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: Here's part 3! There's still more to come, too. So stay tuned!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand, Part 3
The room was still cloaked in darkness as he slowly blinked his eyes open.
Something had woken him up, but he didn't know what.
His brain, probably. It had a habit of doing that. It always had, ever since he was a kid. His dad had the same problem. Ellie called it having an overactive brain. He supposed she'd know better than anyone, her being a brain surgeon and all.
He wished it would overact in a way that didn't wake him up at… He peeked at the digital clock on the nightstand behind him, moving carefully so as not to jostle the sleeping woman he'd somehow ended up spooning at some point during the night… God, it was only four in the morning.
Stupid, stupid brain.
Chuck gently lowered himself back against the mattress and shifted against Sarah so that his bare chest was pressed flush against her back.
She was wearing the shirt he'd meant to sleep in, the cheeky detective. It had been a game she'd played with him, well after the both of them had given up on the weird confused secret agent role playing game they'd stumbled through—as fun as it had been. After they shared a long, luxurious bubble bath, he'd gone to take his shirt out of his duffle only to find it wasn't there. And when he'd turned to complain to her that he was an idiot and forgot to pack a shirt to sleep in, he'd found her standing there behind him, said shirt on her tall, statuesque body.
She'd innocently picked up the hem of the shirt to reveal the black boy shorts underneath, tilting her head. "What?" she'd asked, tilting her head and pursing her lips in that faux innocent look of hers.
And they'd promptly fallen back into bed, not coming up for air for a long, long time.
Now, as he lie here with an arm draped over her body, the both of them tucked under the warm sheets and duvet of the hotel bed, he nuzzled his nose in her hair that smelled like the chamomile shampoo the hotel provided. And he thought about how he was twenty-eight years old. Two years away from thirty.
Maybe that was what woke him up.
A lack of…he didn't know what…
Or perhaps not a lack of something. But a realization. A realization that he was insanely happy in almost every aspect of his life. And yet, as he crept closer to thirty—almost a third of a century years old—he was wondering at his direction. Not as it pertained to Sarah, really. And not his life in general. But more…He didn't know. It was probably just old thoughts and feelings rising to the surface because that was the brutal shit brains did in the middle of the night when you were trying to go back to sleep.
Questions about Bartowski Electronics Corporation were plaguing him though as he lay here with the love of his life in his arms.
Again.
Not really about whether or not he wanted to be there. He did. He loved it. It was a massive part of his existence and his routine. It was in his plan for what his life would look like. As well as other things he promised himself he wasn't going to think about for a while because he and Sarah were oh so good where they were now.
He didn't want to think about his job.
He had just turned twenty-eight about an hour ago according to his birth certificate, at three in the morning. Twenty-eight. Jesus. He wanted to think about his life, not his work.
He wanted to think about Sarah and the way that role playing had been so ridiculous but so damn fun. How he'd ended up sitting there after she slinked away from him with her hips swaying, gaping at the place where she'd disappeared around the corner, only to realize he wasn't sure if she'd said 79B or 79D. He'd fought with himself about whether to text her or not. Or he could just…guess and hope. It was a fifty-fifty chance.
Then he'd texted her, gotten the right letter with a flat look emoji, and he'd appeared at the door, duffle bag under his arm.
They tried to continue the game in the room for a few minutes, and then they both broke, laughed together, and undressed one another. In spite of the game not working out the way he assumed either of them expected it to, there'd been some of that same thread of…extra heat and passion, almost a desperation and adrenaline, that had been there the first time, in Paris, a year and a half ago.
Before his brain could switch back over to work again, Sarah squirmed in his embrace, pushing herself back further against him and draping her hand over his that rested on her stomach. He felt the moment she woke up, her body tensing for just a second before she melted against him and hummed. He saw a smile stretch over her face as he peered at her profile, and he leaned in to kiss her temple.
"Mmmwhat are you doing awake?" she asked, her voice groggy. She had yet to open her eyes.
"My brain won't let me sleep."
She paused, and then what he said must have dawned on her and she shifted in his arms to face him a little better, craning her neck to meet his gaze, her eyes squinting open. "Everything okay?"
"Better than okay," he told her in the darkness, his eyes starting to adjust better. He could almost see the blue in her own eyes. "This has been the best birthday ever so far."
Sarah giggled and squeezed his hand, threading their fingers together. "That was the goal. The bathtub that was large enough to fit the both of us was an added bonus, though."
"Yes. But I feel like we could'a made a smaller tub work."
Giggling again, she turned all the way around so she lie face to face with him, both of their heads on one pillow. "You're right. We could've. We would've." They just gazed for a bit, and then a bit more of a serious look came over her face. "You have that tired, tentative look on your face, Chuck. Something's wrong."
"No, no." He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just thinking about a lot. That's all. Nothing bad. I promise." Chuck let the backs of his fingers stroke lightly down her cheek. When he tucked some of her hair behind her ear, he felt her shiver a bit against him and he pulled her close, their fronts pressed tightly together.
"Do you want to talk about it?" She gave him a warm, teasing look. "I've got no place else to be."
He chuckled. "No, it isn't serious. Just…you know, a lot of thinking. The stuff that happens in your head when you realize you're a year older."
"That conference? Other stuff at work?"
"Yes," he said. "Stuff like that." Sarah nodded, and then he sent her a bit of a mischievous smirk. "And I'm also pretty grateful at the moment."
She narrowed her eyes dubiously. "Your mouth is saying something incredibly sweet and sincere, but this spritely look on your handsome gob tells me you have something else to say…"
"Grateful my girlfriend didn't sprint the other way when I absolutely bungled her favorite role play in the bar."
She laughed, throwing her arms around him and snuggling close. He loved the feeling of her burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, her long bare legs tangling with his. It was one of the best feelings in the world. "You were adorably terrible at it."
Chuck didn't mean to pout so blatantly, not catching himself in time for her not to see as she pulled back to look at him when he didn't answer.
"Awww, Chuck," she giggled, teasingly nudging his body with hers. "I don't mean to offend you or make you feel bad. It was loads of fun. I loved it."
"I'm the least sexy…" He squinted. "…Secret agent…?" She nodded confirmation so at least he'd guessed that part right. "Secret agent. In the world."
"Okay, just because you were jumping between personalities like Sally Field in that movie Sybil, doesn't mean it wasn't sexy." He gave her a flat look. "Fine, we both could've managed to be sexier. It was still hot. Mostly funny. And a fucking blast, baby. Really." She shook her head and slid her hand over the back of his neck, rubbing it slowly in that way he loved. He grumbled happily and she giggled. "There's no damn way I ever would've had the guts to do this with anybody else and feel so…comfortable."
"You mean lowering yourself to my level of dork," he groused.
She cracked up. "Shut up." And when she sobered, they met eyes in the darkness of the room and she slid even closer to him, idly playing with his curls between her fingers. "Thank you for humoring me last night. I know it was probably a little…awkward and weird. If we're being honest. But you just dove right in and tried your tech guy heart out and didn't make me feel ridiculous for wanting to do it and that's why I'm never ever ever going to let you go."
Chuck couldn't stop the massive grin from spilling over his face. He felt like light was bursting from every single pore as he let her words settle over him. "Well…happy birthday to meeee," he chirped in a sing-songy voice, making her giggle so hard she snorted a little. "You even think about letting me go, Sarah Walker, P.I., and a trigger will go off in my brain—an alert, if you will—and I'll cling to you koala-stylezzz like this," he teased, yanking her in against him and wrapping his arms and legs around her as she squealed and laughed into his hair. He squeezed her even tighter and she laughed even harder.
"If I let go, who would give me massages after a long day of investigating and/or dealing with difficult clients?" she asked once they sobered up and settled back into a more comfortable position against the pillows, legs tangled again.
"Exactly," he chuckled.
"And no more ordering the halibut at Le Chat du Vin. Lord knows my meager salary isn't gonna allow for that."
He bit back a chuckle and instead nodded seriously. "True, true. You'd have to hope they keep coming by and giving you more bread, maybe order the cheese plate and a salad. Mortifying."
"Actually, if I'm being honest, I'd probably have to give up fancy restaurants on the whole. God, and that whole roof patio thing you've got. No more roof patio sunsets." She paused as he smirked to himself. "I'd have to seriously consider investing in a heating pad or something for my feet at night." She shifted her feet against his as if to underscore her point.
"Or wear socks to bed," he added.
They both shivered in disgust at that and then laughed together again.
"Hey," she finally said, interrupting a long, comfortable silence between them.
"Hm?"
"Happy Birthday, Chuck Bartowski. Officially. Since I didn't say it yet today."
He beamed, shifting to look down into her eyes as she peered up at him. Her smile was small but so warm. "Hey, thanks. Pretty much the best birthday ever. I've never had spy sex before so that was an incredible first."
She laughed. "We'd already shed the secret agent roles before we even got to the sex, though."
"Oh. Well, I hadn't. So I guess that proves your point about me being terrible at role play."
Sarah laughed again, having to fully roll off of him and onto her back to try to catch her breath. He didn't help at all, following after her and dotting kisses on her shoulders and neck.
They'd settled into a satisfying quietude again a few minutes later, Chuck draped over her, head on her shoulder, her arms around him, when he heard her voice lift him from a semi-dozing state.
"I know it's your birthday and I shouldn't probably be doing this shop talk thing, but I was just thinking… How would two people contact each other in a way that might be super difficult to trace?" Chuck was a little thrown off by the intense subject change, but he wasn't turned off by it in the slightest. She continued when he was thoughtfully silent for a good half of a minute. "You know about online computer-y stuff, right? I mean, are there websites for that?"
"Hm…" He narrowed his eyes and then braced his elbows on the mattress, pushing himself up to hover over her, biting his lip. He wracked his brain to answer. "You know what? If they were smart, they'd probably stay off of websites."
"Mhm. Good point. I've seen people get caught through emails and social media. Happens all the time."
"Right. It's an avenue that might be worth looking into for you and Detective Grumps-A-Lot." She giggled at the nickname he'd just come up with off the top of his head. "Maybe they aren't all that brilliant."
"Yeah, but how do we even begin? We don't know who committed the murders, we don't know if it's someone even slightly connected to the victims, or even if the cases really are connected. We don't know anything at all except what the officers and experts found at the scene." She huffed in frustration. "This is all just…wild speculation."
"Isn't that what a lot of this is, though? I mean, your work. You have to think outside the box. Wild speculation. And by doing that, you look in places you wouldn't have looked, find things you never would've found…"
"Again…Chuck…this isn't a movie. Facts are important. Evidence is important. You can't accuse someone of murder without having enough facts and evidence to back it up. That isn't how this business works."
"I'm not saying that," he argued. "I just mean that speculating opens doors to places you wouldn't otherwise look at. You know? And there might be more clues there."
Sarah nodded. "No, you're right. I still think you watch too many movies."
He chuckled. "Yeeeah, I know. I do." Then an idea struck him, and he must have gotten a mischievous look on his face without realizing it because Sarah gave him a dubious look then. He shrugged innocently. "What?"
"You're up to something," she hummed.
"I'm not up to something," he said with another shrug. "Although…"
"Mhmmmmm…"
"Maybe tomorrow if you have nothing planned, we can start our morning with a late brunchy breakfast, mimosas included, and watch a movie. That's all. That's all I was gonna say." He didn't tell her which movie yet. But he'd already downloaded it onto his laptop and he was ready to pull it up whenever she finally agreed to watch.
"Oh." She made a face. "That sounds kinda nice. I thought you were up to some mischief."
"Uh, a man of my high social standing doesn't do…mischief. Please, Sarah…"
"He doesn't?" she giggled, giving him a side-eye.
"Uh, no." But even as he said it, he slipped his fingers down to tease the waistband of her boy shorts, pulling it away from her hips and letting it fall back to smack against her. She jolted and sent him a scandalized look. "Woops. Fingers slipped."
"How dare y—Oh…" Her eyes crossed as he shifted his hand lower. She gasped his name.
"Fingers slipped again," he murmured, his lips pressing against the underside of her chin.
The sun eventually rose outside of their hotel room while both of them were way too preoccupied to notice.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
"You're ridiculous, by the way," she said as she watched him fiddle with something on the back of the television. He was wearing one of the hotel robes.
"It's my party and I can be ridiculous if I want to," he said, and he popped his head out from behind the TV to grin cheekily at her.
Snorting, she shook her head. "You're freaking lucky it's your birthday and I have to do what you want."
"You know that's not true," he drawled. She heard him make a quiet "A-ha!" sound and he stood to his full height, walking over to his laptop and grabbing the HDMI cord, wiggling it and bobbing his eyebrows for her benefit as he backed himself towards the TV again. "You know, even though it is my birthday, you can tell me if you really don't wanna do somethin'."
She knew that, didn't she? And yet, it wasn't really that she didn't want to watch some Hitchcock movie. It was just frustrating that neither he nor Casey were willing to give it up with this particular crime flick. Like it was going to actually help with this case at all.
At least in Chuck's case, he was more doing his usual nerdy you have to see this! thing than he actually thought a real murder case hinged on the premise of a movie from the 'fifties.
Casey? Well, as good of a detective as he seemed to be, she still wasn't so sure he wasn't convinced the murders he was investigating were similar to this fictional movie.
It was preposterous.
Maybe she was being a bit of a snob. But it really was so silly.
That said, she was willing to give Chuck the benefit of the doubt and trust him when he told her it was one of the most incredible crime films ever. He called it "twisty" and he wrinkled his nose in that way of his, wiggling his fingers. And she was sunk.
He'd snuck Strangers on a Train up on her when it was too late to pull out. Sneaky nerd.
She reached over and grabbed a pastry. "I don't care what we watch, as long as I can eat as many of these pastries as I want."
Chuck giggled, reaching behind the TV again to plug in the cord. "Pastries for breakfast every morning. That's my kind o' vacay."
He finally came around and turned on the TV, setting it up so that his laptop background popped up onto the TV screen. "Voila! Awwww look at us."
His background was a picture of the two of them that Morgan had taken when they'd gone whale watching with him a few months earlier. She'd yanked him up against her as they sat in the little seats against the boat railing and planted a hard kiss on his cheek, surprising him. He was laughing, his sunglasses a bit crooked thanks to her sudden attack.
"It's cute," she said, "except that a folder titled 'Dumb Stuff' is literally on my face."
"Uh oh, it is." He winced. "I moved it there while I was rearranging things and forgot to move it back. It's um…usually down here. By my hand."
Giving him a half-amused look, she leaned over and moved it herself. "Much better, don't you think?"
Chuck looked sheepish as he grinned showing his teeth and nodded. And then he slid up next to her on the couch and opened the movie, making it fullscreen. "You're going to love this, I promise."
"And if I don't?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Ummm…if you don't, we can just keep eating pastries, drinking mimosas, and I'll also give you a massage."
She giggled. "Can we do those things anyway? Except I'll throw in a massage for you, too."
"Oh my God, deal."
He pressed play and she settled back against his chest, allowing herself to actually pay attention. If for no other reason than she could finally tell Casey he was being utterly ridiculous.
An hour and forty five minutes later, she had her answer.
"So they met on a train, exchanged horror stories about their dad and their wife, decided they'd kill each other's problem person… Even in the nineteen-fifties this was farfetched." Chuck looked a little glum. "Not that it wasn't a great movie, because it was, and I really actually liked it. You were right, it's an incredible crime movie. I get the hype. But this would never work in real life."
"But I mean, that's the thing. It doesn't work!" he argued, leaning forward to shut his laptop. "They don't pull it off. He doesn't get away with the murder."
"Chuck, there's no way anyone now would actually think they could pull off reciprocated murders and get away with it. Nobody takes trains anymore, first of all. And even on the Internet, it'd be too easy to trace. We talked about it early this morning. Emails, social media, it's all too…permanent. They'd have to be so stupid."
"Or they're just that brazen." He shrugged. "Some of these guys have gotten away with stuff their whole lives, you know? Who's to say they wouldn't get away with something like this?" He cleared his throat. "That's me thinking like them. For the record."
Giggling, she shook her head. "It's all just way too nuts, Chuck. The two murders probably aren't even connected. And if they are, it's something else. The murderers know one another."
"Right, or they came from the same Murder School that had a class called Strangulation 101 and they had the same professor," he snarked. Sarah turned to give him a look and he winced. "Sorry. I don't mean to be so snarky. Two innocent people were murdered. I just think you should give this idea a chance."
"I watched the movie, that's the only chance it's getting. This is silly, Chuck. Really."
He huffed in frustration and nodded. "All right, all right. You're the detective. All I'm saying is Internet connection is plausible."
"This whole thing is implausible."
Her phone buzzed where she set it on the arm of the couch a moment later and she frowned in question, picking it up. Her boyfriend had somehow texted her a poop emoji from where he was sitting beside her on the couch. She turned to give him a flat look and he ignored her, typing away on his phone. Her phone buzzed again and she looked down.
Hi, I am a sketchy murderer dude, and you are a sketchy murderer dude. Let's get on the Internet and plan our dastardly deeds where no one will find us. Deal?
"Oh my God. Don't text me this crap, Chuck. What if this gets you in trouble?" she asked, smacking his shoulder with the back of her hand.
"Think the NSA are watching?" he asked her, eyes wide. And then he snickered and went back to his phone. She got yet another text from him.
"Stop texting me. I'm sitting right here," she groused, looking at it.
Have you ever heard of something called a CHAT ROOM?
Sarah turned and glared at him. "You'd be in trouble right now if it wasn't your birthday."
He smirked at her and cheekily pressed send on whatever else he'd typed to her. She looked down.
My girlfriend is a sexy private eye so we definitely have to be really really really careful if we're doing this.
That one made her snort and she covered her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him to try to mask her amusement. She didn't need to be encouraging him in this. Her phone buzzed again.
They'd never suspect anyone in a chat room for PBS Masterpiece shows. We can talk a little moidah in a thread about how much of a cold hard number Mary Crowley is.
She couldn't stop herself from bursting into laughter, and she tossed her phone against the pillow, shaking her head. "This is so unprofessional and crass. Seriously. People died."
He winced, even as he continued to chuckle. "I'm sorry. Really. You're right." He cleared his throat and settled back into a straight face. "But my point remains. Chat rooms are a good way to talk to people without folks knowing what's going on. Who polices chat rooms?"
Sarah snorted. "No one. They didn't even police chat rooms in 2001 when people actually used chat rooms."
Chuck thrust his hand out, palm up. "Exactlyyyyy."
"Chuck, honestly. This is too out there. I'm glad I watched the movie. It was really enjoyable and creepy. Annnd also it'll get Casey off of my ass. But there's no way." She wiggled her phone.
He sighed and finally relented. "Okay, okay. We can change the subject. What do we do until it's time to meet my family for dinner?" He made a bit of a face and she absolutely noticed.
"Hey, what's that for? You don't want to do dinner with your family? I thought you kinda liked those people." She tilted her head with a bit of a teasing smirk.
He chuckled. "I dooo, I do. It's just that every time Ellie and my mom are in the same space these days, there's an argument over Clara and parenting and I don't really wanna deal with that on my birthday. I mean, I never want to. But tonight especially, considering how nice these last twelve hours have been."
Sarah frowned. He had told her about the rub between Mary and Ellie before this. Mary had a specific way she thought Ellie should parent Clara, and Ellie really only wanted advice from her mother when she asked for it. "Ah. Yes. The 'Well, that's how I did it and you turned out just fine' thing. She's right. You two are easily the best people I've ever known." She smiled at him, tugging the sleeve of his robe.
He followed her cute little tug and settled his hand on her leg she'd bent under her to get more comfortable during the movie. "Thanks, baby. I mean, Ellie is a surgeon. And she has pediatrician friends, midwife friends… Obviously, there's no one right way to take care of a baby, but my mom is really pushin' it by trying to foist her own ideas on Ellie."
"Yeah. Ellie doesn't take too well to…suggestions. Let alone bossiness. And your mom can be sort of…um…"
"Condescending? Um yeah. Big time." He widened his eyes and shook his head.
"I get you not wanting that on your birthday." She paused then, unsure of how to reassure or comfort him, make him feel better. This was his family after all. And she wasn't very good at family things because, well…it had been a long time since she had a family of her own. Just over a decade now if she really had to put a number on it. She pushed that out of her head entirely. "Do you…want me to talk to Ellie about it?"
"No!" He looked panicked as he spun to face her. "No, no. I mean, thank you for offering, Sarah. That's sweet. But God no." She shrugged pathetically. "It's okay," he breathed, reaching up to squeeze her arm. "I just…I'm gonna deal with it. If they argue over Clara again."
She nodded and scooted closer. "It isn't going to come to that, I don't think." She was almost certain of that, considering there would be a lot more people than just the family there. But she couldn't tell him that. There'd be so many people, if Ellie and Mary did argue, Chuck most likely wouldn't be privy to it, as busy as he'd be.
"Are you willing to be my designated driver if that does happen? I'm gonna be poundin' back the booze and I need some way to get home. I will not stay in the bedroom I grew up in. No way."
"Awww, why? I love the old-timey airplane bedspread."
"Stop it," he chuckled.
"I don't get why you didn't just take those with you when you found your own place," she just barely got out through the laughter as Chuck tackled her to the couch.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Chuck was almost in full nap mode when he heard Sarah's voice pierce the near dreamlike state he'd been in. He shook himself a little and slowly opened his eyes, rolling his head lazily to the side and looking at her with a satisfied smile. "Hm? M'what?" he mumbled.
She was staring up at the sky above their little balcony. She blinked and sighed. "I said I keep thinking about that movie."
"Isn't it so good?"
"Verging on masterpiece, honestly." He found himself grinning at that. He wasn't above feeling validated by how much she liked it. "But I was thinking about that murder scene. When he kills the other guy's wife. It's probably one of the most unsettling murder scenes I've seen, and I've seen a good number of crime films. Maybe not as many as you have, but still…"
"Nobody's watched more of that stuff than I have. It's my thing."
She sat up a little and smirked. "I'm starting to wonder if you would've pursued me as hard as you did if I was, like, an architect or chemist with the FDA instead of a detective."
Chuck shrugged and kicked his feet up on the railing. "Guess we'll never know, huh?" He laughed as she pretended to toss the magazine she'd been reading at him.
"What I was trying to say, you cheeky monkey, is that they purposely had him strangle her to death. It could have been a weapon, a knife or gun or something—though, I get the sound involved in the death would probably be a deterrent. Gunshots are loud, she could've screamed if she was stabbed… It's just such a horrifically intimate and personal way to murder someone—and I don't mean either of those things in a positive way, of course." She shook her head. "He went hands on her throat, like he…hated her. He didn't even know her, except that he watched her for those few minutes with the other men. In just that small amount of time, he hated her enough that he chose to put his hands on her throat and squeeze 'til she died."
The thoughtful look on her face, the way she narrowed her eyes and stared off to the side, was so clinically professional, like she was solving a case or something. About a movie. It was so nerdy. He couldn't get enough of it.
"But here's the thing about that," she rushed on, leaning her chin in her palm, elbow braced on the arm of her chair. "Depending on a lot of factors, going towards someone head on with both hands—" She demonstrated with her hands in front of her. "—I mean, that could take minutes for them to die. And yeah, I know it's just a movie, I can see it in your face, you're right." She winced a little.
"No, no. Now hold on. Hold on." Chuck stuck his hand out and then shifted his chair with a horrible-sounding scrape against the balcony floor so that he could face her better. "We're talking about Hitchcock, here. He put out a few box office duds in the 'forties, so when he made this one, he took an insane amount of care in the minutest of details." She gave him a look. "I told you I love this movie. I read a whole book about it when I was in high school."
"God, you're a dweeb."
"Um, yeah. And I'm in good company, Sarah Walker—aka the woman who was just sitting here going on and on about a strangling scene in the movie like a full-blown detective."
Sarah pouted a little. "Touché."
He chuckled adoringly. "But Hitchcock made that scene in that particular way on purpose. First of all, to get past the sensors." She furrowed her brow in question. "You weren't allowed to show a murder up close and personal, or gruesome deaths or anything like that. That's why you see a lot of deaths in crime films that are like…people's shadows on the wall."
"Oh, so the reflection on her glasses is how he got around it…?"
"Yep."
"Genius."
"Right? But the reason I'm saying that is you think you're overanalyzing from a detective's point of view—the time it takes to strangle a person, yadda yadda—but if you think Hitchcock didn't do his homework on different types of murder, if you think he didn't have all of this in mind when he directed that scene…" He widened his eyes and shook his head.
"Thanks for that," she chirped. "I feel a little less silly now. But still a little silly."
"Continue with what you were saying, though. I want to hear about strangulation."
She moved to continue, opening her mouth, but then nothing came out and she narrowed her eyes instead, smirking. "We're such weirdos right now, Chuck. Can I just pause to say that? I honestly just got a little turned on—not a lot!" she rushed, holding a finger up, "But a little. Honestly. Because you told me you want to hear about strangulation. I mean, really, we need help."
"At least we need help together." He shrugged. He honestly wanted to hear more about her being turned on, but he thought now probably wasn't the time for that. He genuinely wanted to hear more about her thoughts on the film.
Sarah giggled and shook her head. "So okay, this guy's a psychopath. That's really my point, here. In just a few minutes, he's managed to despise—what's her name? Miriam?" He nodded. "Yeah, he hates Miriam so freaking much that he can look her right in her face and squeeze the life out of her."
"Because he's psycho."
"Yes. And some other deep-seated, anti-woman misogyny shit underlying therein. But my point is, that murder only took him, what, like, fifteen or twenty seconds. Either she had to have the weakest chicken neck ever, or he knew exactly where those arteries are in the neck to press on that restrict blood flow most effectively. And that means either he studied up on strangulation before—which is seriously macabre freaky and sociopathic premeditation—or he had done this before. To someone else." She raised her eyebrows.
Chuck felt himself shiver and it had little to do with the cool breeze wafting through their little balcony sanctuary.
"And I'm not gonna lie, I keep thinking about the murder cases."
"Casey's?"
"Yeah. Whoever it was that did it…they went from the front. Both hands. Just like Bruno does to Miriam. Which is why Casey's leaning towards premeditated for both cases. But both murders were so identical that it's almost like…they studied from the same book."
"Watched the same YouTube how-to video…" Chuck muttered. Sarah side-eyed him. "Sorry. Ahem."
"Coroner reports have deep tissue damage in the restaurant owner's neck, the woman victim. Arteries damaged. She died from suffocation, though. It couldn't have been quick—certainly not as quick as in the movie—but it was faster than the lawyer's death."
"More neck muscles?"
"Maybe. I don't know." She huffed. "It's just making me think. Not that these murders have anything to do with a movie. I'm not saying that." He smirked at her. "But mostly, I'm wondering if we're dealing with two legitimate sociopaths here. People with seriously deep-seated mental imbalance, and certainly a lot of hatred. I just don't think that realistically they'd hate these people they murdered enough to murder them face to face and so personally if they just, like, traded murders. You know? They had to know these people. It's too…"
"Personal."
"I guess. This is so difficult. I don't even know where to begin and I think Casey's department is having the same struggle even though they've got access to a lot more than I do."
Chuck smirked a little, glancing at her with no small amount of affection. "They're still not letting you have copies of any of the evidence, huh?"
She growled under her breath and pouted, crossing her arms. "No. And I get it, I guess. I'm just a P.I…. And they do let me go look at it. I just can't take any of it with me."
"Seems fair."
"Yeah, it does," she groused. "But I have to rely on my notes and any research I do on my own. And that's really making it hard."
He nodded and reached over to squeeze her shoulder. "You guys will catch them. You're Sarah Walker, P.I. You're a bad ass and the best."
Her eyes warmed as she peered at him. "You wanna say that to me inside? Preferably somewhere near the bed?"
Chuck beamed. "Uh, yeah. Even though that was the cheesiest come on you've given me in a while."
This time she actually did throw the magazine, and it did make contact.
XOXOXOXOXOX
"Are you still nervous about the whole your mom and Ellie arguing at your birthday dinner thing?" she finally asked.
The whole car ride to the Bartowski house—it wasn't exactly a mansion but it was the mansioniest house she thought she'd ever seen—had been spent in comfortable quietude. And she found she was having a hard time reading him. She wasn't sure if he was just doing a lot of thinking again, or if there were nerves in his handsome features.
She glanced away from the road for a moment as he pursed his lips.
"Kinda. A little bit. It's nothing serious. Like, I'm not over here freaking out. It isn't gonna ruin my birthday. It's just kind of…not fun at all when people I care about argue."
Sarah studied him as she stopped at a red light. He was so anti-conflict. She'd seen it in him right in the beginning. And in some respects, it made him a good partner for his dad at the top of the B.E.C. ladder. He was good at smoothing things over, keeping meetings civil. But she saw how uncomfortable he got around people who were either confrontational or less inclined to fall in step. Not that he didn't ever stand his ground where it was warranted—he did more than his dad did, she thought—but he was so unsettled and squirmy in those situations.
The genuine tension between his mother and his sister had to be difficult for him. But not everyone could always get along all the time, as much as he might want them to. Not everything could be sunshine and rainbows. Because they were all human beings, and complicated, and in Mary's case, humans could also be stubborn, unyielding, and prejudiced. And just plain wrong.
She didn't know if Mary and Ellie would ever fully reconcile. But she imagined they probably wouldn't unless Mary changed. Because Ellie wasn't gonna toss Devon and her child out just to make friends with her mom. So the onus to budge in her stubbornness was on Mary. Sarah wasn't sure that woman was capable of budging.
And then Sarah wondered how much it hurt Chuck to see the antipathy between his girlfriend and his mom. Probably worse than the Mary and Ellie thing, because at least there was mostly tolerance between those two.
If Sarah had a nickel for every time Mary had full-on iced her, she'd probably be almost as rich as Chuck was, and then maybe Mary wouldn't be so sure that Sarah was after her son's money. The woman had to see how much Sarah loved him, though. She wasn't as demonstrative as other women, perhaps, and she was fully aware of this about herself. Ellie and Devon were far more demonstrative with their affections in the midst of family. But Sarah didn't hide how she felt about Chuck in the slightest.
And if Mary didn't see that, it was through sheer stubborn unwillingness to see. Covering her eyes and ears to it. That was so infuriating it made Sarah see red some days. And other days, it just made her tired.
But Chuck… God, the guy probably agonized over it.
She wished he wouldn't. But she knew that was a fool's wish. Chuck was who he was. And she didn't want him any other way.
"Well, if it makes any sort of difference at all to your nerves," she said, "I intend to make a legitimate effort not to play into your mom's BS. I'm going to be warm and civil. As they say, kill 'em with kindness."
Chuck let out a snort. "Thank you, Sarah. You shouldn't have to do that. But thanks."
"Anything for you." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, continuing to guide her car towards Chuck's parents' home. "Just remember this is your birthday. Don't worry about other people's crap and drama. Just have fun. Enjoy your night."
He chuckled. "Yeah. Hard to do when there's literally only the seven of us at the table."
"So Morgan is coming," she said, glancing to the side at him. Morgan agreed to play her and Ellie's game to keep the surprise safe. He texted Chuck asking if he was free at all during the day so they could at least grab 'best friend birthday lunch' or something before Morgan's busy night at the restaurant. And when Chuck had said he was spending the day with Sarah but that Morgan was invited for dinner, Morgan had been doubtful about being able to get away at night.
Apparently he'd texted Chuck changing his mind about that.
"He'll be there, yeah. The whole family," he said, making spirit fingers with a, "yaaay!"
Sarah giggled as they turned onto his parents' street, and she marveled at just how well Ellie had constructed this whole thing. The only visible cars the whole trip up the long driveway and around to the front of the house were Ellie and Devon's SUV and Morgan's Honda.
"Oh, cool. Everyone's here already," Chuck chirped as Sarah pulled up behind Morgan's car.
Chuck had no idea.
She was buzzing, eager to see how this went. Eager to see his reaction. Eager just to be…in this moment. Experience all of it.
They got out and came together on the other side of the car, Chuck grabbing her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. Sarah had secretly texted Ellie from the bottom of the driveway while Chuck was distracted with his own phone. Hopefully everyone was ready inside.
"What do you think we're having for dinner tonight?" he asked. "We can take bets. Mom's always been under the misconception that I'm a huge lobster guy, so I'm betting lobster."
"Are you not a huge lobster guy? I thought you liked lobster."
"I'm more into crab, honestly."
"Huh. The more you know. And I'll take that bet. I think she went full Italian cuisine because that's her favorite—she said so," she cleared up as he gave her a look that read how'd you know that?
"I get it. And she's kinda thoughtless and selfish so she's more likely to make her favorite instead of mine," he groused, a bit of a quiet smirk on his face.
"I didn't say that. I'm just playing this betting game."
"Uh huh," he drawled dubiously.
"What do I get when I win?" she asked as they walked up to the door.
"Twenty bucks…if you win." He grabbed the front door's handle and squeezed, popping the door open, holding it for her to step inside first. She walked into the empty entryway. It was exactly the way it always looked. Clean, the wooden staircase leading up to the second floor landing, two doorways on either side leading into different rooms, the large grandfather clock… God, he was going to be so surprised. "And what do I get if I win?" he asked.
"I'll let you be my official assistant for three whole days. How's that?"
"What?!" he gasped in excitement, stepping in after her. "Officially?"
Their voices echoed a bit in the large entryway. "Yep."
He grinned so hard it made something in her hurt in a really good way. Still smiling, he called out, "Hey, we're here!"
"Hi, son, we're in the dining room," Stephen called out, his voice wafting in from another room.
Sarah wasn't sure how many people Ellie ended up inviting, but she couldn't hear a single one of them as they walked through the house. She made sure to fall into step behind Chuck so that he was the first to enter.
And she watched as he stepped into the massive dining room. There were a lot of tables set up there instead of the large wooden one usually there. He probably only experienced a moment of confusion at seeing that before he realized there were also dozens of people also standing in the room.
"SURPRISE!"
Chuck took a step back, his jaw falling open, eyes wide, and then he laughed as everyone clapped and cheered, some wearing tiny party hats that said "28" on them. Sarah felt herself grinning hard as Morgan bounded up and threw his arms around his friend in a tight hug. Morgan had two of the party hats on his head, wearing them like horns or something.
"Happy Birthday, best friend!" the bearded man bellowed, letting Chuck go so that others could step in and hug him.
Chuck spared just a moment to turn back and give her an amused glare as he received well-wishes. She knew she wasn't really in trouble, but she feigned an innocent expression anyway as Ellie stepped up and snapped a party hat that said "Birthday Boy" onto his curls. She kissed his cheek and laughed at him.
"This is ridiculous," he said as everyone mostly quieted down. There had to be at least thirty to thirty-five people—and Sarah didn't recognize half of them, she realized. The ones she did recognize were from Bartowski Electronics Corporation. Adisa, of course. Some of the programmers she'd met at B.E.C. functions before: Melanie, Lauren, Graciela, and Cory. The folks who came into Chuck's office when she was there, though she didn't remember all of their names.
"Surprised?" Mary asked, squeezing her son's arm.
"Uh, yeah!"
Everyone laughed at the hint of warm sarcasm in his tone.
"You did well, young surprise party padawan," Ellie announced as she threw her arm around Sarah's shoulders and gave her a surprise hug. Morgan started a small chant of "Sar-ah! Sar-ah!" as she tried to wave them off, blushing.
"No, no. You did everything. All I had to do was not tell him there'd be thirty other people here." As Ellie let go of her, she stepped up against Chuck and framed his face in her hands, feasting on the unbridled love in his brown eyes before she leaned up to kiss him. "Happy Birthday, Chuck."
"You are sneaky, you know that?" he mumbled, and then she gasped in surprise as he took her in his arms and swept her up in a harder kiss, in front of everybody, earning some whistles and a boisterous, "ow OWWW" from Morgan.
She giggled into the kiss and felt herself turn red as he finally pulled out of it with a smack.
"Serves you right," he flirted, raising an eyebrow.
The party went into full swing thereafter, everyone mingling, chatting. Mary implemented a No Shop Talk rule and pointedly eyed her husband so he got the message, and Sarah found herself swept around the room by her boyfriend to be introduced to some of the donors, colleagues, and partners in…some other business or other. She lost track, focusing on being as warm as possible, even as she found herself almost overwhelmed.
It was a side of Chuck's life she hadn't really been privy to, even though she visited him at work often enough. But she did, however, take note of how Mary seemed to have all of them wrapped around her finger. They all seemed to respect Stephen J. Bartowski's other half as much as they respected him, and Chuck for that matter. She took note of it and made sure to be as sincerely warm towards Mary.
And for what it was worth, as Mary introduced her to another CEO's daughter, she didn't pause before calling Sarah "Chuck's girlfriend". And there were no barbs about her being a private investigator. No digs, subtle or otherwise. It seemed Mary's reputation was too important for her to dress her son's girlfriend down in front of everyone.
Sarah counted that as a blessing. She wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
It was when everyone sat down to dinner—lobster and risotto, so she'd have to deal with having her boyfriend as her assistant for three days but she'd worry about that later—that everything slowed down enough for the detective to finally take it all in. Everything began to settle inside of her, and she really opened her eyes, coming to a few realizations.
Her fingers stilled as she dug in her lobster with the small fork and she took the opportunity to glance across the table. Mary and Ellie sat side by side, with Awesome on Ellie's other side holding Clara and trying to feed himself with his free hand. He was failing, but didn't seem too bothered by it. And for what it was worth, the two women were laughing about something, leaning close. Ellie seemed to have accidentally snapped the lobster's shell in a way that sent pieces onto the tablecloth around her plate, and onto Mary's plate as well. She saw the warmth there, in spite of everything.
On Mary's other side, Stephen was pouring more champagne for Chuck who sat on his other side, and Chuck was droning, "Mooore…moooore…mooore…" while his dad argued, "I have to wait for the bubbles, Charles!"
And the power of all of it almost seemed to smack her right in the chest.
This was a family.
The Bartowskis weren't perfect. They weren't even close to perfect. There was spite sometimes, even biting disdain… The tension between Mary and Ellie was palpable some days. Chuck had been angry with both of his parents more than once since she met him. He'd even nearly yelled at his mother that one time. She'd put her hand on his arm before he could, not wanting to be the reason for a legitimate wedge to be driven between him and family. Even if it wasn't her fault.
But in spite of the screwed up stuff—Mary's distrust of anyone dating her children, Stephen's tendency to not stick up for his kids and let his wife get away with it, Ellie's stubborn and sometimes passive aggressive approach to it, and Chuck's constant internalizing to avoid conflict—there was genuine love between the four of them. She could see it, feel it. Even underneath the arguing and fighting.
She remembered Stephen telling her about how rough the beginnings of B.E.C. had been, how hard it was for the family. But they'd worked together. They'd made sacrifices to lift the company out of the dredges and make it what it was now. A multi-billion dollar corporation that stood for more than just profit. This family came together when they needed to. And she felt like they'd band together again at a moment's notice if it came to that. They had only a month ago, when Edward Pasfield's misdeeds had threatened to splinter them.
It made her feel both warm and out of place suddenly, all at once.
Sarah knew the latter sensation was silly and unwarranted. In spite of Mary's general antipathy towards her, the woman hadn't been catty or cold tonight. She hadn't condescended or patronized. And no matter what her reasoning for it was, it didn't mean Sarah was any less glad the older woman was on her best behavior. Not only that, but Chuck, Ellie, Stephen, and Awesome had all accepted her into the fold with no reservations. Even Morgan had been quick to welcome her into his circle, so to speak.
But…well…maybe seeing the Bartowskis like this was having unforeseen effects on her psyche, putting her back into a place when she was forced to think about her own familial situation. She'd lived her life so removed from that for years now, never really having to think much on it, forcing it out of her mind. It was back suddenly, and it stung. She tried to push it away. She didn't harbor any bitterness towards Chuck and his family because her own family had been splintered, corrupted, and finally destroyed. She wasn't bitter that Chuck had this beautiful support system while she'd been forced early to support herself, go it alone.
It wasn't bitterness.
It was just recognition that this was what people were supposed to have. Faults and all, this was what a family was supposed to be. A support system, through thick and thin.
Sarah wasn't sure she'd ever really seen this before. She'd never been subjected to it. And her heart didn't exactly ache, per se, but it was…making itself known, there in her chest.
"Something the matter with your lobster?"
The detective turned to her right, eyes wide as she looked at Morgan. He'd thankfully kept his voice down as he leaned towards her. "No, no. It's good. I sort of got lost in my head, that's all."
"Ah. I get that." He nodded. "For the record, the lobster we make at my restaurant is better than this, but don't tell Mrs. B I said that. She might, uh, put my head on a spike."
Sarah giggled. "Secret's safe with me."
He winked and put a hand on her back, digging into his lobster again, and she followed suit.
It was a few hours later, as a jazz band set up and began playing some music to dance to, when Chuck swept in beside her where she was talking to one of his employees about setting up her agency.
"Sorry to interrupt. I was hoping I could finally dance with my girlfriend before the band packs up and heads home," he chuckled.
Sarah excused herself and let him lead her over to the corner where Adisa and his date and a few other couples were swaying together. They stepped together and she draped her arms lazily over his shoulders, letting him hold a lot of her weight as she moved onto her tiptoes so their faces were closer together.
It was then that she saw something in Chuck's face that hadn't been there all night. It was a strange look, a little like that thoughtful look she'd seen him with a few times in the last few days especially, but something different was there, too. Almost as though he was a little…stunned.
"What's wrong?" she asked him immediately. "I have a feeling you brought me over here because you want to talk."
"I wanted to dance with you," he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up.
"Fine. Both, then." She smiled, then shifted her arm that was around his shoulder so she could hold onto his shoulder and lean back a little, looking into his eyes. "What is it? Something happen?"
"Uh. Yes. Well, no? Sort of."
But he didn't give her anything else. "What?" she finally asked, trying not to show her impatience.
Chuck's brow furrowed as he looked off to the side. "It-It's my dad. He broke my mom's No Shop Talk rule, brought me out onto the patio to hand me a shot of whiskey."
"Your dad's so cool."
"I know," he chuckled. "But I got a bit of one of those…I dunno, dad to son talks. The stuff you see in those nineteen-fifties family sitcoms, where the dad sits his son down and says, 'Son, you're a man now'." She snorted at that and he smirked down at her, shaking his head. "I'm twenty-eight now. Which means I've spent a decade working at this, working for my dad, with my dad. Building this company from the ground up at his side, you know?" She nodded as his eyes got a little cloudy and he glanced off to the side again. "He told me that he sort of regrets that I never really got to forge my own path. Ridiculous, I said, because this was the path I chose. I wanted it. This is my business. It's what I'm good at and I love it at B.E.C." He paused, shaking his head. "He told me he gets that, that he appreciates all of the work I've done, everything I'm still doing. That he cherishes our partnership. That we work really well together…"
Sarah was almost a little nervous about where this was going. "And…?"
Chuck flicked his brown gaze back to hers. "He said I've earned a vacation."
She raised her eyebrows. "That's exactly what I keep saying. You have."
"No, like…not just a week in the Bahamas or something like that. You know all of the work I've been trying to do with the youth in the greater LA area, getting them opportunities…equal opportunities…"
"Yeah," she drawled, giving him a dreamy look. "It's one of the hottest things about you, if I'm bein' honest."
He chuckled and she preened when she spotted a blush. "Thanks. But my dad asked me if I'd like to go on a sabbatical. A genuine sabbatical. And instead of, you know, what professors do with finishing their research projects or publishing books or whatever, I can focus on getting these programs up and running. I can take trips, actually see places out there…venture into what I saw through convention center windows and plane windows. Explore. He wants me to get the opportunity to separate myself from the company for a bit to reset, recalibrate."
Sarah's jaw dropped a little as he spoke to her. "A sabbatical? …Well, for…how long?"
"However long I want. A few months, a year… He said he has more than the ability to let me do that. Not that I'm replaceable or anything like that, but everything in the company will be okay. We've got partners who can fill in for me at meetings and with pitches. Our employees are pretty self-efficient. And I wouldn't be, like, totally cut off. But he just thinks I've been taking too much on, stressing myself a little. And…if I'm being honest, he's kind of right. The gas tank has been low on fuel for a while."
Chuck huffed, looking a little self-conscious almost. "Thought I was doing a pretty good hiding it, but I guess not."
"Nope," she admitted, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and rubbing him there slowly. "But that's kind of what you do, I guess, so I didn't say anything."
"I'm a workaholic. I know." He chuckled and shook his head.
"Yeah, you are. So…you gonna do what he says? You gonna take a sabbatical?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think so. Yeah. I mean…a year-long vacation, no strings attached? I get to do legitimate work in the community, help people, take vacations to…oh my God, I can see Paris. Like, actually see it, Sarah."
She smiled at the way his eyes were starting to light up.
"Not that the last time I was there wasn't…life-changing. Because it was." The meaning wasn't lost on her. That was the trip he took for B.E.C. about a year and a half ago, when they met each other again at the crosswalk in the rain, promptly falling into bed together and not coming up for air until days later. "But I didn't see much outside of that hotel suite. Worth it."
Sarah snickered. "Oh, hell yeah it was."
"There's a lot to think about," he said after looking thoughtful for a few moments. "A whole lot to think about. But I just want to dance with you right now, if that's okay. This is just…crazy. So many opportunities opening up, so much I can do…see…I don't even know where to start." He sighed hard. "After the conference, of course. Gotta get that conference finished, so this isn't gonna happen for a few months yet, but…"
He shook his head in awe.
"I've got the best dad ever, huh?" he asked, and he gently leaned his forehead against hers.
"Yeah," she breathed, and this time there was an ache. A deep, unyielding ache. "He is the best dad ever."
And as they swayed to the music together, Chuck was soaring too high, head in the clouds, to recognize the way she quickly buried her face in his neck and clung to him extra tight. Because she was only human, and she wanted the feeling Chuck was currently experiencing so bad every bit of her hurt. That feeling of knowing her dad loved her, would do anything for her, provide opportunities for her, support her…recognize when she was hurting, in trouble, or just…needed him. She couldn't remember what that felt like.
She used the strength and comfort of Chuck's embrace to try to find solace, she used the happiness she had for Chuck to remind herself that this was her life now, not…that. Not her past.
And she held onto Chuck as though he was a life vest and she was floating in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic. She held onto him until her fingers cramped. Until the music ended and they finally stepped back to join the party again.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
A/N: Thanks for reading this. It'd mean a lot to hear how you're all feeling about this arc. Either in review form or PM form. I'm not picky. I'm super grateful to those of you who are letting me know. Thanks!
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