently. "Anyway, I didn't mean what's your plan for right now. I meant what we talked about at dinner. That case Casey wants you to—hold on, I just realized…case and Casey. Casey's on the case! Haha! …Sorry, um…" He cleared his throat as she rolled her eyes and giggled. "You know, what he asked you about when you went to his office today."

"Yeah, I don't know. How are we supposed to relate these murderers if they aren't related?" She winced. "That made no sense."

"No, it did!" He swiveled a bit to face her better, but stayed close. "They probably don't have any connection on paper, but somehow they know each other and they each murdered one of the two victims. Like a plan. Or something."

"Yeah. Exactly. Like a plan they made with each other. I didn't tell you this bit because it's kind of ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes. "But Casey has this theory that it's like this Hitchcock movie. Uh, Str—"

A thrill shot through Chuck's body as he sat up, letting go of her, and spun to look down at her. Her eyes were wide in shock. "Strangers on a Train?! Oh my God! Oh my God, that's it!"

Sarah groaned and turned away from him, burying her face in her pillow. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that. Damn it!"

He was too carried away with the possibilities now, though, pushing his hands through his mussed hair as his brain went a mile a minute. "That's perfect! Detective Casey is a smart guy, Sarah. I mean, that is just perfect. That's exactly what it is. They met on a train, they commiserated about…about… I dunno, their lives. And they decided they could make a pact."

She lifted her face and twisted so that she could look at him, frustration all over her features.

"Chuck, come on. It's a movie. And who the hell even takes trains down here anymore? Public transportation is barely functional in Southern California ever since the automobile industry screwed the train system down here."

"Okay, fine! They met at…a bar! I dunno! Maybe they both got drunk and decided to off each other's…antagonists. Or something. You said both murders were almost at the same time…"

"Yeah, which means two different murderers, which is why them being connected at all feels…like a stretch."

"Stretch schmetch, Sarah. It's just like Strangers on a Train. We just have to figure out where they met. Since you're right, a train is outdated. Hmmm." He clasped his hands together and wracked his brain, bringing his fingertips to his chin and nibbling on his lower lip.

"Look. Chuck. As cute as you are with that Sherlock Holmesish look on your face, please stop going with this movie idea. Life isn't a movie. Crime isn't like the movies, okay? That stuff is completely sensationalized. It isn't real. Two real people were murdered last week."

Chuck winced and pulled back a little bit. "Shit, sorry. Right. Yeah. No, you're right. Wow. I got a little out of hand."

She sat up and put a hand on his wrist, sliding it up to his elbow and squeezing. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, just giving you a bit of perspective. Someone in Casey's position has to focus on the facts, not some circumstantial situation from one of his favorite movies."

"Side note: Did he tell you that's one of his favorite movies? I don't want to have to genuinely like this guy just yet and I might have to if he's a Hitchcock fa—I'm getting a look. That's a look. Sorry. Sorry sorry. Continue. You're right. Sorry." He mimicked zipping his mouth shut as he saw the flat look she gave him. It was one he recognized, any time she said something and he focused on the part of what she said that she didn't mean for him to focus on. Unfortunately, it had happened enough that he learned to recognize said look.

"I just think it's smart to pay attention to the facts for this one, that's all."

"You're right. And you'd know better than I would. Obviously. What are the facts?"

"He barely has anything except what they found at the crime scenes. But they're looking to see if they can connect anything between the victims. It seems like if there is any connection at all, it'd have to be the murderers who are connected and until Casey gets more clues about them, that's gonna be impossible." She pushed her free hand through her hair.

"That's busted," he said quietly, pursing his lips. "Look, and…and I know we've had this discussion and you're probably gonna be mad at me for bringing it up again, but…but just keep that scenario in mind. Them meeting through some other…means. At a bar or something. Sharing stories. Coming up with this idea."

"But who does that?" she asked, thrusting her hand out between them, palm up. He appreciated she didn't scold him, and instead was having the discussion with him. She was really good about that. He loved that about her. She never patronized or condescended, in spite of how much more experience, cleverness, and natural talent she had when it came to solving crime. "I mean, who meets some rando on a train or, if we're going off of what you said, at a bar…and after a couple drinks, is like, 'Hey! I have an idea! How 'bout murder?!' You know what I mean?"

She had a point. "Yeah, not really small talk, is it? Maybe it wasn't just a one meeting thing. Like, they established some sort of…conversation. Met a few times, or were meeting for months. At some…meeting type place." God, he was not great at this. "And they had multiple long conversations and things got personal and deep and they…I don't know…started talking about these people they wanted dead…and then admitted they wanted them dead. Joking at first, you know?" He narrowed his eyes. "But then they both slowly start to realize…they're not really joking, are they? They really want these people dead."

Sarah let out a long sigh and shook her head. "This still feels really far-fetched, but I guess I came into contact with weirder shit as a Pinkerton agent."

"Sarah, some crazy fucker sped past us in a car from the nineteen-forties and shot a tommy gun at us two years ago. You think a 'You Scratch My Back, I Scratch Yours' murder scenario is as weird as that?"

She winced this time. "Fair point."

"You really should watch Strangers on a Train."

This time she rolled her eyes. "Chuck…"

"If not for this case, then just to humor me because it's genuinely such a good movie. Dark and twisted. Really delicious. Trust me. You'll really love it, far-fetched or not." He put his hands up in surrender. "Doesn't have to be right now. Just…someday. We'll sit down with some martinis and blankets and watch it some night."

In spite of the dubious look she gave him, she smiled. "All right. I'll watch it with you."

"Yessssss!"

"But right now, I want to take a shower. It's been a long day and that's the best possible thing I can imagine to end it with."

Chuck helped her untangle herself from the sheets and watched as she slowly got out of her bed and stretched her arms up over her head. He tried not to stare, key word tried. He plopped back into the pillows and listened as she went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, still listening as he heard her soft voice humming something, the melodious tune wafting out to his ears.

He nearly fell asleep by the time the shower turned off and he heard her patter out into her bedroom again, opening drawers to put clothes on.

Chuck rolled onto his back and propped himself up to watch her. "Should I get dressed and head out? You have an early morning tomorrow or anything?"

She threw him a look over her shoulder as she tugged a thermal down to cover her torso. "I have a whatever kind of morning I want tomorrow. It's Saturday. And I make my own schedule, thank you."

He chuckled. "Well, okay. Question still stands, though."

"Please don't go?" She gave him a semi-pout as she sauntered over to the bed and jumped back onto it. "Unless you want to because you're going into the office early…"

"On a Saturday? Ha!" Chuck shook his head. "I guess I'm gonna stay right here then." He got a look in his eye and leaned close to her. "Aaaaand maybe we can watch…a movie? A particular Hitchcock movie?"

"Nooo, Chuuuck. Not tonight. Please?"

His shoulders sagged.

"Not because I'm gonna renege on watching it with you. But tonight, I kinda want to give my brain a breather from that case. If that's okay. Just…let's do something else. Then I'll revisit it again. But watching that movie is gonna make me think about the case in spite of it really not having anything to do with it." She shrugged. "That okay?"

He nodded, smiling in understanding. And he really did understand. "I get it. And no problem. I'm gonna use your shower, if that's okay, and get some PJs on. And maybe we can just watch a TV show and have midnight martinis."

"God, that sounds so good. Extra towels are under the—You know where they are. Sorry. Even after all this time, I haven't fully gotten used to having someone be in my personal apartment so much." The way she said that made him eye her a bit closely. And she must have realized then how she sounded. "Not that I don't like how often you're here, because I do. It's still just…you know, like—like my place in Chicago, for instance. Well, you were the only person I ever had over. Not just man, but like…person. My landlord once. To borrow a lightbulb. So I might just keep…telling you where things are even though you know. Sorry." She wrinkled her nose apologetically and he bent down to kiss it lovingly.

"Don't apologize. Tell me where the towels are anytime you want. And even though I know where the martini fixin's are, you think you can get everything I'll need out while I take a shower?"

"Ahhh, speed the process along, huh? I like where your brain is at, Bartowski."

"A'thank you." He bowed and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing an extra towel from under the cupboard. He had a stash of clothes and pajamas he kept in a duffel in her closet for this reason exactly, and after that little situation with the towels a moment earlier, he found himself spending most of his shower wondering if him keeping his clothes amongst hers was strange for her, too.

How much of their relationship that was nearing the two year mark now was strange for her, he wondered? And how often did she find herself having to just…get past it for him?

It put things into perspective, and he felt a strange combination of regret that she had to get past things and change to fit into his life, and warmth that she was so willing to do that to make this relationship as good as it was.

He didn't quite know what to do with it…so instead, he let the hot water run over his head, washing the day off of his skin. All he knew was when he fell asleep tonight, he'd hold her that much tighter.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Messy divorce."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, Casey. I have to admit, however, I wasn't aware you had a wife."

He growled. "Shut up. I'm not talkin' about my marriage. Since when do I talk to you about my own life, Walker? This is the case I told you about."

Sarah kicked her feet up on her desk and smirked. "Oh. Right, right. Sorry, Detective Casey. I thought maybe we'd bonded enough and you needed a shoulder."

"My marriage is just fine," he groused. "Even if she does leave her purse where I trip on it every fuckin' morning."

That made her laugh. "I like her already."

"Shut up," he said again.

"When can I come over for dinner? Can I bring Chuck?"

"Never and no. Because never."

She beamed and leaned over to grab the wand of the Venetian blinds and open them a little more to let some of the mid afternoon sun spill into her otherwise dark office. She'd just finished a midday nap when Casey called. "Bummer."

"Can we talk about this case? Jesus Christ, you're worse than my cadets."

"Yeeees, yes, what's this about a divorce?" She lowered her feet and sat up straighter, picking up a paperclip and playing with it between her fingers.

"Greta Olsen. And her husband. Ex. We looked into that in particular and brought her uncle in to ask him some questions about her life, her marriage, anything he could give us. Turns out that about three years ago, Greta Olsen's name was Greta Vinton. She took her husband's name when they got married nine years ago. Nice little Bodega Bay beachside wedding. Side note: Greta's uncle is also a Hitchcock fan and he brought up The Birds while we were talking, so…you're in the minority, Walker."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She wasn't telling him about Chuck. "Oh God. What does that have to do with the case?"

"Bodega Bay! That's where the birds attack the—ugh, never mind. You're uncultured, obviously."

First the guy was drinking herbal tea and now he was calling her uncultured. Who was Detective John Casey? She wasn't sure she'd ever figure that out.

She shook herself a little and decided to just ignore his Hitchcock fanboying. "So her name was Greta Vinton before the divorce, you're saying."

"Right. She dropped her married name after the divorce. Which is not an easy thing to do. It takes a lot of paperwork and time. But Larry—that's her uncle—said she couldn't get rid of Vinton fast enough."

"Ah…so it was a pretty bad break, is what you're surmising."

"Yep."

"Well, does Larry the Uncle know what made it so bad?"

"Nope. She was up in Seattle when all of that was happening, and once the divorce was finalized, that was when she came down here and went into a partnership with her uncle to open the restaurant. He said she wanted to cut ties completely. But she didn't ever tell him what Mark did. He is assuming Mark did something, rather than the two of 'em just growing apart."

"Well, the fact that she hightailed it out of there and went back to the name Olsen as quick as she did makes me think he might be right."

Casey grunted in affirmation. "That's all I got with that one."

"Anything with the other case? Leonard the Lawyer?"

"Not yet. That's a tough one. I mean, he's a prosecutor. He's put a lot of people behind bars. We're combing his cases still." Then he paused. "Did you do your homework?"

"You aren't allowed to give me homework."

"That means no. Walker, it's been three days since I asked for your help on this case and you couldn't be bothered to watch an hour and a half movie?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't think I have other things to do with my time?"

"Watch the damn movie. It'll help me out. If nothing else, you can at least use it to disprove my theory."

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "I'll watch the freakin' movie. If only to shut you up about it."

"Good. Keep me posted if you're able to put anything together."

"Right."

They hung up without a goodbye because that was how they did things. And she tossed her phone on her desk, scooting her chair close and opening her laptop. She wanted to know who Mark Vinton was, what he did for a living, and why his wife might've wanted to get away from him so suddenly. Had their marriage been a rocky one? Or was it all right until one or both of them had an affair? Was he abusive? That would've been something to ask. She texted the question to Casey and got an immediate response: We asked. Larry said he asked her during the divorce, and she swore it wasn't that. He never saw any bruises or evidence Mark hit her or was violent. Seemed like a nice guy. Meek even.

She nibbled on her lip and did a Google search. She'd start there. Mark Vinton, Seattle. And she got a hit. He was a high school history teacher at a high school in one of Seattle's suburbs. And as she investigated further, she found he had a side gig as a researcher at a small natural history museum as well. His picture was on the high school website. He was the typical early forties, grey at the temples, glasses wearing male teacher stereotype. He had average good looks, nothing to write home about, she thought. Though she imagined him having an affair wasn't necessarily off the table. He could probably get some. People had fantasies about that scholarly professor type, didn't they?

She spent some time combing through the papers he'd written, the website articles his name was attached to, trying to get a feel for his interests and how he spent his time. Nothing suspect popped up. Nothing weird. Nothing that set off alarm bells.

But she also knew that murderers didn't always look like murderers. And she was well aware that while Mark Vinton hadn't been in California even at the time of his ex-wife's murder, he could very well have paid someone else to be. It was just that the strangulation part was so…brutal. He would've had to have hired someone who enjoyed the feeling of squeezing the life out of a person, and that was…icky. Did he hate Greta enough to hire a monster like that to kill her?

Sarah jumped a little at the sound of the outer door opening. And she looked up with a bit of surprise, wondering if she had a new potential client. She walked around her desk to find Ellie walking in with Clara wrapped up and pressed against her chest.

"Oh, hi!" Ellie chirped as she fixed the pacifier back in Clara's mouth.

"Hi, there." Sarah hurried over to exchange a quick one armed hug and cheek kiss with Chuck's sister, then she grinned at the groggy baby and lightly stroked her fingers over her hair. "Hi, little blondie. How are you?"

"Sleepy," Ellie said. "Finally. I've been walking her around trying to get her tired. She looks at everything all the time and then she gets worn out and sleeps for hours. It's a new trick I've developed. Give her a million things to look at and she conks out."

Sarah laughed. "That's brilliant."

"Thank you." Ellie nodded her head modestly. "We were in the market, so I thought why not give our favorite P.I. a little visit? You aren't busy or with a client, are you?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I'm between clients. Sort of." She tilted her head. "LAPD is bringing me in on a murder case so I've been doing some investigating on my own."

"You're not working with LAPD pro bono, are you?" Ellie asked, a dubious look on her face.

"Oh, hell no. Never. They gotta write me a check when I help them out." She mimicked counting money in the air between them.

"That's so great!" Ellie winced then. "Not the murder. Murder is sad. Ick."

Sarah giggled. "I get what you mean."

"Okay, full disclosure. We weren't really in the market. I drove here on purpose because I sort of have a, um, favor to ask…I'm sorry."

She crossed her arms and gave Ellie Woodcomb a look. "You don't have to apologize for asking me for a favor. You know I'd do anything for you guys."

The look on Ellie's face—warmth, affection, a myriad of other lovely things—made Sarah feel gooey on the inside. That alone was worth whatever favor Ellie was asking of her. Even if it meant spending a day in Mary Bartowski's presence. Again. In the words of Ellie Woodcomb… ick.

"Well, okay… So… It's almost Chuck's birthday. And I want to throw him a surprise party. I know!" she rushed out, and Sarah wondered if she'd made a dubious face or something. "I know once you hit a certain age, surprise parties are such a dumb thing. But he's gonna be twenty-eight and we had this silly pact we made when we were kids and Dad quit his job and things were kind of a struggle for a bit there…We decided twenty-eight would be the age we'd both kind of look around, take stock of what our lives looked like, and change stuff, fix stuff, if we didn't like where we were at." She sighed and shrugged. "Well, when I was twenty-eight, I was away from my family in San Francisco, married to Devon, had a good job, I was happy…but I still sort of wanted to come back home to LA. I wasn't here with Chuck for my birthday, so it wasn't like we could do anything big for my twenty-eighth together. But I'm here again for his and I want to make this a good one for him."

Sarah smiled. "That's pretty adorable." Then she stopped and leaned against the desk in the outer office. It was dusty, and maybe needed an assistant to sit at it still. Someone to take her calls, make appointments for her. That was years off. She pushed it out of her mind.

"So if Chuck…if he were to look around, take stock of what his life looks like, where he is right now, do you, um…Do you think he's happy? You know him better than anyone. Do you think he's gonna want to make changes, fix something?" She nibbled on her lip and scratched behind her ear. She felt shy suddenly, and a bit unsure.

Their relationship wasn't perfect by any means. She still had hang-ups, he still didn't seem to know how to deal with some of them. And her schedule was so volatile, her career and life still so up in the air, in spite of knowing what she was working towards with the agency. She certainly wasn't even close to there yet, or even halfway there, and it did affect their relationship—not necessarily in a negative way. If it did, it was very rare.

And then there was that flash in the pan idea he'd had right after she'd moved out of his condo and into her own apartment. The one where he thought he might want to leave Bartowski Electronics Corporation and start his own brand. But he'd set that aside, put it off, to be her support while she tried to build her agency from scratch. He'd helped her when she was struggling, pushing his own goals into the background to help her make this dream come to fruition.

This whole Twenty-Eight Pact he and Ellie made when they were kids had her wondering, though. Did he regret that? Would he look back at that when he took stock of where he was and think 'Why in the hell didn't I just pursue my dream?' Her agency wasn't making much profit yet. Still. With all the bills she was paying—the rent for her home, for her office, her car bills, everything else… Not to mention paying for marketing, the advertising and the promotion.

"Sarah, I can see you're freaking out. If you think he's going to be dissatisfied with anything having to do with you, you're nuts. I think you're the one thing he is the proudest of. You don't have to worry about that."

Sarah chuckled quietly. "No, no. I know. It isn't that. Sometimes I just wonder where his head is at. If he's…" Chuck probably wouldn't appreciate it if Ellie knew how close he'd been to perhaps taking action and bouncing from B.E.C., something he told Sarah his sister wanted him to do all these years. "Well, you know. We all have thoughts about our jobs, whether it's right for us. Whether it's as fulfilling as we want it to be. My situation is, um…very different."

Ellie smiled. "It is. It's pretty rad, though."

"Thanks, but you're also sounding a bit like Chuck there, so be careful."

"Oh God, I know. Whenever he talks to us about how you're a private investigator, it's like someone has revved a motor inside of him and he practically vibrates. It's freaking weird. And a little concerning."

Sarah laughed. "God that's such a good description of what happens to him when I talk to him about my work. I mean, I'm not complaining. It hasn't exactly been awful for our sex life."

"Well, that was unnecessary."

Cracking up, Sarah held out an apologetic hand. "Sorry. You're his sister. Sorry. It's just that we're so close and it's easy to slip up. I probably need a female friend who isn't my boyfriend's sister specifically for those conversations."

Ellie laughed. "I mean, I'm mostly teasing you. I'm glad your relationship isn't…lacking…in that department? I'm making it worse. God. The surprise party."

"Yes, that," Sarah giggled.

"I was wondering if you could plan something with him on his birthday. Like, take him away from the office, maybe a day trip to…I don't know, you decide. And then bring him to mom and dad's house? Devon, Morgan, Dad, Mom, and me will put up decorations. I'll get all of Chuck's closest friends, employees, business partners, et cetera to be there and we'll all wait for you two to arrive. Maybe he's gonna think we're having a nice little family get together for his birthday. Dinner or something. And then he walks in and BAM! Surpriiiiise!" Something about the way she said it must have tickled her daughter because the baby giggled happily. Sarah beamed as Ellie giggled too, looking down and hugging her child. "Was that funny, Clara? Huh? Surprising Uncle Chuck? Surpriiiiise." Clara giggled again, and both women laughed.

"I can absolutely do that," Sarah said then. "I was trying to figure out what to do for his birthday anyway. He's hard to peg. And…well, his twenty-seventh birthday was kind of difficult because we were still sort of not…on the same side of the country."

"Oh…yeah, the whole secret relationship long-distance thing. I'm sorry you went through that bullshit with Pinkerton, but I have to admit, I'm happy you're here. I'm really happy you're here, Sarah." Ellie squeezed her arm and smiled warmly.

"So am I. Even with how much of a rollercoaster Walker Investigative Enterprises has been so far, it's all been worth it." She shrugged shyly. "I've found my place here."

"Life is hard sometimes no matter where you are. But it's nice to be in a spot where you've got people you love around you. Why do you think Devon and I moved back to Los Angeles with our newborn?" Then she wrinkled her nose. "Skyrocketing rent in the Bay Area helped."

Sarah laughed. "I'm sure. And thanks, Ellie. I'm one hundred percent onboard with this party. I'll start planning where we'll go during the day so he isn't suspicious. You tell him about the family dinner at your parents' that night?"

Clara gurgled.

"I stand corrected. Clara will take care of the invitation, apparently."

Ellie cracked up. "I'll let you know when she can form words and hold a phone."

"Deal."

After they said their goodbyes and Ellie left, Sarah sat fully on top of the desk and stared at the opposite wall pensively. She liked the idea of there being some sort of pact about a certain birthday, taking stock of your life, where you are…maybe thinking about where you're going. But she couldn't help wondering if she would be a part of Chuck's thought process if his sister reminded him of that pact.

Obviously they were nowhere near questioning their relationship's existence. That was so far off the table it was practically on the other side of the universe. She wasn't worried about that. But nothing about their relationship was simple except that they were in love with each other and were in it for the long haul. She'd been so afraid of change in her Pinkerton days, even once she started seeing Chuck. And then she'd made the biggest and most intense change, moving clear across the country, leaving a good career to start her own private investigative agency, settling in a new city.

And as much as she wanted to say she would've been able to do all of it in some other city eventually on her own, realistically, she knew that she had only gotten this far because she had Chuck Bartowski beside her. As his dad said, that wasn't a weakness. It wasn't a weakness to have someone who cared. It was her strength. It made her feel stronger. More powerful.

Granted, he'd gotten better at gauging where she did and didn't need him helping her. He'd listened after that fight a few months ago. And maybe that was what made this relationship so damn good. That they listened to each other.

But each of their careers did factor into this relationship. Their goals. Their dreams. And if he wanted to fix something, if he wanted to take a leap, make a drastic change…well, might it also change them? Their relationship?

That made her nervous.

She didn't like the idea of things between them changing, of what they had going on changing.

When her phone buzzed in the other office, she hopped down and walked over to grab it. It was a text from Ellie.

Clara was successful in setting up Chuck's birthday dinner date. And now I'll work on getting the secret invitations sent out to all of our people. Godspeed and keep me updated on your plans.

Sarah smiled a little and texted back. Good work, soldier. Let me know if I can help in any way.

Ellie sent back the emoji with the heart eyes and Sarah set her phone down, sighing.

Operation Surprise Party was underway. She was excited about it, as this would be the first time she'd be in the same place as Chuck for his birthday. This would be more than a phone call, more than an e-card sent his way, more than the gift she'd had sent that had arrived a day after his actual birthday because of a stupid storm in Chicago.

And she supposed it would be interesting to balance the LAPD murder cases with preparing to give Chuck the best birthday ever, but it was a balance she was willing to take on.

It would be a challenge, and she loved a good challenge. Especially when it distracted her from a feeling of potential impending change.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A/N: Much more where this came from. Keep a weather eye on the horizon... And please review as you take your spyglass out, thanks. It means a lot!

-SC