A/N: Aaannnddddd...I still don't own Chuck.
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Sarah sat in the booth across from Chuck holding his hand and asked, "How many exits?"
"At least two. The front, where we came in, and one more in the back through the kitchen where they access the dumpster in the back alley, but I don't know if there's a basement accessible from the back area," he said.
"Good. Now don't look around. How many waitresses working tonight?"
"I've seen Maria and Kelly. I don't know if any of the others are working yet. It's still early."
"Good. Who's behind the bar?"
"Jackie himself," Chuck answered.
"Still good. Okay..." She looked around the room. "What's the story with the couple at the bar?
"Not romantic. Co-workers. She's complaining about their boss and he's telling her to take a vacation."
"Good job. Now for a harder one. Other than you and me, who's the most dangerous person here?"
"That's really kind of you to include me in that," he said with a self-deprecating smile. She smiled back and tilted her head in acknowledgement. "The guy with the tattoos at the far end of the bar."
"Ahhhhnnnnn," she made a buzzer sound that he had given the wrong answer. "Nope, the older guy at the table over there. Reading a book."
Chuck turned and looked at the man sitting off to the side, his back to the wall. The moment he did, the man looked up from his book and looked directly at Chuck without expression.
Turning back to Sarah, he said, "Uhhh, he saw me looking at him."
"Yeah. He would. Nothing gets past him. He has first class situational awareness. And someone looking directly at him would certainly trigger it. He's probably an ex-cop or something like that. He's on top of everything that happens here. If any bad stuff goes down, you can be sure he's prepared and has a plan. You can see it in his eyes."
They were in O'Malley's Bar and Grill waiting for Ellie and Devon, who had explained that they had to make a stop on the way to dinner. It was a nice, quiet local place that Chuck and Ellie had been visiting for years. It had dark wood, dim lighting, cold beer, decent pub grub, and friendly people. Chuck had introduced Casey and Sarah to it soon after they had begun to work together. It was the same place they had taken Carina the first day she was in town to be briefed by her on the Alahi diamond heist.
"You're really good at this stuff," he said.
"A lot of practice," she replied. "I've been doing this my whole life."
"Even before the CIA?" he asked, a little surprised.
She paused before answering. "Yeah, even before the CIA. Long story."
Chuck was very curious, but knew better than to probe for an explanation. Changing the subject, he said, "Well, I have other things in mind for you later. We can save long stories for another night," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her and lightly stroking the back of her hand.
She smiled and said, "Hey, tonight will be the first time you sleep with your girlfriend as a college graduate. Think it'll be any different? Think you'll...Oh, my God." Sarah looked to the door as Devon and Ellie wrestled their way through with a humongous mylar balloon. CONGRATS GRAD. There as a little mylar mortarboard perched on the mylar G in GRAD. The balloon was brushing the ceiling and was as wide as the entire booth they were sitting in.
Ellie came over with a huge self-satisfied grin. "Congrats, Grad."
Laughing, Chuck buried his head in his hands, "I'm humiliated. I'm a laughingstock."
"Too bad," said Ellie. "That was the whole point."
"You deserve it, bro. It's for you. Here," said Devon, handing the balloon string to Chuck.
"Good thing you didn't give this to Ellie, Devon. She'd float away,"
"Naw," he gave Ellie a big loving smile, showing his awesome white teeth, "cause I'm never letting her go."
Sitting down, she said, "Awww, you're the best." She leaned across the table to kiss him.
Jackie O'Malley, the owner, came over to the table from his spot behind the bar. "Hey, Bartowskis. So, who graduated?" He was a smiling man in his sixties, big and somewhat red-faced. He had once been powerfully built, but was rapidly heading towards fat at this point in his life.
"I did, Jackie," said Chuck.
Jackie shook his hand. "Congratulations, Chuck. We celebrating tonight?"
Ellie said, "We are. Devon and I are taking Chuck and Sarah out for dinner, so if he tries to grab the check you're on my side. Ok?"
"You got it. You and Doctor Woodcomb are my favorite doctors anyway. I'll always be on your side. I may need you one day. If I get a headache, I'm going to you. If I get hemorrhoids, I'm going to him," he said, gesturing at Devon.
"Uhh, Jackie, I'm a cardiac surgeon. Don't really go to the dark side, bro," said Devon, shaking his head with a smile.
"Oh, I know, it's just that my wife always tells me to get my head examined," he pointed to Ellie, "..and that I have no heart, but that I'm a total asshole. So, with that combination, I just figured..."
He didn't finish the thought as his audience was laughing too hard. He shrugged, grinned and said, "Alright, folks. Enjoy dinner and congrats again, Chuck."
A little while later, Maria came over carrying a bottle of chilled champagne and four champagne flutes. "Uhh, Maria, we didn't order that," said Chuck.
"On the house. Jackie's compliments. Congratulations, Chuck," she said.
They all looked to Jackie behind the bar, who smiled and gave a tiny wave. They thanked him.
Once the glasses were poured, they raised them in a toast. Ellie said, "Bachelor of Science from Stanford. Double Major. With Distinction. Congratulations, little brother. I love you and I'm so proud of you every day." They clicked glasses to murmured "Me too" and "Here, here" and "Thank you".
The conversation over dinner among the four of them meandered here and there. At one point, Awesome was telling a funny story about the moving men emptying Mrs. Prommer's apartment, and Ellie gave Chuck a meaningful look. Even Sarah understood the look and the question it was asking.
Chuck just said, "Yeah, El. We talked about it and we're thinking about it."
"Talked about what?" asked Awesome.
"We talked about moving in together. About Sarah and me taking Mrs. Prommer's old apartment together," said Chuck.
"Awesome," he had a huge happy grin. "You lovebirds are joined at the hip, and elsewhere too. You should be together. It's just the best thing you can think of to wake up every morning next to the person you love the most in the whole world."
He leaned across the table to give Ellie a quick kiss as she said, "Awww. You're so sweet."
"Just telling them the truth, babe. These lovebird's need a nest of their own so Chuck's worm can wiggle free," he said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Uhhh," said Ellie, smacking him gently in the shoulder.
"Snake," said Sarah.
"What?" asked Devon.
"Snake. Not worm. Snake," said Sarah, with feigned innocence, but trying hard not to laugh. Her blue eyes were sparkling with mirth.
Awesome grinned, but both Chuck and Ellie groaned.
Chuck said, "Oh, my God," and put his head in his hands.
Ellie said, "Ugh. TMI. This is my brother we're talking about."
Sarah maintained the innocent look, but said with mischief in her voice, "Devon started it." Everyone laughed.
"Well, about living together," said Chuck, trying to change the topic away from his worm/snake. "We haven't decided yet. We talked about it, but we're still in the considering stage."
"Oh, you should just do it. Pull the trigger. Jump into the deep end of the pool," said Awesome with his characteristic enthusiasm.
Sarah said, "It's a big step, though, Devon. We want to make sure we're ready. How long were you guys dating before you started to live together?"
"Exactly, Devon," said Ellie. "It took us a couple of years to make that commitment to live together. No need to rush it. Take your time." She gave Awesome a mock glare.
"I'm just saying...that apartment is pretty nice. It won't stay on the market for long," said Devon, taking a swig of his beer.
"We know. We'll decide soon," said Chuck, looking deep into Sarah's eyes. She smiled back at him and reached out to hold his hand.
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Dinner was over and night had fallen as the two couples were leaving O'Malley's and trying to get the enormous balloon out through the doors of the restaurant. They were wrestling with it and laughing at how ridiculous they must seem to any passersby. Devon said, "Let me get our car. This thing will never fit in the Porsche." He jogged away with the balloon.
Ellie stopped and looked thirty or so yards away, where a man was staggering along next to the parked cars. As they watched, he fell onto the sidewalk and rolled into the gutter. Ellie said, "Chuck, call 911." Ellie was on the move. As sweet, kind and loving as Ellie was, when she was focused on her job she was one of the most impressive professionals Chuck had ever seen. Kneeling down, she spoke to the fallen man in a soft voice, but firm with knowledge and certainty. "Sir, Sir, look at me. Look at me. I'm a doctor. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
From the ground, he looked at her somewhat wild eyed. His shirt was partially unbuttoned and untucked. He was sweaty and seemed panicked. Probably some kind of overdose, but he had an intravenous catheter inserted into his right arm and taped down above the wrist, the kind that hospitals would use to prepare a patient for multiple injections over a period of time. What was that about?
She said, "Sir. Is it alright if I examine you?"
He stared at her for a few moments and nodded, "Bad, bad...bad...pain."
"Where are you in pain?" She took his wrist and examined the IV catheter and with two fingers took his pulse. A small crowd started to gather. Chuck was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher. Ellie said, "Sarah, keep these people back. Where are you in pain, Sir?" The man ignored her. He was sweating profusely and seemed very agitated.
The ambulance must have been loitering nearby, because it arrived almost immediately. After identifying herself to the two EMTs she began to give them the rundown on the patient. Ellie said, "Shallow respiration. Thready pulse. He's got an IV catheter," she said, pointing at the tube coming out of his arm. "So, he's under a doctor's care, but he's got no wristband," she said, referring to the plastic identity band hospitals put on patients. "Somebody will have to check hospitals for discharged patients."
The EMTs had unloaded the stretcher and were taking the man under the arms and knees to move him onto it. "Naloxone? Overdose?" asked one of the EMTs, referring to the opioid antagonist medication which would counteract the effects of a morphine or heroin overdose. Opioid overdoses were increasingly common and the EMTs had come to expect them as the default cause for a poisoning of any kind.
"Your call. I don't know if it's an OD, but if it is, it's probably not an opioid. He seems too wired. But Naloxone won't hurt if you want to try," said Ellie.
Devon had pulled up with the car, the balloon stuffed inside and taking up an absurd amount of space. The juxtaposition of the serious medical emergency with the silliness of the balloon was jarring.
The man pleaded, "Help me, please. Help me," as one of the EMTs put an oxygen mask over his face.
"Just relax. We are doing everything we can," said Ellie as she was helping the EMT's get him into the ambulance. "Devon, follow us in the car."
"Right, babe," he said. Westside Medical was the closest hospital, so that would be the ambulance's destination.
Chuck shouted, "I'm proud of you, Sis." Ellie smiled at Chuck and Sarah as she was climbing into the back of the ambulance with the stranger she now considered her patient.
As he was lifted into the light from the ambulance interior, Chuck got a good look at his face for the first time. He flashed. Mason Whitney. Nuclear expert. Advisor. Sanctuary Project.
Devon followed as the ambulance drove away with Ellie and Mason Whitney. Chuck said to Sarah, "I just flashed on the guy. He's a nuclear expert."
"I wonder if that has anything to do with his condition? You know, radiation poisoning or something," asked Sarah.
Chuck nodded. "Yeah. That's a good question. When we get home, I'll check out his file. If it does, maybe there's some way I can notify Ellie. You know, be good for the doctors to know."
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The moment Chuck and Sarah got through the door to his apartment, he headed to his computer and pulled up the Intelligence Community's files on Whitney. His file indicated that radiation poisoning wasn't likely, as Whitney was a strategic theorist and not an actual "hard science" nuclear scientist.
Continuing to look at the file he said, "Oh, shit, Sarah. He's gone missing. He disappeared two days ago with a download of stolen data." When it was obvious that he had gone missing, Federal agents looking for the missing data had searched his home on Bentel Avenue in the Brentwood Park neighborhood of Los Angeles, his office and his car and spoken to his girlfriend, Linda Moreno, but the data he had taken was still missing with him.
"Let's call Graham and tell him we spotted the guy. You can finish reading his file later. It's late there anyway. Maybe we can catch him before he goes to bed. We'll fill in Casey when we get off with Graham."
Moments later they had Graham on speaker phone. It was late enough on the east coast that a video conference was probably not called for. Sarah didn't really need to see Graham in his pajamas again.
"Sorry to call so late, Sir," said Sarah.
"It's ok, Agent Walker. My fault. I promised to call you. I guess you and Chuck really wanted to hear the story about my conversation with Carroll."
"Yes, Sir, but that's not why we called you. Tonight Chuck flashed on a man named Mason Whitney. He collapsed on the street in front of us, here in Burbank. Chuck's sister accompanied him to the hospital in an ambulance. When we got home and Chuck checked the man's file, he discovered that Whitney had gone missing recently. We thought you should know he's not missing any longer. He's at Westside Medical being treated, probably in the emergency room."
"Collapsed? What's his status?"
"Looked serious, but we couldn't really say. We just saw him on the street and as the EMT's were picking him up," said Sarah.
Chuck said, "Ellie didn't say anything one way or the other, Sir, but her voice sounded highly stressed. Just based on that I would say it's pretty serious."
"Did he have anything on him?"
"No bag, Sir, but I don't know what was in his pockets," said Sarah.
"We'll arrange to have him transferred to a CIA medical facility asap. Whitney was working with a think-tank on our nuclear targeting strategies. Operation Sanctuary. The conclusions they reached were consolidated in a top secret report to go to the Joint Chiefs and the National Security Advisor. It is a complete analysis of our nuclear warfighting strategy. Each target discussed. Pros and cons for their selection. Recommendations on the timing of strikes and bomb yields. The whole thing. When he went missing, he had illegally downloaded a copy of the final report. Needless to say, Russia or China would pay a king's ransom for the report he stole, not to mention North Korea, of course. We have to find it."
"You know, Sir, digital files can be configured so that they cannot be downloaded. Perhaps your IT guys could look into that. Just sayin'," said Chuck, rolling his eyes at Sarah.
Graham said, "Yeah. I hear ya, Chuck. Not today's problem, but I hear ya."
"Do we know why he downloaded the info and went into the wind?" asked Sarah.
"No, we don't. Do you think we can question him?"
"I don't know, Sir. He didn't really seem that coherent to us. Maybe he'll stabilize with medical attention, though" said Sarah.
"Well then, I'm hoping he recovers from whatever is wrong with him. We can ask him then if we can't talk to him now," said Graham.
"Any idea what he downloaded the Report to? Disk? Chip? Thumb drive? Be good to know what we are looking for," asked Chuck.
"No, but that info is probably in the file you were looking through before you called me," said Graham.
"Well, as I said, Sir, he didn't have a bag with him. Want us to go to the hospital and go through his clothes?" asked Sarah.
"Naw. No need. I'll send a full team to do that and to watch him until we can move him. Even with Agent Casey around you don't have the manpower to run a 24/7 overwatch detail. I'll fill in General Beckman. Get some sleep. Starting in the morning, see if you can retrace his steps. Figure out where's he's been. That might help us put our hands on the missing Sanctuary Report if it's not in his clothes. Oh, and congratulations again, Chuck."
"Thank you, Sir," said Chuck. They broke the connection.
"Well, glad we notified him," said Sarah.
"Yeah. But I just have to ask, does this country hire any decent counter-intelligence folks? I mean, seriously. It's like every other bad guy we face is home grown and comes from the top-secret establishment. Zarnow, Mahnovski, Mead, Fleming, now Whitney. What's with these people?"
"Welcome to my life," said Sarah with a sigh. They contacted Casey and filled him in on the evening's events.
"Now, come over here," Sarah said while unbuttoning her blouse. "I didn't have a chance to buy you a graduation present, so I'll just have to improvise." Soon, she wore nothing but a smile. "Congratulations, sweetie," she said.
"Best day ever," said Chuck.
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A/N2: So, in canon, Whitney stole the country's nuclear codes. "A skeleton key to our nuclear facilities" Sarah called it. What?! What the heck are nuclear codes? I couldn't even fake it here. I got nothing. So, I changed it. The way I figure it, "nuclear codes" are just two random words that sound really cool together, like "crimson steel." I didn't put that in the story either.
A/N3: I'm done begging for reviews. If you want to review, please do so. If you don't...oh, who am I kidding?...please review. I'm going to be away from my computer for the next few days and I'll try to respond to any of your who review or reach out, but it may take a while, so please be patient. Oh, and Tigertod, if you open yourself up to receiving PM's I'd love to chat with you about your ideas.