#Thin Man Charah

[victorianoir]

Another chapter of The Detective and the Tech Guy is up, part 3 of “The Detective and the Tech Guy Versus the ExoBand”!

Enjoy!

[chuckaf]

Chuck Fic Rec List: Updated

So my fic rec post was in my notifs again the other day, and I noticed a while back that the formatting on the post has gotten all messed up and it’s also had like three reblog additions to it anyway meaning there are three versions out there lol. so, I wanted to do another list of chuck fic recs! I’ll keep the other one up still, so I’m not gonna repeat every fic here, just some I really recommend. I’m also adding the fic summaries, which I didn’t on the old post, and some more of my own opinions so, buckle up for a long post!

Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles | Steampunk.Chuckster

1896. A world powered by steam, where humans and machines coexist, and airships are the fashionable mode of transport. The US Empire's deepest and darkest secrets arrive at Chuck Bartowski's doorstep. Have they fallen into the wrong hands? Or will the inventor prove his mettle, even while he's forced to hide from the very people he's protecting? AU, ongoing chronicle, Charah.

A genuinely incredible AU story, with an entire crafted world and universe, so detailed it frequently blows my mind. There is heart and family and infuriatingly brilliant slow-burn, plus a buttload of danger and super fun historical/steampunk action. Oh how I LOVE it.

Chuck vs the Charade | somedeepmystery

When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.

An action and twist-filled AU based on the movie Charade, which is just such a brilliant fic concept I absolutely adored it from the start.

Two Sides of the Same Coin | dettiot

When you're a spy, there's all kinds of occupational hazards when you work with another spy. For Sarah Walker, though, one mission becomes a life-changing experience. Because working with Charles Carmichael leads to protecting Chuck Bartowski.

The first time I read this fic my mind was just blown to its genius. Such a brilliant interpretation of what the Intersect and its concepts set up in the show could be, and ooooof the Chuck/Sarah interactions, my HEART. Related to it, its companion piece:

A Flip of the Coin | dettiot

What made Charles Carmichael agree to become Chuck Bartowski? Well, to start, it wasn't as much of a change as you'd think. A companion to the early chapters of Two Sides of the Same Coin from Carmichael's perspective.

Chuck vs The Butterfly Effect | n7agentbartowski

Chuck Bartowski is a normal guy who just hit rock bottom. No girlfriend, no career and no super computer stuck inside his head. It isn't until Chuck meets a gorgeous stranger on the beach that he begins to think his life is about to change for the better. An AU Chuck fic without the Intersect. "Change one thing and it changes everything."

I said it on the OG post, but this story has one of my top 5 Chuck/Sarah fic meetings. So funny, so... very Chuck. The story is a little angsty overall, but a great read.

Chuck vs the Rogue Spy | Crumby

When a rogue spy from Chuck Bartowski's past shows up to help him during his first solo mission, Chuck hopes that he'll finally find out what happened to Sarah Walker. Post-S2 AU.

There’s a lot of Season 3 fix-it fics out there, which I don’t usually read bc I actually love season 3 lol, but this one’s a good one! A twisty deviation from canon, but still feels really true to character.

Chuck Versus the Nerds Rewrite | Steampunk.Chuckster and David Carner

What happens when two nerds talk endless hours about their favorite TV show? A new take on the show you know, but with the flair, twists, and turns you've come to expect from Steampunk . Chuckster and david . carner. Somewhat canon. Charah.

As the summary says, a different take on the show, which honestly makes a couple changes I would too, but also adds a bunch of fun twists and plots that make it totally new and fresh. Seeing Chuck and Sarah’s thoughts in the more canon sections is just delicious, too.

The Trapped Assassin | SarahsSupplyCloset

After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU

A warning for the very justified M rating if you don’t like that sort of thing, but this is definitely a plot-heavy fic, too. A really neat Sarah-heavy AU, with a whole lotta Chuck/Sarah fancy French vacationy goodness.

Chuck vs the Second Chance | malamoo

AU from mid-season 2 and onwards. Chuck and Sarah part ways only to be reunited years later. COMPLETE.

Literal, crying-at-my-screen angst. Not even a super happy ending. But a brilliantly written, part-reflective/flashback fic, exploring what would’ve happened if Chuck and Sarah’s relationship really was an assignment all along-- and the aftermath. It’s heartbreaking. But if you want a little heartbreak, this is your fic.

Ready at Your Hand | dettiot

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

I love Chuck fic for the very reason that it’s inspired such adventurous and totally unique AUs. Here’s some Elizabethan fake-dating Chuck and Sarah! They have to be so Proper, it’s like that hand moment from Pride and Prejudice but Elizabethan and times a billion. The pining!!

Sarah Versus Getting Married | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker is getting married. Canon. Charah.

I’d recommend all of SC’s fics if I had the room, and I’m already recommending a ton sksks but most of my fic recs are AUs, and this one isn’t! It’s canon, and covers some of in the gap in 4x24, with Sarah just before the wedding itself. Super sweet, heart-tugging, brilliant.

A Chuckmas Carol | Mikki13

A new twist to Dickens' beloved "A Christmas Carol". When Sarah begins to shut out the world around her, three spirits come to show her the error of her ways. Season 3 AU.

Another Season 3 AU, this one written pre-series so it definitely doesn’t fit to canon, but it’s still wonderfully rich in character depth and angst and it also made me cry. Plus, festive!

Chuck Versus Thin Ice | Steampunk.Chuckster

On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. Charah AU.

Do you like curling? Or the Winter Olympics? It doesn’t really matter because somehow this fic made me extremely invested in both of those things, as well as Chuck and Sarah and them being INSUFFERABLE. Catch me now knowing a ton about curling thanks to this fic.

Walker’s Eleven | Moonlight Pilot

Not the same plot as the movie. Sarah Walker never got out of the con game or became a spy, and now she's on her final con. What happens when true love and betrayal get added to the mix? Twists, turns, and Jeffster!

Con!Sarah always interests me, and this fic is full of her. Lotta con plot, lotta Chuck and Sarah.

The Detective and the Tech Guy | thecharleses

Sarah Walker is a Pinkerton detective. Chuck Bartowski is an electronics genius. They wouldn't have met except for a case of mistaken identity and murder. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man film series. Formerly co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot, now ONLY Steampunk . Chuckster.

Everyone in this fic is so damn cool. There are so many martinis. But also great heart and family and like, standing up for who you love, and later also Chuck with Baby Clara content which frankly the show robbed us of. Also, PI!Sarah!!!

Gravity | Poetic4U

AU. Sarah makes a decision that altered her life forever.

This is just a one-shot, which many of these stories are not, so a good one if you don’t fancy a big read! Just because it’s short, though, doesn’t mean it’s lacking; a really awesome what-if AU, and heavy on the Chuck and Sarah.

A Yuletie Tale | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work’s annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn’t quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.

I’m particularly in love with this fic because, instead of beginning with a meet-cute, it involves Chuck and Sarah already two years into a friendship-- Sarah is Ellie’s best friend. And she’s been crushing harrrd on Ellie’s brother. Also Chuck is in a tux. It’s pretty.

Set, Spike, Dive! | Frea O’Scanlin

Chuck never expected to even make it to the Olympics. Everything is working against him: he's too tall for a diver, too inexperienced for a medal, too much of a wildcard to really make his mark. But an unexpected meeting at the airport, some intriguing new friends, and a whirlwind romance on the sand just might set up London 2012 as the time of Chuck Bartowski's life.

A London 2012 AU, because why not. This is just a fun Olympic-y ride!

OTP (One True Pairing) Prompts | David Carner

A series of Prompts I found online about different times and places in Chuck and Sarah's life. Mostly AU, mostly one-shots. I assume mostly fluff, but I might get deep. I doubt it, it's me. Charah...ALWAYS (It says complete, but if an idea strikes me...)

If you’re not so into long stories, this fic is perfect. Individual set-ups and stories, all Chuck and Sarah, and all super cute. You could dip in and out and just pick a scenario you enjoy.

Chuck vs The Frontier | ninjaVanish

AU: Chuck was enjoying a simple life as a 19th century watchmaker until an encounter with a beautiful Secret Service agent thrust him into a world of intrigue and adventure he never wanted. But then, with Agent Walker around, it can't be all bad, can it?

This fic gets props for being historically-set but still including the Intersect. Again, a historical AU, so the pining!! the need to be Proper!!! But besides all that, there’s a lot of action fun as well.

Chuck Versus The Crosswalk: Remastered | WvonB

Will a last minute mission help our two favorite characters finally get together? This is the remastered version of my first story.

The original version of this fic is on my first list; this is the updated version! It’s not a complete AU, instead a story that diverges from canon, so if you’re more into canon characters and setting than a new AU scenario, this is a great fic for that.

Little Girls, Paper Wreaths, and Choc Chip Cookies | DanaPAH

Very AU: Sarah Walker is a single mother whose Christmas spirit needs a boost after a tough divorce. She isn't quite ready to go looking for romance, but her little daughter's affection for their new neighbor may lure it right to her doorstep, anyway.

An incredibly sweet AU one-shot where Chuck and Sarah are new neighbours, and Sarah has a super cute little girl. So much sweetness and love and hope. I love this fic so much it literally led me to write my own neighbour-kid-AU, so, not to toot my own horn but I’ll link it here anyway.

May Your Walls Know Joy | halfachance

Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they meet a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.

It’s what the summary says; if you wanna read, feel free!

Chuck vs the Sound of Music | quistie64

AU. Chuck, nerd extraordinaire, is a man with seven children and Sarah must protect them all from Fulcrum's evil designs. Warning: there will be singing.

I mean. Not much mystery as to the concept with that title and summary lol, but this is a super fun, soft ride with a lotta sweetness, and yes, singing.

Just Two People | David Carner

Meet Sarah Walker PhD, Psychologist, specializing in personality traits. Meet Chuck Bartowski, man who has left THE electronic company of 2020. When Burton Consultants tries to figure out what is wrong with the morale of Orion Industries, what happens when a guy named Chuck meets a woman named Sarah. I'll give you a hint, it's me writing.

David’s done something pretty special with this fic. It’s Chuck and Sarah centric, but very much an ensemble piece, too, with a lot of Team Bartowski and other familiar faces throughout.

Chuck Versus the Con Game | Steampunk.Chuckster

AU. Chuck and Sarah are partners in the con game. It's an existence wrought with danger and violence. Every day could be their last. Every mission could be the end of the line.

This is where I freak out SC and declare this fic the reason I ever got hooked on Chuck fic and then wrote Chuck fic, and the reason I still love it today but. that is true lol. Just so. so good. It’s also written with the chapters out of chronological order, which is super fun from a reading perspective. But con!Sarah AND con!Chuck?? Best. The kind of fic you will be thinking about for days (if not, y’know, years).

As you can tell by the repeats, I highly recommend just about anything by Steampunk.Chuckster, dettiot, or David Carner, but there are a TON of amazing Chuck fics and authors out there. I’ve never known a writing community so wildly creative-- there are so many unique AUs and canon explorations and story concepts that this show has manifested, and it’s all so much fun.

Most of the Chuck fic community is still over on FFN rather than AO3, so if any of these whet your appetite, feel free to have a browse there for more stories. I’m sure you’ll find something great. Personally, all the incredible writing there has also led me to write a buttload; I’m at halfachance on FFN, so if you see any of my stuff or wanna chat fic, feel free to message me there or here.

Happy reading, folks!

[davidcarner]

Pros and Cons Ch 11, In Vino Veritas, Perhaps

A/N: Huge thanks to Zettel who helped me get this chapter and the next one straight. This fic has been a fight but I really enjoy it. You know that old phrase darkest before the dawn….it gets dark folks, but it's me, it's Charah…Get ready….I give you Pros and Cons Ch 11, In Vino Veritas, Perhaps

Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck, and alcohol will make you say things you never would otherwise.

"The email contains four different dates and locations," Bryce began. After their session in the kitchen, the team got together with Beckman to begin to plan the operation. Sarah gave Chuck a wink, and he smiled. He wasn't sure where this thing with them was going, but they were FINALLY going to get the chance to figure it out. "The first is in Milan, it's next week."

"And what are we going to be doing there?" Chuck asked. "We'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"Not when we three ladies unveil our new line of clothing we won't be," Zondra said.

"Three?" Chuck asked.

"Sarah is the third," Zondra said. "Since she's new, we'll be the ones being questioned by reporters and you two are the perfect couple to go out and look for whatever it is we're trying to find."

"Sofia Stepanova has suspected ties to the Ring," Beckman said. "You two go as a couple and scout things out, you may find something, you may find nothing. If you do, and can retrieve the artifact you will return it to the NSA."

"No," Chuck said.

"What?" Casey said spinning.

"No," Chuck said, confidently. "If we do this, no matter how far we get into this mission, or if it brings down this Ring, Jack Burton, or whatever alias he's convicted under is freed from prison. That is my price to agreeing to meet Jill Roberts."

"Chuck," Sarah began.

"No, Sarah, WE'VE been though too much," he began, taking her hands. "To do this without some kind of guarantee…." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Sarah, I don't like doing it at all, but Casey would probably shoot me if I don't go through with it."

"In the leg," Casey grumbled. "I mean it wouldn't be fatal."

"Thank you, Casey, I know what that means," Chuck replied sincerely.

"Mr. Bartowski, can you sell this cover of you two being a couple?" Beckman asked. "It would require you to share a room and show affection toward each other." Chuck looked at Sarah.

"I think I could be forced to do it," Sarah said winking. Casey rolled his eyes.

"Forced? Would it be so bad?" Chuck asked, grinning.

"I could suffer through it," Sarah replied, with a coy grin on her face.

"Me too," Chuck replied.

"OH FOR GOD'S SAKE CAN WE STOP WITH THE LADYFEELINGS!" Casey yelled. Everyone was taken aback. "We get it, you two are crazy about each other, we have a mission, you can dip your chocolate into her peanut butter later!"

"Did someone forget to give Casey his meds?" Carina asked. Beckman was trying to hold back a laugh.

"One last thing, it would probably be best if Miss Roberts thought you were a couple as well," Beckman said. Sarah smiled.

"That would probably upset her and keep her off her toes," Sarah replied. Beckman nodded. "I like the way you think." With that, Beckman signed off.

-ooooo-

Sarah lifted up the pizza box lid, and then let it drop back down. She was full. She sighed contently and leaned back into Chuck. He grinned and held her close. They were watching a Marvel movie she had missed while in jail. It was fine, but she didn't have the heart to tell him she could care less about it and only wanted his arms around her. It was ending, and Chuck was looking worried. He had told her she could watch any movie she wanted, so she went into his digital account and searched. She came upon the Thin Man series of movies and started the first one.

"I didn't know you knew these," Chuck said, grinning. She bounced a shoulder, with a grin of her own.

"I like the classics, what can I say," she said. "Plus I just love the attitude of them, the playfulness, the silliness, how they are in things together, as a couple." She gave him a look at that, and he grinned. They were in it together. They watched in silence for a few minutes, and she shifted, thinking about tomorrow and being bothered by it. "You know she's going to say something about us tomorrow." Chuck didn't say anything and began to gnaw on his bottom lip. He glanced quickly at her and then back to the TV. "What?"

"I think it will really piss her off if she thinks we are together," Chuck said.

"Aren't we?" Sarah asked. Chuck turned to her. "Do you want to be?"

"I do, but the whole cover thing, it makes things complicated." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Hear me out, please?" She nodded for him to go on. "You're working for me, and if things go bad, will you still be comfortable living here, and," Sarah leaned in and kissed him soundly. She pulled away, studying his face.

"So we go at a pace we're comfortable with," she said. "But we're. Together." She said, gently poking him with each word for emphasis. Chuck grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, together," Chuck said. He quickly put a fist over his mouth, trying to hide a yawn.

"It's okay, Bartowski," she said, leaning against him. "I know you're not used to pulling all nighters since I went away. We've barely had 8 hours sleep the last three days."

"I've pulled plenty," Chuck retorted. "I just usually slept more than three or four hours afterward." She scooted away from him, and patted her lap. He grinned. "Really?" She just smiled. Chuck stretched out on the couch, his head in her lap. She played with his hair and soon she heard the sounds of his breathing, knowing he was asleep. She smiled and continued to play with his hair, realizing she had been happier the last few days more than she had been in her entire life.

-ooooo-

"Clandestine Fashions, can it be more on the nose?" Bryce asked. Carina shrugged.

"We're two former government agents, it's a joke," Carina said, grinning. "What do you think?" Bryce slipped his arm around her as she snuggled against him.

"I like," he admitted. "I had an idea."

"No," she said laughing. "Casey is not going as Zondra's boyfriend."

"How did you know I was going to ask that?" Bryce asked. She moved close to him and grinned.

"It was the only person left," Carina answered. "Now that you've got Chuck and Sarah hooked up, you're on to your next project."

"Oh, I'm not sure that one's done," Bryce said as he leaned in and kissed her. Carina melted in to him. He pulled away slightly. "I really don't want to talk about them anymore."

"I really don't want to talk," Carina answered, and they didn't.

-ooooo-

Chuck awoke and looked around. It took him a second but he realized his head was in Sarah's lap and she was asleep. He glanced at the clock and saw it 3:00 AM. He sat up, and looked at her. Her head had fallen over to the side and she looked peaceful, but he was sure she would have neck pain in the morning if she didn't already. He scooted over next to her.

"Sarah," he whispered.

"Yah," she mumbled.

"Sarah, you need to go to bed," he said softly, his breath hitting her ear. He watched her body shiver. "Sarah you need to go to bed."

"Take me to bed, Chuck," she replied, breathily. Chuck's eyes about popped out of his head. "Please, Chuck."

"I'm going to take you to your bed for sleep," he said. He helped her stand, led her to her room, and tried to get her in bed.

"Can't sleep in the clothes," she mumbled. "Get them off." He wasn't sure what to do and in a minute she began to do it herself. Chuck turned to give her privacy. He got hit in the back of the head with a bra, the straps coming around his neck.

"Oh, boy," he squeaked out.

"Put me in bed, Chuck," she whined. Chuck slowly turned saw she was wearing her tee shirt still. He arms were out to hold him, eyes shut, asleep on her feet. He gently got her into bed and tucked her in, and backed out of the room, scared to wake her. He got to his room, changed for bed, and slipped under the covers. It was thirty seconds later he felt the covers lift, and felt her scoot in beside him. She started to lay down, stopped, and slugged him in the arm.

"OW! What was that for?"

"We're together, Chuck," she said, grumpily, snuggling against him. "You said." She was frowning as she snuggled, but Chuck couldn't help but grin. "I'm mad at you."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Don't do it again," she replied, and he heard her soft breathing seconds later.

"Sarah, what the hell are you doing to me?" he asked. He drifted off to sleep seconds later.

-ooooo-

Chuck sat in the meeting room. Carina and Bryce were already there. Sarah had pulled Carina to the side and whispered something to her. The two had taken off, and Carina had returned. Before she left, Sarah told him to trust her, and go with anything she said. The four had met in Chuck's office before the meeting, Bryce was just sure that Jill was going to play everything as close to the vest as possible, and anything they could do to get her off her game would be beneficial to the company and the operation. Chuck was concerned about everyone going to Milan, but Bryce stressed the whole team had to be close, especially if they were dealing as something as big as the Ring appeared to be.

Chuck checked his watch again, Jill was ten minutes late. He had said Jill would be at least fifteen minutes late, and Bryce though twenty. Jill wanted them on their heels. She wanted the artifact, or someone in the organization did and Chuck was determined to make it as hard on them as humanly possible. The doors opened and Jill and her uncle Bernie walked in. Chuck noticed there was no lawyer. A quick glance and eye contact with Bryce told him that he had noticed the exact same thing. The three members of Bartowski Solutions stood and shook hands with Bernie and Jill. Jill lingered by Chuck.

"Chuck," Jill said, smiling. "It's so good to see you. I was afraid after the other night I had ruined your evening."

"Oh, no," Chuck replied. Crania was standing nearby.

"Oh, those two didn't get to sleep until after the sun was up," Carina said. Jill's eyes widened. Chuck started to say something but saw Bryce's head make the slightest shake of no. He had to say something. He couldn't do that to Sarah. She deserved….his thoughts trailed off as Sarah entered the conference room with the biggest smile on her face. Her hair was down, slightly curled and had a bounce to it as she walked. She was wearing blue jeans, black boots, and a Empire's Most Wanted Star Wars Tee shirt. He was stunned. She walked right up to him, grabbed his tie, and pulled him in for a kiss that made him forget where he was. She pulled away just slightly while his brain attempted to reboot.

"I am so sorry for being late," Sarah said, the softest, most loving smile he had ever seen. "Why didn't you wake me before you left." He saw it in her eyes, go with it. He swallowed and looked around nervously.

"Well, ahem, you looked so peaceful laying there, and you hadn't slept much all night," he said, shrugging. The grin on her face turned into a smirk.

"Either you start waking me up, or I'll have to set my alarm, this is my job," she replied. "Sorry about having to borrow the tee shirt. I just got here and Carina was making some alterations to my outfit, so I haven't had a chance to change." Chuck gave it a look, and Sarah thought she might explode the way he was looking at her.

"You look much better in it than I do anyway," Chuck replied. Neither had noticed Jill storm over to the other side of the table. She was sitting in her chair, pouting.

"We do have a business to run, if you two don't mind," Jill spat. Sarah winked at Chuck and took a seat beside his. Chuck sat down and slowly straightened his tie. He sat there with a grin of the cat that had eaten the canary. Jill stared daggers at the two, and Sarah staring right at Jill reached over and took Chuck's hand into hers. "I will give you 5% of the reward money if you can find the artifact." Sarah scoffed.

"You must think they're idiots," she retorted. "Fifteen percent plus expenses." Jill stared daggers at Sarah.

"Three percent," Jill said, crossing her arms. Sarah turned to Chuck.

"There's an Indian restaurant I've heard good things about, do you think we could have dinner there tonight?" Sarah asked him.

"Feel like some Chicken Tikka Masala?" he asked.

"What are you two doing?" Jill spat out, furious. Sarah turned back to her.

"Since you aren't making real offers I thought I'd see if my boyfriend wanted to try a new restaurant I heard about," Sarah replied. Jill stared at her. She looked over at Bernie who nodded.

"Fine, send the paperwork via currier," Jill said, as she flung her chair backwards and left.

"Good doing business with you," Bernie said. Bryce and Carina held in their laughter until they left.

"That was amazing you two," Bryce said. "That was some of the best acting I've ever seen."

"Who said it was acting?" Sarah said, bouncing her shoulder and leaving. "I'm going to go change." Chuck waved to her as she left, a huge smile on his face. He turned to the other two who had knowing grins on their faces.

"We're together," he said as if to explain everything.

"It's about damn time," Bryce said.

-ooooo-

Chuck sat back in his chair in his office. He had finished the newest upgrades to the security system they had been working on. Anna had caught a hole in the software, and Chuck was furious with himself. The past few weeks had been hard on him, hell the past few years had been hard on him, and now he knew there was no good reason, it had been in his head. He and Ellie had talked that afternoon, and she finally got him to see what Jill had done to him. Her making him last in everything and because he was so scared to be alone he took it. He though no one else would have him, but he found out he was wrong. He had been an idiot, and it was all because he was scared he would be alone.

Which led him to the current mess he had on his hands with their newest product. The closer then Sam, now Sarah, was to getting out of prison, the more he couldn't concentrate on work. He slept less thinking about her and could there ever be anything between them, not that he could let it. She was Bryce's girl, but he kept insisting that she wasn't. Then he thought he was out of her league, and she wasn't interested in him like that. Add in a few jobs to help out authorities with the kidnapping rings they were busting….sleep had been scarce. Once she got to his house, the first few nights he slept like a baby. Craziness had affected his sleep for a few nights, but since Sarah had made him sleep with her, he was beginning to feel more rested. He was in the best shape he had been in for a while and now they were flying out tomorrow afternoon, and it was all because he listened, instead of what his head was telling him.

The office was effectively closed until they returned, with Skip handling anything that came in. Anything important enough would be forwarded to Chuck and Bryce. The CAT Squad had decided to hit the club tonight to celebrate and even though it was a Monday, he knew they were having a great time. He looked at the clock. It was past 2 am. He should probably go, Sarah would be home soon and wondering where he was. He was just finishing up when he heard giggling in the exterior office. Chuck opened the door to find Sarah about to open his door while the other four were in her office, all of them clearly had been drinking.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Chuck asked. Sarah looked at him.

"Why are you here and not in bed waiting for me?" She asked. Chuck wasn't sure how to respond, but amusement covered his face. She furrowed an eyebrow. "Wait, that's not entirely right."

"Yeah, you forgot why isn't he naked waiting for you in bed," Carina said. Sarah giggled.

"Who is driving you?" Chuck asked. The door opened and Chuck saw Casey, looking irritated.

"I thought I told you four to stay in the SUV?" Casey said. He looked over and saw Chuck. "You get her home, I'll take care of them." He began to round up the other four.

"Sarah," Ellie said. "Be gentle with him, it's been awhile for him." Chuck put his hand in face.

"What if he doesn't like it that way?" Sarah asked with a wicked grin. Ellie high-fived her.

"Christ, Bartowski," Casey grumbled. "I deserve a raise for that."

"I'm her brother, so how do you think I feel?" Casey managed to get everyone back in the SUV and take off. "Let's get you home." Sarah was trying to kiss him, and he was trying to be gentlemanly, and get her home, that and he was afraid she hurt herself with her current coordination levels.

"What's the rush, you're not going to try anything anyway," Sarah said, disappointed.

"What?" Chuck asked. Sarah turned to him.

"You won't do anything, because you're Chuck, and that's why you don't want to, because I'm not good like you, I'm not good enough for you, and all I want is for you to love me," she said, and walked out of the building with her shoulders slumped. Chuck stood there, speechless.

-ooooo-

She didn't remember much. She remembered getting roused out of bed, her bed, without Chuck in it. She remembered getting on the plane, and Chuck helping her to her seat. She remembered getting in a car to go to the hotel, and being put to bed in the hotel, but she woke up, alone. She remembered Chuck had given her pain killers a couple of times, and she remembered there was a mixture of a look on his face of concern, probably for how bad her head hurt, and something else. She hoped he wasn't looking that way because of her. She looked over at the night stand and saw a note that had been propped. It said he was downstairs at the bar. She got up, fixed her hair, grabbed a piece of fruit and ate it as she rode down the elevator. She saw Chuck at a table, and she sat down across from him. He was drunk, very, very drunk. She knew him, he didn't do this unless something was really bothering him.

"Alright, Chuck, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Do you remember that night we met?" Chuck asked, a slur to his words. "Do you remember how you and Bryce joked about Jill giving me just enough sex to keep me in line." She nodded her head and Chuck continued. "We never had sex again after that night." Tears were falling down his face. "I couldn't anymore, because I was in love, Sarah. I was in love and it wasn't with Jill. I was emotionally cheating on Jill, and I felt guilty, but part of me didn't care. I thought that was the worst I could ever feel. Then I saw you and Bryce together and I thought that was as bad as I could ever feel. Then you were arrested, and I really thought that was as bad as I could ever feel." Sarah took his hands in hers.

"Then what's wrong, why are you like this, we're together." Chuck shook his head.

"I say all that because I found out I could feel worse," Chuck said. "Last night you told me you don't think I love you. I've loved you sometime after you stole our fries and sometime before you told me you were more of a physical threat than I was. You were sad last night because you don't think I love you. How can I not love you? How do I tell you that I've loved you for so long, and all I've done is hurt you? I hurt you both you and Bryce ended up comforting each other." Sarah had nearly lost it emotionally up until the last sentence he uttered, and then, then she lost it. She slapped her hand on the table, making him jump.

"Enough of this bullshit!" she snapped. Chuck's eyes got wide. "Chuck Bartowski, Bryce and I did what we did, but if I EVER hear you imply one more time it's your fault, we are going to have serious problems, Mister."

"But," he began.

"NO. BUTS." She said softly but intensely. The look in her eyes told him she wasn't playing. "You are the best man I know. I know what your parents did and how it affected you. Ellie explained it all, but you do not get to blame Bryce and my mistake on yourself. You aren't that foolish. You aren't that dense. You are scared to blame us because you're scared I'll run away. Chuck, I'm here." She took his hand and looked into his eyes. "Chuck, I'm not leaving you, you'll have to run me off. I'm done playing this game, we're together. Now admit it."

"Admit what?" Chuck asked. She stared at him.

"Admit you're mad and hurt at what we did," she said. "Quit carrying it around because all you do is let it fester, all you do is ignore it, no one, and I mean no one, Chuck Bartowski, is that good a guy." Tears fell down his face.

"I loved you, but I had no right to you," Chuck said. Sarah nodded.

"Chuck, I made a huge mistake and I can't apologize enough," she said, sitting back and running her hand through her hair. "Sometimes I wonder, did we do it just to get even, because we weren't stupid. No, you and I weren't together. I told you about Jill." She shook her head and looked away. "I told you about Jill and all I wanted to do was comfort you. To show you there was someone better out there, and you pushed me away, and some of my insecurities bubbled up."

"And Bryce is just a horn dog?" Chuck asked, a wavy grin-frown on his face. Sarah shook her head.

"Chuck, do you know how many women went out with him, wishing they were with you?" she asked. He looked up at her. "Chuck, we did something monumentally stupid, and if you hated both of us forever we'd both understand, but you can't say it was your fault."

"I was so envious of both of you," he said softly. She nodded, tears in her eyes. "I wanted to be yours so badly. I wanted you to want me, and I wasn't worthy."

"You are, Chuck, you are," she said. He closed his eyes and bent his head down. "You okay?"

"I think I might be sick," he admitted. She got him up, took care of his tab and got him back to the room. He wasn't sick, but as she got him into bed she realized she didn't want this moment to pass. "I love you," he said softly. She smiled at him, wondering if he had been thinking the same thing she had been.

"How about you say it to me in the morning when you're sober, Champ," she said. He nodded. "Hey, I love you." He grinned, shut his eyes, and was out like a light.

"We're in love," she said softly. She laid her face on his chest and made a decision. In the morning they were done with this dance. She smiled at what that might mean.

A/N: Don't you worry kids, they'll be okay. Promise. I mean really okay *REALLY* Next time. Scout's Honor. The next chapter's name is It's About Time!…Charahkids, premedicate….Hoped you liked it, reviews and PMs are always welcomed…Take Care

DC

[dettiot]

The Detective and the Tech Guy in Transition

Look!  Look look look!  A new chapter of The Detective and the Tech Guy!  Believe me, I'm just as excited about this as all of you are.  :-)

This is on the shorter side, but I hope you enjoy it!  And on the up side, based on conversations with victorianoir plotting out the next chunk of the story, I'm hoping that the next story will be up soon.

Lost?  Confused?  If that state only applies to this story, you can hit up the masterpost to get caught up.  Otherwise . . . have you tried Hare Krishna?  (Yes, I just made an Airplane! joke.)

The Detective and the Tech Guy in Transition

It was a bit hard for Chuck Bartowski not to let out a sigh as he set down the box he was carrying.  It wasn’t a sigh of relief, although honestly the box was heavier than he thought it would be after carrying it from the small moving truck and up three flights of stairs.  

No, he was sighing because he was helping his girlfriend move into her new apartment.  The girlfriend who was moving out of his apartment.  

Which he was totally fine with, Chuck reminded himself.  Sarah had good reasons for wanting to be on her own, to have her own place.  Reasons that were good and logical and would help make them a better couple and make their relationship stronger.  And he couldn’t deny, he had kind of missed the ability to wake up in the middle of the night and eat Red Vines for two hours if he felt like it, without any commentary about how much sugar he was eating.  

But he was really going to miss her.  

“Chuck!”  

Whirling around at the sound of Morgan’s voice, Chuck couldn’t help grinning a little at the sight of his friend trying to balance two large wardrobe boxes.  He hurried over to lift one out of Morgan’s arms.  “Why did you take two at once?” Chuck asked, carrying the box towards the bedroom.  

“Because your leggy Valkyrie said, ‘Oh, these aren’t too heavy--Morgan, can you take two?’ with that look in her eyes,” Morgan grunted.  “That look that says you can do anything, like you’re some kind of superhero.  Jeez, Chuck, that whole Vicki Vale comparison keeps making more and more sense.”

He couldn’t help laughing.  “Yeah, I know that look.  It’s awesome.”  Like pretty much everything else about Sarah.  

Morgan set down his box with a loud huff and straightened up, rubbing his back.  “Dude, you owe me for this.”

“I do,” Chuck agreed.  “You and me, pizza and video games all day tomorrow.  We’ll get the fancy pizza and the good beer, on me.”  

With a grin, Morgan slapped Chuck’s shoulder.  “Gotta say, I’m kinda glad to be getting my best friend back.  At least a little bit.  Not that I’m saying Sarah took up all your time or anything, but . . .”  

“I know,” Chuck said, smiling a little at Morgan and choosing to focus on the good in what he was saying.  “We were moving pretty fast there for a while.  This whole separate places thing is gonna be good for us, I think.”  

“And it’ll help get your mom off your back,” Morgan pointed out.  

Chuck rolled his eyes.  “Tell me about it.  If she’s not being politely rude to or about Sarah, she’s bugging me about work.”  

“You, who put the ‘aholic’ in ‘workaholic’?” Morgan asked, tugging off the bandana tied around his head and making a show of wiping a barely-damp patch on his forehead.  

“She thinks I’ve been letting work slide for the last few months,” Chuck said, leaving the bedroom and heading towards the front door of the apartment, knowing that he had caught his breath enough to face bringing up another load of Sarah’s things.  Morgan followed him, tucking the bandana into his back pocket.

“Which isn’t true,” he continued, looking over his shoulder at Morgan.  “But what I prioritize and what she prioritizes are two very different things.”  

Morgan nodded as they headed towards the stairs.  “Parents, man.”  He began riffing on how his mother had reacted when she found out he was going to Benihana training: a story Morgan had told several times, which let Chuck focus on his own thoughts for a moment.  

His mom was definitely off-base in her accusations . . . except that she kinda wasn’t.  Because he had been slacking some at work.  Letting things wait as much as possible, only to have the deadlines for various projects pop up and therefore require all-nighters.  That wasn’t giving the company his best work, and he had always prided himself on doing just that.  Even if working for Bartowski Electronics hadn’t been what he planned when he was at Stanford.

Back in those days, Chuck had been idealistic.  He thought that computers and technology could change the world for the better for everyone and not just to the benefit of big corporations.  Connect people like never before, bridge the gaps between the haves and the have-nots.  Level the playing field for the people who weren’t like him, blessed with all the equipment and training they could ever need.  

He still thought that.  But six years in the corporate technology world had made him tamp down a lot of that idealism.  When he had graduated, he thought he’d work for Bartowski Electronics long enough to get a feel for how business worked, to develop some contacts, and then he planned to leave, start his own company, put his ideas into practice.  It wasn’t what his mother had wanted, though, and somehow she had managed to keep him at BE.

And honestly, he hadn’t minded too much.  He enjoyed his work, since he felt like he was helping his family’s company stay strong, and it helped preserve a measure of peace within his family.  But lately . . . there had been a niggle.  Something telling him that maybe it was time for him to go out on his own.  

And when he saw his girlfriend, standing beside the moving truck and narrowing her eyes at the packing list in her hand, he knew what had prompted that niggle.  

As he approached, passing Morgan who was on his way back to the apartment with another box, Sarah looked up at him with a frown on her face.  “There’s a box missing.  I knew I should have gone to Chicago myself instead of trusting the movers I hired.”  

“Are you sure?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her.  “Maybe what you think you’re looking for, based on the description, isn’t what you’re really looking for.”  Chuck frowned himself.  “And that made more sense in my head.”  

At least it made Sarah smile at him.  “You’re probably right.”  

“Thanks,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her nose.  “You’ll be able to figure it out better once the truck’s unpacked.  Where’s the next heavy box that my poor broken body will be carrying upstairs?”  

Her eyes ran up and down his form, then she smirked.  “You don’t look that broken to me.”  She punctuated her words with a swift pinch to his ass.  

Chuck jumped and mock-glared at her.  “See if I give you that housewarming gift I got for you.  After helping you move and everything, I get sexually harassed.”  

“You love it,” Sarah said, leaning up to kiss him.

He kissed her back slowly, pulling her in tight against him.  Because yeah, he did love it.  

“Mmmm,” Sarah said, using her hands on his chest to push him away.  “Later, tiger.  I’ve got an apartment to move into.  Can you grab that box?” she asked, pointing to a box sitting right inside the truck.  

“Seems to me that it’s Morgan and me doing the moving while you stand around out here,” Chuck said with a grin.  

Sarah quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Is that really what you want to be asking?  Because your answer might determine if you ever see me naked again.”  

With a laugh, Chuck scooped up the box, which was fortunately a light one.  “No, but then, I think you’re just faking.  Because you could hold out about as long as I could when it comes to getting naked.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her and Sarah practically giggled.    

“Move,” she said, pushing gently against his back.  “We don’t have much more to do and then we can talk about whom could hold out longer.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, throwing her a grin over his shoulder as he stepped inside.

XOXOXO

“You’re sure you want to be alone tonight?” Chuck asked, standing by her front door and looking just slightly wistful.  “You’ll be able to sleep?”  

Sarah smiled at him and ran her fingers up and down his arms.  “Chuck, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way . . .”

“But your answers are yes and yes?” he asked, a soft, warm, lopsided smile filling his face.  It was one of her favorite Chuck smiles and definitely deserved a kiss, so she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.  

And just like always, there was that spark, that sense of life, filling her up and making her feel so special.  It had been there from their first kiss and Sarah never wanted to take that feeling for granted.  Never wanted to get used to it.  That was why she was now standing in her own cozy studio apartment, the one with the amazing view and the washer/dryer included.  Because she needed to be back on her own, just for a little while.  Long enough to work out some of her own issues, long enough for them to be ready for their futures.  

Because there was no doubt in her mind that Chuck Bartowski was it for her.  Which meant preparing for the next step in their relationship, moving at the right speed and doing things in a somewhat proper fashion.  They both needed some time to adjust to being able to see each other whenever they wanted.  Going right from long-distance to living together was moving too fast, and she didn’t want to mess up what she had with Chuck.  

But that didn’t mean not having this--not having all six-foot-four of warm, handsome, amazing male--around all the time wasn’t hard for her.  It was.  It was only because of how much she loved him that she was doing this.  

She nuzzled him.  “You are so sweet.  The best boyfriend in the whole world.  You know that, right?” she asked, looking up at him as she kept moving her fingers over him, her hands now rubbing his ridiculously firm shoulders.  “You know why I’m doing this?”  

Chuck nodded, brushing his nose against hers.  “I know.  And I even agree with you.  But it doesn’t mean I’m not gonna miss you some of the time.”  

“Some of the time?” she asked, grinning at him.  “Could I get a percentage on that?  Just so we can be precise here?”  

Snickering, Chuck brushed a kiss over her lips.  “I fully anticipate missing you 100% of the time you’re not with me.”

“That was my answer, too,” she said, sighing a little as she took a step back, letting her hands drop from his body.  “Call me tomorrow?”  

“Of course,” he said, smiling at her.  “I want to hear all about how you couldn’t sleep, with thinking about me all night long and not being at all tired since you barely carried in any boxes . . .”

“In your dreams, Bartowski,” she retorted, even as she leaned in for one last quick kiss.  “Good night.”  

Chuck smiled against her lips, even as he lingered for a moment.  “Enjoy your new place.  Talk to you later.”  

Sarah stepped back and opened the door for him, then watched him walk down the hall.  Right before he stepped into the stairwell, he turned and waved to her, and she couldn’t help the smile she gave him as she waved back.

Even though she felt so incredibly content at being in her new apartment, having someplace that was hers and no one else’s, she still sighed as she closed the door.  She didn’t like seeing Chuck walk away from her, even if it was just for the night.  But then she looked around, at the boxes waiting to be unpacked, at the furniture that had been in storage since she quit her job, and she felt that same flood of contentment and happiness and purpose.  

Sure, she was still jobless.  But having her own place gave her a reason to keep trying, to consider new ideas and possibilities she would have never thought possible if she was still living with Chuck.  Not that he held her back or anything . . . he thought she could do anything.  Be whatever she wanted to be.

That was the problem, though.  She wasn’t sure of who she wanted to be right now.  

Pushing off from the door, Sarah headed to the closest stack of boxes and got to work.  As one part of her brain began focusing on unpacking and organizing her belongings, it let another corner of her mind think about her job situation.  

What was she going to do?  It was becoming more and more clear that the long arm of Pinkerton reached farther than she had ever imagined.  It wasn’t that Langston Graham had given her a bad reference.  But the fact that she had resigned in order to not be fired . . . it created questions.  And since she had refused to answer interview questions about why she had left, beyond replying that it was personal, no other detective agency seemed willing to hire her.  Nor would any other business that valued client confidentiality.  

So what did that leave her?  She could change professions, she supposed.  Try something new.  Or go back to school and get another degree, maybe teach . . .

She blew out a breath, stirring the hair around her face.  None of those options really appealed to her.  Sarah knew she was a good detective--would go so far to say she was a very good detective.  She didn’t want to do anything else.  

Looking down, she realized the box she had just opened had dishes in it, so she lifted it up and carried it into the kitchen.  As she unwrapped each dish and figured out which cabinet it would go into, she found herself wondering how she could be a detective without working for an agency.  

Suddenly, the solution popped into her head, so obvious that Sarah didn’t understand why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.  She could work for herself and be an independent detective--a private investigator!  

Sarah immediately put down the mug she had been unwrapping and started hunting for paper and pen.  She had to start writing down the ideas that were swirling in her mind.  All the time she had spent, trying to get hired by a detective agency or law firm, and she had been going about things in the wrong way.  It was time for her to stand on her own two feet, in every way.  And that meant going into business for herself.  Work her own cases, take the jobs she wanted and turn down the ones she didn’t.  Well, eventually she could have that--at first, she’d probably have to take what she could get, but still, she had enough savings, even with the new place, that she should be able to get something off the ground.

But still, she could do this.  She was logical and focused and practical--she could run her own firm.  Get some office space, hire a receptionist, maybe eventually hire another detective or two, more staff . . .

She was getting ahead of herself.  She didn’t even know what she had to do to be a private investigator in California.  Pinkerton had always handled the licensing paperwork for its agents--she wasn’t even really sure what state she had been licensed in, if any.  And there was insurance and a million other details to figure out . . .

Yet none of that mattered.  She wasn’t one to make decisions at the drop of a hat.  But this one wasn’t overwhelming or scary, because Sarah felt the certainty rise up in her like a bubble in a pot of boiling water.  This was the next step for her.

A smile spread over her face as she used a marker to write on a box, unable to find any paper.  Making notes and lists, writing reminders, feeling her confidence grow even as more and more questions occurred to her.  She couldn’t wait to tell Chuck!

And that thought made her smile even wider.  Because . . . because she had someone to tell her dreams to, someone who would cheer her on, someone who had her back, always.  

The fact that someone was Chuck was the icing on the cake.  

There was so much to do.  So much to plan.  And Sarah couldn’t wait to get started.

End.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 4

Onward!!!! Part 4!!! The end of the ManFatale arc!!!! If you’re like “WTF is this?” you can read all of it by going to my MASTERPOST for The Detective and the Tech Guy. If you want to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that by clicking >THIS<.

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd just had to steal a parking spot from a little old lady who was just barely able to see over her steering wheel, and he felt bad about that, he really did. But it meant he was able to catch up to Sarah fast enough to be able to see her enter the office building she'd told him about earlier.

Just like she'd said, the building was off of Melrose, in SoHo. But he didn't follow her inside. Instead, he moved behind a short palm that was planted in a courtyard off to the side, complete with benches and planters. He leaned against the trunk of it and stared at the entrance.

He was old hat at this now, after a few days of tailing that asshole Fake Cartwright. Robbie. Pfft.

Maybe tailing his girlfriend while she was working wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever done in their relationship, granted. And she would probably be so mad at him if she knew he'd gotten in his car and followed her as best he could without getting too close, knowing she was way too smart to let herself be followed as closely as he wanted to. He'd nearly lost her a few times even, but he'd gotten back on track eventually, not wanting to be directly in her line of sight because she was a damn detective and she knew what his damn car looked like.

But it scared him to death hearing her yell, the dial tone…Seeing those papers scattered over the floor as though she'd had the file in her hand when Not-Cartwright had broken in, grabbed her, and yanked her out. God, the things he'd been unable to keep himself from imagining on the way there.

And then when he saw she was safe, when he held her in his arms, having to watch her leave again to go someplace potentially dangerous, and with no cell phone, no way to contact him, or more importantly, the police. That mean Detective Casey guy. God, that guy was a jerk. But at least he'd be able to back Sarah up if she called him, if she was in danger.

So Chuck had done the only thing he could think of to make sure she was okay. He'd followed her. He did have a cellphone. And a vested interest in her safety, damn it.

And he was going to watch those doors like a hawk. If this Jerald Brown fellow wasn't the upstanding tech guru Chuck had always figured he was in spite of never meeting him face to face, Chuck would take him down himself. He'd played flag football in junior high P.E. He knew what he was about.

He waited, waited…waited some more…

Until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He ducked back behind the palm tree as best he could and watched as the man he now knew wasn't Robert Cartwright strolled up the sidewalk towards the building, in his off-white suit, pale pink tie, suede shoes. A chill went through Chuck as the man stopped and took his sunglasses off, peering up at the very same building Sarah had just gone into to meet the man this imposter hired her to investigate.

His phone was in his hand immediately. He didn't have a direct line to Detective John Casey, but all he had to do was press three numbers.

There was no reason why this man should know what was happening in there. There was no reason why this man should know about this building in the first place, unless…well, unless he knew. Had he followed Sarah, too? Or had he followed Brown?

How did he know?

Oh God. God, Sarah didn't have her cellphone. And now he was going up the steps. If Chuck followed him, he wouldn't be able to stop him. This man was a seasoned criminal and possibly a killer. He definitely had a weapon.

God, he was opening the door.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's a woman being attacked inside of an office. A man went in there and he's attacking her. He has a weapon." He gave the address, told the operator she needed to hurry, and he hung up again.

It killed him, absolutely destroyed him, to move away from the building. He felt like he was dying as he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his car. He was leaving her in there, alone, and he was so terrified he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was angry with himself, sick with himself, and still he got into his car, turned it on, and with only a half glance back at the building his girlfriend was currently inside of with an angry, potentially murderous conman, he sped away from her.

God, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped to any deity that was listening that he was doing the right thing.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah's hand twitched automatically, ready to draw and put this imposter on the ground with a hole in his chest, but before she could do anything else, there was a loud bang and the arm of her chair exploded in splinters.

She yelped and fell out of the chair onto the floor, holding her hands up, her life having just flashed before her eyes.

That had been an extremely precise shot, not meant to hurt her…a warning that he would hurt her if she gave him any sort of reason to. He'd just missed her but she had scratches on her wrist and the back of her hand from the splintered wood exploding next to her.

"Stand up, kick your gun over here, Miss Walker," he demanded coolly, the South African accent gone. His American accent sounded practiced, too, however. "And then keep your hands in the air. You move wrong and I'll shoot you between the eyes. I've got nothing to lose now. Don't think I won't shoot a pretty girl…"

Sarah stood up and carefully went into her holster, pulling her gun out, setting it on the ground and sliding it across the tile floor to the conman.

"You stand up, too, ya fat fuck," the imposter said to Brown, reaching behind him to shut the door as much as he could with how he'd broken the handle getting in.

The private investigator and ex-Pinkerton detective felt anger start to rise inside of her. Not only did this fucker take a shot at her, he was going around calling good men 'fat fucks' too? She clenched her jaw, unable to help herself.

"You think you're a big boy now that you have that gun pointed at us," she said, keeping her hands up. But God she could feel that knife at her hip, and the ones strapped to her thigh and her fingers itched for them. But the only safe thing to do was to throw verbal barbs at him, so she kept going. "You can insult Mr. Brown when you've got a gun trained on 'im, but I bet just a few days ago, you were kissing his ass, weren't you?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Sarah Walker, private investigator. Without those legs, you'd be working at an Abercrombie & Fitch spraying perfume at teenagers."

She inwardly smirked. He might be a dangerous conman, and a smart enough criminal to have gotten away with his ruse for this long, but he hadn't done his homework apparently. He had no idea she'd been a Pinkerton detective. He had no idea whom he was dealing with.

"You picked the wrong P.I. to hire, Cartwright," Brown said, his voice a little shaky as he stood behind her, still at his wife's desk. "She's not just good at her job, she has a moral compass, and a nose for sniffing out criminal lowlifes."

"I did all right, didn't I? Who's standing here with the gun?"

"What are you gonna do?" Brown asked, seeming to gain a bit more confidence now. "Kill us?"

"Yes, actually. I am. Nobody knows we're here." That was true, Sarah thought miserably. Chuck only knew that she'd gone to an office building in SoHo off of Melrose. There were a handful of them. And he'd have no way of knowing if something bad was happening to her. God, she wished so hard for his paranoia, his idiotic jealous paranoia, that worried crease he'd had between his eyebrows…Please, Chuck… Maybe she could telepathically project terror at him and he'd feel something. They were close enough, emotionally bonded, weren't they? She'd never been so connected to anyone else in her entire life. Wasn't that how that weird crap worked?

Please, please, please, Chuck…

"What did you do with Cartwright?" she asked. If she could just get him talking, she could stall whatever it was he meant to do with them.

"I didn't touch the rat bastard. It wasn't me," he groused. "Wish it had been. He was a lousy piece of shit by all accounts, swimming in his money, an asshole to everyone, greedy."

"So he is dead, then. Who did it if it wasn't you?"

"He's dead. There was a storm, destroyed his boat probably. Found some wreckage where I was in Point d'Esny. Also found his body. Nobody else was on the beach so I took everything I could carry, took his body out onto the water, and dropped it with a bag of sand. Got rid of his boat altogether. Wasn't until a few days later I found out he was a Cape Town big shot. But he was a recluse, too. Nobody ever really saw him much at all. Perfect opportunity for me." He shrugged, and Sarah watched for any opportunity she might have to catch him off guard, but this obviously wasn't the first time he'd held a gun on someone. And she was sure this wouldn't be the first time he'd killed either…if it turned out he got that far.

And oh God, what would she do if he started shooting to kill?

"How did you even pull this off?" Brown asked.

"Easy. When the guy was alive and had less dead-bloat than he had when I found 'im, we looked pretty similar I guess. His IDs all worked long enough for me to forge new ones. Nobody asked any questions when Robert Cartwright showed up in Los Angeles for business. The checks all worked, the bank tellers all let me walk right in, the credit cards worked. I've made a fortune off of this guy, all because he was a shitty sailor."

He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"You're deplorable," Sarah said.

"Mmhmm. Deplorable enough to kill you two so I can get away with it all."

Brown cursed. "You aren't getting away with a damn thing!"

"I am. I've already destroyed any records that I was ever here. I've sold most of his African possessions, withdrawn every last cent I could from the banks. After I'm gone, they'll probably file a missing persons report." He chuckled and grinned a now twisted version of Alain Delon's smile. She wished she could apologize to the French actor for ever thinking he was similar.

This asshole wished…

ManFatale, Chuck had called him near the beginning of this damn job. She'd made fun of him then, but now she saw just how right he was. There was a good chance she was dying here today, in this office with the knitted pillows. Underestimating this bastard was her downfall.

"You don't think they'll dog your steps no matter where you go?" she asked then, starting to let anger overtake her fear. She liked anger better. It was better than giving in to despair, despair that she'd seen Chuck for the last time not an hour ago, climbing into his fuel-efficient car, after trying to make her take his phone. Maybe if she'd taken it, she could've secretly hit the emergency button on it.

What was he going to do?

What would he do if she died here today?

Oh, God…

No. Anger. Anger was better.

"I've covered my tracks."

"You haven't covered shit. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, they've all got guys who find pieces of shit like you every single day. You aren't getting away it with no matter what you do to us," she hissed through her teeth.

The imposter angled his gun down suddenly and shot, sending a bullet clattering into the ground at her feet. She screamed and clasped her hands to her mouth, jumping away. He raised the gun and shot again, hitting the desk right next to her hip and she fell to the side, onto the floor. Brown knelt down behind her, a protective move, but this time the bullet that came from the imposter's gun was true.

Brown hit the tile hard, a hole in his shoulder as he cried out in pain.

Holy shit!

Now there was fear inside of her. Abject fear as she acted fast, grabbing Brown's hand and making him press it against his wound. "Just hold it…press down, you'll be okay…"

"Get up," the imposter growled at her, stepping closer. She ignored him as she tried to help the injured man. "I said get up!" he yelled this time, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet.

She heard sirens in the distance and she knew as his eyes darted to the side in momentary worry that this was her one and only chance to get herself and Jerald Brown out of here alive.

Sarah Walker, P.I. struck fast. She swung her left arm around, clamped her fingers around his wrist and pushed the gun away from her temple where he'd been holding it. He pulled the trigger, breaking the window behind her, and the sound of it startled him enough that she was able to bring her knee up and back and slam her heel right between his legs.

He yelled in pain as she snapped the arm that had the gun down across her knee, hearing the crack of his bone breaking and the clatter of the gun hitting the floor. She kicked it away as he fell hard onto his back and she crawled onto him, slamming her fist down into his face, over and over and over and over again until he put his non-injured arm up and begged her to stop.

Just then the door burst right off of its hinges, police officers racing inside.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" an LAPD officer barked, and in spite of the fact that he might not be talking to her, she crawled down onto her knees and put her hands behind her head. She didn't know who or what had brought the police here but she wasn't about to be shot for trying to explain right away when they were attempting to take control of the situation.

Once the yelling stopped and the police had clambered over to Brown who was still conscious but whimpering, an officer grabbed her by her arm and hoisted her up. "My name is Sarah Walker, private investigator. That man broke in while I was in a meeting with Mr. Brown and held a gun on us. He shot him. Tried to…tried to shoot me, too." She was breathless, and she realized that in spite of being in scenarios with guns, bombs, and other terrifying situations, this had been one of the closest shaves she'd had.

And she had a lot more to lose this time.

She had to press her lips together and blink a few times to keep the rush of terrified tears at bay.

"All right, miss. Just come over here and sit in this chair. Your name again…?"

"Sarah Walker," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths. "I own Walker Investigative Enterprises. I've-I've got a P.I. license."

The two officers exchanged flat looks. "A P.I., huh?"

This had been too traumatic for her to find the willpower to give them dirty looks for that.

"Get an ambulance here, we've got two men in need of medical attention," one of the cops said into their walky-talky. "One gunshot wound. Another with abrasions to the face, broken arm."

Sarah thought about how badly she wished she could've given him more abrasions to the face, and she thought maybe she was starting to feel more like herself now that the danger had abated. Though her ear was ringing bad from that gun going off so close to it.

"You're Sarah Walker, that's Jerald Brown…and who is this guy?" The cop gestured to Fake Cartwright.

Paramedics rushed in then, tending to Brown first and getting him lifted onto a gurney.

"A criminal," Sarah said. "If you look up Robert Cartwright, you'd find this man's picture. But he-he isn't Robert Cartwright."

"Huh?"

She explained the situation to them for the next three minutes, accepting the strong coffee one of them gave her, and the blanket the other one wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't know when she'd begun to shiver. And it wasn't from the cold.

As she realized she was just barely keeping from slipping into shock, suddenly there was a shuffling of people at the door and Detective John Casey was there, his hulking figure taking up the entire doorway practically. "Whatever she said about him, it's true," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Cartwright's an imposter." He pulled his badge out as he walked into the room and flashed it at the officers. "I'll handle the questioning from here, officers."

They both nodded and moved away.

And that was when she looked up to see Chuck step out from behind the detective, his eyes finding her immediately.

"Sarah…"

"Chuck!"

She left the coffee and the blanket behind, surging to her feet just in time for his body to crash into hers, his arms so strong as they folded her up against him, so warm and safe and everything she'd needed the moment this had all ended.

Sarah felt her boyfriend's lips against her hair, and then her temple, and her cheek, and he just held her so tight. She didn't ever want to let go. Ever.

And she heard him curse, his hand coming up to brush over her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him."

"Maybe not the smartest thing to say in front of the LAPD, idiot," Casey grumbled from where he was standing over Chuck's shoulder.

She ignored him, though, burying her face in Chuck's neck and letting herself cry just a little. She'd been so scared she'd never see him again. So scared she'd never feel this. Or eat one of his waffles he made that were never thick enough or cooked as much as she wanted them to be because he didn't put enough batter in, and didn't leave it in the iron long enough. Because he was too impatient, like a little boy.

"I'm okay," she gasped out, trying to hold back still and not doing a great job of it. "I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said immediately, holding her even tighter, pressing his lips against her temple and keeping them there.

She finally pulled back, letting him cup her face and kiss her properly, and then he kissed the remnants of the few tears she'd shed away. "What—How?" she asked.

"I…" He winced. "I was worried. Super, super worried. I had this weird feeling in my gut letting you drive off to this meeting with no cell phone or anything. So I…gah, I followed you. I know you—you probably…" He huffed at her impatient look. "You're right. Let's table that. I was waiting outside, 'cause I'm your man and I wanted to have your back in case things got cray. But then while I was waiting, I saw that fake-ass mother fucker walk up with his cheesy as hell B-List sunglasses and that shit-eating smirk, and I knew right away that you were in trouble." A smile began to grow on her face as she watched him start to get riled up now as he told his story. "I was going to run after him and strangle him or roundhouse kick him in the jaw or somethin' but then I figured I'd most likely get shot and you'd never forgive me if that happened. So I called 9-1-1 instead and got in my car to come find Cas—Casey—Detective Casey." He cleared his throat at the glare the older man sent him.

"You're insane," she breathed, swallowing another sob and throwing her arms around his neck, letting him lift her enough that her feet were dangling a few inches off the floor, and they stayed like that for long enough that Casey finally cleared his throat.

Chuck set her down and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, longing in her gaze as she peered up at him for a moment…And then she turned to John Casey and nodded.

"Yeah, well…S'a miracle we even got here when we did what with this moron driving like a fuckin' grandma."

"What?!" Chuck spun on his heels to face the LAPD detective. "That's not even true! I was going fast! Things were whizzing past my window!" He let go of her arm with one hand and mimicked swishing his hand back and forth past his head manically.

"Right. Sure. Walker, I'm gonna need you at the station. Your secretary here only gave me the highlights. He can't talk and drive at the same time." Casey turned and headed for the door.

"Are you serious right now?" Chuck asked, his pitch getting a bit higher. "Secretary? How many times do I—?" They both began to follow after him then, Sarah's fist twisted in Chuck's sleeve, pulling him along. "Oh. He's messing with me, isn't he?"

She heard the amused grunt from the cop as he pressed the button to call the elevator, and she saw the small smirk on his face. It made her feel so glad to be alive.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had only taken twenty minutes for Detective Casey to eject Chuck from the room where he'd taken them for questioning. She'd had to watch as he interrupted one final time—"Sarah, tell him about…"—then Casey's patience, which had been wearing thin already no doubt, snapped. He stood up, grabbed Chuck by his arm, and escorted him out of the room, shutting the door in his face.

She'd had to smirk inwardly at the cute, offended sounds of confusion that her boyfriend made until he was locked out on the other side of the door where he could no longer interrupt.

Casey'd finally sat down across from her again, and she'd told him every last detail she could, even letting him have the files she'd kept in her briefcase that she'd had during the meeting with Brown, in case he'd needed convincing.

"So what made you so sure of Jerald Brown that you ended up focusing most of your efforts on investigating your client, rather than investigating the guy he was paying you to investigate?" Casey asked, forty-five minutes into their meeting.

"Part of it was the fact that I spent three days tailing him, going through his background, his financial records, combing through his personal life, and I'd found absolutely nothing to make me think he was anything other than a good businessman, and a good man in general. Not that he was without faults, but none of it was illegal or reprehensible. No illicit affairs, no fraud, nothing untoward." She shrugged.

"And the other part?"

"Chuck insisted he was a commendable man."

Casey scoffed. "You took him at his word?"

"I always do," she said, holding her chin high. "He knows who is who in his own industry, and he's a commendable man himself."

"Don't get defensive, Walker."

"I did my homework. And on the other side, I had this guy who, for all intents and purposes, was very smooth, seemed to know just what to say to every question or comment I had during our meetings, and…this was the key…the more time I spent in these meetings with who I thought was Robert Cartwright, the more I got the feeling he wanted me to find something wrong."

Casey grunted, thunking a pen against his chin a few times, thoughtfully. Then he narrowed his eyes. "I get where you're going. Instead of wanting you to just check and make sure this potential future business associate was on the level, and being relieved when you kept coming back with confirmation that he was, Cartwright seemed like he was digging for some dirt on him instead."

"Exactly. It was sneaky. And it made me super suspicious."

"Hmng," Casey tossed the pen on the table and pushed his chair back. "Don't blame ya. That was pretty good work, Detective. Don't take this the wrong way," he started, which was always a stellar way for another person to start a statement, she thought wryly, "but I'm curious as to why ya didn't just take the money and let this lie."

Sarah crossed her arms and stood up from her chair, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm not that kind of P.I., Detective Casey. I want to make a living off of this P.I. business I'm building, but not at the expense of innocent people, and not to aid and abet criminals. I'm operating on the right side of the law."

"So no adultery cases, huh?" He grinned a bit lecherously and she glared at him.

"If someone comes in offering me the right amount of money to try to catch their partner with someone else, depending on the person and the case, I might accept. But what business is that of yours?"

"It ain't. Lighten up. Yeesh." He held his hands up defensively, one of the gestures that infuriated her the most when men did it at her.

"Is that all you need from me?"

"Yeah. But make sure to stick around for a week or so while we work on this case. We may need the FBI in on this if he's committed crimes like this before, and they'll be bringing the South African and Cape Town authorities in, I'm sure."

"I will," she said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh. Here." She came back and set all of the work she'd done down on his desk. "I'm sure you folks'll need this." He deserved the snarky smirk she sent him, and the look on his face told him he probably knew he deserved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud ever in a million years.

"Thanks. And uh…make sure you take care of that hand. Don't think I didn't see you trying to hide the scratches. Was that his face that gave you those?"

She looked down at the scratches on the back of her hand, and now on her knuckles from his face, just as Casey surmised. "Yes and no. His face, but also, he shot at the arm of the chair where I'd just been and the wood sort of exploded and caught me."

Casey winced. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little home first aid is required. Nothing deep."

"Good." There was silence between them then as she nodded and went for the door. "Walker."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"We've got officers watchin' him now where he was admitted to the hospital, and when they've set that arm and gotten his face fixed up," she noticed a particular thread of pleasure in his smirk at that, "they're takin' him to his own cell here where I'll question him personally while we wait for FBI to send someone. That is to say…you did some damn fine work."

She smiled. "Thanks. Oh. Did Jerald Brown…?"

"He's gonna be fine. I'll email you where they took 'im if you want to visit tomorrow. He'll be kept at the hospital for a few days."

"Good. And yes. Please do. Thanks."

He nodded and she stepped out of the room, finding Chuck sitting a bit dejectedly in what she thought might be a perp chair at the end of someone's desk. Thankfully, whoever's desk it was seemed to be gone for the day.

She gestured for him to followed her with a flick of her head and a smile when he lifted his chin from his chest and met her eyes.

And she clung to him as best she could while still being able to walk to the elevator.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was quiet the whole ride back to her apartment, curled up in his passenger seat, having kicked her heels off and pulled her legs against her chest, her forehead leaning against the window as she gazed out on the late afternoon street.

And the sun had finally set, the sky still light out but darkening by the time he pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex. They'd left her car in free street parking where she'd left it before her meeting with Brown a few hours earlier and they'd get it later, tomorrow most likely. She hadn't seemed as worried about it as she was about finally going home, so he'd promptly driven her from the police station to her place with no stops in between.

Now they sat in the comfortable warmth of his car, the engine off, silence permeating…

Until Sarah turned to look at him, smiling softly, and then she reached out and took his hand, not looking away for even a moment as she breathed a quiet, "Will you stay with me?"

He felt everything inside of him crumbling and never in his entire life had he ever wanted to protect anything or anyone as much as he wanted to protect Sarah Walker. Not trusting his voice, still shaken up from what had nearly happened, he nodded vigorously instead, and she smiled a bit harder.

They got out and headed up to her apartment, his arm around her shoulders the whole way, and he used his key to let them in, turning on the lights for her as she tossed her purse onto the entryway table and kicked off her heels again, shrugging her jacket off.

It was then that he saw her hand. There were bloody marks on the back of it, cuts on her wrist, and red welts with dried blood and most likely bruising underneath on her knuckles.

Nothing else mattered as he made a beeline for her and gently picked up her arm, cradling her hand and wrist in his comforting grip. "Sarah…"

"I know, I know…but it's fine. I've had worse."

"You've let this go for hours."

"I've had worse, Chuck. It's okay. I'll just ice it—"

He shook his head vehemently and pulled her through her apartment to the bathroom. "You have first aid?"

"You know where it is from where you burned yourself on the coffee pot."

"Oh…oh yeah. Um…remind me, though."

Seeing blood on her hand, her own blood, knowing she'd been hurt, knowing she could have been worse than hurt, was starting to catch up to him suddenly. And he was trying so hard not to let her see. He didn't want her thinking he was going to be a basket case about her chosen profession. That every little cut she got made him crazy and sick with worry. But this had felt like a big deal. A really big deal. And he had no idea what would've happened if the police hadn't shown up, if he hadn't called them.

"Hey," she breathed suddenly, and he cursed himself a little, knowing he'd let it all show on his face anyway. "Hey, look at me." She cupped his face and forced his gaze to hers. Her blue eyes reassured him immediately and he had to resist the urge to melt into her, hold onto her for dear life. "Chuck, are you spiraling because of this?" she asked, presenting her injured hand to him.

He nodded, putting his hands on her hips to keep himself steady.

Her good hand stroked his jaw and his eyelids fluttered. "Please don't. I'm okay."

"Help me maybe not spiral by telling me where that first aid kit is and I can clean you up a bit."

"It's right here, in the cupboard under this drawer." She shifted to bump her hip against the drawer she was talking about. "But…before you do that, would you mind if I took a shower?"

He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, a slow, long kiss. He understood the request at a deeper level, but he wouldn't say it out loud. She needed some time alone after everything. She'd almost been killed, watched Brown get shot right in front of her, and had cops swarming her, and finally the questioning at the station and being trapped in the car with him as he drove her home.

"Thank you. It-It'll be a quick one." She slid past him, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen as she went to the shower and turned on the water.

"Take your time, baby. I'll have a martini ready for you when you're done." On second thought, as she gingerly started to unbutton her blouse, he waited for her to realize he was still there and turn to meet his gaze before he said it again. "Take your time."

Understanding dawned on her features and her shoulders drooped a bit. He thought her chin might have quivered and he just turned on his heel and left before he was tempted to gather her up in his arms and hold her some more. She needed to be alone for a bit, though, so he went into her kitchen and started preparing a few martinis, two to start with, one for each of them. He didn't know how many of these she was going to need, but he'd make her as many as she asked for.

And he waited, enjoying the texts Ellie had sent him throughout all of this, the one about Clara pushing herself up to sit for a few seconds before falling again. The look she gave her mom like she didn't know if she should cry or not. It warmed him from the inside out. And he'd been so cold before. Unable to get rid of that terrifying sensation he'd had when he'd screeched to a halt next to the office building, seeing the police cars haphazardly parked, lights still blinking, the ambulance there, someone being wheeled into it…

He'd seen it was Brown, that he'd been shot, and he tried to tear into the building, only to have Casey and two other officers have to grab onto him and nearly take him down to the ground. When they got him to stop, Casey barked, "He's with me", and he yanked on Chuck's tie, pointing in his face with a "Slow down, kid".

That was all it took for him to gain control, afraid this detective might knock him out altogether if he didn't take a breath. And he let Casey take point, shaken to his core until the moment he stepped into the room and saw his very own detective sitting there, alive, no bullet holes in her like the man downstairs'd had.

He felt a chill go through him as he stood there peering out into the courtyard of Sarah's building, watching an older woman take down a few shirts she'd hung on a clothesline and toss them into a basket. Her tabby cat made a figure-8 around her legs in the meantime, finally following her inside as she hobbled up the steps and into the building.

Chuck let himself get lost in everything for a few minutes, going through all of the worst scenarios that thankfully hadn't happened. Sarah was alive and well, currently in the shower, washing off the remnants of her harrowing ordeal.

He'd heard everything that had happened to her in Mrs. Brown's office while she told the grumpy detective—before said grump kicked him out. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy for it, though, because he'd caught himself interrupting too often. No matter how many times he apologized, he never learned, and his punishment was sitting out by himself for the remainder of the conversation.

But Sarah had been shot at multiple times, and every time Not-Cartwright had purposely missed her, his intent being to scare her. That made Chuck Bartowski angry. There was an extra level of pathology to lord your power over someone in that way, terrifying them before you kill them, making them suffer… It made him feel so disgusted, and then he thought Sarah must have come into contact with psychopaths like this guy before in her line of work.

She was an incredible bad ass, the coolest, strongest person he'd ever met. And he was sure no matter how often she'd come face to face with these crazy assholes, it didn't make being shot at any easier to handle, especially when it was so cruelly done to terrorize her. By the shakiness in her voice when she'd told them about him shooting her chair and then at her feet, and finally at the desk next to her hip, before sinking a bullet into Mr. Brown, the man she'd been attempting to protect, Chuck could tell it had gotten to her. Genuinely.

Maybe he shouldn't announce it in front of the LAPD, but deep inside, Chuck wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back from murdering that guy if he'd had a crack at him when he first got into that room and saw Sarah there, her face so pale, the blanket around her shoulders, the bun she'd had in her hair when he'd seen her last half pulled out… He'd discovered later that the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet by it.

Chuck thought he'd like to do the same to him, but instead he'd pull his spine right out with one hard yank. Mortal Kombat style.

"Thought I'd bring the first aid kit with me because I already know you'll refuse to take no for an answer."

He spun on his heel, letting the curtain fall back into place and cover the window to see Sarah had wandered in, her step light like a cat's so that he hadn't heard her come in. Granted he might've also been a bit distracted.

But then she set the first aid kit on the table and frowned deeply. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Wrong?"

"You turned around and looked like a rabidly angry gorilla or something for a second."

He just shook his head and sniffed in amusement. "It's nothing."

"Chuck…"

"I was thinking about what he did to you, and maybe imagining myself doing one of the Mortal Kombat fatality moves on him. That's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slowly wandering over.

She widened her eyes. "I don't know what those moves entail but you said the word fatality, so that sounds a little serious, buddy."

At least that shower had made it so she seemed a little more like herself. Less shaken, more settled. The almost-unnoticeable shiver she'd had before was gone.

"It is. I have to be honest with you, Sarah. Part of me is angry with myself that I didn't just follow him and body tackle him into the ground then and there."

Her eyes flashed, concern and even a bit of frustration in her face. And then she put her hand on his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt as she shook her head. "Chuck, don't say that. Please never do something like that. He had a gun. He would've killed you."

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I-I'm not trying to make it seem like you're weak or incapable, baby. I'm really not. Just—Listen to me. I'm trained in combat, I have extensive training and years of experience using guns. I had a gun with me, as well as the knives I always have strapped to me. Hey, look at me. Please." She put her good hand on the side of his face and pulled his eyes back to hers. "I was nearly powerless in there. He had me, Chuck. If he hadn't slipped, let his guard down for that one second…" Her voice drifted off. "My point is that someone trained, like me, could have easily died doing whatever it is you might've done in that moment instead of what you ended up doing." She stroked her hand through his curls. "Which was the right thing."

"I know." He gently slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "It just felt…terrible. Watching him go in there, knowing you were about to have him burst in on you. And knowing now what he ended up doing, that you were hurt and Brown was shot. What if I could've stopped all of it?"

"What if you couldn't have but you tried anyway and ended up being shot yourself?" Her eyes searched his. He couldn't come up with an answer to that. "What would I do, then? What would I even do if you were shot, Chuck? I can't even begin to think…" She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. And he held her tighter.

"I ran away from you. I left you behind."

"You saved my life," she said in a much steadier voice, her features hard, willing him to understand. "What you ended up doing wasn't just the right thing, Chuck, it was incredibly brave."

He winced a little. "It didn't feel very brave."

"You could've let your worry for me, your fear, overtake you and you could've run after him, tried to stop him, and ended up getting all of us killed…but instead you called the police, knowing that they'd have more of a chance of stopping him than you ever would. And you went to get Casey involved, which…" She paused. "Why did you get Casey?" She blinked, her brow furrowed as though the question had just struck her at that moment.

Chuck swallowed thickly. "I was afraid they'd believe the wrong person unless you had someone they trusted vouching for you. And I knew Casey would be the perfect person to be there for that."

She beamed at him so suddenly that his heart felt like an insane amount of weight had been taken off of it. And then she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back similarly. "You're brave and brilliant, Chuck Bartowski."

He felt so much pride in that moment, hearing how proud she was of him, how grateful she was, how impressed she was, in her voice, feeling it in the way she squeezed him, kissed his cheek.

"And you're a bad ass and the best, Sarah Walker. So I guess we make a good pair. Maybe I can be your assistant."

"No," she giggled, kissing his cheek again and then pulling back. "I will let you take care of me, though."

"Oh, gladly," he said with as much warmth as he was capable of, and then he gently pushed her to sit in the chair at the table and went to grab a bowl, putting some warm water and soap in it, then wandering back with that and a cloth in hand.

He scooted close to her and let her drape her hand over the bowl as he silently cleaned the cuts that didn't look so bad now that she'd showered. She only winced a little at the cuts on her wrist when he was gently rubbing ointment over them, and then he wrapped a light bandage around all of it.

"I look like the bride of Frankenstein's monster," she said with a giggle once he finished.

"She wishes," Chuck answered, watching as Sarah turned her arm a bit to look at his work. "What?" he asked when she gave him a quiet, searching look.

"You did a pretty good job here, actually."

That made him smile. "Listen, I grew up with a big sister who's wanted to be a doctor ever since she found out what a doctor was. Do you know how often I got wrapped up in bandages through all the years I spent under the same roof as her?"

She laughed. "Was it often?"

"Often enough." He chuckled. "She got better at it when she was actually in med school and I guess I picked up some things, little tricks of the trade. Don't ask me to stitch a wound shut, though, because I will faint."

Sarah snorted. "That's cute."

"Is it?" he drawled dubiously. He got up then and straightened his back, feeling a few pops, then put the bowl away, the bandages and the first aid kit, and when he came back out, Sarah had finished her martini.

She held the glass up towards him and pouted a little.

"Another?" he asked, receiving a smile in return. He chuckled and took her glass, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then went back to the kitchen to make her another. "Hey, you want a flavor in it this time? Maybe some lime? I saw a lime in your fridge."

Sarah was standing next to him suddenly—those cat-like silent feet of hers—and he nearly jumped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak." He shrugged at her wince. "You just…You've never put flavors in a martini for me before. It's always just been a traditional, perfectly dry martini. What's gotten into my Chuck?"

"If you want me to make it like I always do, I can." He shrugged again. She was looking at him steadily, that look of hers that saw right through him. And he sighed. "It has nothing to do with the martini, but-but I guess today sort of put into perspective for me that you're not…"

"What?"

"Immortal. Indestructible." His throat was dry then and he looked away, swallowing.

"Did you…think I was? Like some kind of comic book character?"

"No. Of course not." He sniffed in amusement. "But what you do is dangerous and it's something I'm going to have to come to terms with. I hadn't before this because I guess I…haven't had to yet. But I have to now."

"Chuck, I'm okay."

"I know you are. So am I. We're okay. And that's not something that's gonna change, no matter how many ManFatales try to take you away from me."

Sarah smirked at that and gave him a side-eye. "No fucking way anybody is taking me away from you. And vice versa," she added, pointing at him a bit threateningly.

"I didn't just mean romantically." He chuckled. "I meant…uh…you know."

"Oh." She sobered significantly. "That, too. And yeah…maybe this time we can try some lime in the martini. I have some pineapple slices, too. Maybe some of the juice…?"

"Splendid idea," he said, giving her a warm smile. And they stood side by side as he prepared more martinis for them to enjoy.

They eventually found their way to Sarah's bed, stretching themselves out over it and leaning back against her headboard. She'd since fallen asleep, her harrowing ordeal earlier on in the day knocking her out soon after she curled herself up on his chest.

He just held onto her, looking down into her face. She looked younger when she was asleep, so at peace, without any worries to speak of. But then his eyes latched onto her wrapped hand and wrist that was slung over his chest and he frowned.

She was a private investigator. And as awesome as it was, as hot as it was that he was dating someone so damn cool, he couldn't let himself forget how serious it was, too. How serious it could be. He'd never want her to give up what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, so that he had better peace of mind when she went to work, the way the boyfriend of an accountant might. His girlfriend wasn't going to stop being a private investigator, whether he was awful enough to want her to or not.

And so…Chuck Bartowski was determined instead to support her. To be here on the hard days like today. To protect her when she needed him to. To bandage her cuts, hold her, make her martinis, and let her fall asleep in his arms.

Because being with Sarah Walker, P.I. was so much better than being with some accountant who sat in an office all day. The worry, the nerves, the adrenaline, and even the fear, were all worth it because she was worth anything and everything.

This was her, he realized, looking down into her face.

These cases with genuinely bad dudes wanting to do her harm because she was good at her job, because she was working to take them down, were all part of what made her…her. The danger, the chase, the high stakes…that was all part of her.

He loved her.

That included everything that made her who she was. That included this. And those moments of fear, the danger…

No matter what this career of hers brought them, this wouldn't ever change. He was ready for the bumps and bruises he'd get in the meantime himself. He was ready for the hurdles and hardships ahead. He thought he was ready for just about anything.

Because this was their life now.

And he wouldn't trade it for the whole universe.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 3

Part 3 of the ManFatale arc!! If you haven’t heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy and would like to read it from the beginning, here’s the MASTERPOST. If you’d like to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that here: TRALALA.

Have fun!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Welcome home. What's this?"

The happy look on his face as he looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs dimmed as she held up the file she'd just found, wiggling it a bit. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a flat look when he didn't say anything for a solid thirty seconds.

"Wh—Um. Where did you happen to find that?" He cleared his throat and came up a few steps, stopping with his hand on the railing then. "I'm not sure it's mine."

She made the look on her face even flatter. "Well, it sure looks like there's a lot of your handwriting in here. Alongside a really childish scribble—I can only imagine you're employing some sort of third grader to help you."

Chuck seemed to ignore that part. "But…where did you—?"

"Chuck, it was under your mattress."

He sighed, looking relieved for some reason. "God, I thought maybe I'd left it out or something, and that would've been really great spy work."

"Chuck!"

"S-Sorry. Sorry, I—" He hastened up the stairs to stand on the step a few down from where she stood on the landing. "It's my folder. My file. I did it."

"Yeah, that was never in question, bud. What in the hell is this? What are you doing?" She held it up again and he gently reached out to take it from her.

"I'm…detecting."

"No, Chuck. No, you are not detecting. Please, please tell me you aren't doing what it looks like you're doing," she pleaded with him, arms crossed at her chest.

"Well…" He winced. "Do you want me to say that, or do you want the truth?"

"Chuck!"

"Gah! Okay! I'm…I was just doing some light research, that's all. Into this guy who hired you. He's wily, okay? Extremely wily and untrustworthy and it only took me seeing him for like a few seconds for me to figure that out." A look of almost defiance came over her boyfriend's face then. "I have no regrets."

"Are you insane?" she asked, backing up so that he could join her on the landing.

"No, I was just…having your back."

"Look at this!" She grabbed the file back and opened it up, flipping through to a picture that had been taken of Cartwright from what looked like a pretty close range. She took it out and held it up for him to look at.

"I know. I took that."

"Yeah, Chuck! I kinda figured! Have you been following my client?"

He was silent for long enough that it was pretty clear confirmation.

"Oh my God," she moaned. "Chuuuck."

"Okay, yes. Yes, I followed him. But I was very careful." Something told her he really wasn't careful. He was untrained, a guy who watched a lot of movies and heard about her cases. That was it. "I was, Sarah!"

"You can't do this, Chuck! You can't follow my clients around and do your own…What is this? Did you just go around taking pictures?"

"There are his day to day activities in there, too."

She opened it again and looked at his notes. "Lox on a bagel, black coffee, flirted with the barista. Namor the Sub-Mariner? What the hell's that?"

"That's the codename Morgan and I gave Cartwright."

Sarah's eyes shut slowly and she took a calming, long breath, letting it out, breathing in again, and then she snapped the file shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Morgan? Not only were you following my client, which is dangerous in and of itself, you brought Morgan into it?"

That explained the childish scrawl alongside Chuck's neat handwriting.

"He's been a very good partner."

"HE'S A HIBACHI CHEF, CHUCK!"

Chuck winced. "A very sneaky hibachi chef, though—No, I see your point. It's a fair point."

The look she gave him apparently got her point across.

"Chuck, why did you follow my client? Why are you building a file on him? Why are you taking notes on his whereabouts, on his habits? Why are you following him and taking pictures? What prompted you to do something this stupid?"

Her boyfriend let out a sigh and scratched the back of his neck. At least he seemed somewhat contrite. "Look, he was shifty. And some of the things you were saying when you'd talk about the case, how you weren't finding anything on Jerald Brown, and how he seemed almost…I dunno, impatient, that you weren't."

A thought hit her then and she chewed on her lip a little. "Chuck, did you…do this because he's young and handsome? Was this a jealousy thing? Trying to find something on him to make me…I dunno, not want to go through with this case?"

She felt a little bad suggesting it, but she needed to know this wasn't Chuck's jealousy making him do foolish and dangerous things.

"No! Sarah, it's not that! I'm not a total idiot! I'm just…a little bit of one about certain things. This isn't jealousy. This is…This guy is shifty!"

Sarah crossed her arms again and sighed. "You met him for, like, two minutes. Tops."

"So?! I had a gut feeling! It was just some harmless following."

"In legal terms, it's stalking."

"Nobody saw us! We wore disguises!"

Sarah gaped. "Oh God. You didn't…"

"Yes! Yes, we wore disguises. He had no idea he was being followed the whole time. Your tech guy is actually a pretty good detective…" He smoldered at her.

"Chuck, you hid this file from me by putting it under your mattress. So excuse me if I don't have the utmost faith in your detective abilities."

He frowned. "It seemed like a good place."

"Chuck, I'm in your bed more nights than I'm in my own, for the most part," she half-laughed, shaking her head. "Anyway, that isn't the point. The point is that this was incredibly dangerous. Insanely dangerous. You could've been hurt or even killed, and then you dragged Morgan into it and he could've been hurt, too. This was foolish!"

"We were helping you!"

"I don't need help! Do you think I'm stupid, Chuck? Do you think I got this far with just a bunch of luck or something? I've got my own cases well in hand."

"I thought he was maybe trying to pull something over on you. Getting you to do something bad."

"You think I don't know that? I've been doing this work for years, Chuck! I worked for Pinkerton! You think I'd ever let someone get the drop on me like this? You think I trust my clients blindly?" She thrust the file into his chest. "I've got a file on Cartwright just like this at my office." He looked very regretful, sorry, and she loved him dearly, but God, he could be such an idiot sometimes. He really could be. Then she glanced at his file again. "Though yours is a lot thicker, so that's…interesting."

"Um, I'm an incredibly thorough detective." She glared. "Not a detective, fine. But…researcher?" She glared harder. "A P.I.'s boyfriend who is in big trouble?"

"Bingo," she chirped, raising her eyebrows.

"Listen, Sarah…I know you're really mad at me…"

"Yeah, well…you obviously think I'm a bad P.I., so that feels good."

"What?" The pitch of his voice got impressively high. "Sarah, that's not it at all!"

"You thought this guy was pulling the wool over my eyes, taking advantage of me. That's why you built this folder on him, isn't it? This is all work you thought I wasn't doing."

"No, you-you were focusing on investigating Brown and I thought maybe you'd prioritize that over checking out your client so I—bad phrasing, I didn't mean checking out checking out. Like, obviously he is a very good looking man. And super charming, I guess, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Yeah, well, I'm not…" A thought occurred to her then and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "That's it, isn't it? You thought he'd charmed me, that I was falling for his whole spiel and therefore trusted him blindly. That's why you decided to follow him, isn't it? That's why you put this together with Morgan!"

At least he didn't do her the disservice of trying to lie to her. Instead, he huffed and scratched his ear. "Okay, full disclosure, it felt like a lot of flirting was going on in your office when I walked in last week and it maybe…sort of…got under my skin. But it wasn't about—I mean, I know you aren't the type of person to neglect the right thing just because some blue-eyed Alain Delon lookalike is batting his eyelashes at you."

"You're damn right I'm not! Have you been here for the last year and eleven months of our relationship?"

"Yes," he said weakly.

"He could be the most charming man alive and I'd still do my job, Chuck. God!"

"I know. I knoow, I'm an idiot. I know. I was weak, though. I'm sorry." Then he shook his head. "About my reasoning. I'm sorry for the stupid reason that I started this whole thing on Cartwright. I am. I was a jealous dumbass. But I would've stopped a long time ago if I didn't find something. And I found something."

Sarah was still too caught up in how much of a fool Chuck was to realize what he'd just said. "I mean, you're the one always calling me a bad ass and the best. You really think blue eyes are going to make me trust a guy blindly? I've got you, Chuck! I'm impervious to other men's charms. I know you still have some…self-esteem stuff. Everyone does. But this is me, Bartowski. It's us. If you don't think I'm a better detective than to let some guy in fitted suits play me like a fiddle just 'cause he's attractive, then at least think our relationship is stronger than that."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. And as hard as I try, I'm still gonna keep making blunders like this. I'm not saying you're just gonna have to deal with it, but um…Please…bear with me, I guess?" He winced.

Sarah sighed and closed the distance between them, moving up onto her toes to kiss him gently, ruffling his hair. "I have no choice. I love you, you big dumb nerd. And anyway, I'm not exactly perfect. You have a lot of shit you have to deal with where I'm concerned, too. So…"

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"I know. I know you are. But please stop doing dangerous stuff like this. Please. You have no training and no experience. I'm a professional. It's even dangerous for me, let alone a couple of guys who watch movies and think that's prepared them for the reality of investigating work. You're going to get hurt. This isn't a game."

"I know it isn't a game! That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

"But you and Morgan went running around Los Angeles following this potentially dangerous guy in wigs and fake noses…"

"No, we didn't!" He paused. "We didn't wear wigs…"

She knew him too well not to read between the lines with that one. "Oh my God, did one of you have a fake nose? Oh my God, Chuck."

"That was all Morgan! He showed up with it and it was so funny I couldn't say no." He winced.

"Oh my God." She pushed a hand through her hair. "Like I said, this isn't a game!"

"I know it isn't a game! He's a con artist!"

"Yeah! He is! And—Wait." She blinked, what he said finally settling in her brain. "What? How do you—?"

"Because." He took the file and hustled into his bedroom with her hot on his heels, and then he set it down on his bed, whipping it open and digging through the reams of papers and photographs. "Ha! Here. Okay. Feast your eyes on this shit."

He started taking pictures out, spreading them on the bed for her to look at. It was the same bearded man in different suits, sometimes in a hat and tie, sometimes not, walking through LA, sitting with different men at different tables…

"That's him."

Sarah turned to gape at Chuck. "Holy shit. That's Cartwright?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure if there is a Cartwright. Or if there is a real Cartwright, this isn't him. Beard Guy goes by Paul Lawson."

"What?" she breathed.

"He quote, represents, unquote, Cartwright."

"He's in a disguise," she murmured. "How didn't I see this? How wasn't I…looking for this? I trailed him often enough to catch him pulling this kind of creepy shit…I thought. How'd I miss it?"

"Because it's absolutely freaking bizarre, that's how. It was sheer luck I happened to see him walk out of his building where he lives. And I thought he was familiar-ish, and then I zoomed in with my camera and was like 'Holy shit, it's him!' Sheer dumb luck."

"I was watching him this whole week and I never saw this Lawson guy." She shook her head then, trying not to get bogged down by the threatening self-consciousness she was feeling. She tried not to slam herself for missing this. Chuck hadn't missed it, and now the evidence was right here in front of his face.

"Wait, he represents Cartwright? What in the hell?" She grabbed one of the photos of him sitting at an outdoor table with a shorter, older man.

"He's supposedly selling Cartwright's things for him. A boat, a yacht, a condo, a…"

"Property in Morocco," she breathed. "I know. I followed him to an office by the docks and found all of his paperwork for everything that's been getting sold. So he's putting on a disguise and…selling his own things?" She huffed and shook her head. "This isn't Cartwright."

"Do you even know if Cartwright is a real person?"

Sarah went to Chuck's laptop on his desk and opened it, typing in his password and immediately Googling the Cartwright family. "Look, the Cartwrights go back generations in South Africa, since before Apartheid, for decades upon decades. Robert is the last surviving Cartwright. It's a real family, and he's a real person. He has been running this business for almost ten years, after his parents' deaths. It's just that he's a recluse."

"But do you think he's sent this fake guy here to sell his things back in South Africa?"

"No, of course not. Why would he ever do that?"

"So, wouldn't he know if someone is stealing his things?"

"Not if he isn't alive to know about it."

"Holy shit." The blood seemed to have left Chuck's face as he slumped into his desk chair.

"I told you he was dangerous. There's a definite chance this guy stole Cartwright's identity. Who better than a recluse who's never left the African continent and doesn't let pictures of himself up online? Someone who isn't super respected in his own town, let alone in California on the other side of the world. Someone who didn't have family or any personal connections." She shut Chuck's laptop again. "Meanwhile, this guy is going out on the town, has women on his arm all the time, is making all of these business deals."

"He's not even South African, either."

Sarah frowned and crossed her arms, half sitting on his desk, facing him. "What?"

"This conman. Fake Robbie. Your ManFatale."

"My what? Excuse me?"

"Uh, nothing. But when he spoke to me, he definitely didn't have a South African accent. He was very American, so…"

"When he…spoke to you?" The meaning wasn't lost on her, and when his eyes widened with a very clear look of oops on his face, she felt anger and worry rise in her chest. "Chuck? Did you make contact with him? Besides when I was there, in my office?"

Chuck winced. He did. Oh God, he absolutely did.

"It was an accident. And he totally didn't know who I was! It was just a nonchalant, quick exchange. Almost nothing. He didn't even see my face!"

"Chuck!"

"I followed him into a shopping mall and sat out on a bench waiting for him while he bought a briefcase at Gucci." It came out in a quick stream of words that sounded like they were all connected.

"He bought a Gucci briefcase? Ugh. Gross."

"Right? He's an awful person!" She gave him a look and he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was sitting out on that bench and since it was the closest one to the store entrance, when he came out he used the other side of my bench to take the tag off and stick his papers and stuff inside of it. He, uh, must've seen me glance to the side because he explained he had to look good for a job interview, but I didn't say anything." This was getting worse and worse. "I was disguised, too. I slicked down my hair like this." He pushed his hands over his curls so that they were pulled flat. "And I had thick glasses on, and I had a newspaper up like this, covering my face." He mimicked holding up a newspaper, slouching forward, a completely conspicuous look on his face.

"Oh my God, Chuck! He saw you!"

"Not my best detective moment. I'll admit it."

"No! Chuck, you…" She groaned. "What if he recognized you as Charles Bartowski? You were in my office! He might not know you're my boyfriend, or maybe he does, since we've had pictures of us together put in magazines and shit, which would make it even worse."

"He didn't seem like he recognized me. He didn't. If he did, he would've feigned his accent still!"

"Well, if he recognized you after the fact, maybe not! And you're talking about a guy who has potentially killed someone—we don't know if he has yet—to take their identity and live off their bank account across the world, and is successfully selling yachts and hotels… This isn't some novice, Chuck. If he recognized you, he isn't going to show it. He's going to log it away in his criminal brain, figure out why the hell you were there, in disguise, potentially following him, and he's going to take it out on me. Later. When I least expect it."

Chuck became even paler. "I put you in danger, didn't I?"

"I don't think so. I think he probably really didn't recognize you. Especially if he was in a hurry…" She put her hand in his hair and stroked it reassuringly.

"That's exactly the opposite of what I was trying to do. Why do I have to butt in all the time?"

"Because you're an idiot who loves me a whole lot." Then she gestured to the bed with a nod of her head. "And you actually did some pretty good detective work. As much as I hate that you did it, because I'd rather not lose you to some psychopath identity thief, as much as I hate that you dragged Morgan into danger with you…" He looked genuinely contrite at that. "It's good work."

A slow smile grew on his face. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. I mean, some of those pictures, you were really way too close. Which is…not smart." He winced. "But…" She pushed away from the desk and went over to look through all of their notes. It was a mess, true, and they seriously used that weird codename every single time they mentioned him, and maybe it was a little too thorough, since she really didn't need to know every time Fake Cartwright used a public restroom…but they'd gotten a lot of incriminating evidence. Combined with what she had, and the photos they'd taken of him in disguise, selling Cartwright's property to other people, she might have something she could take to the LAPD. "You two bozos collected a lot of useful things. Amidst a lot of, um, completely useless things."

Before she did anything else, she had another order of business to tend to. And she'd have to do it as soon as possible…tomorrow if she could get an appointment with him.

"Hey, there's one thing that's weird, though. And it's a big thing."

She glanced over as Chuck stood and crossed to her side. "What's that?" she asked.

"Why'd he hire you to look into Jerald Brown? What's Brown got to do with this?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm wondering if Brown is onto him and he's figured that out, so he wants a way to discredit him, sully his reputation, his credibility."

"Ahhhh, riiiight. You find dirt on Brown, he can either use that to blackmail him, or he can be like 'You're gonna believe this guy? Look at this stuff he has in his closet!" Chuck paused. "Not literally his closet."

"Yeah, ya nerd. I got that."

"Right."

Sarah slumped onto the bed thoughtfully as Chuck sidled up next to her and stood there, like a pillar of strength, she thought. Her man who foolishly went into dangerous situations to help her with a case because he was jealous, but then staying in the hunt when he realized something was genuinely fishy. He'd gotten her quite a lead on this guy, whoever he was.

And she couldn't help being impressed, even if she was mad at him for being so rash, taking such a huge risk, and involving Morgan. Though she imagined it didn't take much work for Chuck to convince Morgan to help. A fake nose? Honestly, that guy was such a weirdo. She loved him, but he was crazy.

"What are you going to do now?" Chuck asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She peeked up at him for a split second, then rounded his hips with her arms and pulled him close, clinging to him and burying her face in his abdomen. His hand landed on her head and he stroked her hair in a way that was so reassuring she felt a sudden fire in her. Determination. Confidence.

"I'm calling Jerald Brown tomorrow to see if I can get a meeting with him."

"You don't think this con artist asshole will know you're meeting with the guy he's paying you to investigate? I mean, if he finds out, that will look bad."

"It will. If he finds out. I just have to make sure I cover my tracks. But I need to talk to Brown. I need to know what it is Not-Cartwright is going after him for. What is it he's got on him?" She sighed, snuggling her face against his cotton button-up adoringly. "Then I can go from there. Probably get the LAPD involved. I can't do that without hearing Brown's side of things."

"Not that you need my approval, since I'm only an amateur sleuth…" Sarah snorted at that and rolled her eyes, hugging him tighter. "But that's a fantastic idea."

"Thank you."

"Know what else is a fantastic idea?"

"What?"

"Letting go of me for just a few minutes while I change into my pa-yam-as, and then we can crawl into bed and you can hold onto me for as long as you want to."

She giggled and let go of him. "I concede, but with great reluctance."

He gave her a deep bow. "My Lady Bad Ass of the Shadows."

She laughed and she shamelessly watched her boyfriend undress, checking him out all the while. "The shadows?"

"You're a P.I. A detective. Slinking in the shadows like a ninja. Catching bad guys."

"Fair enough," she chuckled.

It only took a few minutes before they were wrapped up together in his bed, her arms around him, head on his chest. But then he reached over and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. She frowned in confusion, lifting her head to watch him as he put the phone to his ear.

She heard the ringing on the other line. It rang and rang and rang…and then she heard Morgan's jolly voice chirp about not being able to come to the phone. After the quiet beep, Chuck left his message.

"Leader Two. This is Leader One. Abort mission. We are going to abort mission. Black Canary has found the booty. I repeat, Black Canary has found the booty. Mission Codename: Wolf In Sheep's Clothing is successfully ended…"

Sarah cracked up and reached for the phone as Chuck yelped and tried to roll away from her reach.

"Black Canary is on the offense! Black Canary is attacking me! Leader Two, leave the country, change your name, shave the beard! Ahhh!"

Sarah grabbed the phone and hung up, laughing riotously as she tossed his phone back onto the nightstand and pinned him to the bed, kissing him. She wasn't exactly through being mad at him for his foolishness, for that idiotic jealousy that had made him put himself in a dangerous position. But he was here, he'd helped her case, and maybe the thoroughness of the details he'd recorded, the pictures he'd taken, were something of a turn on.

And she had no trouble convincing him.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah had found his file he'd built on Cartwright a day and a half ago, and in that time, the suspense had been building. She seemed calm enough, but Chuck was struggling to sit still as he tried to write a few emails, some minor housekeeping things. He couldn't even focus on that, though, and he got up to start pacing in his office.

Adisa knocked on the door and poked his head in, eventually. "Man, what is going on in here? You're pacing so hard, I can hear it through the door."

"Oh. Shit. Sorry." He turned to face his assistant and shrugged a bit lamely. "Are you trying to focus out there? I'll sit back down."

"No, no. I could focus in the middle of an erupting volcano. I'm just checking to make sure you're okay. I mean, is there anything I might be able to help with?"

Chuck stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Nah, you have work to do that's a lot more important."

That earned him a flat look.

"It's not even anything that has to do with the company. Really, it's fine."

Adisa shrugged and stepped further into the room, crossing his arms.

"No, really," Chuck insisted. "You don't want to hear about this case Sarah's working on—"

"What?! Yes, I do!" He shut the door quickly and crossed the room. "Lay it on me! I'm a problem solver. You know I am. I can help."

The tech CEO was starting to see things from his P.I. girlfriend's perspective suddenly. People really did have an automatic reaction to her profession like they could do as good a job as she could, or better. Not just jumping to help, but thinking they could out-investigate, break down clues…when she'd been in the actual business, a Pinkerton agent for God's sake, for years.

He felt a bit sheepish. Maybe he'd reel himself back a bit, or apologize or something. And God, she was such a patient person to deal with him, and to a lesser extent, with Morgan.

"I can't give you too many details. But I'm just a little stressed. This guy she's dealing with is dangerous and she knows he's dangerous, even knows how dangerous, I mean…what he's capable of. And she's waited a few days, sitting on the information, without acting. I think she's trying to trap him, but she doesn't always tell me her plans and it's worrying me that she's in legitimate danger." He huffed.

"She was a Pinkerton agent, Boss. She knows what she's doing. We're talking about Sarah here—our Sarah—your Sarah," Adisa corrected himself, probably misunderstanding the look Chuck sent him. Honestly, it was cute he'd just called her 'our' Sarah, as though he had a genuine affection and connection with her. It was heartwarming. "You think she'd ever handle someone who is dangerous without being at least a few steps ahead?"

The tech guy chuckled. "You make a good point, there, buddy. And it isn't like I don't think she can handle herself. She already had to grill my ass because I underestimated her wiles once. Thought she'd missed a lot of stuff about him, but she hadn't. And she's playing him like a fiddle, but what if…I don't know, what if he's more cunning and observant than she even suspects? What if he's waiting for the perfect moment to get the drop on her?"

Adisa frowned. "Is he really that awful?"

"Stealing the identity of someone we suspect is dead, whether he killed him or not, we're not sure…I think he's pretty awful."

"Holy God."

"Yes."

"That is why you are pacing so loudly."

"It is." Chuck sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. "I'm just gonna call her and see if she's okay, actually."

"Well, don't go overboard, Boss. Or she'll start to get mad. It isn't my place, I know, but sometimes I think maybe you should…er…"

"I know. I'm overprotective of my girlfriend." He gave his assistant and friend a wan smile.

"She is a private investigator. I get it." Adisa shrugged.

"But I do need to dial it back. You're right. I'll just call her and say hi, that's all." That got him a flat look again. But Chuck was already calling her, bringing the phone to his ear.

It rang…and rang…and rang…It kept ringing. And then he finally heard the clicking sound on the other end, like she was answering it, and he breathed out in relief. But then he heard a gasp, a "No!" and then a loud crashing sound…and then nothing else…a dial tone…

"Something's happened!" he snapped, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair, putting it on.

"What?" Adisa moved out of his way as he rushed out of his office and strode past Adisa's desk.

"There was a weird sound, I heard her, and then a crash and a dial tone."

"Don't talk to me, then! GO!" his assistant barked, and Chuck didn't have time to muse over Adisa's quick one-eighty…from telling him to dial it back to yelling at him to go.

He just needed Sarah to be okay.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah stared down at the file in her hand, sitting on her nonexistent assistant's desk, her legs crossed, a thoughtful look on her face. She had a secret meeting with Jerald Brown in a little over an hour and she needed to go through a lot more of the information she'd gathered over the last week before she did so.

She needed his side of the story. And when she told him over a secure line that she was a private investigator, and that it was about Robbie Cartwright, he'd gotten a tone she picked up on immediately. "Oh. Robbie," he'd said with a bitter clip. "I'm not sure I should be meeting with you, or even talking with you. I have—"

"Mr. Brown, I just want to get to the bottom of this. I need your side of the story. This man could be dangerous and he has it out for you for some reason. We need to meet. Somewhere that isn't your office or home, somewhere private and safe that he doesn't know about."

He'd finally relented.

And now she would be meeting him at his wife's personal office. He had a key, he said. And she was out of town for a week, visiting her parents in Oklahoma. Sarah slipped a few extra knives into secret places on her person just in case. And she'd be bringing her gun, too. She knew better than to trust Jerald Brown, just in case there was something extra twisted going on here and he was somehow involved.

She shifted to scoot further back on the desk to make herself more comfortable then, but her knee knocked into the file and the papers and pictures inside cascaded onto the floor. "Damn it, Walker…" she sighed, rolling her eyes as she watched it all slip and slide across the wood floors, some of the papers ending up on the other side of the room.

As she climbed off of the desk, leaning down to slowly start collecting the papers, she heard a muffled sound coming from her office. It took much too long for her to realize her phone was ringing in her purse. Chuck had played a joke on her the other night and he'd made her ringtone the theme from a movie called Body Heat or something—she'd so far managed to avoid having to watch it. But it was also a low, whining jazzy trumpet and it was harder to hear than her regular ringtone.

And now she was scrambling back into her own office to get to her phone in case it was something important.

She snagged it out of her purse, saw it was Chuck, and swiped to answer. But she swiped a little too hard and it went sailing out of her hand. "No!"

It hit the half-open drawer of her desk, then slammed into the floor at a weird angle, right on its corner. And Sarah I-Don't-Need-A-Phone-Case-Because-I'm-Not-A-Klutz Walker watched her phone crack right down the seam. "God…damn it!" she groused through her teeth, letting out a long, tired sigh, rolling her eyes, and kneeling down to pick it up.

The phone was broken. She'd be having to get a new one or hope Chuck could work some magic on this one. At least he could potentially get her data off for her, her pictures and everything.

Damn. She'd taken a cute one of Clara over the weekend and she didn't want that gone forever.

Setting the phone down on her desk, she pushed her hair out of her face and turned to stare out at the mess in the other room. At some point, she needed to pick that up.

And them she frowned a little down at the phone. Why was Chuck calling? He was supposed to be at work, still planning that huge conference of his…

Not that he didn't randomly call her during the day every so often when he needed to pull back from his work. She did the same thing from time to time. Out-flirting him over the phone for a few minutes in the middle of the day had become something of a habit, now. A habit she couldn't and didn't want to quit. Even as they approached their two year anniversary of that morning in Paris when they made their relationship official, she could still get him to stammer, the adorable dope.

It was not ten minutes later, as she plopped into her comfortable desk chair and kicked her heels off to put her feet on the desk and rest for a few minutes, that the door to her outer office burst open.

"Sarah! Oh my God! Sarah, are you here?!"

She lowered her feet with a thump and stood quickly, pushing her chair back. "Chuck, what is it?"

Just as she came around her desk, he appeared at the doorway to her private office, his hands slapping against the doorframe on either side of him. He looked incredibly frazzled, his hair a mess, the hem at the bottom of his suit jacket somehow caught up inside of the sleeve under his armpit, his eyes crazed with worry.

And then there was relief. Abject relief. "Sarah," he breathed, his eyelids fluttering.

He lunged at her then and she let him wrap her up in a tight hug. Almost a little too tight, she thought, still totally confused. But she hugged him back. "What is it?" she asked, rubbing his neck with one cool hand. "What happened?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" he rushed out, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, cupping her jaw with one caring hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, furrowing her brow. "I-I'm fine! What's going on?"

"I was calling you 'cause—Er, well, I was gonna say hi. And you answered after it rang for a while, but then I heard you yell and there was a crash. With-With everything going on with this case of yours, I thought—"

Oh. Oh God, poor Chuck. "Goddd, Chuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out, you complete sweetheart." She giggled a bit, wincing as she stepped back. Almost unconsciously, she reached out and tugged at the suit jacket, pulling it down over his torso, not that he seemed to care, and then she snagged her phone off of the desk and showed it to him. "I was trying to answer it in time and I fumbled it. It cracked on the floor. Hence the yell. And the crash. It's broken, I think."

She gave him a lame, closed-mouth smile.

"Oh." He laughed a little and shook his head. "I maybe…overreacted."

"Hey. Listen. I welcome the overreaction, considering…um…whom I'm dealing with currently."

"Really?" he asked, eyes wide. "I-I guess I thought maybe…" He delicately took the phone from her fingers and started distractedly trying to fix it for her. And somehow that made her melt a little. How unconsciously he did things to make her life easier. Without her even having to ask. "With our conversation the other night. I sort of went overboard and, um, maybe made you think that I'm underestimating your capabilities as a detective. And I thought that might extend to this, protecting yourself I mean."

"Chuck, I'm never gonna get mad at you for caring. Of course you rushed over here to check on me after that. And with the fake Cartwright thing, I don't blame you. I'd do the same thing if I tried to call you and heard you yell on the line before it went dead." She put her hands on either side of his neck and moved up onto her tiptoes to peck his lips. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm just glad you aren't in the back of some van with tinted windows or curtains right now." He shivered dramatically and then there was a small click sound between them.

Sarah looked down and saw he'd managed to get the phone open. "Uh…Baby, I wanted you to fix it not break it all the way."

He chuckled. "I mean, I can maybe get it sticking together again, but see how gnarly this bit is? It's bent up," he said, running his pointer finger along where it had made contact with the hard floor. "I don't think it's gonna be working again."

Sarah let out a dramatic whine. "Damn it. I need that."

"It's okay. That's why I opened it. The card is fine. I can just put it in a new phone for you." Then he paused. "Um, also…just a minor thing. But is there, uh, any reason why your outer office looks like the scene of a kidnapping? 'Cause that didn't help me not think something had happened to you."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." She chuckled. "I accidentally dropped a file I was looking through right before I dropped the phone. So…today's been…a day."

"Ah. That makes sense."

"I'm sorry I scared you so badly…" she said, a bit of a pout on her face as she sidled up to him and ran her hand down his tie, wrapping it up in her fist.

"It's okay," he chuckled, shaking his head. "As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Also, this is good. I was kind of dying at work and now I'm here instead. Maybe we can have a post-lunch coffee? Or I can buy ya a cookie from down the street at that bakery you love so much."

She moaned a little, then moved in to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him. Part of her wanted to just wrap her legs around his waist and cling to him like a koala or something, just let him hold her for a while. This was shaping up to be one of those days where a lot of little frustrating things happened that not just soured your mood but made everything you were trying to get done that much harder.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, chuckling and rubbing her back comfortingly, almost like he could tell she was in a mood that needed that sort of thing.

"No," she said with a put-upon sigh. She pulled back and gave him a full on pout. "I can't. As much as I wish I could. I have to go meet with Jerald Brown in a few which is especially great now that I don't have a working phone."

Chuck froze in her arms. "Wait, what?"

"I got Brown to agree to meet me today. I've gotta leave in fifteen minutes to get there on time." She glanced at her watch. At least that wasn't broken.

"Wait, wait. Hold on. Brown? Jerald Brown? You are going to meet with him? Now?"

"In fifteen minutes, yes. What?"

"Nothin'. Nothin'. No, I was just…I didn't expect that. I mean, that's—Well, it's what you needed to do, to get this guy once and for all. Where, um, where you meeting him? At his office? On a bench in a very public place? Please don't say his home."

She giggled, finding his questioning as endearing as it was frustrating. But she knew when she was in this business, a dangerous business she had to admit, she couldn't exactly get him to stop caring, and by extension, to stop worrying. This was going to be a transition. She'd have to get used to it. For most of her career, she hadn't had that element in her life. Someone who legitimately cared about whether she came back home at night after a long day of working on a case. She had it now, with Chuck Bartowski, and it was incredibly precious to her.

He was incredibly precious to her.

"Not his home, no. Nor his office. Those are all places Fake Cartwright knows about. I told him it had to be someplace few people knew about. His wife runs a small, not very well-known Etsy shop because she makes, like, knitted things I guess. And she has a little office she rents in some office building near SoHo. Off of Melrose."

"You're meeting him alone?"

"We'll both be alone."

"And without a phone?"

"Chuuuuuck," she groaned, sliding her hands up and squeezing his shoulders. "Listen, bud. I love you. And I get you're worried. But there are a few things I've got on me that aren't broken that'll be much more helpful than a mere cellphone." He tilted his head in question. "My knives and gun. And my fists."

"Oh. Wow. That's rad."

She giggled, kissing his cheek. "You mind helping me clean up the mess in the other room? And then I should probably leave to beat traffic. Don't want to be late and have him leave, thinking I've stood him up."

"Right. Sure, sure…" He moved into the other room in front of her and knelt down to start scooping up the pictures and the notes and documents. She could feel his worry from across the room, though the adorable and maybe a little overprotective man was doing a good job of holding it in instead of harping on it to her yet again.

She just hoped his worries, and her own, were unfounded.

Especially because the broken phone really did present yet another element that would make her less safe in this situation. And her track record of doing stupid things today hadn't just been limited to those two dropping incidents. There was the coffee she'd spilled when she woke up this morning, nearly missing her new shoes. And then someone had run a red light and nearly T-boned her. If she hadn't been extra cautious in going when she had the green light, she definitely would've gotten it good instead of watching a truck speed past her within inches of the front of her car, her heart in her throat.

She wasn't about to tell Chuck any of that.

Instead, fifteen minutes later, she let him walk her to her car, open the door for her so that she could swing herself down behind the wheel, and he shut it for her again.

She rolled down her window and peered up at him as she started the car. "Hey. C'mere and kiss me." He leaned down with his arms perched on the door and he kissed her with a quiet hum. "What's that look on your face, huh?" she asked.

"Just a little worried, you not having a phone for this meeting. Why don't you just take mine?" He took it out of his pocket, wrapped in a case she noticed a bit glumly.

"I don't need your phone, Chuck. What if someone for your conference calls and it's super important but you can't do anything about it because I've got your phone?"

"They'll call Adisa." He shrugged. "That's what he's there for. Which reminds me: before I give you my phone, I should let him know you're okay. I screamed at him that something had happened to you and then ran outta there. He's probably freakin' out. Woops." He typed out a quick message. "There. Now take my phone."

"No. I'm not taking your phone. I'm fine, Baby. Really. I'll go directly to your apartment after this and you can help me fix my mangled little piece of crap smart phone then. How about that?"

"Sarah."

"Chuck."

He sighed heavily and dropped his forehead onto his folded arms. She reached up to stroke his curls and then leaned in to kiss his head.

"I love you. I have to go."

"Please be careful," he said, lifting his head and leaning in to kiss her again.

"I will be. I promise."

He stepped back as they said their 'see you laters' and she stayed there for a few moments, watching him walk to his own car that was parked nearby, before she finally pulled out from where she was parked at the curb, headed towards Mrs. Brown's Etsy office. Her nerves were on edge, so she was extra paranoid about looking for cars following her, but a few minutes into the drive, when she didn't get any alarm bells over any of the cars behind her, she settled down a bit more, turned on some music, and just drove, glancing in the rearview mirror every once in a while.

If she'd fed into the paranoia a bit more, she might've noticed the taxi a few cars behind her, slowly meandering along on her same path, and the other car off to the side, keeping within three or four cars' length of hers.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Mr. Brown. Thank you for meeting me today," she said as he offered her the comfortable chair across from his inside of his wife's cozy little office.

"Please. Jerald. And you're a private investigator, are you?" He eyed her, and she found it wasn't leering or even particularly off-putting. He was merely sizing her up. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but you weren't what I expected when you called me and said you wanted to meet."

"Hm. I get that a lot."

He chuckled and shrugged. "So what is this? Why the secrecy?"

Sarah sucked in a deep breath and let it out. She'd decided when she made the call that she was going to have to be fully honest with Jerald Brown. She needed his full story, and she needed him to know why it was so important he provided it for her.

"Mr.—Jerald," she corrected herself, and he smirked, pushing the glasses he was wearing up his nose. "Robbie Cartwright contacted me almost two weeks ago and told me he wanted me to vet you." His smirk grew on his older face and he shook his head bitterly, a bit of anger in his eyes. "You don't look very surprised."

"Well, young lady, I'm not." Then he winced. "I'm sorry. 'Young lady' sounds very patronizing. You seem around my daughter's age and I like to imagine sometimes that she isn't quite so old as she's seeming to get." He shook his head, then gestured for her to continue.

She smiled politely, then nodded. "Are you doing business with Cartwright?"

"Well, you see…I had planned to. Back when he was still living in Cape Town." Sarah sat up a bit straighter, much more interested in what this man had to say suddenly. "I'd only been corresponding with him through email. He preferred that over phone calls. He was planning on putting some money in with Gridiron Technology—that's my company—" She nodded, already having known that, amongst a lot of other things now. "But he wanted to take a vacation and clear his head first. I said that was perfectly all right. There was no rush. And I didn't bother him. But when I didn't hear for a few months, I figured he had changed his mind after his vacation. I was going to give him a call just to confirm, and he showed up here in LA suddenly. He…called me. On the phone. And I was so shocked by it that I didn't ask why. He told me he wanted to make a proposition. He'd found some information on Gridiron and thought it might be interesting to build an investment there, get his foot in the tech industry door, so to speak…"

Sarah frowned. "So he decided to accept your business arrangement after all."

"Yes. But the way he spoke to me about it, he made it seem as though we'd never discussed it before. That on top of the fact that he'd called instead of emailing, made me a bit…well…"

When he squirmed in his seat, Sarah leaned in. "Dubious?"

"Hm. Precisely. When we met face to face, he was…different from what I'd come to expect from emailing with him for a month or so." He stretched his arms out. "I was perfectly content doing business in the way he wanted to—remotely, with me in LA and Cartwright in Cape Town. Killer time difference, but emailing back and forth meant that didn't matter much."

"Jerald, did you talk to Cartwright about your misgivings?" she asked. "I-I mean, once he came here, to Los Angeles."

"Oh, no. My wife advised me not to. Instead, she said, don't alert him. Just keep talking to him about the investment in Gridiron and see what happened. But, well…I'm not the best actor. And the man I emailed with seems so…different, contrary to what I've experienced the few times I met him in person here."

"How so?"

"More outgoing. Verging on wild. There was an event we were both invited to, about three and a half weeks ago. He danced almost the entire time, drank…" He shifted forward in his seat. "Wait, you say he hired you?"

Suspicion laced his features then and she held up a hand to reassure him. "I've been vetting him instead of you for the past two weeks, sir. I'll be honest with you, I've done quite a bit of digging into your business, your personal life…"

"Comforting. What did you find?" He was almost bristling now.

"Nothing." He blinked. "The deeper I dug, the more obvious it was to me that you're on the up and up, so to speak. And every time I met with Mr. Cartwright to provide an update, I had nothing of note to give him, and he seemed…upset by that. He told me he just wanted to make sure he was going into business with someone honest. But it became more and more apparent that he wanted me to find something on you, something he could use. For what, I wasn't sure. And that's why I wanted to meet with you. I don't know why he's targeting you by hiring a P.I. to look into you. But I figured you would know. Or you might have an idea."

"I must not be a very good actor. That's the only thing I could imagine. That I'm not…enthralled with him."

"More likely, sir, it's that you aren't falling for his act." He furrowed his bushy brow and frowned. "I think he isn't Cartwright. Especially since you're saying you emailed about that business of yours before he came here, when he was still in Cape Town. And that he seemed not to know about it—or rather, not to remember—and struck up talks of investing again. That is because this guy most likely doesn't know you talked to the real Cartwright months ago."

The man was shaking in his wife's chair, and he covered his mouth with his hand. "You're saying this—this man is an imposter…?"

"Yes. Jerald, I'm almost certain the man who hired me is not Robert Cartwright."

Brown shook his head slowly, and then he swallowed loud enough for her to hear. "You know, I was afraid—I was getting suspicious, at least, that there was something fishy with him. Everyone else seemed to be falling for his charms, but that business about the emails and him suddenly showing up and being so different…" He ran his hand down his tie. "Have you contacted the authorities? Both here and in Cape Town. If he's pretending to be Cartwright here, where's the actual Cartwright? Back home in Cape Town, not knowing someone is impersonating him?"

"My fear is that he's dead." Brown went pale and sat back against his chair heavily.

"D-Did this man kill him?"

"I don't know. But Cartwright took a trip in one of his boats…and all of a sudden he was here in Los Angeles, buying a huge condo downtown, cars, other toys…running his business into the ground, and…here's the kicker, selling his own Cape Town property to unwitting buyers."

"He's selling Cartwright's property?" Brown asked, sitting forward again, anger in his eyes. "Listen, I wasn't particularly fond of Robert Cartwright. He seemed very…standoffish, hard to get along with, hard in general. And that was just in the emails we exchanged. But he did genuinely good things with his money and I was eager to work with him. To think someone could…" He murmured a swear and looked her in the eye. "What do you plan to do, Miss Walker?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Now that I've gotten more evidence from you, I'll be needing to go to the authorities. I have a contact at the LAPD. At least I'm pretty sure I know why I was hired to get dirt on you. You're dangerous to this con he's pulling. Very dangerous."

"You mean he thought you might find something incriminating that he could use to shut me up if I tried to do something about my suspicions…?"

"Exactly."

"Well, at least he hired the right person." He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Right for me, at least. And just…right in general. On the right side."

"I try to be, sir. None of this was sitting well with me. I've managed to drag it out for a while as I've picked up more information on this imposter." Fake Cartwright had been almost restless during the meeting before their last, so Sarah had made a point in the next meeting, yesterday's meeting in fact, to come in with something he might be able to use. A misdemeanor she'd drummed up out of nothing, forged papers that looked convincing enough she thought. It would buy her time if she promised to follow the lead and come back with more, which she had.

And now she could go right to Casey's doorstep, her evidence and a witness in hand, and they could take this son of a bitch down together.

"You might need to come with me to the LAPD, Mr. Brown. They'll want to question you about everything."

"Of course. You can…guarantee my safety, can't you?"

Before she could answer, there was a splintering boom behind her, and as she spun in her chair, she saw the man who'd hired her had kicked the door in and was standing there, a gun pointed at the both of them.

"No, Jerry," he murmured. "No, she can't."

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 2

Here’s the second part to the ManFatale arc. If you’re new to The Detective and the Tech Guy, check out this tumblr MASTERPOST where you can read all of it! If you’d like to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, I’ve got it for ya HERE.

Read on, goils, boys, and the rest of you who are neither!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Almost three years ago, Sarah had been on her way up to a single man's condo just as she was now. She remembered having a boat load of expectations about what she'd find there. Foolish modern art sculptures in the middle of the floor, heinously expensive furniture that still looked like it had been bought at IKEA in spite of the price tag, with no cushions or other things for comfort to speak of, and maybe lights with dimmers for seducing people he brought into his bachelor pad.

And every single one of her assumptions had been dashed the moment she'd stepped inside. Everything had looked so comfortable, the couch so inviting and frequently used. No garish, expensive art. Instead, she'd found science fiction posters from the nineteen-fifties that looked like he'd framed them himself when he was sixteen. He'd been put together and neat, but it was early enough in the morning and she'd surprised him enough that he'd been a little frazzled. And then he'd made her breakfast, which had made her think of morning-afters she'd never had but sometimes thought about. That romantic comedy trope of sleeping with a man and waking up the next morning to him having prepped an entire breakfast for you… It had just been a flash in the pan thought that occurred to her that morning as she ate the food he made, and it had made her put at least a bit of distance there. Because he'd surprised her by how real and human and warm he was, by how quickly she'd found herself daydreaming about him in ways she really shouldn't be thinking about her client. Even if it was harmless…at first.

It had been years since that morning…

She was twenty-eight now and things had changed. So much had changed. But mostly, she'd changed.

And this man she was meeting was not the man she'd visited that morning. Far from it. Even though there were some interesting moments this last week she'd been working for him…moments where he had the same understated confidence that a life of success gave a person, and the self-deprecating humor and self-awareness that had drawn her to Chuck. She wasn't drawn to Robbie Cartwright, but the intrigue was still there. She was…missing something, she thought. Some important piece he wasn't giving her, perhaps. Or something he was hiding. Maybe he was just throwing her off by being not at all what she expected—when he said something that knocked her back on her heels the way Chuck used to, the way Chuck still did sometimes.

Yes, there were some similarities there.

But at the same time, Robbie Cartwright was a foil to Chuck Bartowski. Chuck was so warm and kind, and there was a sincerity in the way he said and did things that had effectively made her a perpetual puddle around him, especially in the beginning when she was supposed to be protecting him and finding a murderer. And while she knew Chuck had been with women before—maybe even a lot of women considering how charming and generally marketable he was—he was the furthest thing from a "womanizer". The one time in the last week that she'd visited Cartwright at his office, he'd had a young, long-legged woman in his lap. She'd had to step outside and wait for the woman to leave, and then she'd had to apologize to her client for not knocking first. He hadn't seemed ashamed in the slightest. Which was almost refreshing because it wasn't what she expected…and yet kind of seedy at the same time.

He owned his lifestyle, he owned his opinions, the way he did things… and she supposed she could appreciate that. But having any kind of relationship with him, even just friendship, would grow old quick.

There was also the way he did business. In just that hour she spent at his office, it was almost as though none of the employees even knew he was there. They'd just waved her through to his office, strange looks on their faces when she'd asked to see him.

Granted, it was just a small office, one floor of a large corporate building, and she'd learned through doing some digging that he'd established it upon returning to Los Angeles from a boating trip he'd gone on around Cape Town, six months earlier.

He'd told her most of his work was done remotely, over the phone.

But then when she'd asked a marketing employee in his office when she caught him at a bar one night to ask him some questions, the drinks he'd had made him pretty chatty and she'd discovered that Cartwright didn't do a good deal of his work remotely.

Cartwright had also told her he knew Stephen Bartowski well enough to have given him the green light money on one of B.E.C.'s projects a few years ago, something that was easily cleared up by calling Chuck's dad and asking him if he knew who Robert Cartwright was. She'd gotten a confused pause before he'd said, "Uh…no, never heard of 'im. Should I know him?"

And of course there was the hotel he'd met some big name pro boxer in, in St. Louis apparently. But when she'd eavesdropped on him while he bragged to an employee, the boxer had another name, and the city was Topeka.

His employees seemed not to care either way, whether he walked around telling them lies or stuck to himself in his office. They got their paychecks.

Yes, he was Chuck's foil in a lot of ways. Because Chuck knew as many of his employees as he could. He was involved in the business, neck deep in it, and he'd single-handedly created an atmosphere that his employees enjoyed being in. He'd made it so they loved their work, loved B.E.C. as an employer.

Granted, sometimes he did have a young leggy blonde sitting on his lap in his office, but she was his girlfriend of almost two years, so Sarah felt like that was perfectly acceptable.

She smirked as she got off of the elevator and headed for the door to Cartwright's LA home. She'd done more digging on him and found out he'd purchased it with cash when he'd arrived from South Africa. So far, she'd been unable to find any other properties in LA that the playboy owned. She'd sought the realtor out but the firm had fired him for malpractice or something like that and he'd moved to Canada. And when she called the firm, they had no record of Robert Cartwright anywhere in their system.

It was giving her a good deal of pause.

While she didn't entirely feel comfortable meeting Cartwright in his home, she agreed when he asked her to. It was his day off, he'd said. And he didn't want to go all the way into the office. So she consented. She could take care of herself, but she didn't think she had to worry about him. Seducing her didn't seem to be his goal. Charming her? Absolutely. He hadn't succeeded in that, but it suited her purpose for him to think he was starting to, at least enough for her to lull him into a sense of comfort, as though she was charmed enough that she wouldn't question what he said to her, or what he was about.

She was prepared to sift through whatever lies he tossed at her. And store them away to dissect later.

Not only that, but she needed to see his home. Maybe she could start to put a few pieces together about him, maybe she'd find that missing something here, amongst his things, in his safe space.

He opened the door before she could knock and her first thought was that he needed to button one more button on that shirt he was wearing. "Oh. There you are. Sorry, I'm a bit of a mess. My, uh, morning was hectic—running all over the place—and I just got out of the shower," he breathed, opening the door wider for her to walk through. She knew for a fact he hadn't left his place all day. She'd sat outside his building nearly all day, waiting and watching.

"Perfectly all right."

"This is it," he announced, shutting the door behind her. The furniture didn't look comfortable. But at least it wasn't a bunch of weirdly colored boxes with no padding, she supposed. The walls had meaningless art she didn't recognize. The windows were massive, though, letting beautiful streams of light into the main room. "Want a tour?"

"No, thank you. If we could just get straight to business, I've got a tight schedule today."

He tsked, but then chuckled and nodded. "You're right. Let's do that. Here, have a seat on the couch. I'll make you a drink. What do you drink?"

"I don't. Not when I'm working. And certainly not at…" She looked at her watch. "Eleven in the morning."

That was a lie. She and Chuck woke up and had martinis up on his roof at nine in the morning last weekend. It had gone really well with their fruit bowls, so sue them. It had eased her grumpiness at him after he'd woken her up accidentally by dropping his phone on the bedroom floor.

"Well, I'm making you a dry martini since that's what I'm having and if you don't want it, you can just waste it," he said with another chuckle, rushing around to the bar. Sarah just shrugged in response. "So have you found something on my friend, Mr. Brown?" he asked as she heard the sloshing of liquid behind her.

Sarah paused for a moment. Was he hoping she would, she wondered?

This wasn't the first time he'd made her wonder that, either. But this was the first time he'd phrased his question in that way.

"Nothing damning yet," she said, and then she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. "If that's what you're looking for."

His profile got a bit of a look to it, and then he laughed. It wasn't forced, per se. But it sounded almost put on. "Yes, absolutely," he teased, sending her a furrowed brow and faux serious frown. "I'm always looking to find dirt on business associates."

He laughed again and came over with the drinks. "This is a Cartwright special," he said. "Dirty and dry. At least try it, Miss Walker."

"Robbie, I really shouldn't drink."

"A sip!"

She gave him a put upon sigh, then chuckled and took the drink, taking a sip. It was pretty good, but all it did was make her want to go back to Chuck's condo where he and Morgan had been playing video games when she'd left, their plates from the pancakes Morgan had made them all stacked and abandoned in Chuck's sink. She wanted Chuck to mix a few martinis for them and she could curl up on the end of the couch and watch the two doofuses argue and shove each other over who was sniping who from whatever rooftop. Because apparently that was cheating…or something. Chuck had yelled at Morgan about…stream sniping? Whatever that meant. She'd left soon after.

Sarah shook herself a bit and came back to the present. She had a job to do, and things were getting more and more interesting here.

"But you haven't found anything…?"

"Nothing yet, no."

"You bring the file you've built on him so far?"

"I did, yes." She pulled her briefcase up from the floor where she'd set it and unzipped it, pulling the file she'd been building about Jerald Brown out, handing it to him. "Everything so far is in there."

"Good, good," he muttered distractedly as he flipped through it, turning the pictures to glance at them. "No affairs, even?"

"Not yet. He goes to meetings, has dinner with associates and friends, but most of those, his wife also attends."

"You're sure it's his wife and not his… 'wife'?" he asked, making air quotes with one hand.

"It's her. I checked wedding records. And her Facebook account has pictures from when they renewed their vows."

"Cracking into their social media, huh? Good work."

"It's not like she made it private. It's all just…open. Almost like they have nothing to hide at all," she added slowly, making sure she sounded nonchalant as she said it, even as she secretly eyed him.

Something in his strong jaw twitched and he bit his lip.

"Huh. Well, I want to be sure. Absolutely sure. So please, keep digging."

She had every intention of continuing to dig.

She just had to make sure he had no idea he was where she was digging.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

He felt something smack into the side of his head as he stared out over the Los Angeles skyline. Blinking, he turned and looked at his best friend who sat about a yard away in his own chair, his feet propped up on a third chair.

"What'd you just throw your trash at me for?" he asked, thrusting a hand out, palm up.

"Dude, you aren't listening to me."

He shook his head. "Sorry." Then he sighed and sat up a bit straighter, looking Morgan in the face. "I'm sorry, buddy. I've got this…thing on my mind with Sarah. And I keep going back to it."

"A thing with Sarah?" Morgan lowered his feet to the ground and sat up. "Everything okay with you two? Please tell me—"

"No, no. Not with Sarah herself. We're good. We're great. It's not about our relationship. She just has this case…and she's been giving me little snippets of it, ya know? Not a lot. But she's been really working hard on it, to the point where I've been seeing her less—that's neither here nor there—and I'm afraid she's…" He huffed.

"What? She's what? Overworking herself? Because pot calling the kettle black, best pal."

Chuck sent Morgan a look, then shook his head. "No, I'm worried that Sarah's…I dunno, on the wrong side."

Morgan's beard twitched a bit and then he pursed his lips. "On the wrong side? Like, she's working for the mafia?"

"No. What?! No! My girlfriend isn't working for the mafia. I just mean, with this particular case, I think the bad guy employed her and is making her scrounge up dirt on a good guy. I don't think she knows it." He sighed and pushed his hand through his curls. "And I feel like a patronizing asshole just saying that out loud. She's the smartest person I know. And she isn't one to be fooled easily. This guy is just…he seems like he could be her ManFatale."

Morgan's eyes widened. "Dude. Trademark that."

"Morgs, I'm serious."

"Right, right. Sorry. Why you think he's a ManFatale?"

Chuck felt a bit of a cloud settle over his head. "Well, first of all, she mentioned offhand that he looks like Alain Delon, and I Googled that name and dear God, I'd turn in my straight card for that man if it were biologically possible. I'm only a little bit kidding." He saw Morgan had already fished his phone out of his pocket and was probably also Googling.

"Holy shit. I don't even know if I can find my straight card now. This guy was spicy." Morgan put his phone back away, and realization came over him. "Oh. Ohhhh. Her client looks like this guy?"

"I mean, not exactly. He has similar features. And the eyes."

"Oh, the eyes. Wow. Uh oh."

"What do you mean uh oh?"

"No uh oh. Nothing. Just…ya know, uh oh."

Chuck glared. "My point is that this guy is good looking, charming, he was flirting at her when I walked into her office while she was discussing the payment plan with him. Obviously, she wasn't flirting back. But I dunno, if he's charming enough, what if she just does what he's paying her for and leaves it at that? You know what I mean? Not that he's charming her outright, but that she just kind of takes what he says and doesn't use her usual…gumshoe brain. You know, picking out the suspicious stuff that she usually does. What if she just…does what he says and that's it?"

Morgan shrugged. "Isn't that kind of her job as a P.I.? The dude pays her to get dirt on another guy, she gets the dirt, she goes home with a big fat paycheck. Badda-bing, badda-boom."

"No badda-bing, badda-boom. Sarah's not that kind of private investigator. She made a point of it when she first started. She doesn't want to be paid to do the wrong thing. And I'm afraid that's exactly what is happening here and she might not know it."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because she's investigating Jerald Brown. I've done my own sleuthing, just surface level, obviously, and the guy isn't just a good dude, he's involved with Gridiron Technology and it's really only survived because of his business acumen—all of it legal and above boards. He isn't even one of those loophole businessmen. He is on the up and up."

"Do you know him personally?"

"No. I don't. Never met him even. But I generally tend to get to know who isn't trustworthy in this industry. I get around. I need to know who not to do business with. I've never heard a wrong word about Brown. Not one bad thing, even gossipy whisperings. And Dad's met him and had nothing but good things to say about him when I asked." He shrugged. "Meanwhile, who the hell is this Cartwright guy? There's barely anything on him."

"And he's…what, some kind of businessman?"

"Yeah. Sarah said he seems like a playboy who just uses the businessman title. You know, one of those guys who persuade idiots to 'invest' money in something fake, he makes a big ol' profit, and swindles the shit outta the idiots. Then he gets away with it. She didn't say all that, I'm kinda just…assuming he's that type of guy."

"Ohhh, boy, a playboy, huh? Your girl is working for a guy like that, I can see why you're suspicious of him."

Chuck just glared again. "It's not like that, Morgan. I mean, I admit, it's hard not to be a little…jealous. That whole rakish good looks and charm thing is hard to compete with. But that has nothing to do with Sarah or our relationship. I don't have to worry about that with her, and she knows she doesn't have to worry about that with me. The big thing is that I just have this bad gut feeling. Something feels…off. About him, about this situation." He groaned, and pushed his hands through his hair. "I really don't like the idea of her getting caught up in something that will make her agency, her work, look bad. Not when she's only really been at it for a few months, you know? I don't want that for her. A messed up reputation for the agency."

"Well, you know she doesn't like it when you get all…SuperChuck on her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"All protective and shit. And I get it. But she knows what she's doing. She was a Pinkerton detective, for fuck's sake. I'm sure she knows how to watch her own back."

"Of course! Of course she does."

"And I don't think blue eyes are gonna distract her from the truest and purest course." Chuck gave Morgan a flat look for that. "What?! I'm serious! Vickie Vale always does the right thing. Sarah Walker always does the right thing. She isn't gonna let some smooth-talker fool her. C'mon, man. She's your girl, you should know this without my having to tell you."

"I do know it," he snapped, giving Morgan a snotty face. "It's just that she only talks about her progress with Brown's file. She hasn't told me anything about funny feelings, or-or anything she is getting with Cartwright."

Morgan blinked. "If he's giving her funny feelings, I'm not sure you wanna know."

"You ass, I'm not talking about that kind of funny feeling. Like…when you meet someone and something just seems…I dunno, off about 'em. Like how he gave me that feeling when I met him."

"Sure that didn't have something to do with the fact that he was flirting with your girlfriend?"

"At. He was flirting at her, okay? She was not flirting back. Thank you. And yes, I am sure it didn't have to do with that. I can't describe it."

"I can. Jealousy."

"Morgan. Seriously. I'll admit, there is some jealousy there, I'm only human. But I genuinely mean it. He gives me the creeps, man. You don't know 'cause you haven't met him or seen him talk. But he sounds…weird."

"What, does he got an accent or something?"

"Well, yeah. South African. But it's not just that he has an accent. Have you ever met anyone who says words a certain way that makes you think they're, like…really trying hard to sound a certain way?"

Morgan thought for a moment. "Like when Ben Logan went to London for a week with his parents during the summer between seventh and eighth grade and he came back to school with a random British accent?"

Chuck gave him a look. Then he checked himself and hummed. "I mean, yeah kinda. I don't think his accent is fake, per se, but he just thinks really hard about every word he says, how he says it. Like he needs to control the way he presents himself. Like he has a story to sell."

"How so?"

He tried to mimic Cartwright's way of speaking. "He pronounces every word, and makes sure you hear every last sound of every last consonant. Very calculated with the way he speaks. With his charming attitude." He dropped the affectation. "It's really unsettling. It landed just fine at the time and I thought maybe I was just being jealous, but the more I thought about that meeting, the more that stuff stuck out to me. Dude, seriously, he almost talks like a psychopath."

"Ew, Norman Bates vibes?"

"Yeah! But more rakish conman than awkward mommy issues murder boy."

That made Morgan laugh a little.

Chuck shook his head and leaned in closer to his best friend. "And get this. Yesterday when she left to meet him, when you and I were gaming…You didn't hear because you were clearing out the fort on that stupid level we sucked at getting past, but I asked her how things were going with the case, and she said…" He paused dramatically. "Fine."

Morgan stared at him, as if expecting more. And when he realized that was it, he made a face. "That's it? What's so bad about that?"

"It's different from what usually happens when I ask."

"What usually happens?"

"She tells me things?" he explained with a shrug. "Like, 'oh I found out Brown is sleeping with his masseuse.' For example. But she just said, 'fine'. It's different from what I'm used to when she has a case. She'll give me little snippets or ask me what I think about something. Or she uses me as a sounding board. She hasn't this time which kind of worries me. She usually does a super thorough job vetting everything about a case, even sometimes the people who hired her. And I'm afraid she hasn't done it with this guy. Because he's so…"

"Alain Delon?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I might be totally unfair with how I'm approaching this, not giving her the credit she deserves. And maybe that makes me a bad boyfriend, but I seriously have a lot of misgivings about this guy Robbie Cartwright."

Morgan nodded slowly. "Okay, dude. Well, why don't you sit her down and talk to her about it?"

"Oh God no. She'd be so pissed off."

"Why? You're just helping her out."

"She'd be so pissed. About me putting myself in potential danger, you know, in case this guy's actually dangerous. About me butting in on her cases. She'd do what you did, assume it's 'cause I'm jealous…"

"So…don't do it?" Morgan winced. "Or at least, if you do it, lemme play, too."

"Oh. Morgs. Buddy. I need a co-sleuth. You know I do."

Morgan's eyes widened in excitement as he leapt to his feet, arms out. "Forget everything I said. Let's build this hot shady mother fucker a bad guy dossier."

Chuck jumped to his feet as well and high-fived his best friend. "Yes!"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

They stood on opposite sides of a table, pouring over the papers and pictures they'd laid out. Two days of sleuthing work lay in front of them. On Morgan's kitchen table. Because Chuck didn't want to risk doing it at his own place, in case Sarah came over unannounced and found them like this. God, she'd be pissed.

"Okay, so tell me this. Why is this guy—Robbie Cartwright—Robert in South Africa? That'd be like if I was Charles in LA, then went and established a B.E.C. chapter over in Bangkok and went by Chuck there. Why? Also, he seemed like a total recluse in South Africa, right?" Chuck asked.

"That's what my man Mujahid told me," Morgan said with a shrug. He'd called his friend in South Africa to ask him about Robert Cartwright and Mujahid had sent him whatever he could find on him. "He's got his name on a lot of things but wouldn't ever make appearances, would just send money in his place. Seemed like a legitimate agoraphobe in a lot of ways, or maybe afraid of people? I dunno. Like he was paranoid. But he took this big boat trip with a friend I guess, then after that trip he came here to Los Angeles alone. And suddenly, he's an outgoing, grinny guy with a woman on each arm. It's…weird. It just don't make sense."

"He ain't a recluse anymore, that's for sure. Sarah told me that she'd walked in on him with a woman in his place of work and it was super awkward."

"Oh, damn!"

"Right? Also, look at this. His purchases he made are all so extravagant. You look at what he did back in South Africa, he didn't seem to like jewelry or tailored suits or…any of this crap."

"You know what it could be?" Morgan said, shaking his finger, his other hand on his hip. "Los Angeles is probably pretty different from Cape Town. Maybe he just lets his hair down when he gets to other cities. You know? No one really knows him here. He can go wild. No repercussions. His business is thousands of miles away on the other side of the world. A little hot birdie…finally let out of its cage…"

Chuck frowned. "You might be right about that. It's just…"

"No, it's bizarre. It is."

"I asked around a bit myself, just some cursory questions to make it look like I'm considering bringing in another donor for that conference. He told Jack Reynard at an event that he cared for his dying mother when he was a teenager. Reynard felt bad for him, said 'the kid's really pulled himself up by his bootstraps'. Right, but then when I asked Louise Barnard, you know, Walt's daughter—" Morgan gave him a look and he blushed a little. "Sorry, right. I'm talking to you like I talk to my parents, of course you don't know. Uh, ahem. Louise said that Cartwright was pretty flirtatious but harmless, and she mentioned how many nice things he said about his mother. When I said, 'Oh, sad the way she passed away when he was just a teenager', she paused. And I was like 'What?' And she goes, 'He told me his mom told him he should take the business to LA.' As in, she's still alive. The guy is lying about his mom's death."

"Oh, dude, creeeepyyyyy!" Morgan said, making a face. "So is his mom dead or alive?"

"Fuck if I know. Can't find much on the Cartwrights."

"What. Is. Going. On. With. This. Guy?"

"I think we need to maybe tail him a bit closer. I'm gonna skip out on the office tomorrow. Next day, you think you can let your employees run your restaurant?"

"Oh hell yeah, man. I've got the perfect disguise, too."

"Yesssss! Awesome. Okay, y—" He was interrupted by his phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw Sarah had texted him. He pulled it up.

"What's my tech guy up to?" it read.

"It's Sarah. What do I do?" he asked Morgan, eyes wide. "She's asking me what I'm up to. Shit. She knows. She knows. She's too brilliant not to know. Oh my God, she's gonna break up with me if she finds out we're circumventing her investigation. It's not worth it, man!"

Morgan scratched the back of his head, a bit of panic in his face. And then he scoffed and chuckled, shaking his head. "Dude, it's Sarah. Your girlfriend. My friend. We need to chill out. She's just texting you 'cause you're her other half."

"Oh. Hah. Yeah. Wow." He shook his head, too. "She's just, you know, a super sleuth. Part of me thought she'd found out about this. But she couldn't, right? That'd be crazy."

"Right!" He gestured to the phone. "Just answer her. Uh, in a way that leaves out the truth."

Chuck nodded and texted back, "I'm hanging out with The Beard", adding the Trademark sign to the end of 'The Beard'.

"Nice. I've had enough tailing Brown today and I'm tired. Was thinking I'd head over if you're home," she replied a minute later as he and Morgan went back to trying to piece things together.

He responded: "I'm at Morgan's right now."

"That's weird," she texted back, "You never go to Morgan's apartment."

"I did today!" he typed with a smiley emoji.

"Well, I won't interrupt your Chorgan time then. But if you want to come over later, I'll just be around." Chuck stared at her text for a bit, smirking to himself. He saw she was typing something else, and then a winky face popped up. Oh.

"What? What'd she say?" Morgan asked.

The taller man jumped at the sound of his voice and gave his friend a look. "I'm not telling you."

"Ooooh ho ho hooo one of those texts, huh? Did your girl just booty-text you?"

Another winky face popped up then. And then another. Along with her texting, "Are you getting what I'm throwing down here?"

God, she was so dorky and so hot all at the same time and he was so in love.

"Shut up. She's not booty-texting me. I don't even know what that means." Meanwhile, he typed back, "We prefer Muck, actually. And we're pretty much done hanging out. Why don't I meet you at yours?"

"Hey, help me gather this stuff up," he said to his friend then, grabbing the papers and starting to put them together in a more orderly fashion.

"Oh, it's totally the text I thought it was, for the record. Go get some, dude." Morgan put his hand up for a high five.

"I'm not fiving that, you creeper."

"Maaaannn!"

He thanked The Beard, told him he'd keep him updated about tomorrow, stuffed their file on Robbie Cartwright inside of his jacket, and rushed down to his car. He hurried home to stash the file in a safe spot in his condo before he went straight to Sarah's.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Chuck, my nose is coming off!"

The tech guy rolled his eyes and brought his watch up to his mouth. "I told you to put more glue on it."

"No! Dude, I've seen people not be able to get things like this off because they use too much glue to put 'em on! I don't want this weird nose forever! How will I ever smell agai—"

Chuck pressed the mute button on his earpiece and sighed, keeping his eyes on the Alain Delon wannabe as he walked into the downtown high rise where he lived. "Morgan, keep watch on the back door," he said quietly into his watch.

Odd, Morgan wasn't responding to him, not even with a Ten-Four or a Blue-Forty-Two, both things he'd already said in the last two hours they'd spent tailing Robbie Cartwright.

"Morgan. You hear me?" And then he remembered he'd muted him. "Oh." He un-muted him immediately.

"—wrong with the comms, Leader One? Can you hear me? I repeat…Can…you…hear me?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Oh. What happened to the comms?"

I muted you for being annoying, that's what happened to the comms.

"Um. Nothing. Probably a glitch."

"Bruh, we paid a shit ton of money for these. They better not glitch."

Chuck rolled his eyes again. "We?"

"Fine. You did."

"Are you going to the back or what?"

"I'm already at the back! Jesus! You get a whiff of commandership and you're suddenly a big ol' jerk."

"You're the jerk!" But then something caught his eye. "Wait. Hold that thought. Wait, wait. How tall did we say Codename: Namor the Sub-Mariner is?"

"Six feet exactly."

"Shoulder width?"

"Huh? Dude, I dunno the width of his fuckin' shoulders!"

"I told you to…ugh… forget it. It doesn't matter. Someone just walked out who looks a hell of a lot like Namor the Sub-Mariner but with a full beard and a different suit that fits him, er…differently." The suit was tailored differently, not as tight fitting, and he was wearing sunglasses, but he could swear it was him.

"Differently?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is, Namor the Sub-Mariner just came out of his place in a disguise. I'm following him." He snapped a few photos of the man as he waited at the crosswalk, sticking a toothpick between his teeth because it made him look cool, probably, Chuck assumed. Instead he just looked like a jack-ass.

Then he pulled his phone out, a phone that didn't look anything like the Galaxy he and Morgan took record of when they first began to build their dossier on Robbie Cartwright. "He's got a new phone, I see."

Morgan gasped. "A burn phone?"

"Yep! Sure looks like it to me!"

"This is so cool!"

"I know, right?" he said giddily, snapping a few more pictures, some zoomed in, others zoomed out, before he lowered the camera again and hid it in his coat, leaning against the wall and turning his face to the side as Cartwright walked right past him. Letting him get far enough away, he pushed off from the wall and followed, sliding a hand over his slicked-back hair and sliding his sunglasses on.

"You got eyes on him? I tried to run around the building to see if I could get after 'im but I don't see 'im," Morgan said.

"I'm on him," Chuck said, pulling up his hand to scratch his ear so that it wasn't as obvious he was talking into his watch.

"Good—Gah! This fuckin' nose! I'm taking it off. I can't stand it."

Chuck just shook his head and kept following his mark. He followed him for a few blocks, Morgan rattling off things in his ear, and he wondered if Morgan was just holding the watch up to his mouth the whole time or if he'd accidentally set it so that Chuck heard it even when it was at his hip.

He willed himself to ignore it and instead followed Codename: Namor the Sub-Mariner aka Robbie Cartwright into the park, down the paths, back out of the park, and into a shopping mall. He watched Cartwright walk into a high-end store and decided to take a seat on the bench outside of it to wait.

Chuck shirked his coat, replaced his sunglasses with a pair of reading glasses, and grabbed the rolled up LA Times someone had left on the planter wall nearby. He didn't move his eyes from the store, pretending to read the paper as he held it up conspicuously, in spite of assuming he was being incredibly inconspicuous.

"Chuck. Man, where the hell are you?" Morgan asked.

"At the mall," he murmured into his watch.

"What?! I know you get your Cinnabon urges, Chuck, but you had to do it right now in the middle of a mission?"

"I'm not eating a Cinnabon!" he hissed. "Namor the Sub-Mariner is buying clothes or something. I dunno what the hell he's—oh shit, he's out. Hold on."

The tech guy watched as the suspicious, disguise-wearing businessman slash playboy strolled out of the shop with a briefcase he must have just bought in hand. He made a beeline for Chuck, scaring him out of his skin practically, but then he set his new briefcase down on the other end of the bench, snapped the tag off of it, letting the tag fall onto the ground under the bench without seeming to care even a bit. Then he went into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, tugged some papers that had been folded in half out, and flattened them as best he could, before slipping them inside of the pristine leather briefcase.

He was caught glancing at the scene out of the corner of his eye apparently, because Cartwright cleared his throat and zipped the case back up again. "Gotta look impressive for the job interview, huh, fella?" he asked.

"Mhm!" Chuck squeaked, looking back at his paper and staring at the words hard.

First thing he realized as the man rushed off again was that there had been no South African accent. He was American. Not South African. Because if he was the South African Robert Cartwright, what reason would he have for affecting an American accent with a random man on a bench? There'd be no point.

This person, whether he was really Robbie Cartwright or not, was not South African. Chuck knew that much now.

He got up and started to follow him, but then he stopped, growled, and went back to pick up Cartwright's trash. "Fucking litterer," he grumbled as he tossed it in the trash he swept past and continued following the good-looking, newly bearded bastard.

"Chuck…Chuck…Chuck, you there? What's going on, Chuck? Why aren't you keeping me posted, Chuck? Chuck, I feel left out! Dude!"

Chuck ignored Morgan as he followed non-South African Cartwright back out of the mall, and cursed as he saw the man hail a taxi. "Shit!"

He scrambled to the sidewalk and leapt into the back of a taxi that wasn't currently on duty.

"I'm not on duty," the woman snarked over her shoulder, finishing a gyro.

"If you change your mind, I'll give you a thousand bucks to follow that blue cab that's pulling away from the curb right there."

"You fuckin' with me?" the woman asked, eyes wide.

"No. I have a girlfriend."

"Oh, shit! I'll finish this gyro later!" She tossed the styrofoam box into the passenger seat, licked her fingers, and turned on her car, bursting out into the traffic, ignoring the blaring horns behind her, and following the cab. "I've been waitin' my whole career to do this shit! You a cop?"

"Um."

"Nevermind. You give me a grand and I don't give a fuck what you are, friend. You could be a space alien. I don't care."

She sped up and slid her taxi in behind the one carrying Cartwright and he felt the adrenaline of this whole thing starting to get to him. He pulled his watch up to his mouth and finally spoke into it.

"Morgan, I'm on Namor the Sub-Mariner's tail right now—"

"Namor the Sub-Mariner? What the hell's that?" the taxi driver asked.

"He's a comic book character. Depending on who you ask, he's either good or bad. Like an anti-hero—" He shook his head as he realized that was all beside the point, and brought his watch up again. "He just bought a briefcase at Gucci—"

"Gucci? That shit's expensive!" the taxi driver exclaimed.

"Right? So unnecessary," he said back.

"Seriously, you know that fool is up to no good, buying a Gucci briefcase."

"That's what I am saying." He cleared his throat and went back to the watch just as he saw the blue taxi pulling up next to a nondescript business building. "Morgan, he's stopping. Hold on."

Chuck unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted up to get closer to the driver, taking his second watch off and thrusting it at her. "See this? It's a Rolex. Brand new. Worth quite a bit of money, as I'm sure you know."

"Yessir."

He looked at her driver's ID. "Rhonda. If you wait here for me until I come back, after I see what the hell this asshat is up to, I will give you two grand instead of one. And I'll leave this Rolex with you so you know I mean what I say. As collateral. Deal?"

"Damn. You got a deal. But only if you tell me what that Gucci gutter jerk is up to when you get back."

"Deal! Enjoy your gyro!"

She took the watch and he staggered out of the taxi, putting his coat back on and following Cartwright around the side of the building to where there was an outdoor café and seating area alongside a small, urban garden.

Cartwright met a much shorter, slightly older man at one of the tables but Chuck was too far away to hear what they were going to say to one another, so he looked around almost desperately. He hadn't obtained any listening devices, damn it. He silently cursed himself. And so… he would have to improvise.

When he saw the man standing in the corner of the garden with pruning shears, an idea struck.

Not five minutes later, he was wearing a jacket that said MAINTENANCE on the back of it and he was casually pruning the hedges near the table where Cartwright and his acquaintance had settled.

"It's a deal, Mr. Newman. Or can I call you Mark?"

"Fifty cents on the dollar is a deal, Mr. Lawson—"

"Paul," Cartwright said cheerfully.

"Er, yes…Paul. The only problem is that the boat Mr. Cartwright wants to sell me is all the way in South Africa. And he's requiring me to meet him there to get it myself."

Chuck's eyes widened and he turned a bit so that his back was more to them so that they couldn't see his face in case they looked. What in the hell was going on here, he wondered? Mr. Cartwright was going by the name Paul Lawson…He was Cartwright, though, wasn't he? That was what he was telling Sarah Walker, the private investigator he hired to look into someone else.

All this time, he was the one she should've been looking into.

Holy hell…

"Well, of course, Mark," the poser said. "Robert Cartwright doesn't sell his precious Lola 2 for fifty cents on the dollar if he also has to hire someone to sail it all the way to Long Beach for ya." There was a long pause. "Nobody is going to blame you if you want to pull out, Mark. Honestly. There are plenty of guys on this list but I wanted to get to you first, 'cause I like you. I trust you. The guy, uh…he's hard to get access to." He chuckled.

"So I've heard."

Chuck kept the shears moving, pruning the hedges rather poorly, probably, and he thought maybe he shouldn't totally ruin these things since that poor old guy who was actually supposed to do this would get blamed for it. Granted, Chuck's wallet was two hundred bucks lighter now…

"Listen, er…Paul. I can't pass this up. My Trudy wants a sailing trip this summer and I told her we would…May I ask, would Mr. Cartwright permit me to rename the boat?"

"You buy her, you can call her whatever you please, Mark!"

"Good. You can tell Mr. Cartwright it's a deal. Money up front?"

"Yessir. And I've got this contract here, written up, signed by the boss himself just so you know this is on the up and up."

Chuck casually strolled away from the meeting, approaching the old gardener around the corner and giving him back his jacket and shears. And then he rushed the long ways around the building, took out his camera, and took a few pictures of "Paul Lawson" and Mark Newman for good measure.

And as he went back to the taxi, still waiting for him because Rhonda was the absolute best, Chuck Bartowski decided he and Morgan weren't done yet. They weren't even close to done yet.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was already yawning when she let herself into Chuck's condo, swinging the door open and frowning a bit at how dark it was. He wasn't home, the jerk.

The downside of falling in love with a workaholic.

Sarah imagined he was in his office still, going over some program with one of his employees talking in his ear, going over fixes, edits…

But it was after ten at night and she was too tired to go back to her own home now, so she supposed this condo that had been her home for a few months when she first moved to California would do. She'd be here, sleeping most likely, when he got home. And hopefully it'd be a pleasant surprise for him to find her in his bed.

She flicked on the living room light, flooding that corner of the lower level of his condo, then she went into the kitchen and flicked on the light there, getting a glass of water for herself and guzzling it down. She went into his fridge and saw a bowl of sliced watermelon. Greedily, she grabbed it, pulled off the saran wrap, and casually popped a piece into her mouth, munching.

Sarah missed her tech guy.

He'd been really busy the last few days, apparently, not even able to meet for lunch because of meetings with "people, important people". And she'd been out nights meeting contacts, working on this case, and observing Robbie Cartwright's nighttime activities.

Sometimes it included women. She'd watch him from the shadows across the street as he brought a woman up into his high rise building, and she'd leave after that, knowing she had no reason to continue observing that situation. But other times, he'd climbed behind the wheel of his car with tinted windows and drive off. She'd followed it once, not wanting to chance he recognized her or her car, especially if he was as observant as she thought he most likely was. He'd surely know if the same car followed him late at night more times than just the one.

He'd gone into a warehouse near the docks that night, and the light in the second floor office had flicked on before the blinds were slowly shut.

Tonight, she'd broken into that office. It was just a simple lock on the door, easy for her to pick, and when she got inside, she'd used a flashlight to dig around in the desk. There were contracts that he'd signed, deposit slips, bank statements… Rather than steal them to be able to look at them more thoroughly, she took as many pictures as she could. Because Cartwright was selling things like pieces of property in Morocco, tourist hotels in Sudan, one of his yachts, a boat named Lola 2, antique museum-worthy pieces of furniture that were in his South Africa home, art work… And she wondered why. Why was this sketchy playboy selling all of his own things suddenly?

Was he going through some sort of midlife crisis in his mid-thirties?

Perhaps that around-the-world boating trip Cartwright took had completely changed his view of the world, Chuck had surmised when she'd talked to him over the phone the other day. She still hadn't told him she was investigating the man who hired her more than the man he'd hired her to investigate. But she did hint this whole change in Cartwright felt strange and sudden.

Chuck was wrong, though. Something rotten was going on with Robbie Cartwright, and the more she gathered on his actions, the more she thought the rotten thing was Robbie Cartwright himself.

In fact, she had every reason to believe Robert Cartwright was a conman. The South African lying businessman and playboy, fooling everyone back home and moving to Los Angeles to fool people in a different town.

And maybe, just maybe, the gig was up. Maybe someone was after him.

There were many reasons why he might start selling things. Perhaps he planned to flee afterwards and he'd make up another persona in some other part of the world.

He was a con artist, though. And she wasn't about to let herself be conned. The money he'd been shoveling at her had been real. She'd checked before depositing it. But why was he looking to bust Jerald Brown? Why had he hired her specifically for this job?

Did Brown have something on him? Maybe he knew the truth. Maybe Jerald Brown had found out that Robert Cartwright was a con artist. Or perhaps he was simply suspicious. If Sarah found something on Brown, Cartwright could turn the tables on his "potential business partner" and destroy his reputation and credibility before the man could accuse him of pulling a massive, cross-continent con.

Yawning again, she thought about how successful she'd been today during her meeting with "Robbie" of seeming like she was fully in his pocket, doing everything he asked her to do, not suspicious of him at all. And she'd even started to built a legitimate dossier on Jerald Brown, even finding a few discrepancies in his finances that could lead to something big. She still played like she was simply protecting Cartwright's investment, not purposely digging up dirt. She was pretending to play right into Cartwright's hands, and all the while he was playing into hers.

Hopefully.

Once she got enough incriminating evidence on Cartwright, she could take it all to Casey. But first and foremost, she had to reel the con artist in, once and for all. She had to make him bite the bait, latch onto it, make him think she was actually doing the job she was asked, and succeeding at it, too. He wouldn't wait for her forever.

This was a dangerous man. A practiced con artist.

And she had to step lightly.

Sarah went up to Chuck's bedroom after turning off all of the lights on the lower floor and pushed into his bedroom, turning on the light, kicking her heels off into the corner like she always did when she spent the night, and going over to his dresser.

She pulled out some clean boxers, the green and blue plaid she liked so much that fit him a little snug and her a lot, well, not-snug, and then she changed into them, having to roll the waistband a few times as always. She then grabbed one of his T-shirts out of another drawer and tugged that on over her bare torso, shivering a bit at how cool he kept his condo. Or maybe it wasn't something he could control. Maybe this was just such a wide-open condo that it was naturally chilly.

Either way, she headed straight for his bed, her phone in hand. She climbed into the bed on the side where she always slept and she leaned over to turn the lamp next to the bed on, giggling quietly at the Batwoman graphic novel sitting on the nightstand. He'd been trying to get her to at least try to read it for weeks, but she'd resisted. Maybe she'd finally give it a look this time.

And he'd tease her for doing it now on purpose, when he wasn't here to gush or provide commentary.

But then she thought she'd much rather he be here with her than read a comic book. Even if the character did look cool. She was tired, a little nervous about this Cartwright situation if she was being honest, and she wanted that safe, contented feeling of having a particular rich tech heir wrapped up in her arms.

So she picked up her phone from where it laid beside her on the bed and she sent him a text: "Hey, workaholic, guess where I am right now…"

He responded almost immediately. "In the North American tundra?"

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "Good guess. Somewhere much cozier, though."

"Hey, wait. You callin me a workaholic but how you know I'm at work? For all you know I'm at home snuggled up in bed!"

She smirked and bit her lip. "You couldn't possibly be at home snuggled up in bed, otherwise you'd be right next to me. And you're definitely not." She snapped a quick picture of his empty side of the bed and sent it.

He sent a shocked emoji, and then she watched as the dots appeared while he typed. They disappeared, appeared again…as he changed his mind about what he was going to respond with, no doubt. It was stupidly cute.

"Don't move. Don't go anywhere. I'm on my way out of the office now. Your cuddle monster is ON HIS WAY."

Sarah laughed and decided to press the matter a bit by sending him a selfie with her all tucked away in bed. His response made her laugh harder. In all caps, "I'M COMIN, WOMAN. GEEZ."

Suddenly missing him even more, despite the fact that he was literally on his way to her at that very moment, Sarah scooted over on the bed, onto his side, and grabbed his pillow, rolling over and taking comfort from his scent…

Wait…

Her eyes blinked open and she frowned, her brow furrowed.

Something was…

She moved around a bit, uncomfortable no matter how she shifted. It was…lumpy or something.

Pushing herself up on her elbow and glaring down at the offending mattress, she realized it looked almost lifted at the edge, like it was higher than the rest of the mattress. That wasn't normal. She put her hand on the raised bit and pushed on it. It was hard…

Was there something stuck under his bed? Was his bed broken, perhaps?

It wouldn't be the first time they'd literally broken a bed with how they tended to lose themselves a bit in the throes of passion, and she smirked as she remembered Paris, almost two years earlier. God, that had been so damn good.

And it had only gotten better since then.

But then she shook her head, getting herself out of the clouds, and she climbed out of the bed, rising to her full height as she peered down at the thing. She let out a thoughtful, "Hm", and then grabbed the mattress, lifting it up.

Sarah thrust her hand underneath and felt the culprit. It was…She pulled it out and gaped at it. A file. A thick file, too. And it had TOP SECRET stamped poorly on the cover flap. "What the hell is this, Bartowski?" she asked quietly, mirth in her voice.

Why was he keeping a file under his mattress and what was it for? She knew she shouldn't. She really shouldn't do it. Only a bad girlfriend looked through her boyfriend's things, especially something he'd gone out of his way to label TOP SECRET. Then again, he had a peculiar sense of humor that made her think he'd stamp that on something with freaking video game codes because he thought it'd be funny.

And anyway, she'd been a Pinkerton detective, and now she was a private investigator. Nobody would really fault her if she just took a peek.

So she swung it open and looked at the top page.

It was a candid photograph of Robbie Cartwright coming out of his office building.

And Chuck was in so much trouble.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 1

Sorry I haven’t been keeping up here. But I’ll be adding the rest of what I’ve written since the last chapter I posted on tumblr. And I’ll add it to the MASTERPOST of The Detective and the Tech Guy here, as well. If you want to read this chapter on the fanfiction.net site, you can read it here: BOOP.

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She found herself nodding off at her desk yet again, thanks to the long night she'd had.

Reaching up, she gave herself a few light smacks to the cheek and blinked, stretching her arms above her head. A satisfied smile made itself known on her face. The extra tiredness was more than worth it. Not sleeping more than the two hours she'd gotten earlier this morning? Worth it.

Part of her had been reluctant to say yes to Chuck when he proposed they "adventure" last night. Well, honestly, she'd misunderstood at first when he'd said they should "adventure", because she'd taken it in an "exploration" sort of way. It wasn't her fault, really, since they'd been wrapped up together on his couch watching TV at the time. Or not watching TV, because they were actually making out heavily with the TV on in the background. So it only made sense that she'd taken "We should adventure" as "Let's move from second base to third base".

Then she had realized he'd meant outside; actually going somewhere in the middle of the night and adventuring in the city.

She'd been more reluctant about that. Obviously. What woman wouldn't be when she had a Chuck Bartowski to enjoy being pinned under instead?

She snorted to herself and pushed her hands through her hair.

God, she was tired. Even if driving over bridges, climbing to the tops of hills, looking up at the stars from their spot on the sandy beach after walking along its shores, was all worth it.

Why did she even come to the agency today? She was her own boss. She could've taken today off, kissed Chuck goodbye as he left for work, and stayed all wrapped up in his bed for the rest of the day, sleeping the tiring (but invigorating) night she'd had off.

But that wasn't how she wanted to operate with Walker Investigative Enterprises. She was a damn professional. And she'd be here, yawning and all. Because she was honestly between cases and really needed to up the marketing to get someone with a case in here. Granted, most of the work she needed to do was ugly, horrible paperwork. Filing things for taxes, making sure the IRS didn't come busting her door down.

She yawned again and groaned, thumping her forehead against the top of her desk, taking a deep breath, and letting her eyes shut.

It was worth eventually walking up that hill to watch the sunrise with Chuck's arms around her.

Totally worth it.

And God, why hadn't she stayed in bed? Professionalism really was a lousy trait for someone to have.

Suddenly, she heard the soft sound of the hinges on the outer door to her agency creak, and she lifted her head, sitting up straight.

"Uh…ahem…anyone here? Is there a, um, a bell?"

She rushed out from behind her desk, opened her office door a bit more and stepped out. "Yes. Good afternoon. May I help you?"

The man lifted both eyebrows as he peered at her, and she couldn't help but notice the almost charming slow smile that presented itself on his handsome face. "It's a great afternoon suddenly, from where I'm standing."

She gave him an exceedingly polite smile. If this was a client, she couldn't afford to be rude. Literally, she couldn't afford it.

He cleared his throat, shaking himself a bit, seeming almost self-deprecating. And then he smirked a bit, as though…Well, he seemed pretty aware of himself. There was a thread of amusement at his own expense, which she didn't expect. "Right. Uh, I'm here to see the, um, private investigator. Detective Walker? Mister Walker? Not sure which…"

"I'm Sarah Walker, private investigator."

"It's you?" he asked. He pushed a hand through his wavy jet black hair, and grinned. "Wow, that's your name on the door, huh?"

"Yes. It is."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I'll stop being such a prick and get to the reason why I'm here."

She wished he would. She was too tired for him to be standing here doing the same thing a lot of people had done when they first saw her. The gawking, either at her being a woman, or perhaps at the fact that she was as good-looking as she was, or both. The asking of that age-old question: "Really? You're Walker?"

Yes, asshole. Really.

She didn't care if this guy was handsome in an old school Alain Delon sort of way, or that he had a nice lilting accent that sounded like it might be British…but not at the same time. She thought he was probably South African, but the accent felt…different. A little off, maybe.

It was still freaking annoying that he fell into the same trap everyone else had.

"Uh, so…" He cleared his throat and shut the door behind him finally, straightening the tan suit he wore. "Well, I think I need your help."

"You think?"

"Well, I guess I know I need someone's help." He shook his head. "And I need someone good, someone who can be very discreet."

"I'm both of those things," she said, smirking a little.

A bit of a flirtatious look came over his features and he crossed his arms at his chest. "And confident, too. I like that."

"Why do you need a private investigator, Mister…?"

"Cartwright. Robert Cartwright. You can call me Robbie."

"What can I help you with, Mister Cartwright?"

"Not Robbie, then?" He chuckled and nodded. "Sorry. You're a professional. I should treat you as such. Inspector Walker? Detective?"

"Miss is just fine."

"That is good news."

The meaning wasn't lost on her, and she pretended it was, seemingly continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to actually get to business like he said he would ages ago. She was too tired to play games but she wanted a case to work on.

He cleared his throat again. "Right, well…It seems I'm in a bit of trouble, Miss Walker."

"All right. Come into my office and we'll talk about it."

"You mean you'll take my case?" he asked hopefully.

She sent him a bit of an amused look. "Did I say that?" she asked over her shoulder, eyeing him, and she led him into her office, gesturing for him to take a seat across the desk from her, taking her own seat after. "Can I get you water? Coffee?"

"Do you have any whiskey?"

"No."

"Well, good. I'm a champagne man, myself."

Sarah smirked. His sense of humor was catching her off-guard in a similar way to the way Chuck's had, especially when she'd first met him a few years ago, sitting across from him in his father's office, not expecting him to be so handsome or charming, to the point where she'd found herself flirting with him without realizing it.

She wouldn't be flirting with Robbie Cartwright at all, and certainly not in the way she'd flirted with the tech nerd.

She was more than simply taken. When it came to Chuck, she was fully off the market, even for something as innocent as flirtation. Even if it was almost…intriguing…how similar parts of this man were to Chuck, while also being incredibly different. Maybe it was the place he was coming from, the way Chuck felt very sincere in everything he did while this man just made her feel a bit…not guarded, per se, just…on her toes.

It was very strange. She wanted to work it out more than she wanted to hear about his case, she found.

"I don't have champagne."

"No, I expect you wouldn't. Not here, anyway. Perhaps when you fix this issue of mine, we can find somewhere that does have champagne and celebrate?"

"Please, let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Mister Cartwright. I haven't taken your case. I still don't even know what it is yet." She went into her drawer, pulled out her small notepad, a pen, and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and propping the pad on her knee as she waited patiently.

"Yes. Sorry. I shouldn't just assume you are single…" He pulled his chin back a bit and looked at her through his eyelashes, as if hinting he wanted to know if she was single. She didn't owe him any information about her personal life or romantic life. And anyway, whether she was attached to someone or not, he owed her more respect than to be broaching the subject of champagne or celebration when he'd literally just walked in to ask her to help him with an 'issue'.

"Mister Cartwright, your problem you need help with…?" she finally prompted, as if she didn't even notice the way he paused significantly.

He seemed to pick up on what she was doing and seemed to appreciate it as he smirked and nodded. "I apologize. You're…very distracting." She had no response to that. "Right. Yes. Well… There is this…acquaintance, shall we say, of mine. Normally, I try to mind my own business, especially when I don't know a person, right? But there's just something about him that seems…not right."

"How so?" Sarah asked, twirling her pen in her fingers.

"Jerald Brown. Have you heard of him?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"He's an alleged philanthropist. Think he has a tech company or something. But I keep hearing things about business dealings that just don't add up. And with the connection he has to philanthropy, the amount of people who depend on him being on the up and up, it's genuinely concerning."

Sarah frowned, giving him a dubious look. "What does that have to do with you, Mister Cartwright?"

"Maybe I'm just a good guy."

He chuckled when she gave him a flat look. She wouldn't stand for a potential client treating her like she was stupid.

"I'm sorry, you're right," he said, smiling, his light blue eyes sparkling. "I'm an okay guy. It's mostly that I'm thinking about maybe doing some business with him. I want to make sure he's not involved in any illegal business dealings. I don't want to be hoodwinked or have my named tied up with his if he's…disreputable. I want to know he's a good family man."

"Are you a 'good family man', Mister Cartwright?" she asked, without a hint of flirtation.

He apparently took it that way, though, as he grinned and leaned forward. "I am not, Miss Walker. Any particular reason why you ask?"

"Yes," she said, smiling a little. "Because I wonder why you require a potential business partner to be a good family man if you don't require that of yourself."

"Oh." He sat back again. "Perhaps—and I'll admit this to you, Miss Walker, because I'm not claiming to be an angel by any means," he said, with a mischievous look she might've been more attracted to at some other point in her life, namely the past, "I might be something of a hypocrite. Perhaps I expect more of my colleagues than I do of myself." He shrugged. "Isn't that human? Don't we all?"

She sniffed in amusement. "Touché."

He grinned again at her assenting his point.

"So, will you take my case, Miss Walker?"

Sarah eyed him for a long time, flipping her notepad shut, open, shut, open… There was something about him that intrigued her. And it wasn't exactly a good intrigue she got from this first impression, like she'd gotten from her very first encounter with Chuck; it wasn't a need to know more about him, to know him better because he seemed like it would make her feel good to know him. No, this was different. She wanted to get to the bottom of where this guy was coming from because he wasn't like other people she'd met. Something set her on edge and she wanted to know why.

It wasn't just the clicking lilt of his accent or the way he seemed to emphasize certain words in his speech, every syllable coming out measured and precise as if he was parsing words. The more he sat across from her and spoke to her, the more his charm was less genuine and more a blanket to cover something else, or it was a distraction perhaps.

But she wanted to keep this guy around, she decided, keep him in her sights. She found she didn't care much about Jerald Brown. Robert Cartwright had her full attention.

So she nodded. "All right, Mister Cartwright. I'll look into Jerald Brown for you. It might take some time. I need to tail him, get some information, meet with contacts." She climbed up from her chair and set her notepad and pen on her desk.

"Take all the time you need, Miss Walker." He clapped once and stood as well, smiling in relief. "As long as it's discreet. I don't want a potential future business associate to know I've sicked a wicked P.I. on him."

"Wicked?" she asked, smirking.

"Mhm. Oh, don't worry. It's a compliment."

She gave him a look, then pulled her calendar out, scanning it. "Do you have time to meet again on Friday? I'll draw up a payment plan, we can go over that, and we'll solidify what you need from me."

The look on his face told her he was just barely resisting the urge to tell her exactly what he needed. And she was glad he was holding back. She didn't want to have to draw lines with a client. It was demeaning.

"Here?" he asked.

"Yes. Please. Noon work for you?"

"Friday at noon." He straightened his suit again. "Shall I bring the champagne?"

"I don't drink when I'm working, Mister Cartwright."

He held his hands up. "Of course. But may I try again to ask you to call me Robbie? I might be a bit too entrenched in my South African ways…"

She wasn't sure that was a South African thing. It sounded more like a Guy Who Was Attracted To A Woman sort of thing. But she didn't care enough to dispute him. "If that makes you more comfortable, then I will."

"It does."

She nodded, neglecting to tell him he could call her Sarah. Because, honestly, he couldn't. "All right. See you on Friday, then, Robbie."

His wide smile was charming again as he flashed her a double thumbs up. "Sounds great. Thank you for considering my case, Miss Walker."

She nodded, watching as he left. And it wasn't until the main door out into the hallway shut behind him that she let out a long sigh and sagged against the desk her assistant would sit at. If she had one.

This was going to be interesting.

Very interesting.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck was in the middle of blowing a robot's head off when he heard the door to his condo open. "Hey, hot stuff," he called over his shoulder, not looking as he finished off another robot.

A few seconds later, as he beat the level, pumping his fist in front of him with a "yessssss", he felt her cool hand slide over the back of his neck.

"You knew I wasn't Morgan, right?" she asked. "I feel like I just need to make sure."

He cracked up and saved, turning it off altogether. "He doesn't have a key to my place. You're the only one who does."

"Good point," she giggled, leaning down and kissing the top of his head. He noticed she had her briefcase draped over her shoulder but she wasn't in her work clothes, in stretchy pants and a V-neck shirt instead. "You don't have to turn off your game."

"Nah, that was a good stopping point."

"I'm going to be doing work anyway." She lifted her briefcase and huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to him and swinging the strap off over her head, dropping it to the floor next to her feet, kicking off her sneakers and tucking her legs under her body.

He lifted his arm and let her lean into his side, draping that same arm over her shoulders and pulling her close. "Paperwork?"

"A case."

"Oh. Oh!" He squeezed her shoulder. "Hey! A case! That's awesome! Tell me everything. The whole thing. I want to know every detail."

She giggled. "Chuck, I can't give you every detail of every client's case."

"Fiiine." He gave her a put-upon sigh and got his hair ruffled for it, giggling and trying to push her hand out of his curls. He managed to wrestle her down into his lap, her head resting on his thighs and she beamed up at him, blowing some of her blond locks out of her face and threading her fingers with his, resting them on her abdomen. "You can tell me, like, highlights if you want."

She giggled. "You win. But only because it's really adorable how excited you are about my work."

"That's mostly just because it's you. I hope you know that."

Sarah's blue eyes softened and she reached up to pinch his chin. "I love you a lot." He just grinned down at her, resting his hand on her head and stroking her hair back from her face. "So, yeah. This, uh, rich guy from South Africa wants me to look into someone he's thinking of doing business with. That's all."

"Ah, doing some vetting, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Some discreet vetting. That's the best kind."

She chuckled. "I guess so. It's not as easy."

"But you got it. You're incredible at being discreet." He shrugged. "You're incredible at everything."

Sarah beamed up at him. "You're being so cute and schmaltzy tonight. What's up with that?"

"I dunno," he said with a chuckle. "I missed you. Haven't seen you in, like, two and a half days. Do you get to tail this guy?"

She made a face, probably at his quick change of subject. But she still answered. She was too used to him doing that to her, he thought. "Yeah, I do. I have to, I don't get to. Tailing people isn't fun in any way, shape, or form, Chuck."

"No, I'm sure it's no piece of cake or anything. But it is kinda cool."

"You just think that because you watch too many movies that make it look cool. It's completely boring and exhausting."

He huffed. "I'll take your word for it. Since you're a professional. So is this South African guy just wanting to make sure he won't get himself into trouble being connected to this other guy?"

"Yes. Cartwright seems…I dunno…" She paused, biting her lip. "There's something I can't quite put my finger on. He's charming, doesn't seem like a terrible person or anything. I've spent the last few days just doing a quick check on him, building a little dossier of sorts. Mostly keeps to himself, stays out of the limelight… couldn't really find any pictures of him as a result. At least nothing prior to a few months ago."

Chuck had already pulled his phone out and brought up Google. "What's his full name?"

"Robert Cartwright," she said, giggling as he typed it in. "You really think I didn't Google image search him? There are literally no pictures of the guy. Anywhere. Just a recent picture on some low-tier celebrity blogger's page."

"That's impressive." He scrolled through. There really was nothing. "Oh. What about this guy?"

"Mm. No. That's not him. That's for some crab shack restaurant or something in Maine. A different Robert Cartwright."

"How did he manage this? I want to talk to him and ask him. Because I would love this to happen when people Google search for Charles Bartowski. Instead of that stupid fuckin' picture of me from that celebrity video game tournament when I'm practically biting my tongue off in concentration. Four years later and I still don't know how to purge the Internet of that damn picture. Headphones smashing my hair in all these weird directions."

"I love that picture. I'm gonna print it out and frame it…keep it on my desk at the agency to remind me of how lucky I am."

"Stop it."

She giggled with her tongue between her teeth. "And I'll tape a hundred dollar bill to it to remind me of how rich you are, which is why I'm really lucky."

Chuck's jaw fell open as he cracked up, trying to grab her as she bolted upright out of his lap and dove out of his reach.

They eventually settled into their routine of sorts, Chuck strewn long ways across the couch, his head in her lap, his laptop propped on his abdomen, Sarah holding the file she was building on the Jerald Brown "mark" she'd eventually told him about as they talked about the case here and there.

It had surprised him. He'd heard about Jerald Brown even if he hadn't ever done business with him, or even crossed paths with him. But the man seemed like he was genuine, not a criminal, even above reproach, if the things Chuck heard about him in the past were any indication. He told Sarah that, in not so many words, and she'd seemed to mull it over for a while.

"Okay, here's what I don't get…" she said finally. "Are you busy? May I confer with your stellar brain?"

Chuck snorted. "You may. Though my stellar brain might need a martini to really feel stellar. I held off on a martini earlier because I think I just had a sixth sense you'd be coming over tonight and I should wait."

"Awww, are we at that point in this relationship when our minds are melding?"

"Oh, definitely," he hummed. "I'm gonna mind meld with you right now. You're going to ask me why Cartwright isn't as handsome or as cool as I am, even if he is from South Africa and has a tight accent."

She laughed, her head falling back. "How did you do that?" she asked, booping him on the nose. He chuckled. "He does have a tight accent, though. But I was going to say I don't get why Cartwright is so paranoid about Jerald Brown."

Chuck shrugged, shutting his laptop with a yawn and reaching over to set it on the coffee table. "You said he keeps to himself, stays out of the limelight. Maybe he's just like that. Paranoid. Thinking everyone's out to get him, steal from him. Even guys on the up and up like Brown."

"But does he hire a P.I. for every single business transaction, every partnership? My fees aren't exactly cheap, and I'm on the lower end of the private detective LA circuit. Why is he so paranoid about Brown in particular?"

"Maybe he knows something about Brown he isn't telling you. Like, he's testing you to see if you can figure it out for yourself."

She gave him a look. "Chuck, what would be the point of that?"

"I…" He thought for a few seconds. "Don't know. Sorry. I'm just lobbin' ideas atcha. Seeing if anything sticks. I don't know of anything Brown might be hiding."

"You might be right and he's just paranoid. I bet you are right, actually. He just doesn't seem like that type of guy. He seemed…outgoing. Kind of mischievous and teasing. He didn't really fit the paranoid build."

Chuck froze a little. Something about the way she'd been talking about this guy made him sound like he was on the younger side, but also that he might be…compelling, charming. That interested him. And set off a few quiet but definitely still there alarm bells. But there was also something about the way her eyes became so sharp, her lips pursed, like she was deep in thought, working something out… He knew her enough to know there was more to this guy than met the eye.

"Just how much about this guy's build did you notice, Sarah Walker, P.I.?" he asked, widening his eyes and sitting up, shifting close to her and facing her full on.

"Shut up," she giggled. "You know exactly what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. He's probably, like, some ManFatale…flipping his hair and giving you a dark, dangerous look as he tells you he's in trouble." She began laughing and shaking her head as he affected an old-timey accent. "I'm in big trouble, Sarah Walker, P.I., and I need help. I need ya help, see?" He smoldered to finish it off.

"Why do I even like you?"

"Martinis and money."

Sarah cackled and slid her fingers into his hair at the back of his head, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "Mmmm, both of those things help." He loved the cheeky way she smiled at him, biting her lip. "But speaking of martinis…"

"On their way." He pecked her lips and got up from the couch, yelping as she gave his backside a swat while he moved past where she sat. "You know, sometimes you do that and I feel like a piece of meat," he teased, going to the bar and grabbing everything he needed.

"Wait, do you really?" she asked, and he looked over his shoulder to see that the look on her face was one of sincere concern.

"No," he said with a snort. "You just got through talking about my stellar brain, after all."

"It is pretty stellar."

"Thank you. And so is yours. You're like if Poirot was an incredibly sexy woman in her twenties instead of an old Belgian man with a crazy cool mustache."

She giggled. "Would you still love me if I had a crazy cool mustache?"

"What?" He finished the martinis in record time and went into his kitchen to grab a few olives for himself. "I think I would love you extra, if I'm bein' honest."

That earned him a strange look as he came back in with their drinks, one in each hand.

"No, seriously. Maybe while you're tailing Jerald Brown you can wear one for me, huh?" He made a play growl sound as he carefully sat next to her and handed her a martini.

"You're so weird and I love you so fucking much." She sipped her martini and moaned. "So much. How is it this good every time?"

"Baby, I'm a masterpiece. Obviously." He chuckled as she let out a bubbly giggle, tugging on one of his curls.

"You kind of are, though."

"Mm nope. I have my faults."

"Sure. So do I. And yet…you masterpiece." She shut the folder on her lap and set it to the side, on top of his laptop.

"Oh. Folder's away. Uh oh. What are you up to—? OH."

Sarah had swung her leg over to straddle him, martini still in hand, interrupting him with a slow, and sizzling if he did say so himself, kiss. When she pulled back, she took another calm sip of the drink.

"I have an idea."

"Please God tell it to me," he breathed out in a rush.

That made her snort, and yet it didn't break the heated mood even a bit. "What day is tomorrow?"

"That's a question, not an idea—Sorry. Uh, Thursday."

"Thursday. Well, I don't have anything pressing at the agency. Do you have anything pressing at B.E.C.?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I'll cancel everything."

She beamed. "You don't have—"

"Listen, if you weren't currently sitting on my phone, I would've already texted Adisa to cancel everything for tomorrow by now."

Chuckling, she leaned in and kissed him again. She had this way of coupling a slow, heated kiss with stroking his hair that made him feel like he was sitting in a fire pit in the middle of the Saharan desert.

"Let's stay in tomorrow," she murmured against his lips.

"Perfect. We can do an X-Files marathon."

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "Stop it." She kissed him again.

"No, I'm serious. Nothin' like aliens and—"

He stopped when she pressed her finger to his lips. "Okay, you really need to know when to shut up."

Chuck smirked. "Yeah, true. It's one of my faults."

"I can work with it."

"Oh?"

"I have ways of shutting you up."

"Do y—Oh. Oh, wow you do."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck was in a bit of a sour mood as he pulled up to the parking lot beside the building where Sarah's agency was. That was why he was here in the first place, wasn't it? To get rid of his mood. His girlfriend had a singular way of chasing the dark clouds away.

Also, he was hungry and he thought he'd treat her to lunch.

He hadn't seen her walk out of her apartment this morning with a packed lunch like she did more often these days. It saved money, she said, his frugal and responsible private investigator.

Well, she'd save money today, because lunch was on him.

He needed to get his mom's stinging barbs from earlier out of his mind. He needed to get rid of the anger he'd felt at her words. And he needed to do it before he got up to Sarah's agency, because she'd see the look on his face no matter what he did to hide it, and he'd have to tell her that his mom was being awful about her again.

He hated that it hurt her.

He hated that his mom still did this.

He and Sarah were approaching their second anniversary: it was almost two years since that morning they ate breakfast together on the floor of his half-demolished hotel room in Paris, when they decided to make a genuine go of it. And his mom had known about their relationship for over a year now. She still couldn't just…be nice.

It had felt a lot worse today because he'd almost let himself hope that Mary Bartowski was starting to come to terms with her son's relationship with the woman Pinkerton sent to protect him two and a half years ago, her son's relationship with the woman he had more than proven he was in love with. And he felt like Sarah had more than proven she reciprocated his feelings.

His mother had been almost pleasant, in a sincere way, the past few weeks. She'd extended a genuine invite over the weekend for Chuck and Sarah to come have a meal with the whole family. That had included Devon's parents, even, which was just…unheard of. Even when she had asked Chuck about inviting Sarah's parents, when he told her that they weren't in the picture, since he didn't really know much more than that honestly, his mom had seemed sorry and sympathetic, rather than using it as yet another reason to hint something was wrong with Sarah. There was no tone when she'd said, "Oh. Poor Sarah. I didn't know." And it had given him some hope.

But today, she'd gone back to her usual business when she'd visited Chuck in his office, asking whether Sarah was getting clientele yet, if "after all of this time", she actually had a job. As though the months and months of her building up her agency wasn't literally a job, even if she didn't get paid for it until she took on her first case.

It was worse because he'd built so much hope, only to have it dashed. Like she'd been saving it up for the exact purpose to make him feel even more like shit. He knew that wasn't the case. And he knew she had misgivings about Sarah for reasons that were real for her. But she was wrong. And until she accepted Sarah, she'd always be wrong.

He needed to find some way to deal with it besides being so angry all the time. He was well past done allowing his mother to hurt Sarah, and that meant keeping these small rifts he had with his mother over her from reaching her ears.

Taking a deep breath, he got out of his car and headed inside of the building, pressing the button and waiting for the elevator.

He straightened his blazer and took another deep breath. He was about to see his favorite person in the world for the second time in one day, if waking up beside her this morning counted. He counted it. And he was incredibly happy about it, ready for it. He needed it, frankly.

Even just seeing that epic door of hers, with the foggy glass and her name printed on it: Walker Investigative Enterprises. It filled him with joy. She was living her dream. She was here. They were here together.

His mom could frankly sit down and shut up. He tried not to inwardly wince at that thought. As though wherever she was, Mary Bartowski might feel or hear his thought about her, fly to his side, and ground him, send him to his room, bar him from his video games.

Chuck opened the door to her outer office and stopped when he heard voices inside of her personal office. Oh…she had a client, a visitor, someone was here. He felt like maybe he should turn back, leave, and come back in fifteen minutes maybe. He could text her first. And then he'd come back.

Or…

He could eavesdrop…since that was what he wanted to do more. As much as he knew he shouldn't. But he just wanted to.

So he oh so silently crept in and eased the door shut. The hinge creaked a bit and he made a note to bring some WD40 at some point to fix that. But he didn't hear the voices stop, so he assumed they hadn't heard.

"This fee is more than doable," the man in her office said, his voice wafting out of the not-quite-shut door. "In fact, it feels like a steal. Why don't you let me give you more up front?"

"It isn't necessary," Sarah said. "I have a set rate I charge my clients depending on the type of case and the work that will go into it. This is a fair price to start."

"It's too fair. I'll up it by thirty-three percent." The man chuckled. "Oh, come on. You know, I'm trying really hard here to thank you. A little kindness, you know…" Chuck rolled his eyes at that. "For someone I like." That made him frown a little. "And it helps that upping the paycheck I give you means I might get even better work from you."

"I do my job pretty well with the rate I set."

"That's not what I mean at all."

"No, I know," Sarah said, being more than reasonable, Chuck thought. "Robbie, please just agree to this, read through it, sign. That's all I need from you. This amount here, write me a check up front. And the rest when I finish the job. I reserve the right to charge more depending on the work I end up having to do for the case."

Robbie…?

"You're really stubborn, you know that? But I'll match your stubbornness as we continue to see one another, you just give me some time." There was a pause, the sound of papers being turned, the scratching of a pen against paper. "This is a lot better than an Apple terms and services agreement, I'll tell you that. You get right to the point, don't you, Sarah Walker?"

"I find brevity works better for everyone involved."

"Oh, not me. I love complications. I'd have complications' children if it was at all possible."

Chuck heard Sarah giggle at that. He felt a bit of heat come up from his collar, knowing how foolish it was immediately. Even if this Robbie fellow was obviously charming and even more obviously flirting with his girlfriend, his girlfriend hadn't flirted back—nor would she. It wasn't his ego telling him that, it was his trust in her, in them.

And he needed to cool it with the green-eyed monster.

But he found it even harder to do when he leapt back to the visitor chair and sat down, grabbing the issue of Cosmopolitan that was sitting there and picking it up to pretend he was reading it, because out came a stupidly handsome man, dressed in a spiffy, tailored suit, insanely perfect swoosh-hair, and blue eyes that were literally sparkling as he looked over his shoulder at Sarah as she followed him out of her private office.

"So you're shooing me out—?" The words died on the stupidly handsome man's lips as he noticed Sarah had stopped, looking at something else. That something else was Chuck and he was pretty mollified and gratified both by the dazzling smile she flashed him after her client spun to see what she was looking at. Or whom.

"Oh," Sarah said. "You're here."

"I am." He nodded once, then looked down at the magazine in his hands. The page he'd randomly opened it to in order to make it seem like he wasn't eavesdropping was absolutely a full-page How To chart for oral sex. "Ahem." He dropped the magazine back to the table. "Interesting…articles…in there. Informative," he said, tugging at his suit a bit to straighten it.

The stupidly handsome man seemed to just be standing there awkwardly then, and Sarah snapped out of her amused, but somewhat searching look, and gestured towards the door.

"Mister Cartwright, I'll fill you in on what I find Monday when we meet again."

"You don't work on weekends then, huh?" Cartwright asked, smiling teasingly.

"I do, yes. Hence why I'll have something for you on Monday."

Yeah, you stupidly pretty assmunch, Chuck thought to himself with an inward smirk. God, she was so hot.

"Oh. That makes sense." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, then turned to eye Chuck a bit expectantly.

It became clear to everyone in the room that he wouldn't leave without some sort of an introduction. So Sarah, very reluctantly Chuck saw, moved between them and reached out in his direction. "Oh, excuse me, Mister Cartwright. This is Mister…"

"Bartowski," Chuck said, stepping closer and sticking his hand out. "Charles Bartowski."

Robert Cartwright's eyes widened in recognition as he took his hand. "As in Bartowski Electronics Corporation?"

"That's the one, yes. Nice to meet you, Mister, uh…"

"Cartwright," the other man said with a grin. Sarah gave Chuck a bit of a droll but amused look that only he could see.

"Cartwright, yes. Sorry. Have so much on my mind, always."

"Oh, yes. Yes. So you're seeking Miss Walker's services as well, are you?" He crossed his arms at his chest.

"Yes. Yes, I am…seeking Miss Walker's services." He shared a bit of a look with Sarah and he could see that telltale sparkle in her blue eyes, the way she twisted her pursed lips to the side, probably to keep from smiling or laughing.

"Well, I don't think either of us has anything to worry about. You're highly recommended, Miss Walker. I've heard nothing but very good things, and I get around and hear…well, quite a lot. In my business." Cartwright clapped his hand on Chuck's shoulder, even though he'd been talking to and looking at Sarah.

"Yes, Walker Investigative Enterprises operates with the utmost discretion. So discreet. Professional." Cartwright turned back to Chuck as he responded.

She mouthed "Stop it" from where she stood behind Cartwright, her eyes wide, amusement threatening to boil over.

"Indeed, Charles. Indeed. Well, Miss Walker, I'll let you see to your other client, I suppose, though it's hard to pull myself away, I admit…" the other man groused, and then he reached out his hand towards Sarah for her to shake. He held onto her hand for longer than Chuck thought was necessary, then bid his goodbye and swept out of the place.

He was charming as all get-out and it made Chuck feel…grumpy. And what in the hell was with the strange clip in his accent, like he was concentrating? It didn't feel like an easy charm and it unsettled him. It was probably jealousy. And he was even grumpier about that.

But then Sarah sidled up to him, twisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him in for a slow kiss. "Mmmmm," she hummed, before pulling back, their noses and foreheads pressed together. "Why didn't you just let me tell him you're my boyfriend?"

"Honestly? Two reasons. The first is that he'd trust a recommendation from a super rich tech guru with high expectations over a recommendation from your boyfriend." That made her grin. "The second is that if you told him I was your boyfriend, after all of that flirting he was doing at you, it'd be a little embarrassing for him and I wouldn't be able to hold back the hubris. Which is just rude."

Sarah looked like she was going to laugh, but then an intelligent spark lit her eyes and she pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow. "He wasn't really flirting that bad…"

"Uh, yes. Yes, he kinda was. I mean, he doesn't seem like a full-fledged garden or anything…"

"Garden?" she asked, making a face.

"Seedy. It's a new thing Morgan and I came up with. The term'll catch on. Just wait."

"Oh my God." She just shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, her usual reaction to the weird phrases he and Morgan tried to trademark.

"Wait." She looked at him funny. "Are you…jealous?"

Chuck scoffed. "Nah. It's just…I mean, I walked in and you called him, um, Robbie. And when he flirted with you, there was a liiittle bit of a giggle that came out of you. I'm just sayin'. I heard it. But…I mean, no big deal."

"Chuck, stop."

"No, it's just that he looks like someone took him right out of GQ's Face Edition."

"There's no such thing."

"If there was, he'd be the cover. He's a ManFatale, Sarah. Don't let those baby blues fool ya. That one's dangerous." He leaned his face close to hers and narrowed his eyes, lifting an eyebrow.

"Oh my God," she groaned, letting her forehead fall to his shoulder. "Chuck, I was—" Then she stopped, pulling back a bit and looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I really don't have to explain myself, do I?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"You know you don't," he said softly.

"I didn't think so."

"But seriously, he's kind of too charming. That's weird. And also, how'd he know who I am, Sarah?"

She gave him her 'what the fuck' look. "Chuck, I literally just told him who you are. I introduced you to him."

"No, I know. But he knew Bartowski Electronics Corporation. What's that about?"

"Seriously, Chuck? It's not exactly like B.E.C. isn't well-known. You were on the cover of Forbes with your dad. Where do you think all of that money I'm dating you for comes from?"

"Haaah," he drawled mockingly, sending her a faux glare that made her giggle. "I'm just saying, I'm a little suspicious."

"You're a little jealous."

He held up his fingers. "Just this much. That's all. He looks like a god, Sarah. And he was flirting. Admit that." She conceded with a small shrug. "Am I allowed a little jealousy? Even if I acknowledge it's silly?"

She giggled quietly and kissed him again. "Yes. It's good for my ego. But that doesn't mean you can start flirting back at that Benji Thompson guy's daughter who was at your parents' little anniversary shindig a few months ago."

"Marilyn?"

"Yes. Her."

The way she narrowed her eyes was extremely gratifying, and he held onto the sensations of knowing that interaction had made Sarah into a bit of a green-eyed monster. Not to mention she'd remembered Marilyn Thompson even all these months later. Hmm. "Well, at least we're being ridiculous together," he snarked.

Sarah snorted. "True." She kissed him one more time, then fixed the collar of his suit jacket. He didn't know if it really had needed fixing or if it was just a habit of hers to play with it. "What brings you here today, my tech guy? Miss me already? Even after this morning?"

Her blue eyes glinted with what she'd done to him this morning and he cleared his throat, his hands balling into fists over the waist of her pencil skirt she wore. "I think especially after this morning, if I'm bein' honest."

That made her giggle.

"I actually wanted to take you to lunch. If you haven't eaten."

She hadn't.

And that was how they found themselves sitting across from one another at a breakfast and lunch cafe a few blocks away from her office. He watched as she hungrily shoved her burger in her mouth and took a massive bite. He was glad he'd pulled her away to eat. Any later and she would've let herself start to become Hangry Sarah. And Hangry Sarah was almost as bad as Hangry Chuck. God, the few times Hangry Sarah and Hangry Chuck had met…scary. Truly scary. Morgan had nearly been murdered but thankfully the chef had fed them fast enough to protect himself.

So he waited until she'd gotten enough into her system to eat a bit slower before he brought up the other thing.

"Hey…So…Interesting timing, me coming to take you to lunch today, what with your meeting with Cartwright and everything being today as well." She made a questioning face as she sipped her ice tea to wash the burger down. "Well, because I was actually going to talk to you about that case. Cartwright's case I mean."

"Why? You have info or something for me?" she asked around a fry.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "So, this um…" Chuck leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "Jerald Brown guy, the one Face Edition is having you investigate." She gave him a flat look at the new nickname he was using for her client but he ignored it. "He works in the tech industry."

She nodded. "Yeah. He has a large share in Gridiron Technology."

"GT deals mostly with the big machines, like the big security systems, power grid, all that digital stuff big firms and factories are using to operate and protect their businesses." Sarah nodded again, as though she already knew all of this. "GT is looking for a new investor. Someone else they can bring in to buy some shares and add some power and money to the whole thing, get back some clout after their stock took a hit last year."

"Cartwright," she said.

"Mhm, that was my thought."

She smiled at him. "How'd you find all this out?"

"Babe, I'm in the know. Duuuuh." She rolled her eyes as he picked at the lettuce on his own burger and put a bit in his mouth. "This is my playground. My dad's pals with all of these guys. Or at least, he knows of them. And because he does, I tend to learn stuff, hear stuff as well. But!" Chuck held up a finger. "This is really hush-hush. They don't want to seem like they need this investor. So they're being discreet, operating it under the radar, so to speak."

"So is that shady? Seems like it could be shady."

"It could be, but it'd be a lot of damn work and for what reason? There's also the fact that Jerald Brown has a reputation."

"What kind of reputation?"

"A really good one. Family man, good business, fair, honest."

"Family man." She rolled her eyes. "That's such a loaded phrase."

He winced. "Really good point. He has a family and he seems close with them, though."

"You ever meet him? Do business with him?"

"No, but…I mean, speaking from experience, I'd say Brown is a lot more trustworthy than this god-like Casanova giving you money to investigate a guy who seems pretty upstanding."

"Chuck, your green-eyed monster is showing."

"No, it's not that," he hissed. "Brown is a tech guy. I trust a tech guy over a smarmy rich guy who, frankly, you don't even know where he gets his money. Let's be real, here. Um, also, Jerald Brown can be found on Google."

"Stop," she said in a flat tone. "Chuck, come on. You're being biased because Brown works in your industry and you heard Cartwright flirt at your girlfriend."

"No, I—Sarah, please. You know I'm not that childish." She smirked and he frowned at her. "Fine. Look. Just keep what I said in mind, huh? And maybe look into Gridiron Tech a bit more closely."

"That's good advice, and I also appreciate you giving me that info about GT, Chuck. Thank you," she said, sliding her hand over his on the table and squeezing. "And please, try not to be too jealous. Said with no sarcasm and full seriousness. His Alain Delon looks don't have any effect on me. Not when I have my very own curly-haired, handsome moneybags."

"Talk about my money too much and I'll start getting ideas."

"Oh? What kind of ideas?"

"Expanding the company to make even more money. Gotta keep ya around somehow." She laughed and he put his tongue between his teeth, wrinkling his nose cheekily. "With all these Alain Whoever ManFatales kicking your door in, one of 'em might succeed in sweeping you away from me otherwise."

"You're such an idiot."

"Buuuut you love meeee."

"On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

Chuck snorted and ate his last couple of fries. "I'm really glad it's Friday, then."

[victorianoir]

Chapter 50!!!! A freaking milestone!!! Five and a half years later. Crazy.

Read it, though. I think you’ll like it. 

Second part of “The Detective and the ManFatale” is up!

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the Tech Guy Babysit, Part 1

I really fell off the face of the Earth updating The Detective and the Tech Guy here and I apologize for that, friends. But I’m gonna get it all updated for ya now!

If this is the first you’ve heard of DATG, you can visit the DATG Master Post and start from the beginning right here: BOOM

If you’d prefer to read it on fanfiction.net: BOOM.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sarah Walker, P.I. saw officers and detectives bustling around the room as soon as the doors to the elevator opened.

She slowly moved out of the elevator and stepped to the side to make way for the woman in the power suit walking a handcuffed perp onto the elevator. The perp whistled at Sarah, but before she could say anything mean back at him, or even make a face in response, the power suit wearing woman shoved at the back of the man's bald head and snapped, "Shut up, Markins."

Nothing else was said as the door shut behind them.

Sarah blinked and let out a low whistle to herself. She thought she could be friends with that detective. She figured she was a detective, as she was in pedestrian clothes and had a badge on her hip.

Phones were ringing off the hook, police detectives had their feet up on their desks, some in cubicles, some out in the open, and she had no idea how to find this Detective John Casey fellow. The way he sounded when she'd spoken to him on the phone had her looking for an older man, maybe. And Chuck's description of him was not helpful.

"Brown short hair, a super grumpy face. Taller than me, but grumpy. And did I mention grumpy? And built like a tank and grumpy."

He'd been offended by the fact that the detective refused to acknowledge him as her boyfriend, even though he'd attempted to just roll his eyes and laugh it off in front of her. She knew Chuck better than she knew anyone, though, and she saw the detective's rudeness had gotten under his skin.

Depending on what kind of a man this Detective Casey was, that might be something she'd bring up. She had to stick up for her man, after all. Granted, she was playing that by ear.

Sarah walked further into the room and straightened her spine a little, pulling her shoulders back, lifting her chin. She was wearing a power suit of her own, or at least…dark, solid jeans and a black blazer over a professional pearl-colored blouse. She had a part to play and she needed this detective guy to not think he could boss her around just because he had a badge and she didn't. She knew his type. With the way he'd talked down to Chuck, a civilian, she absolutely knew his type.

"Excuse me?" she asked a woman sitting at one of the desks, clicking her mouse and staring absent-mindedly at her computer screen. The woman swept her eyes up to meet Sarah's and sat back against her chair. Sarah felt the woman giving her quite the once over.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Detective John Casey."

"Oh. Wrong floor. We're the Narcotics division. Two floors up is Robbery Homicide. Just ask 'em for the major."

"Major?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, Major Asshole." The woman cackled, but didn't seem to have anything else to say, so Sarah just murmured a thanks and walked back to the elevator.

She still wasn't sure if the man she was looking for was actually once a major in the military, or if the woman had made it up for the joke's sake.

She shook her head as she pressed the button for what she hoped was the right floor. That didn't matter. What mattered was that Detective Casey asked for some information she might have on Franz Derlick. It was a case she'd worked in San Ysidro a year before she'd ever come to Los Angeles to work the Bartowski case. Derlick's condo in downtown San Diego had been ransacked and he'd been attacked. He'd called Pinkerton Detective Agency after the police department had "underperformed" on his case. Those had been his words. And she remembered the anger in his tone when he'd told them about SDPD's mishandling of his case.

What a detective in the LAPD could want with her now, even after she'd left Pinkerton behind, she had no idea. And what did he want with that case in particular?

Sarah walked into the Robbery Homicide unit, or at least, she thought that was what this was… This floor looked the same as the floor she'd just come from.

This time, she went straight into the cluster of cubicles and desks and asked a man who'd just climbed out of his chair where she could find Detective John Casey.

He gave her a long look, and she let him know she didn't appreciate the way his eyes moved down to her toes and back up to her head again by glaring. Hard. He at least looked a little ashamed as he pointed towards the back corner of the room. "His desk's by the captain's office. Next to that door. I dunno where he is, though."

"Thanks."

He shrugged, and she felt his gaze follow her as she swept past his desk. Whatever…

She saw the name plate that said "Det. Casey" on the desk in the corner as she slowed in front of it, and then she turned on her heel to glance around the room. She supposed she would just wait here, she thought, glancing at her watch. She was right on time. Eleven AM, on the dot, just like they'd agreed over the phone.

And because he wasn't here, because she, herself, was a detective through and through, even if she no longer held the title, Sarah did a thorough investigation of Detective Casey's desk, without even having to move a muscle. There were a few file cases in the corner of his desk, stacked on top of one another, and then papers in no particular order she could figure out spread all over the rest of it. Pens and pencils, markers, a sharpie, all scattered on the desk even though he had a papier-mâché covered pencil holder that looked like a child had made it in school. His child, perhaps? She wasn't sure. There weren't any pictures, not of a significant other, no partner, no children…no friends, even. There was nothing. A google search hadn't given her anything, either.

His computer's screensaver was the usual screensaver of a blue square bouncing around on a black background.

His mousepad was the same one Microsoft used to give away with new computer monitors back in the early nineties.

"You discover anything about me?"

She just barely managed to keep from jumping, and she turned to regard the tall detective standing a few feet behind her with a small cup of coffee in his hand. Even the mug was a black, nondescript mug with yellow letters spelling out "LAPD" on it. God, this guy was a snoozefest. She wondered if anyone in his department even knew anything at all about his private life.

"Just that you're not very organized."

He scowled at her, looking down at his desk, and she knew now this had to be Detective John Casey. He was tall, built like a tank, and very clearly grumpy. "Ain't nothin' wrong with my organization. I know where everything is."

She smirked at him, earning a thoughtful grunt. Then he nodded once and closed the rest of the distance. She turned to face him and took the hand he offered her.

"You're Sarah Walker, then?"

"I'm Sarah Walker, yes. Detective Casey?"

His answer was another grunt as he let go of her hand and walked around to the other side of his desk, setting his coffee down on one of the documents he had strewn about. She held back the urge to cringe. There'd be a ring on that, no doubt. Ugh…

"You want coffee or water or anythin'?"

"Uh, how's your precinct's coffee?" she asked, gesturing to his mug.

He gestured to the chair she stood next to. "Have a seat. And I dunno. This ain't coffee. It's herbal tea."

Chuck was going to laugh so hard when she told him the tall grump who'd insulted him the other day was an herbal tea man. He'd probably wonder aloud if Casey did yoga, too. Or if he had a zen garden. There was nothing wrong with tea, but she couldn't stop the image of this guy wearing a monocle and stirring his tea with a tiny spoon from popping into her mind. She'd give Chuck that one and it would cheer him up significantly.

She made sure not to let her inner smirk get out, instead clearing her throat and crossing one leg over the other, her hands folded in her lap. "No, I'm all right. Thank you for the offer."

With a nod, he scooted his roller chair closer to his desk and took one long sip from his mug, wincing a bit as though it was too hot. "So Miss Walker, I'll get right down to business. You worked the Derlick case three years ago."

"I did."

"You were lead on that case?"

"No, Detective Shaw—Daniel Shaw—was lead on that case. I worked under him."

Casey curled his lip a bit. "I was informed that you were the lead."

"I'm afraid not." Sarah leaned forward a bit, furrowing her brow. "I was second-in-command. Who informed you that I was lead?"

"The director. Langston Graham." Sarah widened her eyes. "That's what he told me in his email, at least. He referred me to you, said you were lead on the Derlick case. Why'd he say that if it wasn't true?" Sarah wasn't sure, and she was a bit taken aback by it, as well. When she didn't say anything, he grumbled out a surly, "Sure as hell don't like the idea of havin' to get into contact with that upstart bag of gas, Shaw." He cursed under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" She scooted forward in her chair. "What did you call him?"

He just shook his head.

"I heard you call Detective Shaw an upstart bag of gas. I just want to make sure I heard properly, that's all." She knew she'd heard properly, and the laugh sat at the bottom of her throat…

"Look, it ain't that I have a problem with Pinkerton. That agency does good work, even if it isn't always…" He grunted instead of finishing his sentence, perhaps deciding not to go there. "But that guy and his shit-eating grin. Hate havin' to pass cases to him. Had to do it in Brooklyn, had to do it in Detroit, and I sure as shit don't much like the idea of havin' to talk to him again here in L.A."

Sarah held her hands up. "Listen, Detective Casey, I had to work with that asshole for too many years. I had to do what he told me whenever he was given lead on cases I was assigned to. You have no idea just how bad he is. Call him whatever the hell you want. I'll pop popcorn, sit back, and listen with pure joy in my heart. The worse the names, the better."

Detective Casey narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then smirked a little. "You say you were second-in-command on Derlick's case?"

"I was."

"That's good enough for me. And I'm starting to think maybe Graham was purposely trying to put a damper on my case, the bastard, sending me to someone who doesn't even work for him, pretending like I was gonna get something off you." He scowled.

She huffed and shook her head. "Listen, Detective. I don't want you to think I can offer you anything but whatever still sits in my memory. I have no access to the case files. I left Pinkerton well over a year ago, and not on the best terms. I highly doubt I can give you anything you need."

The man grunted, then shrugged. "Graham told me you weren't with Pinkerton anymore. I left it at that. Because I don't need files. There was one thing you left off the reports, however, someone's name. And by my understanding, it was purposeful. I don't need to know the circumstances there, I really don't." He shook his head. "But I need to know that name. If you can remember. The case concluded in San Ysidro, didn't it?"

"It did."

"And you found that Derlick's cousin had set up the robbery and the attack. Funny business attached to their grandmother's will."

She nodded. "Yes, that was the gist of it."

"Someone was struck off of that will before Old Lady Derlick died. They weren't involved in the robbery or the attack, so they didn't end up in the case files…and trust me, I get that. But Graham was cagey about it, and I need you not to be."

"Why?" she asked, leaning an elbow on his desk and propping her chin on her fist.

"I think that person has landed in Los Angeles and is involved in one of my cases. I can't go into detail, but I need that name."

"Does Graham know you're asking me about this?"

"Nope. He doesn't need to."

"There's a good chance I get into some trouble if he finds out I've given away information on a case without Pinkerton approval."

"Listen, lady…" He cleared his throat at the severe look she gave him. "Sorry. Miss Walker. You don't owe 'em anything. You don't work for 'em anymore. Somebody's been murdered. She had her whole future ahead of 'er. And by giving me that name, you could be helping me to find out who murdered her."

"You think this person is the murderer?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah. But they can help us. They used to be closely aligned with Derlick then up and disappeared. If the name you give me matches what I think it'll be, it gives me enough reason to keep investigating them. Otherwise…" He huffed in frustration, looking reluctant to admit it, but doing it anyway. "Otherwise, I'm up shit creek. Leads dried up."

Sarah looked at him for a long moment. She was good at reading people. This was a good cop, a good detective. She could tell that, in spite of the surly exterior, the matter of fact way he talked to her about the case, he was pissed that this woman's life was cut short, and he was determined to find the culprit and bring them to justice. He looked like he had a lot of pride, a lot of machismo even. But he cared about this. She imagined he cared about all of his cases.

So she reached down and grabbed her briefcase, lifting it up and setting it on the only corner of his desk that wasn't covered in crap.

He just blinked and watched in confusion as she unzipped the briefcase and pulled her laptop out, moving the bag back onto the floor and setting her laptop on the desk, opening it.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

She held up a finger for him to wait, clicking around through her files and documents on her laptop. Finally, she shifted her blue eyes to his, meeting them steadily. "Graham doesn't know you got any of this from me…" He didn't respond, just narrowing his eyes a little. "Right?"

The corner of his mouth tilted up and he nodded. "Mum's the word. So to speak."

"Good. I kept copies of some of the Pinkerton files on my laptop…by accident, honestly. I left the company so fast, and they were glad enough to get rid of me, that they didn't even think to check on what I did and didn't take. The agency is less strict about what does and doesn't leave the agency, since most of what we did was on site, wherever the case was, all over the world. So a lot of what I had on my official Pinkerton computer also ended up on my laptop." She sent him a bit of a smug look. "Woops."

He chuckled. "Well, that's out of my jurisdiction. Nothin' I can do about that."

Sarah beamed and turned the laptop to face him. "Miriam Bethke," she said, quietly, scooting her laptop closer to him, then standing up and leaning over the desk to look at the screen with him. "And here's all of her information. I kept tabs because it didn't sit well with me that we were essentially ordered to strike her name from everything, along with a few of the other people who were involved with the Derlicks. If you want this file, take it."

But the detective already had a flash drive in his hand and was inserting it into her laptop. "I'll tell you what," he said, moving the entire Bethke file onto his flash drive. "Graham isn't even gonna know I was able to find you at all."

"That sounds good to me," she chirped, watching as Detective Casey removed the flash drive from her laptop and shut it, handing it back to her. She took it with a smile. "Was there anything else you needed, Detective?"

"No, you were more than helpful, Miss Walker. Uh…ahem…P.I." Then he stopped and gave her a suspicious look. "Hold on a tick. You got a license for what you're doin', don't ya? You need a license to be a private dick here."

Sarah just smirked and went into the inner pocket of her blazer, flashing her credentials at him. Then she took a business card out and slid it across his desk towards him…oh so slowly. "If you ever need my assistance again, Detective Casey, I do good work. And I do it very quietly. I'm not above working with law enforcement, either."

He let out an amused grunt, then picked up her card, glancing at it. "Well. If I need a sparkplug P.I. I'll let ya know, but don't hold your breath, Miss Walker."

"My schedule's full, so trust me. I won't. Have a lovely weekend, Detective."

She slid her laptop into her briefcase, zipped it up, and walked away. She thought she heard a quiet, "Heh heh" behind her, and she wasn't sure if it was respect or mockery. She decided on respect and pressed the button to call the elevator.

It wasn't until she slid into her car in the parking lot and started the engine that she murmured a satisfied, "And fuck you, too, Pinkerton."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As he looked down at the paperwork Adisa left for him to read and sign, document after document after document, with so many damn words and provisos and blah blah blah blah… Chuck Bartowski thought he might legitimately go cross-eyed.

And not for the first time, he was incredibly grateful he had an assistant he could trust to wade through the bureaucracy and paperwork so that Chuck could focus on the gears and pipes of the business, as his father said. The gears and pipes were his wheelhouse.

But he was tired and it was a Friday and he just wanted to get out of here.

Suddenly the door to Adisa's front office opened. He welcomed whoever it was with opened arms, looking for any excuse to get his eyes the hell off of these repetitive words, and as he looked up, the sentiment increased tenfold.

Sarah was peeking her head around the door, a small smile on her face. She frowned immediately then as she saw him, and she walked all the way inside, taking a moment to look out and down the hallway once more, obviously confused to find him there instead of his assistant, before she shut the door behind her.

"You are definitely not Adisa Obafemi," she said. "But you're sitting at his desk."

"I'm a handsomer alternative, right? That's what you're hinting at, isn't it?" he teased.

She made a doubtful sound. "I dunno. I think Adisa is pretty handsome." He pouted a little and she bit back a smirk. "Don't worry, he's a little too young for me and isn't really my type."

"Oh? What is your type?" He expected some long-winded, sweet, teasing description of him.

"A guy who is…" She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Rich." He just barely held in a bark of laughter. "Like, super rich."

"Is that a hint that I should be paying Adisa better?"

This time she laughed, and he felt like that was a win in this little flirtatious banter battle she'd started with him. "Why are you sitting at his desk? Really."

"Believe it or not, I bought him a chair that's way more comfortable than mine. Quite by accident." He gave her a teasing, closed-mouth smile.

"You sit at his desk instead of your own often?"

"It's the chair; I'm tellin' ya." He laughed, then, gesturing at the paperwork. "He was breaking his back getting this paperwork all sorted for me today, giving it some semblance of order so that I can at least somewhat understand what it is that I'm signing off on—bureaucratic bullshit, basically—so I let him go home for the weekend at lunch. You just missed him."

"Ah. Shame. I do miss him."

"Well, you two exchanged numbers so that you can plot and plan things behind my back, so feel free to text him about how much you miss him." He grinned, his tongue between his teeth, and she crossed the room to ruffle his hair. "He-Hey! Careful with the curls! Geez!" He tried to smooth them down but knew it was no use.

She giggled and shook her head. "Yeah, well…One of these days we're gonna plot you right out of this building and onto a vacation."

"I'm fine with that, as long as said vacation is with my favorite detective."

"Ohhhh, Chuck. Sweetie. I'm sorry to inform you Jessica Fletcher will not be available anytime soon."

Chuck burst into laughter and grabbed his girlfriend by her hand, pulling the giggling woman down to plop onto his lap. She gasped, rounding his neck with an arm quickly. Her briefcase in her other hand knocked him in the knee and he winced. Yep, that was her laptop. Definitely.

"The truth comes out. I'm into wily old ladies."

"I do like tea, and every so often I catch myself watching PBS. Does that count?"

"Yes."

They chuckled and he dove in to peck her on the lips, dropping a kiss just above the collar of her blazer.

"Chuck, we shouldn't do this in Adisa's chair. It's messed up." She set her briefcase down to lean against the desk and soon had both arms around him.

He gave her a put-upon sigh. "You're right. But since you're already here and so comfy, look at this crap I have to read through and sign," he said, reaching around her and picking up the page at the top.

Sarah made an intrigued face and plucked it from his hand, perusing the page. "Okay, yeah. This looks like a lot of legal bullshit that I honestly cannot understand. It's gibberish."

"Right? Good thing I've got a guy with a head that can make sense of this gibberish. He started law school, but quit due to money and now I'm reaping the benefits."

"You are. But also, I'd feel safer if Adisa were a lawyer."

"Me, too. That's why I told him I'd pay for him to finish his law degree, anywhere he wanted. But he hasn't taken me up on it yet." She gave him one of those soft looks of hers that let him know he'd done something right. It warmed him inside and out. "Hey…by the time I'm done with these, I might be cross-eyed. Think you'll still wanna date me if that's the case?" He crossed his eyes at her and earned a light slap on his shoulder.

"You idiot. You could…have some mobster throw acid on your face like that Two-Face guy in your comics and I still wouldn't go anywhere."

Chuck bit his bottom lip, feeling a bit of a tingle between his legs at that. It didn't help that she was currently sitting on his lap, her backside pressing down acutely against that specific area. He had to take a deep breath, and he had a sneaking suspicious Sarah was well aware of what he was going through. "Well. Hopefully I wouldn't go insane the way Dent does and terrorize Los Angeles."

She giggled. "I'll make sure of it. Anyway, if you ever tried that, I'd go full Bat-Detective. Like Batman but…a woman. Is there a Batgirl or something?"

He shivered, sliding his arms around her and hugging her a little closer. "There's a Batgirl and a Batwoman. Actually."

His imagination was running wild with the possibilities and she would probably think he was legitimately crazy if she had any inclination of just how turned on he was in that moment.

"Are you currently picturing me in a catsuit, Chuck Bartowski?" she practically purred.

Chuck winced and tilted his head. "Particularly a purple sparkly one with a yellow bat-wing cape," he said, his voice a little tight.

"You're way too easy," she breathed, shaking her head in awe.

She barely got the last word out, however, before he covered her mouth with his. He was crazy. He was a crazy big ol' nerd and he was dating the hottest woman on the planet who knew he was a crazy big ol' nerd and egged his appetite on purposefully. She was everything.

As they made out, hands grabbing, fists twisting in jackets and hair, Sarah let out a breathy whimper that honestly made Chuck feel like he might just go straight into cardiac arrest if he didn't pull away, put some distance between them.

He didn't pull away.

He pulled her even closer, if that was at all possible.

But then she did pull away, putting a hand on his chest, taking a deep breath. Her lips were a bit red, swollen, and he couldn't help the immature, macho voice in his head that said, proudly, I did that.

"Whoa, there. Down, nerd." She still beamed though, biting her lip. And then she climbed off of his lap and did put distance between them, backing into Adisa's desk and perching on the edge, tucking a strand of hair that escaped during their tussle back behind her ear. "You know, it's kind of satisfying knowing I've still got it."

God, he loved the cocky look on her face, that arched eyebrow and the smirk, the slight wrinkle of her nose.

"Oh, trust me. You've still got it. And then some."

She bit her lip, looking very pleased. "Yeah, well…anytime I start to think maybe I'm losing my touch, you don't let that thought get very far."

"I have no intention of starting today."

Chuck pushed up out of Adisa's chair so hard, it rolled back into the wall. He distantly heard the thump of it hitting, but didn't care about the potential dent in the wall as he pressed himself against her and kissed her again…Hard, this time.

He rounded her torso with his arms and gave her a bit of a bump with his hips so that she sat fully on top of the desk, on the documents Chuck had been toiling over not ten minutes earlier. He didn't give a rat's ass about them now as he leaned her back at an angle and dragged his lips down her jawbone. She rounded his waist with her legs and tucked her hands under his suit jacket, spreading her fingers over his button up at his lower back and then squeezing his muscles there.

And then she pulled one hand away and he felt a tug on his tie.

He was dying in thousands of different ways and he needed her so badly he was fit to burst.

Chuck managed to get the top of her blouse undone as he shifted and kissed her on the lips again, and when his hand dove in to tuck under the cup of her bra and squeeze her breast, she whimpered loudly.

That was the last straw. He pulled out of her bra and tucked both hands underneath her backside, hoisting her up into his arms so that he could carry her into his office where he could lock the door and they could finish what they'd started. Not that this would be the first time.

But as she giggled lustily and clung to him, he heard the jarring ring of his phone on Adisa's desk where he'd set it so that he could answer it if anyone called or texted—anything to get out of that damn paperwork.

His body tensed, and he felt Sarah tense similarly in his embrace. "Why didn't I put the fucking thing on silent?" he asked, breathless.

"Because you wanted someone to interrupt you because you hate reading documents," she panted back, grinning, pecking his lips a few times for good measure.

"I'm gonna…" He kissed her back. "I'm gonna just ignore it, though."

"Mmm," she hummed into his kiss, pulling back and nuzzling his nose. "Maybe it's important."

Chuck groaned.

"But you're the most important."

Sarah giggled. "Sweet. But it's been less than twenty-four hours since we had sex. I think you can take this phone call."

He groaned again and let her slip down, back to her feet, and then he dropped his arms to his sides and let his head slump forward onto her shoulder, making her chuckle.

"Chuck, answer the phone."

The tech guy gave her a pitiful, desperate look, then turned the same look to his phone, still ringing. "I'm still of the mind to go into the office with the door that locks and finish what we started. Can we just do that instead?"

"Or you answer the phone now and we finish what we started once you know what the person on the other side of the phone wants from you."

"Counterpoint: I lock myself in that office with you because I already know exactly what you want from me." He gave her a slow, sizzling kiss, then planted another one right below her ear, feeling that delicious shiver he'd anticipated go through her body. The air was still electric between them.

"As hot as that just was…" Then she stopped, turning to look at the phone. "Huh. Seems the phone stopped ringing."

He saw the sparkle in her eye and dove in to kiss her again, starting to pull her to his personal office as she laughed against his lips, pushing at his suit jacket to try to get it off of him…

The phone rang again.

"God damn it!" he yelled, groaning and letting his head fall back to blink a few times at the ceiling in abject misery.

Sarah just laughed and went to the phone. "It's Ellie. And the first one was her, too."

Chuck sighed and reached out for it. She put it in his hand and he answered, "Hey, sis. What's up?"

"Chuck, everything okay? I didn't interrupt a meeting or anything?"

Oh, she interrupted all right. She interrupted. He clenched his jaw. "No, no. Not at all. I had the sound to my phone off and missed your first call."

He winced at Sarah as she snorted quietly, rolling her eyes. Liar, the look she gave him seemed to say.

So he lied.

Sue him.

"Oh, okay. Well, I was just calling because I sort of have a big favor to ask."

Chuck didn't think twice as he said, "Anything. What do ya need?" Then he gasped. "Do I get to hang out with Claaaaaraaaa?"

Ellie giggled. "Actually, that was my question. Now that we're back in L.A., we have all of Devon's football buddies from UCLA asking us to go to cook-outs and reunions and…Well, with Clara being born, we've been so focused on her and shifts at the hospital…"

"So you and Devon want to go spend some time out of the apartment, away from the hospital, away from dirty diapers and feeding and, and, and, am I right?"

"Yes." There was a long pause. "Does that make me a terrible mom? Seriously. I'm asking seriously."

He chuckled and leaned against the doorjamb that led into his office. "Ellie, you're a mom, yes, but you're also human. Having a baby is hard-ass work. You've barely left your place except when you made the move from San Francisco back home, and through all of that moving, you had a newborn, late night feedings, cry-fits…You want a day with just your husband, not having to worry about any of that, hanging out with friends? I think you more than deserve to feel that way."

He smiled at Sarah and she smiled back.

"So that's a yes to babysitting Clara tomorrow? It'll probably only be a few hours, we'll be back around dinner."

"El, of course. Are you sure you want me to do it and not the parents?" Then he realized how that sounded and rushed out, "Not that I don't want to! I want to! If I could just hold her little pudgy body all day long, I totally would! I love her so much!"

His sister barked out a laugh. "Jesus, Chuck. I get it. You love your niece. You don't have to persuade me." She paused. "Thank you. This is so needed and you're the best brother ever."

"You didn't answer about Mom and Dad."

"…I didn't, did I?"

He chuckled. "Okay, I get it. What time do you want me at your place?"

"Ten? Is that too early?"

"Nope."

"God, I love you, Chuck. I owe you so bad."

"You owe me nothing at all." It was then that he realized Sarah was pointing to herself and gesturing for him to notice her. He furrowed his brow and saw her mouth, 'Can I come?' He felt that gooey warmth inside of him again. Like he always did when he remembered how attached to his niece Sarah was. "Oh, um, do you mind if Sarah is there?"

"Uh. I'd prefer it," came Ellie's flat voice.

"Hey!" He laughed at that, even know he knew she was teasing. She knew he was more than capable of taking care of her daughter. He'd done it a few times before, with and without Sarah's support.

"Doesn't she have a case right now, though?"

"Yeah, but…it's complicated. Kind of a long one. Not time sensitive."

Sarah sent him a look that said, What are you talking about? But he ignored it.

"Oh. Well, great! See you tomorrow? Devon is mouthing for me to tell you you're awesome."

"Tell him he's awesome!"

"I'm not going to start that again. Last time you two kept me on the phone with competing 'you're awesome' messages for an extra three minutes." She laughed. "See you tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Love ya, sis."

"Love you, too."

When he hung up, Sarah pursed her lips. "Are we babysitting tomorrow? I kinda put together the context from what you were saying."

"Oh, we're babysitting. You free from ten 'til…I dunno, whenever they're done?"

"Um, anytime I get to hang out with that freaking cute little baby, I'm free."

"Good." Something occurred to him then and he tilted his head, furrowing his brow at her. "Hey, we got so caught up in…us…ahem…Didn't you have that meeting with the LAPD Grump today?"

She sniffed in amusement. "Yeah. I did."

"Isn't he so mean? Was he mean to you, too?"

"He wasn't mean to me, no," she said with a short laugh. "He's definitely blunt, no-nonsense, macho, and has an ego."

"Right? God."

"But I kinda like 'im." She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful, still amused, he could tell.

"Huh?"

"I might be a little biased. He's come into contact with Daniel Shaw a few times over the years, it sounds like, and he said some really insulting things about him." The snicker that came out of her was almost evil and he enjoyed it a little too much, perhaps.

"Okay, well…Even though he was a total Rudy McRuderson to me the other day, if he has the sense to ask you for help and hate Daniel Shaw, he can't be all bad."

She made a little click sound with her tongue and teeth. "See, this is why I love you so much. You're the least judgmental guy I know." She paused. "Except with Daniel Shaw, who you've never met personally, but you still totally hate his guts and I love it."

"I don't usually hit people, as a rule, but I'd punch the shit out of that fucker in a heartbeat if I ever saw him."

"I probably shouldn't be as turned on by that as I am."

"It's residual turn-on-edness from earlier when we nearly boinked in my office. It's cool, I get it, me too." He sent her a cheesy grin.

"It's a testament to the power of your hotness that I'm not even a little turned off by the fact that you just described our love-making as 'boinking'."

He laughed. "I'm a walking talking dictionary, baby." He smoldered to underscore it. Then he sobered up a little. "Did you give Detective Grumpy Guy what he needed?"

"Yep. Might be a connection I can work in the future, too. You know, for cases and the like."

"That's exciting."

"Mhm. Can we please go into your office now? Honestly, this is getting ridiculous."

"Yyyyep."

They hurried inside, shutting and locking the door behind them.

It took a while for them to emerge again, the door opening slowly, Sarah backing out first, her hands still on the back of Chuck's neck, pulling him along with her as they kissed.

Chuck didn't just feel satisfied. He knew he looked it. And he wasn't entirely sure if he got his clothes back on in the right way. He felt tousled, and his hair…God, it was probably a mess.

Sarah's blouse was tucked in on one side and not the other, her bun was falling out over her shoulders, and God, she just looked like the cat who got the cream as she expertly slid her hands down and blindly tied his tie again, leaning in to kiss him some more.

Right when she leaned back to break the kiss, a goofy, teasing growl on the end of his tongue, the door to the outer office swept open and Stephen J. Bartowski stepped inside.

"Oh, good! Oh! Oh." He paused. "Well."

Chuck stepped back from Sarah, but her fist was still gripped tight around his tie and he made a soft choking sound, staggering forward, into her. She let go and smoothed her hands down her front. "Mr. Bartowski," she said, expertly flipping her hair back into its bun… and he had to give her credit, she sounded very professional. Considering how unprofessional she'd sounded about fifteen minutes earlier when she had him pinned to his desk chair.

His dad smirked and shut the door behind him, crossing his arms then reaching up to scratch the edge of one eyebrow, ducking his head and chuckling. "Don't worry, you two. You aren't in any trouble."

"Oh, God," Chuck breathed. He had a terrible feeling about this.

"Oh…Oh, no. We didn't…we were…" Sarah then stopped herself and looked down at how disheveled she looked, and she not-so-subtly stretched a foot out to scoot one of her pumps across the floor, behind Adisa's desk, out of his dad's view. It was comical. It was adorable. And if he wasn't mortified, he'd giggle at her for it.

"Stop it. I know exactly what this is. Listen, there's no shame. Truthfully, uh… Well, Chuck…Back when we were younger, your mother and I—"

"NOPE."

"Oh, my God," he heard Sarah murmur under her breath.

"Well, I'm just saying. When you're in love, it happens in the weirdest—"

"NOOO."

"—places."

"Get me out of here," Chuck whimpered.

"Why do you think my office has a lock on it? I put a lock on yours, too, I-I think. I mean not with this in mind, of course, but—"

"My insides are dying. I'm having a stroke."

Sarah elbowed him a little.

"Anyway!" his dad said.

"Thank God."

"—I wanted you to make sure to take it easy on those documents Adisa prepped for ya. Take 'em home. Take the weekend to get them signed, dated, and we'll send them to our lawyers on Monday. Go home early. Everyone is clearing out, so I think it'd be okay for the bosses to do the same, huh? Take that, uh, long weekend." He rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"Yep."

"Chuck. Kiddo. C'mon. Don't be like that," his dad chuckled. "You're not in middle school anymore." He sent a wink at Sarah and Chuck knew for a fact that he was enjoying the hell out of this.

"Oookay," Chuck drawled. "Bye, Dad. Have a good weekend, Dad."

"All right, all right." Stephen chuckled. "Sarah, nice to see you. Don't be a stranger." Then he stopped and made a face. "I didn't mean it like—That wasn't—"

"Nope. NOPE." Chuck put his hands on either side of his head, applying pressure. Maybe he could squeeze hard enough that his brain forgot this whole conversation happened.

"You get what I mean," his dad said.

"I, um…do," Sarah said, quietly, her face significantly more pained than he'd seen it in a while.

His dad just laughed, shaking his head and ducking out of the office. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids!" they heard, right before the door shut.

There was silence for a few moments.

"Well, at least that happened after we already did…the sex."

Chuck gave her an anguished look. "Oh, God," he whimpered, dropping his chin to his chest. "Oh my God, this ruined my whole life."

She chuckled and wrapped her hands around his arm. "Come on, I'll help you pack up to go home."

"I never knew about the lock," he whimpered again. "The lock…"

Her giggle was at least some comfort as she pulled him back into his office to gather his things.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Ellie Bartowski Woodcomb was stressed.

He could see it the moment she answered her door.

"Hi," she rushed out. "Um, thanks again. I…I'm running a little bit late."

She left the door wide open and just walked away from it altogether as Chuck stepped inside of the large, spacious apartment she and Awesome had moved into a few weeks ago, new parents, with new jobs at a new hospital. Her stress levels had been concerning, to the point where Awesome had taken Chuck aside not knowing what to do about it. And Devon Woodcomb was not typically the guy who didn't know what to do, where Ellie was concerned especially.

Chuck could see that today was no different. She was frazzled, rushing over to pick Clara up and rock her as she screamed and cried.

"No, baby. I know. I know you're upset," she said. "I hear you."

"Oh nooo. What's wrong with my best friend in the whole wide world?" Chuck asked, shutting the door behind him and hurrying over to his sister's side.

"Don't let Morgan hear you say that."

"Are you kidding me? He'd say the same thing about her. He's so in love with this kid, he's stopped bothering you about maybe ditching the 'bag of muscles' and dating him."

"Yet another reason to adore my little Clara. Oh, sweetheart, please, please stop crying. It's making it very hard for mommy to leave and have fun," she said pitifully. "Please."

"Clara, what happened? Tell your favorite uncle."

"Not sleeping too well at night."

Chuck blinked at the baby. "Clara, your voice has suddenly gotten really deep and manly."

Devon laughed and came up behind him, giving his brother-in-law a one armed hug from behind, squeezing him and kissing the side of his face. Chuck made a face at Ellie and got a shrug.

"Good one, bro. And thanks for doin' this. Babe, we really gotta get outta here if we're gonna get there even, like, fifteen minutes late."

Chuck sniffed in amusement. Devon was into kisses with his hugs now. He assumed Clara's entrance into this world had a lot to do with it. He kissed that little girl so much it had overflowed into his greetings with everyone else. Even Mary Bartowski had been getting head kisses, much to her chagrin. Chuck just hoped Devon was able to keep from doing it to his patients. Because that'd be grounds for a lawsuit…

"We're new parents, they'll understand," Ellie said, clutching her daughter tightly and looking down into the anguished but still beautiful face. "C'mon, Clara, Uncle Chuck is here. Your favorite guy."

"Hey!" Devon exclaimed from across the room as he shrugged his jacket on.

"Your second favorite guy. Woops." She made a face at Clara, like they were sharing an inside joke.

"All right, El. Give me the little Grumpy Gussina and I'll take care of her."

Ellie made a whining sound, holding Clara even tighter to her. "I don't want to go."

And there it was.

Chuck and Devon exchanged a look.

"Don't do that. Don't do the man-look across the room at each other. I'm the one who carried her for nine months. I'm the one who pushed her out of my cervix…"

"Wow, okay," Devon muttered.

"…so don't you dare look at each other with that 'Ellie's crazy' look. I'm perfectly fine. I just miss my daughter if I'm away from her. That's all. It's difficult to leave."

"I'm gonna miss her, too," Devon said, sneaking in close and wrapping his arms around both of his women. "But we have plans today. And I gotta be honest with you, wife o' mine, it's getting to the point where I might go insane if we don't separate ourselves from this apartment and/or that hospital. Seriously, baby mama, I'm gonna snap. We need this."

She huffed, rolling her eyes. And then she bounced Clara a little in her arms, rocking her. "You're right. I know you're right. And we're going. We're going. It's just…hard."

"Hey, you can call or text anytime, El. I've got my phone."

"Yeah, I can, can't I?"

"See?" Devon said, shrugging and grinning in that Captain Awesome way. "Bro, seriously. You're so awesome. This means a lot." He mouthed, 'We are going crazy', at Chuck where Ellie couldn't see him, still cooing at her daughter, trying to calm the fussy baby down.

Chuck widened his eyes at him and nodded.

"Here, give 'er to me, El. Get ready to go."

"Babe, seriously. Give our daughter to her uncle. We need to get outta here. Traffic might be bad."

"Traffic's always bad. We live in L.A."

"She has a point," Chuck said. "Hand over Her Highness the Fusspot. Uncle Chuck will get her to stop crying. Trust the nerd." He made grabby hands.

"Well…" Then Ellie's eyes got big as she took a step back. "Hey, where's Sarah? We can't leave without Sarah being here, Devon. I have to talk to her. She needs to be here before we leave."

Devon groaned.

Ellie had found another way to procrastinate.

"She's working on something for her case this morning, but she is meeting me here. She should be here soon, though, and you can talk to her when you get ba—" Chuck started, but then there was a staccato knock on the door and Devon looked mightily pleased. "Oh, there she is."

Captain Awesome swept the door open. "Hey, look who's here! It's Sarah! Let's go, Ellie!"

"Damn it, Sarah! Great timing, Sarah!" Ellie groused.

Sarah just stood in the hallway, wide-eyed, her gaze flitting back and forth between the Awesomes.

"Uh…hi?" She muttered, "What is happening?" at Chuck as he took pity on her and pulled her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

"Good morning," he chirped, kissing her cheek. "Ellie's having a really hard time letting go this morning and she thought she could use you not being here yet to put off leaving Clara. But you're ever the prompt one, so…no cigar."

"Sarah, I'm sorry." Ellie pushed in between them, having finally relinquished Clara to her husband who was now taking a stab at calming their daughter down. She hugged the younger woman with a hard squeeze. "I'm a little, uh, tightly wound."

"A little?"

Devon winced, perhaps realizing he should've kept his mouth shut there, and he mouthed, 'Sorry', when his wife glared at him.

"It's okay, Ellie. It's the new mom thing. Separation anxiety. Or…whatever. I have no knowledge whatsoever of new mom psychology."

"Oh? Well, I read up on it to prepare for having Clara and it helped me not at all, so…" Ellie shrugged and laughed, a bit forced, if Chuck was any judge.

Chuck stepped away from the women then and reached out for his niece. "Here, Captain Awesome, let me see her."

The blonde willingly passed the crying baby over to her uncle and Chuck cradled her carefully, fixing her yellow ducky blanket so that she was wrapped up even tighter. "Hey, little yellow burrito. Look at my doofy face."

He pulled a face and Clara stopped crying immediately, blinking up at him.

"What. In. The. Hell?" Awesome murmured.

"It's not adoration, trust me. She's just confused," Chuck said, making another face.

Clara blinked again.

"Aren't you a little confused girl? Yes, you are," he said, making his voice higher. "I just confused the crap outta you, huh?" This time after she blinked, she let out a little bubbly giggle. "How are you this cute?" he asked through gritted teeth. "I just wanna bite your cheeks. Gah!"

"I get the urge, bro, but don't do it. I tried to do it last night and she definitely didn't like it."

"You tried to bite our daughter?" Ellie asked.

"Babe. Her cheeks," he responded, like that answered everything.

Sarah sidled up next to Chuck, then, wrapping an arm around him and letting Clara latch onto the finger of her other hand. "Your hand is so little, I can't even stand it."

"Isn't she the cutest little? And yes, I did just make little into a noun. She's a little now."

"See, El? Clara's in good hands. The best hands. Let's go. We're gonna be really late."

"You're new parents. I'm sure they'll understand," Sarah said distractedly, beaming down at Clara.

Ellie marched up to Sarah and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. "That's exactly what I said. I love you, Sarah."

"I love you, too," the blonde said, giggling.

"Chuck, give your niece to her au—" His sister just barely caught herself. "Honorary auntie." It was a good catch, but everyone knew what she'd just almost said, and the implications of it. …The permanence of it.

Thanks a lot, Ellie.

Chuck tried to ignore the awkward look on Sarah's face as she took Clara from him. "Don't get too comfy there, Sarah, because I'm taking her right back after I get my orders."

"Nuh uh!" she shot back. "Pry her from my cold dead arms."

Ellie giggled and dragged Chuck to the fridge. "Her bottles are in here. There's enough for today and tomorrow. Just make sure it's warm but not too warm, okay? Don't burn my firstborn's mouth."

"El, I'm not going to burn my niece."

"Well, you don't know unless you test it first. That's all I'm saying. Put it on your hand first, right here between—"

"Ellie, I've babysat numerous times. I've got all this down."

"Fine! But make sure she naps. I know how much you want to just play with her and make faces, but she needs to sleep, too."

"Okay," he chuckled, shutting the fridge and grabbing her shoulders, forcing her towards the door. "Go have fun."

"Her diapers are—"

"I know where her diapers are."

"Yeah, but—"

"Ellie." Sarah was there, then, passing Clara off to Chuck again. She'd managed to get Clara to not just stop crying and fussing, but the baby's eyes were even drooping a little. How had she done this? Was she magic? He wouldn't put it past Sarah Walker, P.I. to also be magic on top of everything else.

She took Ellie by her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "You've been working so hard. You had to move really soon after having a baby. You're dealing with that still, weeks later, on top of having a two month old baby, on top of taking shifts at the hospital. You need today, Ellie. Awes—Er, Devon. Devon needs today."

Good catch, Sarah…

"We really need today," Devon agreed, nodding emphatically.

"All you have to worry about for the rest of the day is enjoying yourself, which isn't a worry at all, is it?"

"No," Ellie agreed, her shoulders slumping.

"You don't have to change diapers. You don't have to feed Clara. You don't have to sprint around the house making sure everything is where it's supposed to go. You don't have to be at the hospital. You don't have to leave the house with the huge mommy bag you're always carrying around or worry about the carseat. You don't have to deal with any of that. You get to just hang out with people you like, eat food, drink whatever the fuck you wanna drink. Shit, sorry," she winced, glancing over at Clara who was alert again. Damn it.

"Oh." Ellie snorted. "Don't worry. She has no idea. Watch this." She moved her face close to Clara's and said in a happy high-pitched voice, "Shit fuck fuck shit fuck."

Clara giggled.

Ellie straightened and shrugged.

Sarah cracked up and Chuck just shook his head. "I'm just appalled at you, Ellie," he said. He wasn't appalled in the slightest, and he chuckled, still shaking his head.

"I swear, I'm about to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to the car. We need to go," Awesome said, already at the door.

"Ugh, fine." She rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss Clara on the forehead. "Be good for Chuck and Sarah, okay? Be the best girl."

Clara gurgled in response.

"I know, I know I don't have to say it but I do it for appearances anyway. Get used to it." She poked her daughter's belly button to make her laugh. She must've noticed the way everyone was looking at her. "I speak my daughter's language. Don't any of you judge me."

It took another five minutes but Ellie finally ended up being forcibly dragged out of the apartment by her husband, leaving Chuck and Sarah alone with the baby.

Sarah just laughed and shook her head. "Wow."

"Yeeeeeah, Ellie's a bit much but I can't blame her. She's been with Clara nonstop since she gave birth to her, with only a few hours here and there that she's spent away for short shifts at the hospital in the last week since she started at Westside. It's a new mom thing I think."

"Oh, no. I don't blame her, either. But also give me that baby right now."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. Nope. You gave her to me and she's mine now."

"That's total bullshit, Chuck. I gave her to you so that I could stop your sister from having a mental breakdown about leaving for their barbecue."

Chuck groaned. She was right. She'd done it for his sister. "You're just lucky I love you and that I think it's insanely precious that you like my niece this much."

He went and sat on the couch with Clara, Sarah following to squish in right next to him, and then he handed her off to his girlfriend's secure embrace.

"I straight-up love her, I think, full disclosure," Sarah said, cradling Clara close. She kicked her pumps off, then, and put her feet up on the coffee table, curling her toes that made little popping sounds, and melting back into the cushions. "Mmmmmm, it's so good to be sitting down."

"Rough morning?"

"Not rough, per se, just a lot of running in circles and it ended up amounting to nothing."

"Burgess send you on a wild goose chase, then?" he asked, snuggling in next to her and reaching down to fix the cowlick in his niece's darkening hair. He frowned. "Hey, is it just me, or was her hair a lot blonder when she was first born? Is it getting darker?"

"Um…maybe?"

"Maybe it's the lighting. Anyway, you were saying…?"

She giggled and shrugged a bit, leaning some of her weight against his chest. "I think Burgess is trying to do some detecting of his own and his so-called tips he keeps sending me to explore are just…tripping me up."

"Can you sit him down and talk to him about it?"

"I don't really know how to do that without offending the guy who's signing his name to my paycheck."

"Sarah, come on. He's conflicting with your investigation. He hired you to solve this. He needs to let you do your job. He needs to back off and give you the time and space to uncover the truth in your own way. Which, in my humble opinion, is the right way. You know what you're doing." He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, tugging her close. And then he reached down to let Clara wrap her tiny pudgy fist around his pinky.

"Yeah. You're right. I just have to tell him. I don't want him to fire me. That's all."

"Did I fire you when you tanned my hide?"

She sniffed in amusement. "Chuck, you're not exactly like most people. You readily admit when you make mistakes, when you're wrong. And you're pretty good at taking criticism. And from women. That's not exactly something a lot of men are good at."

He shrugged. "Maybe Clive Burgess will surprise you. Listen. Worst comes to worst, if it offends him, just apologize and figure out a way to do what helps the case. Ignore his bad tips unless you actually think it might be helpful. It sucks, but I think you can manage the balance…You know, doing all of that without him realizing he's being ignored."

"So…play him like a fiddle, you're saying."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"That's actually stellar advice, Chuck. Thank you." She craned her neck and pursed her lips so that he could lean down and kiss her.

That was when Clara began to get fussy again. Her face got all wrinkled and red, her little hands balled up into fists, and the angry little sounds came from her mouth.

"Uh oh. Ohhh, no, here she goes," Sarah said. "Do I rock her?"

"Ummm…try that."

Sarah sat up straight and started to bounce her in her arms gently. "Shhh shhh…it's okay, Clara." She gave Chuck a helpless look.

In the past two months since his niece was born, he and Sarah had only spent alone time with her here and there. Clara had slept through most of their babysitting adventures prior to this. And if she hadn't been sleeping, she'd been eating instead. The most he'd looked after her was the time Devon was at work and Ellie went to a post-birth check-up for two hours.

And today would be more like eight hours.

At least Sarah was here.

Though she seemed out of her depth. Definitely out of her depth.

Oh, shit …

[victorianoir]

The Detective Opens the Door

DEAR GOD, CHUCK AND SARAH WERE STANDING IN THAT HALLWAY FOR MONTHS, I SWEAR!!!!!!!!! Well, we’re getting them out of that hallway and into...well, you’ll see. Hehehe.

This the first time you’ve heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy? Fear not! I have the entire Master Post HERE. Wanna read it on the fanfiction.net site instead? Cool cool cool, that’s HERE. 

Let’s just dive right in, shall we?

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“I-I was knocking. But you aren’t in there.” She heard him swallow from where she stood a few feet away. “You’re out here. Obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I, er…I was at work.”

“Right. Of course. Me…Me, too.”

God, she didn’t even know what to say now that he was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t had her shower yet. The shower in which all of the answers were supposed to come to her, the solution to all of her problems magically appear in her head. That was what showers were for, right?

But he was here. She wouldn’t get her magic shower. And she was at a loss for words.

Chuck huffed then and shook his head. “Sarah, I’ve seen a lot of romcoms in my time.” What?? “It’s always the same thing. The main couple gets into a big fight and they don’t talk to each other for days and days and it’s so dramatic, and then something, I dunno, romantic and magical happens to bring them together, put them in the same place at the perfect time and they make up and some campy-ass song plays while they kiss. I don’t—I don’t want that. I don’t want to just sit at home staring out the window wistfully waiting for something romantic and magical to happen. I don’t want to wait for you to come to me. I don’t want to be apart for days and days. I can’t do that. I can’t wait. I can’t sit around not fixing this when it needs to be fixed. Those movies are shit because when you really love someone, it’s like torture sitting around knowing they’re mad at you, that you screwed up and you can just be a God damn grown up instead and talk to them. I need you,” he said, taking a step closer, and she felt just as breathless as he sounded. “I need to be with you. I don’t wanna play games like that with you. We need to talk. I want to talk to you, hash this out. Because I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire universe and I’m so sorry. But I have so much more to say than just that. And I’m-I’m open to listening, too. I can do that this time. I promise. And can I please come in? Please?”

She nodded a bit dumbly, blinked once, and stepped past him to unlock her apartment door. She stepped inside, pushing it open for him to follow her, and she flicked on the light and set her briefcase down as he shut the door behind them.

When she turned to face him again, he was just standing there watching her, shifting his weight nervously. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, then, his shoulders slumping, head falling forward so that his chin was pressed to his chest.

She took him in now that they were out of the hallway and alone. He was in a pinstripe suit and brand new brown leather dress shoes, wearing a dark green tie that was a little crooked. He looked good. He’d met with a potential sponsor today though, Stephen had told her. Hence the dress shoes instead of his usual Converse.

“I-I am, too,” she breathed.

His brown eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones. Perhaps he didn’t think she owed him an apology. She did, and she knew she did. But considering the weirdly charming nonsense about romcoms he’d just blurted in the hallway, it was probably better for her to allow him to get it all off his chest before she really apologized.

“First thing’s first, Sarah. What I said to you…” He swallowed, then seemed to force himself to meet her eye as he continued. “I have no right making assumptions about your life before this in the first place, but to have been so downright vicious towards you, insinuating that—that because you don’t want my help, that’s why you’ve…had no friends.” He winced and looked up at the ceiling.

Chuck looked completely mortified and miserable as he repeated the sentiments he’d expressed to her that night before she left.

“That…didn’t feel great,” she admitted, quietly.

“No, of course not.” He closed the distance tentatively, then reached out to take her hand in his. His gentle touch filled her with the overwhelming need to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, stay there forever. Or at least until this ache subsided.

But she stayed where she was, resisting the urge.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “It was a cruel thing to say, and I’m so disgusted with myself for saying something with the intention of hurting you. I was hurt, so I said something to hurt you. It was childish, stupid, and-and it wasn’t true.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if it was as untrue as he insisted, but she didn’t really feel like tackling that complicated issue at the moment.

“I completely understand if you don’t want to forgive me for saying it, but I at least want you to know that I hate myself for being so mean. I love you. The last thing on Earth I want to do is hurt you like that. I’m a total jackass.” He huffed and hung his head.

“Well, thank you,” she said finally. “For apologizing.” She paused. “I can forgive you, Chuck, but there’s a lot we need to talk about besides just that.”

“There is. There’s a lot. But y-you forgive me?”

Sarah felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a bit of a smile. “Yeah, I do. But you say something like that to me again, I’ll punch you in the dick.”

He let out a huff, relief and amusement in it, and he held his hands up by his head in surrender. “I still think I deserved that this time.”

He probably did, but she didn’t much like the idea of doing that to him.

But he was sobering up now, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently having more to say. “I really overstepped the other day, Sarah. Giving Jorge the money for the rent after you told me no, going behind your back to do it…I overstepped big time. I crossed the line. I apologize for that, too. I was wrong.”

She nodded slowly and started taking her coat off. She felt the heater in the apartment starting to kick in.

“This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation. B-But after the really terrible day I had, I was already kind of a powder keg with a very short fuse. I felt like you were pounding on me and pounding on me and it felt really unfair, and I just refused to actually listen to what you were saying.”

Sarah felt her claws come out a bit, and he must have seen it, because he held his hands up again, stepping even closer, and continuing before she could defend herself.

“That’s how I felt then, the other night. That’s not how I feel now. I’ve had some separation from our fight, I’ve been thinking about it and thinking about it over and over and over, and every way I look at it, you were right. I was being a defensive idiot, Sarah. I was offended and hurt and like a child, I closed myself off. I walked into my condo that night already in the wrong frame of mind and it just got worse from there.”

She huffed and tossed her coat onto the coat rack, pushing a hand through her hair and nodding again. “I think maybe both of us were in the wrong frame of mind.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe. But you were just trying to explain and I refused to listen. I’ve been pushing and shoving my way into this agency because I-I guess I felt like you needed me there. I really was just trying to help.”

“I know,” she interjected, nodding.

“But that doesn’t make my inability to listen and understand what you wanted from me less wrong.” Chuck sighed, shoving both hands through his hair in frustration…at himself, she thought. “I do have faith in you, though. Even if I apparently did my damnedest to make you think I don’t, I really do. I have so much respect for you. I know you can do anything. I-I mean, I have so much faith in you, I think I’d even climb into a submarine if I found out you were gonna drive it. I’d willingly climb into that thing, and you know I hate confined spaces, especially underwater like that.”

She found herself letting out a short giggle, in spite of everything.

“I’ve been making the mistake of thinking that my constant need to help you wasn’t affecting anything, and this whole time it’s been making you feel like I don’t think you can start this agency on your own. I know you can, though. I got nervous and stupidly lost my footing when you told me about being late on your office rent. I jumped the gun. I went behind your back and I did it knowingly, and I’m a total fuck-up for doing that. I’m sorry.”

Sarah nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I get why you were so angry. And I promise to never do something like that again, especially not behind your back. That’s not what you do when you respect someone as much as I respect you.” He took a deep breath. “I made a lot of mistakes. A-And I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about me…” He paused, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “About me being privileged, I mean.”

“No, Chuck, I—”

“Hear me out, though. Please.” She closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. And he smiled a bit, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Because you’re right. There’s been enough separation between then and now and I guess I’ve allowed myself to lose sight of what it felt like not to have this much money. I’m embarrassed, mortified even, that that’s the case. It’s not easy to admit, but I think I’ve been taking my family’s success for granted. I forgot what life was like before this. When things were up in the air, every day wondering if my parents might have to sell one of our cars, if I’d have to skip college and go straight into the job market, something I really didn’t want to do. I did a lot of soul searching yesterday. Between the drinking.”

She lowered her chin and made a face. “Oh, Chuck, really?”

He winced and shrugged. “I know. But it’s hard not to let self-pity get the best of you when you’re feeling as bad as I was feeling. And the whiskey was…right there in front of me.” He winced again. “I’m not proud of it.”

The P.I. wanted so badly to reach up and fix the errant curl that had fallen onto his forehead, touch his face, squeeze his hand, something. But she didn’t move, just smiling a little at him.

“Th-The important thing is that I am privileged. And I’m very grateful that you’ve helped me see that. I maybe knew on the surface level. I know I’m rich. I know I have more than most people, too much some would say. Hell, I would say. To have all this money and be dating the best woman in the universe? Damn.”

Sarah twisted her mouth to the side in an attempt not to show him how much she liked what he’d just said.

“But you were right, Sarah. Because my idea of solving a problem has been throwing money at it for a while now. Because before this, before you, I didn’t really have to work at anything besides my job. My family is my family, there’s no work or compromise there. And Morgan’s…” He shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. “Morgan’s Morgan. We don’t fight. Ever. About anything.”

She couldn’t help letting out a soft hum of amusement. Chuck and Morgan were so damn cute together.

“And I’m not saying you’re difficult or that this relationship is difficult, I’m just saying a romantic relationship is different and I haven’t known you my whole life. You’re newish. And different from anyone I’ve ever met. Does that make sense?” She nodded. “And I can’t just throw money at you to fix things. I can’t throw money at your problems, either. Something you were trying to tell me but I just wasn’t listening,” he droned, rolling his eyes at himself. “I’m listening now, though. And I won’t do any of this again, okay? I promise you, baby.”

Maybe it was the way he called her baby, how deep his voice was when he said it, the fact that his apologies all rang so beautifully sincere, how much she felt the love still between them…She didn’t know what it was, but the moment that last word slipped out from between his lips, she had to cover said lips with her own.

In the back of her mind, she knew there was a lot more to say. She had apologies of her own to make. And she had to explain things better to him. He deserved more.

But right now, the only thing she wanted to give him was the feeling of being trapped between her bed and her body.

He kissed her back immediately, and as his hands closed around her arms, she heard him emit a desperate whimper.

Fire spread from her center to engulf every last bit of her body, and she held onto him that much tighter, dragging a hand up into his hair and twisting those soft curls between her fingers.

When they pulled back for air, both of them gasping, Sarah nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “Chuck…?” she breathed, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his coat.

“Yes,” he whispered back. And that was all they needed to say before they sprang together again.

They kissed passionately, hands grasping at clothes, at hair. In the midst of the kissing and grabbing and sighing, Sarah somehow managed to get enough of her wits about her to guide them slowly towards the bedroom.  

Sarah felt a powerful desperation rise in her chest, then. A need to drown out the last two days of tension and ache. Only two days and she’d missed him so hard that it hurt. She needed him to know. She wanted to give him every single part of her so that he knew.

And wasn’t it a little scary just how powerful this was?

They broke apart for air again, and she took a long breath in through clenched jaw, gritting her teeth. And as she reached back, figuring she was somewhere near the bedroom door, needing to be inside, needing to be on that bed with him, her hand found nothing but air.

God, where were they then? She didn’t even know. She couldn’t find her door. She didn’t care.

Standing here in the middle of the hallway wasn’t conducive to what she needed either way, so she pushed his button-up down his arms, not caring that the sleeve caught on his watch. And with one quick move, she had him pinned against the nearest wall, his back making contact with a loud thump.

Chuck didn’t miss a beat, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against his bare chest. She cupped his face and whimpered into the kiss, almost angry when she found that the pencil skirt she wore wasn’t conducive to climbing his tall, lithe body the way she wanted to.

Instead, she continued kissing him, tucking her hands between their fronts and making quick work of his belt and pants.

Then she felt his fingers at her back, tugging her blouse out of her skirt, yanking it up but pausing for a moment. She broke the kiss and grabbed her blouse, taking it off in one swift movement tossing it away when he seemed a little unsure. He knew better than to think she gave a rat’s ass about her damn clothes ending up on the floor in moments like these. But she knew the last two days must have jarred his confidence a bit.

It was all right. By the end of this, she’d make sure they were both back at the top of their game again.

As their lips smashed together again, she just clung to him, feeling his warm hands so large and strong against her back. It made her feel so heady, even though it was a sensation she knew so well after a year of being intimate with him.

And then his fingers were at the back of her skirt, feeling for a zipper there. When he found none after a short moment of searching, he switched to the side of the skirt. And then she heard the sound of him unzipping the skirt and it pooled at her feet. As she stepped out of it, giggling at the playful way his fingertips teased the insides of her thighs, she had a moment. Just a short memory of the first time he’d divested her of a skirt just like this. The first time he’d visited her in Chicago, after she’d gotten back from a meeting and she’d been tired, frustrated. First, that martini had gone down so well, and then…Well, so had he. In every sense of the word. After he’d struggled a bit to find the zipper on her skirt.

Chuck had learned since then.

Obviously, she thought to herself as he grabbed her by her hips and hoisted her up. She giggled with a squeal and gasped as he turned them around and pressed her against the wall this time, pinning her there as he kissed down her jaw, her neck, and over her shoulders and collarbone.

She spared a moment to take in her surroundings as she tilted her head to give him more access to her neck where she liked his attention most. The door was only a few feet away. They just had to go through it and somehow find the bed. That was it…

But he was making it hard as he unhooked her bra and settled his mouth even lower.

“Chuck…” she whimpered again.

He took the hint, it seemed, grinning against the sensitive skin of her breast and lifting his face, meeting her eyes as he eased her down so that she could set her feet on the floor. She stepped out of her pumps, losing a few inches of height, and she slowly eased herself down to untie his shoes, not breaking eye contact with him even for a moment.

She stood to her full height as he hurriedly toed his shoes off, nearly falling at least twice in his rush. And finally they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing again, haphazardly hobbling the few feet to the door.

The private detective winced as her shoulder crashed into the door, but she didn’t care as it swung open, because she knew her room well enough to know the bed was only about ten feet away. She just had to keep moving as they kissed.

And as the backs of her knees met the edge of the mattress, she sighed in relief against Chuck’s lips, opening her mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. The deep grumble he emitted made her feel half-mad, and as she pulled back from the kiss, her teeth bit down gently on his lower lip, taking it with her. She let it slip out again and he groaned, kissing her at the juncture of her neck, holding her close. Just like that, he lifted her from her feet and put her on the bed. He did it in such an emphatic way, like he was putting something where it belonged, and it was such a turn on for some reason.

They didn’t bother with the duvet or the sheets, kicking off the rest of their underthings, joining on the wrong half of the bed, clinging, surging. She didn’t know how long, she lost count of how often…

Once it was all over and a joint shower was had, Chuck lay facedown in the bed, his body splayed diagonal across it, and she’d somehow ended up with her upper half draped over his back, her breasts rather uncomfortably smushed. She didn’t care. She wanted this contact, and he wasn’t exactly complaining, was he?

“I feel like the best possible thing we can do to finish what just happened off with a bang is for me to get up and make us both a very strong martini that we can drink right here in bed.”

She giggled and turned her lips to kiss him behind his ear, dropping a hand to his hip and stroking him tenderly. It was funny. He’d been hot to the touch earlier, and now she could feel his skin had cooled significantly. He was a little damp from the shower still, too. She shivered herself, glancing down as best she could without exerting too much effort to see that they’d kicked the sheets off of the bed…And after going through so much trouble to climb under them halfway through once they realized how cold her room was.

“But…?” she prompted.

“But you’re so warm and comfy and I don’t want to move again.”

Giggling again, she nuzzled her face back into his neck. “I can forego the martinis for a while if you want.”

“Mmm’good,” he grumbled, and his whole body lifted and eased back down again as he yawned, letting out a wookie sound in the process.

She smirked lovingly, pressing her lips to the nearest part of him and humming comfortably herself.

Then he groaned and gently started to roll out from under her. Sarah laughed as she scooted off of him, letting him sit up and climb off of the bed.

“Couldn’t resist the call, could you?” she teased, easing onto her back to lie on the bed properly and tucking her pillow under her head.

“Nope. I really, really want a martini in bed.”

“I’d take a martini anywhere, but there’s something delicious—salacious even—about enjoying one in bed after what we just did,” she admitted, sending him a look as he glanced over his shoulder from where he was stepping back into his boxer briefs.

He smirked with a “be right back” and disappeared into the hallway outside of her bedroom. As she listened to his footsteps fade, she sat up and grabbed her sheet and duvet, straightening it, pulling it up over her and plopping back down. After the sex and the long shower, she was so satisfied and comfortable that she could easily take a nap while waiting for him to come back.

But of course that was the moment her conscience decided to remind her that while they’d stopped talking for a while, their conversation hadn’t ended, exactly. It had just been interrupted. There was a lot to talk about, something she needed to make sure he really understood this time.

He’d promised to listen this time, right before they’d both decided to set their conversation to the side for more physically pressing matters.

She couldn’t put it off any longer.

And by the time Chuck came back into the room shortly thereafter, she was ready.

Her tech guy’s grin was massive and cheesy as he teasingly tiptoed across the room, handed her one of the martinis, and crawled back into bed next to her holding his own. She glanced at the martini he made her and then set it to the side on her nightstand. He boggled at her. “Can we share yours?” she asked with a wince. “I haven’t had dinner and if I’m gonna get wasted tonight I at least want it to be after I eat a full meal.”

He chuckled and nodded, handing her his. “First sip’s yours, then.”

“Aw, thank you, baby.” She took a long first sip, felt it slip deliciously down her throat and warm her from the inside out, then handed it back to him.

She watched him then, lazily lounging against his side, reveling in how comfortable she was with him, how good it all felt, how important this part of her life was. And then she finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry I closed myself off to you, Chuck.” He was silent for a bit. And then he reached over with the hand that wasn’t holding the martini glass and squeezed her wrist. “I’m sorry I closed off that part of my life to you. And I’m sorry I cut you out of—out of my dream.”

The quietude was comfortable, she found, and when he turned his face to press his lips into her hair, she smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Sarah.” He paused. “I understand now. I understand why you don’t want my help.”

Sarah stopped for a moment, frowned a little, and then straightened, turning to look into his face. He looked back, his gaze steady, confident.

He said he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He’d called himself out now for the things he’d done, and for what he’d said, for not listening to her, for snapping at her. And she appreciated how candid and genuine his apologies were.

But he was doing that thing again, saying he understood with the goal of mending things between them, moving on from this fight they’d had, when he really didn’t understand. How could he understand something she still hadn’t told him?

“Do you?” she asked quietly.

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Yeah. I do. You don’t want me to help you anymore, and I get it. I won’t.”

“But you said that you understand why. Why I feel this way, why I want this. Do you really?”

She wasn’t trying to call him out, but he needed to really understand why, not just say he did to make her feel better, to set her at ease. Not when she knew he wanted to know more about her, especially where this was concerned. She knew she confused him by not telling him.

Chuck didn’t seem to know how to respond, so she plucked the martini from his fingers and stretched across him to set it down on nightstand on his side of the bed. Then she sat back and cupped his cheek in one hand, hoping he didn’t take this as her chastising him.

“Chuck, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you so much.” He got a look like uh oh on his face, and she was quick to ease his worry. “No, no, this isn’t—I’m not saying things right. I’m not good at talking like you are.”

“Uh, did you hear that mess about romantic comedies that came out of my mouth earlier?”

She giggled. “Fair point.”

Running the backs of her fingers down his cheek, she waited for him to meet her gaze before she continued. “Chuck, you always say what I want to hear, what I need to hear. Even before we were together, you had a way of just…knowing what to say. To make me feel better, to make things better in general. And most of the time, it’s exactly the right thing, helpful and supportive…perfect.” She took a deep breath. “But sometimes it just tables things for later that…” She huffed, searching for the right words. “That need to be addressed right then.” Chuck’s gaze flicked away from her for a moment and she put her hand on his chest to get his attention again. “That isn’t your fault, Chuck. It’s mine. I’m such a freaking dysfunctional human in a lot of ways and I’ve been so closed off and private for my entire life. I think I inadvertently trained you to encourage that behavior. Or-or maybe not encourage my behavior so much, but I think you learned pretty quickly that I pulled away when you asked questions or…pushed.”

It was incredibly sweet that he didn’t seem to want to confirm or deny, still looking out for her feelings.

“You don’t have to say anything, Chuck. I know how I am and I know what I do. My hang-ups aside, your thoughtfulness and the respect you gave me by even caring enough to notice and to learn and—Well, that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you so hard and so fast.” She leaned in to kiss him, tasting a hint of vermouth, strong and rather bitter, but so delicious.

She looked into his soft gaze as she pulled back, running the pads of her fingers over the stubble on his chin distractedly. “Whenever this subject in particular has come up, me not wanting help with my detective agency I mean, you say you understand. You get it…”

Chuck nodded, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze. “But I don’t really understand…”

“No. Of course not. I haven’t told you. And again, that’s my fault. Not yours.” She licked her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment. “And every time it comes back again. You say you get it when you don’t get it, I accept it because it’s what I want to hear, we move on, and it comes back because you…I don’t know, you do something like what you did the other day. But less…er, severe.”

She watched as he winced, letting out a long breath. “You’re right. I do that. I just know you don’t like talking about that stuff.”

“I really don’t. Not at all. But I need to stop hiding from you. I need to open up, and I’m sorry it’s taken me a whole year to start, to give you even the slightest hint about where I’m coming from, why I am…this way.”

As he rubbed his hands over his knees under the sheets, she realized he was a little breathless in anticipation. And what kind of a crap girlfriend had she been all this time that even the smallest bit of her backstory had him this excited? She pushed the guilt away for the time being, the voice inside her telling her she was a damn wreck, and she dove right in.

“You know about law school.”

He nodded. “Harvard,” he said, obvious admiration in his face, an impressed tilt to his smile.

“Don’t be so impressed. I didn’t finish, remember?” “You got there, though.” And those words gave her the confidence she needed to just…tell him.

“Well, I had my heart set on law school, Harvard in particular, because it was closeish to New York City, but still away from home, away from my comfort zone. And I took this trip down there on my own to scope it out and I guess…There’s so much history and prestige and I bought it hook line and sinker.” She rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly.

“Hey. Stanford. I get it,” he chuckled, pointing to himself.

She smiled. “Yeah, well…There was no damn way I was getting in, and I was kind of glum about it, even while I worked my ass off on the essays, went to every single class, studied like mad to get the best grades possible. I made sure to kick the LSAT’s ass as best I could. And the truth is, I…” She let herself breathe for a moment, and was grateful to Chuck for squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure my application would’ve gone straight into the trash if they didn’t get a recommendation letter and personal phone call from the NYPD Department Chief to the Dean.” Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “I know,” she drawled. “Pretty big deal. He was…sort of like a mentor. Kind of. It doesn’t really matter. He just really came through for me and next thing I know, I was at Harvard Law. Seems he and the Dean were close friends, families spent time together. It got me in, so I kind of…ignored the implications. Sort of. As best as I could. But then the Dean was kind of looking out for me and as big as my law classes were, I could tell there were some classmates who knew about it. I don’t know how, I just…could tell. The way they treated me. Like I was getting preferential treatment or something. And, I don’t know, maybe I was. Maybe I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place and they knew.”

She pushed a hand through her hair and turned to face forward. “It isn’t an easy thing for me to admit, but I got a hand up. I got a hand up getting into law school and then I got a hand up once I was there. The Dean, a few professors, really taking an interest in my well-being, making sure I had what I needed to succeed.” She sighed. “It was subtle, but I felt it. I could see it.”

Chuck was mercifully silent, just there, listening, holding her hand. And she took some strength from it, even though she was swimming in shame, aware of the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Ms. Danilian, the Dean…Well, I don’t know. I really don’t know her thought process. But she got in contact with Langston Graham.”

“Pinkerton,” he said.

“Yep. Maybe she could tell I was losing my footing, losing confidence, not really as interested in what I was doing in law school, just kind of…going through the motions. I don’t know what made her call him. But she did, told him about me. I didn’t have any kind of…er, home really…besides…” She paused, nervously playing with the sheet in her hand. “Before you, I never really had much of a home. It was basically wherever I ended up, with whatever I could carry. You saw my place in Chicago, yeah? I mean…I never had much.” He nodded. “Maybe that was a reason why they thought I’d be a good candidate. But I guess since I was close to the top of my class, on top of being alone in the world, Graham felt like he’d give me a trial. He sprang some tests on me when he visited to meet me. I don’t think he knew that I knew what he was doing, but I must have passed with flying colors because he didn’t waste any time personally asking me to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

Her boyfriend was gaping at her by this point, shaking his head. “Sarah, that’s amazing. The director of Pinkerton came to you personally to beg you to join.”

“He didn’t beg,” she giggled. “He invited me.”

“Same thing.”

She gave him a flat look. “Nevertheless, I didn’t have to think much. I leapt at the chance to get out of there, do something different. Can you pass me that martini?”

He did, taking a sip himself when she was finished and setting it back on the nightstand.

“So I trained at Pinkerton. I thought things would be a bit different, without the influence of the chief or my…prior connections. It was, kind of. But not, at the same time. I was seen as getting a bit of a leg up because of my being a woman…a woman who looks like…” She gestured to herself.

“A warrior goddess?” he filled in. She blinked at him and he shook his head. “Sorry. Morgan and I decided you’re like a valkyrie but without the whole choosing who gets to live and who has to die bit.”

“…Thank you?” Sarah shook her head and snorted quietly. “The point…” She looked at him meaningfully.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, properly scolded.

“…is that there were a lot of uses for someone like me in a detective agency. And it didn’t take long before it was pretty clear to me that this was why a few of the guys in the agency took a long time to trust my work. And I got a lot of side-eye.” Chuck frowned deeply. “Once I started taking lead on cases, it was okay. I mean, it was one of those Good Ol’ Boys places still, but I wasn’t harassed or disrespected. Not to my face, at least. I just…I got that same sort of feeling sometimes. Like I shouldn’t have been hired. Like I didn’t belong there.”

“Sarah, I saw you working your ass off when you were assigned our case. You saved my life, my dad’s life too, but mine in a more…uh…blatant, literal way.” She tilted her head and smiled a little at him. “You solved a murder. You’re so freaking smart. Seriously. Watching you work was like…” He huffed, seemingly unable to even finish his sentence.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet, Chuck. And I appreciate that.”

“It’s true.”

“Thanks.” Sarah paused, turning her hand over under his and threading their fingers together. “What I mean by all of this is that I-I guess my whole life I’ve been sort of given this extra advantage. I’ve had doors opened to me that were shut for others because they didn’t have important people going to bat for them. I’ve been given leadership roles and had people kind of look out for me for, like, almost a decade now. And when I left Pinkerton, it was like…” She sighed. “I don’t know, like a clean slate. There are no police chiefs, no kindly deans, no mentors, no one like that to give me everything, lay it all out on a platter for me. I had this detective agency idea, and for the first time I could create something from nothing all on my own. No help from anyone.”

She could see that Chuck was putting the pieces together now. He had that thoughtful look on his face that she thought was so cute. He wore it sometimes when he was coding and he ran into a problem. Watching him work through it without him knowing she was watching was one of those simple pleasures, those quiet moments in their relationship that she secretly treasured more than anything else in her life.

“Chuck, I’ve been so willfully vehement about not accepting help from anyone, especially you, because I need to know I can do this. I need to know, for my own personal peace of mind, that I can actually do these things on my own. That the help I’ve gotten isn’t the only reason why I’m here. That I have skills. That I can make it, just me, no mentors or guardian angels. No recommendation letters or personal phone calls. Just me, working hard, finding success all on my own.”

“A fresh start, forged from your own hard work, and your own money.” He pulled his hand away and slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side and holding her there. “You want to prove them wrong, all the people who looked at you sideways in law school, those Pinkerton agents who thought you were given advantages they weren’t.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. If I can’t do this without my rich boyfriend shelling out the money and handing me my clients, it’ll prove that I really just got here through the work and favors of other people. I can’t handle that, Chuck.”

He held her tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt his lips against her forehead. “Quite a knock to your self-esteem, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Which is hard to admit. I’m sorry, Chuck. I know it sounds stupid. I got all of these advantages and privileges and I’m whining about it. It-It’s more complicated than that, though.” There was so much underneath all of it. The pity and sympathy underlying the chief’s actions, the shame of seeing that look in the dean’s face. The one that told her Dean Danilian knew, that Chief Sayer told her about the whole thing. Pity and sympathy followed her everywhere. Nobody had meant harm by it, but it stung so badly. And every merit that followed thereafter felt like another barb sinking into her skin, another thing she hadn’t earned, a gift given to her because of someone else’s sins.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about now, and she was glad when Chuck spoke up.

“It’s okay, Sarah. I understand.” He held up the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her defensively. “I mean it this time. I’m not just saying it. I really understand.” He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear and stroked his fingertips over her temple. “I have to say something, though. I think it’s easy to dismiss everything you accomplished because other people helped you along the way. But, well, you took that LSAT on your own. That score you got was yours. What about the grades you got in college? The work you did to be at the top of your class at Harvard Law? The cases you solved as a Pinkerton agent, including my dad’s? Nobody was holding your hand when you were lead on our case.” A dreamy look came over his face. “I mean, I wanted to but with an entirely different meaning to it.”

Sarah melted, pulling back to look into his face, her own features crumbling. That was the cutest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life and she thought maybe she was dying a little. Especially with the teasing nose wrinkle. God, she was truly a goner.

“You get what I’m saying, though, right?” he asked quietly. “Yeah, important people liked you and therefore helped you take some big steps up in your career, in your life, but you still did the hard work, Sarah. You just talked me off a similar ledge last week. Remember? I was singing that nepotism tune, slamming my work, and you reminded me that while my dad gave me the job I’m in, I work hard. And you’re right. I do.”

“The amount of times I’ve gotten texts from you at two in the morning while I was sleeping because you were at work still…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled. “I know, I know. You get what I mean, though?” he asked again.

“Yes. Thank you, Chuck. Really.”

His smile made everything feel a bit brighter and she scooted in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. “You’re welcome, baby. Whatever I can do to help. When you want it,” he emphasized then.

“I do want it. I still…” She sat up and looked in his eyes. “I still need to do most of it alone. No more paying my bills, okay? And especially not behind my back.”

“No more. I promise.”

“And I promise to be less of a hard-ass about accepting help, and I’ll try to be more open to asking when I do need it.” He nodded. “I still need to know I can do this without relying on your checkbook.”

“Got it.” Then a look came over his face and he looked down at his lap, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

“There, um…I-I think I should tell you something that might maybe explain…uh, my behavior. Or-Or at least give you some insight into what was, uh, going through my head.” She waited, watching him. “See, I—Crap, I didn’t wanna say this that night because I felt like such a sap for letting it get to me…”

“What is it, Chuck? You can talk to me.” She leaned over to bump him with her shoulder and he smiled a little. It went away just as quickly.

“I talked to my mom the day before.” Sarah’s stomach clenched. “She came by my office and we went for a walk and talked for a while. And I swear I haven’t told her a thing about your agency, but she seems to still know you need clients and she needled—”

“She’s good at that.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in frustration. “She got me into a position where I was insisting you were refusing to let me help you, especially with money.” Sarah could feel her levels rising, the annoyance and, damn it, the hurt, pricking at her heart. “I don’t want to tell you this, baby. I just thought, in the spirit of getting things off our chest…”

“No. Chuck, it’s okay. Keep going.”

He continued with a wince. “She planted this seed of paranoia, Sarah, and then my own self-esteem hang-ups and self-doubt watered the seed, and legitimately made me into a panic plant.”

“What about?”

“You. Leaving.”

She did a double-take. “What? Jesus, what did she say to you?”

“She talked about how you’d have better luck opening an agency in some other city somewhere, like New York, and that you had to know that, had to always be thinking about it. But that you’re staying here because you love me. She, uh, ahem…She told me I provide a big safety net for you. That if this doesn’t work out—your agency, I mean—you’ll just let it go and live off of my earnings.” Sarah clenched her jaw, trying not to let it get under her skin. That woman was pernicious. He rushed on as if he could read her thoughts. “I told her flat-out, without hesitation, that you’d never just let this go. It’s your dream. And even if it got to a point where you had to throw in the towel, you’d never be satisfied living off of my earnings and that was when I realized that…” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Before you ever lived off of me, you’d-you’d leave first. Find some other place to build your agency where it was viable. Somewhere that isn’t here.” She didn’t know what to say so she just swallowed and lowered her gaze. “It scared the shit out of me. And knowing that you were late on your rent, I thought that if you lost that office, it’d be such a big setback. I guess I got it into my head that you might decide the problem was LA and you’d move away. I’m ashamed of myself, but I spiraled. I spiraled really bad. Then I went behind your back and didn’t pay just your last month’s rent, but the next month’s too, and the late fee. Because you bet your fucking life I’m gonna make sure I keep my detective here, in LA, with me. So selfish and immature and paranoid, I know, but—”

She covered his mouth with hers. It was gentle, slow, and more intimate than anything else they’d shared over the last hour or two. And she slid her arms around his neck, falling onto her back and taking him with her.

When he eventually pulled back, she reached up to stroke her fingers through his messy curls and met his brown eyes steadily. “Chuck Bartowski, don’t you ever spiral like that again, no matter what your mom says to you. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He softened significantly. “I picked up my whole life for you, if you remember??? Moved to Los Angeles, got an apartment I love,” she glanced around her room, “I found an office space. I’ve set my entire damn heart on this place. I’ve dug roots in for the first time…” She felt breathless suddenly. “God, for the first time in my life. LA’s my home.” She had to bite her cheek then as tears stung her eyes. She just barely kept them back. “Your mom can do or say whatever she wants. But we can’t let her keep getting to us like this, okay?”

Chuck nodded vigorously. “You’re right.”

“Maybe Ellie has some tips.”

He chuckled. “She probably has a whole binder on it.”

“She would,” she said with a snort, playing with his stubble. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The gravity with which he responded made her feel weightless, but she also felt…almost overwhelmed. There were moments when they were together and she felt just how incredibly serious this was between them. This was one of those moments. “I’m so sorry I lost faith for a second. I’m sorry I panicked and did something stupid because of it. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t feel terrible. Your mom’s really good at…” Being evil? Could she say that to him about his mom?

“Being evil?” he finished for her, as if he’d read her mind.

She laughed a little. “You said it, not me.” “Noted.”

His grin lit up her whole bedroom.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck couldn’t help being distracted as he mixed the batter, the bowl rounded by one arm, and the spoon clutched in his other fist.

He’d wanted to wake up before Sarah so that he could make her breakfast, and he’d found the waffle iron Ellie had given his girlfriend last week. He’d wanted this bit of time alone, rummaging in her kitchen while she slept. He’d found himself needing some time to think.

Sarah had told him a lot the night before, and it opened his eyes to so much about her.

She was so confident as a detective. He watched her when she was on the job, not just when she’d worked his case, but when they’d started dating and he visited her while she was on other cases. She knew exactly what she was doing, every step she took was calculated. She was brilliant.

But she had baggage. He understood the hit she took to her self-esteem after years of receiving what she thought was preferential treatment, and he was sure the people around her—her peers—hadn’t helped much in that respect. She wasn’t able to see the things she’d done for herself, the hard work she put in all those years, because the kindness shown her overshadowed that. He could just see it—how that might eat away at a person’s image of themselves and what they’re capable of.

Chuck hurt for her. Because he could empathize, in a much smaller scale. His dad had pulled him into the business halfway through his time at Stanford. Bartowski Electronics Corporation was already lucrative, making headway, filling the family coffers, as it were. He was set for life because of who his father was. And it did have a way of making you feel privileged, like you were just lucky, given an advantage in life no one else had.

He worked hard, though. He had to. He had to make sure B.E.C. stayed relevant in an industry that changed practically on the daily. He ran the company’s transitions, set up sponsorships, met with partners, anything his dad couldn’t fit into his own busy schedule…

It was something he had to pound into his own head. He was earning his role in the company by working as hard as he was, by coming up with fresh ideas, by reaching out in the community.

Sarah needed to find that place where she could recognize her skills, and he understood now that the only way she thought she could do that was starting this agency without anyone giving her a hand up.

That was why Chuck was a bit nervous when he glanced over his shoulder to look at her laptop he’d set up on her table. She said she’d be more open to his help, and maybe it was too early for him to make this move…

Chuck turned back to the waffle iron then, set down the bowl and spoon, and opened the iron.

“Hmm…” He stared at the contraption, the blinking red light, and then he grabbed the oil spray and popped the cap off, spraying the iron and then watching the steam rise.

The tech guy heard his girlfriend’s feet against the floorboards as she stopped at the doorway into the kitchen. “Okay, so do you turn it over when it goes DING or when it goes DINGDING?” he asked without looking at her. “Because it’s already gone DING and it’s gone DINGDING and I haven’t even put anything in it yet.”

He turned to watch as she giggled and walked over to join him. She was fully dressed for the day, he noticed with a bit of an inward pout, in spite of the fact that they’d woken up to rain. He’d been hoping for a lazy Saturday staying in.

“So ignore the beeps if you haven’t even put anything in, first of all,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she sidled up next to him. “That seems obvious.”

“A little less snark, maybe, Sarah Walker, P.I.”

She giggled again and held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying. Here, put the batter in the iron. I’ll show you how it works.”

He poured it in and she reached around him to shut it.

“Leave it like this until it does the DING.”

“Or is it DINGDING?”

“Any kind of DING, Chuck. It DINGS until you turn it over. It can sense it.”

“Like Morgan’s car. If I take off my seatbelt before we pull into his driveway, it beeps at me like an angry mom. Put on your seatbelt, Charles!” he mimicked, making her laugh.

At the DINGDINGDING, Chuck turned the iron over, thrusting his hands out in a ta da motion. She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, then.

“Really, really well. I feel fully rested and ready to take on the worl—Oh shit, it’s raining.” Her face fell as she finally looked out the window.

He laughed. “You didn’t know it was raining?’

“Still have the curtains shut in my room so no, thank you, I didn’t know. This is dumb. I’m not going out in this.”

“That was sort of my plan, too. If you’ll have me. ‘Cause your building doesn’t have an elevator and I don’t want to go back down those three flights just yet, know what I mean?”

“God, you’re so lazy,” she teased, going into her fridge to grab the eggs. “Want a fried egg?”

“Hell to the yeah.”

“And of course you can stay. I’m just going to be doing a bit of work and then watching TV. Maybe I’ll read a book ‘cause that’s a bit more productive.”

He wrinkled his nose in faux disappointment. “Aw man. I left my laptop at home. And my tablet. Guess I can’t do any work today. Just going to have to watch TV and take multiple naps.”

She laughed and then caught sight of the laptop on the table. “Hey, did I leave my laptop open last night? That’s weird. I thought I put it away.”

“Uhhh…No, I…I had to check something. I hope that’s okay. Um, checked my email.” “Oh.” She shrugged. “That’s fine. The DING happened already. You might want to take the waffle out before it gets a little too crispy.”

“Oh. Shit.” He spun back and opened the iron, grabbing the tongs and peeling it out, slapping it onto the plate.

“I was really just making sure I wasn’t going insane or something, thinking I put my laptop away when I didn’t.”

He inadvertently gave off a nervous laugh then, and damn him for it, because she immediately noticed and was right at his side, leaving the two eggs frying on the stove. “What?” he asked when she looked at him pointedly.

“Your nervous laugh. You do that when you have something to tell me and you aren’t sure how I’m going to take it.”

Chuck sighed and turned off the iron, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and around to her table. He woke her laptop, punched in her password, and gestured to the screen. She leaned in and immediately frowned. “What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s an email I composed this morning. I rewrote it maybe seventeen times to make sure it was…Well, anyway…”

“Who is Reggie Lincoln?” she asked. “What are you doing sending him an email about me?”

The good thing was she just seemed curious more than anything, and he didn’t sense any anger.

“Lincoln & Associates Contracting. He’s the CEO. He and my dad have been friends since college. I’ve known him for decades, my whole life pretty much. He’s almost like an uncle. Sort of. I don’t see him as often as I used to. But that’s—that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat. “Lincoln’s a contracting business, has work everywhere, contacts up the ass. A shit ton of contacts. And a lot of them are pretty high profile, guys who have a lot to lose if they get in the papers over theft, whatever else they might be dealing with. I’m pretty sure some of them could use a private investigator with your skill sets. If only they knew you existed.”

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “So you’re telling him to tell his friends about me.” She shook her head. “This is something I should be doing for myself, isn’t it? Like, marketing and advertising…that should be me.”

“Sure, yeah. But this is different. Read the email. It’s just a recommendation with your website and contact info. You did work for me and my dad, we’re really pleased with the work, I think he and his associates might benefit from a P.I. with your supreme discretion. That sort of stuff.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Chuck. He isn’t going to know that? Come on.”

“I don’t know what he knows. Maybe Dad told him his son is dating a private investigator, I don’t know. But who cares? I’m not asking him for a favor. I’m just passing along your information. He can do whatever he wants with it from there. Pass it on or not.”

She sent him a bit of a flat look. “You’re using loopholes in our agreement.” “Maybe. A little.” He winced. “Look, if he does decide to recommend you to other people, they’re going to look at your website that you built, your résumé, your record with Pinkerton…They’re going to make their decision about whether or not to call you based off of things you’ve done, not who you are or aren’t connected to. I don’t know Reggie’s high roller buddies. They don’t know me. I doubt they’d give a crap about whether you’re my girlfriend or not. They’d want someone who can give them results, baby, and they’re gonna decide based on you. Not me. Not Reggie. You.”

He could see her thinking on it, and he wondered if he wasn’t getting through to her. He took it an extra step further.

“Say they like what they see, they’re worried some employee is stealing from them or something and they need a detective but they don’t want this leaking to the press. They call you up and they talk to you. They won’t be talking to me or anyone else. You’ll be selling your skill sets. And when they hire you, because they will hire you, you’re going to be working the case. It’s all you. I’m just one of your past clients who was really pleased with the work you did to literally save my life a handful of times.”

“You’re really talking me into this,” she said, pausing.

“And there’s the email. I’m letting you decide if I should send it or not. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. It’s okay.” He reached down and moved the mouse to hover over SEND. “We’ll have breakfast and pretend this didn’t even happen.”

There was a long pause, and then Sarah reached over to click. There was a whoosh sound and it was gone. When she turned to face him, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Chuck. For helping me.”

“It’s all you, baby.”

They hugged tightly and he buried his face in her hair. It occurred to him, then, that the rain had gotten worse outside, the pattering against the window more like a…sizzle?

“The eggs!”

Sarah dashed out of his arms as he laughed, turning to watch as she tried to rescue their breakfast, reveling in the tumult of the scene as he realized things were contradictorily calm and settled between them.

Just the way he liked it.

[victorianoir]

The Detective and the Embezzler, Part 2

Here’s the second part to the chapter I put out last week, dear readers!! 

If you want to read part 1, or any other parts of The Detective and the Tech Guy, you can do so by hopping on over to the tumblr MASTER POST for the story. Or you can read it on the fanfiction.net site: HERE. 

Enjoy, my friends!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Ugh, this is bumming me out.”

“What?”

“This timeline I’m being given is so shitty. And I feel like I have a lot to do. And they’re actually doing a pretty good job keeping their affair quiet, in spite of how chatty they were with us at Sir Sensei’s the other day.”

“Well, they’re bound to slip up, right?”

“I don’t know. Penny sort of seems like the brains. She must be handling details. She’s the smart one in this whole situation.”

Penny Havert didn’t have much of a criminal record, Sarah’d discovered, which either meant this was her first offense, or she was good at not getting caught. Whether she actually cared for Pendleton or not, Sarah had no idea. Nor did she care. Penny was orchestrating most of this, but they were both going down. Hopefully. If she did her damn job.

“Sarah, what if—and hear me out—neither of them are the smart one in this whole situation?”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point.”

Her boyfriend chuckled as he lowered half of a four egg omelet onto her plate with a spatula, heading over to his own place at the coffee table and sliding the rest of the egg out of the pan onto his plate.

“I still think it’s rad how you figured out who his mistress is, you know,” he said, heading back towards the kitchen, putting the pan in the sink and grabbing the plate of bacon, before tugging his apron off and tossing it on the counter on his way back to the couch.

She smirked. “It’s scarily easy to get a hold of someone’s credit card if you hang around a restaurant. Wear a white button up, black slacks, and an apron, walk over and grab the check with their card, and bam.”

He shook his head as he plopped down next to her on the couch, setting the bacon down between their plates. “I bet it looked so cool and spy-ish, though.”

She snorted, shaking her head.

“So what d’ya got?” he asked. “You said you’re bummed out. Gimme the deets. Maybe I can help.”

Maybe a few years ago, she might’ve been miffed if one of the men she dated had plopped down wanting to “help” with a case—if she ever told them anything about her cases, which she never did. But Chuck had proven he wasn’t just a nerd who’d seen a lot of noir movies with detectives and hardboiled lawmen. He was actually incredibly good at thinking outside of the box, and she’d learned over the past few days especially that he could be a massive asset. Even if sometimes his ideas were absolutely wild and out of left field, it got her mind going.

“Right. So I’ve been tailing both of them for a few days now—I know how that sounds, like I’ve duplicated myself, but I just mean I followed him one day and her the next.”

“Hm? Oh. Sorry, I’m just a little fixated on the idea of there being two of you. Is it too stereotypical dude-ish of me to say that’s hot?”

“Yes.”

“Noted.”

“Back to my investigation,” she said pointedly, aware of the fact that she was doing a poor job of ignoring his flirtation. She took a large bite out of her breakfast, leaning forward to keep the long string of melted cheese from getting stuck on her chin. “She went to the bank that day, and she withdrew a lot. I don’t know how much, but it was enough that it took the teller a while. I’m sure it’s an account he’s been transferring money into for her, but I need to prove that somehow.”

Chuck huffed. “I’ll think on that.”

She clicked around on her laptop and turned it towards him on her lap. “In the meantime… So, look at this email Mestik sent me. He forwarded Pendleton’s travel itinerary for a business trip, like I asked him to. This says he’s going to Atlanta. As in Georgia. That’s not Miami. See? LAX to Atlanta with a layover in Chicago.”

“Why did they tell us Miami, then?”

“Maybe they’re just lying sacks of shit.” He chuckled at that. “She gave him an annoyed look about it. I dunno if you saw that. Maybe that’s where she wanted to go and instead she’s stuck going to Atlanta because of his work so she’s pissed.” She shrugged.

“Atlanta doesn’t sound so bad.”

“If she was looking forward to beach time, it’s probably not preferable.”

“Good point.”

Sarah nibbled on her lip, turning the laptop back to her. “I’m going to ask Mestik if Thomas has charged anything else as an expense yet. And I need to know if Penny is going to be on the flight with him, even if her portion isn’t being charged to Mestik Insurance. Nobody’s that stupid.” She huffed. “But I need to do it quick. I’ve only got a week and a half to solve the case.”

“What? Why only a week and a half?”

“Because if I don’t solve it by then, I’m going to have to go to Atlanta to tail these assholes, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“Why? Might be an interesting place to go.”

“Atlanta is fine, but that’s an expense I’d be charging to Mestik, add on top of that whatever expenses Thomas and Penny charge to the company while they’re on their romantic getaway. If I figure this all out before the trip, I save Mestik a lot of unnecessary expense, not to mention his niece’s husband doesn’t get to go off to some other city to knock knees with his mistress on his uncle-in-law’s dime. It’s the principle of the thing.”

She felt Chuck reach over to tenderly stroke his fingers over her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear and she smiled a little at him.

“For the record, I love that you’re a P.I. who’s on the up-and-up. Like, not a hardboiled P.I. who’s kind of in this murky grey area of morality, but a genuinely good detective trying to help her client.”

She gave him a look as she sipped her coffee. “What makes you think I’d ever be hardboiled? Seriously, baby, you watch way too many of those movies.”

“Maybe, but you love that I’m such a dweeb fanboy about your career choice. Don’t deny it.”

“Oh, I have no intention of denying it. You’re the cutest person on the planet when you geek out about the dumb letters on my office door. But still…I’m serious about this, Chuck. A week and a half. I need to do this right.”

He swiped a hand in front of his face, sobering up completely. “Yes. Absolutely. I’m with you.”

Sarah froze then, an idea hitting her.

“I just need to figure out where Penny is going. Duh. Wherever Penny goes, Thomas goes. As far as they know, nobody knows about Penny Havert and wherever she ends up, we’re going to find him there, too. But how do I know where she’s going?” She nibbled on her lip.

“Well, how do you even go about finding that out? Gonna steal her computer or something?”

She shook her head, and then a slow, mischievous smile stretched over her face. “No. But you’ve given me an idea…”

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck looked up from his desktop screen as his assistant poked his head in after a quick knock. “Yeah?”

“Sarah’s here.”

“Oh, good. Thanks. Send ‘er in.”

Sarah smiled at the bespectacled man as she swept past him with a thank you and some weird handshake they’d concocted over the last couple of months and stepped inside, not saying anything until the door was shut and they were alone. And then she pulled a smartphone he’d never seen before out of her pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Thomas Pendleton’s phone,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.

Chuck’s eyes practically bugged right out of their sockets as he sat up straighter and spun his chair towards her. “What? How’d you get his phone?”

“I stole it. The guy kept setting it down everywhere he went and looking away. It was so easy. I don’t even know if he even realizes now, an hour later, that it’s been stolen.”

She rolled her eyes, but he was still stuck on the fact that his girlfriend had just stolen someone’s phone.

“And now you’re bringing stolen property into my place of work. Wonderful, great, thank you so much.” He gave her a teasing grin as she scoffed, walking around his desk and plopping down on the edge of it. “So what’s on it?” he asked, reaching up to take the phone.

She held it away from him. “You aren’t officially my partner or even my assistant, and I’m not sure I should even be sharing this info with you, Chuck Bartowski, heir of Bartowski Electronics Corporation.” He liked how flirty she was being. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he loved it. But it made him wonder if doing things like this made her a little cocky…or, as Morgan would say, randy. He couldn’t blame her, exactly…

“You could always make me your partner.”

“No.”

“Assistant sounds good.”

“You’re my big-brained boyfriend and that’s it.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“You share info about your cases with all your boyfriends?”

“Mmm, no. Just you. You’re the smartest boyfriend I’ve got at the moment.”

“Out of how many?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You bad girl,” he teased, biting his lip, narrowing his eyes, and grinning.

When she got a certain glint in her eye, he felt like his prior thought about her being cocky wasn’t all that much of a reach. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you help me call the phone numbers on here.”

Chuck sat back, away from her, and glared. “Ohhhh okay I get it now. I thought you were being all sexy and flirtatious with me because—never mind what I thought,” he said quickly. “But you’re just trying to get me to help you call a bajillion phone numbers to find out who his contacts are.”

“No, most of his contacts in his phone have labels and names. But he’s made over fifty recent calls to numbers that aren’t labeled and I do need help with that.” She sighed and put Pendleton’s phone on his desk. “This sucks. Back when I was at Pinkerton, I’d send it into our analysts and they’d come back with a list within a day. Ugh, it was so easy. Now I have to go all old school and actually call the numbers.”

Chuck shook his head with an amused huff. And then he stopped, an idea coming to him. “What if you didn’t have to do that? Even though you aren’t with Pinkerton anymore?” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Chuck held up a finger and spun back to his computer, clicking around until he got onto the Google document where he kept a list of projects his employees were working on. He scrolled through as he felt Sarah sidle up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning over him and dropping her lips to the top of his head.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A top secret list of all of B.E.C.’s current projects, or at least…potential projects.” He tilted his head back and raised his eyebrow up at her. “This is super secret stuff. Feel special, Sarah.”

She giggled. “Oh, trust me. Not a day goes by when I’m with you that I don’t feel special.”

A slow grin grew on his face as he looked up at her. “That was pretty damn sappy and I dug it.”

Sarah leaned down to kiss his lips with another soft giggle, and she stood up again, squeezing his shoulders. “I figured you might. But why is this list going to help me?”

“Oh. Right.” He sat up again and kept scrolling. “These are the things my employees are working on outside of the everyday tasks their job requires of them. Things they pitch to me and my team…Well, mostly my team. I have a lot of employees and I can’t be one on one with all of ‘em that often. I see the prototypes when they seem viable enough to maybe implement them under our brand. But I seem to rememberrrr…hmmmm…” He found it. “Ha!”

He spun to his phone and picked it up, paging his assistant.

“Yeah, Boss…”

“Would you please get, um…” He glanced at his screen. “Phoebe Butler on the phone for me? I have no idea if she even works in this building. Does she work in this building?”

“Uh…I’ll find out, Chuck.”

“You’re the best. Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and turned his chair to look up at Sarah. “While we wait, how are you planning on getting the phone back to Pendleton?”

Sarah shrugged. “I’m meeting Mestik for coffee tomorrow morning, hopefully with some more info than I had for him last night,” she huffed. “I’ll just give it to him and let him slip it back in the jerk’s desk or something.”

“Good pl—”

Bzzzzzz!!!

Chuck gasped theatrically for Sarah’s benefit, earning a chuckle, and he smacked the speaker button. “Did you find her?”

“Her desk is on the third floor of this building, and I’ve got her on the line right now. Um…she sounds…nervous. So maybe let her know she isn’t fired. Wait…she isn’t fired is she?” his assistant asked.

Chuck laughed. “She isn’t fired. But thanks for the head’s up. Transfer her over.”

“On it.”

He grabbed the phone receiver and held it to his ear.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

She heard Chuck come in the door, the rustle of whatever he was carrying, and then the slam of him kicking the door shut as she poured over the notes she’d taken from tailing Thomas Pendleton and Penny Havert for the last few days.

“Hey, how was the store?” she asked, looking up from where she was draped across his couch.

“Okay, I can’t do Trader Joe’s anymore. I just can’t. Or, like, maybe I can take a Lyft there next time? Because parking is like… And I’m not trying to go to Disneyland on a Saturday, here. I’m not trying to wait in line for five hours. I just want to get some groceries on a Saturday. They need to fix their shit.”

He dropped the reusable bags on the counter and huffed.

Sarah giggled to herself and sat up with a soft groan, putting her paperwork down and going around into his kitchen to help him unload the groceries. “My poor guy, braving the weekend health food crowd so that I can have delicious lamb ribs for dinner tonight.”

His arm wrapped around her from behind as she took a bag of lettuce out, and he kissed the side of her face with a “muah”, before shifting his lips to her neck. “I’m going to bake the hell out of those ribs and I’m going to enjoy them, too, damn it.”

She giggled again.

They unloaded the groceries in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Chuck looked up from where he was sticking a few things in the fridge. “Still trying to connect the dots on that case?” he asked.

“Mhm. Well, I mean…Phoebe’s number tracking program helped a lot. Now that I know Thomas has been in contact with both Penny and that travel agency, I at least have a bit of a lead.”

“Who uses a travel agency, though? I know I said this before,” he said, shutting the fridge, “but, like, really. A travel agency? You can easily do everything through your computer and talk to zero other humans. How is that not the best choice?”

Sarah laughed. “That’s just it. I thought the same thing, but I did a bunch of research today while you were out running errands. Guess who owns that travel agency…”

Chuck stopped halfway through folding the now empty bag and looked up at her. “Oh, do you mean the cleverly named travel agency, ‘Go There’? That one?” He made a pfft sound and shook his head.

She laughed again. “Yeah. That one.”

“Who owns it?”

“Brett Smith.”

Chuck made a face, then grabbed another bag to fold it up. “Am I supposed to know who this is?”

“No, I mostly just paused for dramatic effect.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Brett Smith attended Texas Tech the same four years that Thomas Pendleton was there. They were both business majors and they were both a part of the Sigma Delta Alpha Nu Epsilon whatever-the-fuck fraternity there. I don’t remember the name, but it’s the same one. And I found a picture of them on the alumni website at their ten year reunion that happened a few years ago.”

“Great work, gumshooooe,” Chuck drawled, pointing. “No, seriously. That’s legit. So his frat buddy owns ‘Go There’. God, it’s so bad.”

“It’s terrible,” she agreed.

“And, what, he probably thinks that’s a pretty safe way to go, right? When you’re booking a vacation with your mistress, go with your bro. Don’t tell my wife, right, brah? Bro Code.” Chuck grabbed her hand and did a lame excuse for a high five with her. “Dope.”

“Okay, you’re a doofus. But that aside, you’re right. Those are my exact thoughts. Uh…in not so many words,” she said, giving him an amused side-eye. “There’s no paper trail—well, the online version. The travel agency has the paperwork but he trusts his frat bro to keep all of that safe. My only problem now is how do I get in there to get the itinerary for Thomas and Penny’s real vacation?”

Chuck shrugged, leaning back against the counter and popping a grape into his mouth. “Easy. Wait for ‘Go There’,” he rolled his eyes, “to close for the night, break in through the air conditioning system, crawl through the ducts, lower yourself Mission:Impossible style into the room where they keep their records, and take pictures of it with your ballpoint pen that’s actually a camera. Boom. Done.”

Sarah just looked at him for a moment, almost impressed. “Wow. I was really expecting a legitimate idea that would actually be helpful…the whole body stance and your delivery was that good.”

He smiled around the grape and shrugged again. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you have anything else to add?”

“Um…I’ll think on it.”

She sniffed in amusement and wadded up a produce bag, throwing it at his face as he laughed and batted it away. She left the kitchen and walked back to the couch, plopping down. He sat beside her and swung his legs around to drape them over her lap, laying his head against the armrest. She began rubbing his leg muscles in that way he liked and he sighed, his eyelids fluttering.

She’d been to that same store on the weekend before and she knew he wasn’t just being melodramatic. It was a damn trial getting through there. But the food was amazing and so was the price.

“I mean, is there a way to get them to give you the itinerary? So you don’t have to break in and steal it?” he asked.

“There must be. I just haven’t thought of it yet—Wait.” He sat up quickly, staring at her and waiting patiently for her to continue as her mind went a mile a minute. “I might’ve just thought of it. I’d need a really good cover. And I’d have to sell it.”

“A cover? Like…incognito?” He gasped and it was so boyish and adorable. “Like a disguise?!”

“Maybe not that intense. But I am going to need to figure out how to forge an ID and business cards so that I have some way of proving who I am.”

He blinked. “Who are you?” He shook his head. “I mean, I know who you are. I just mean…who are you supposed to be?”

“Mr. Thomas Pendleton’s assistant, of course. Just need to make a few changes to the business trip itinerary for the boss man.” She smirked flirtatiously.

“Okay wait. Are you flirting with me, or are you going to try to seduce Brett Smith?”

She smacked his shoulder hard as he laughed. “I’m flirting with you, you ass!” She laughed with him and shook her head. “I just don’t know how I’m going to make business cards and forge an ID in such short notice. I could use my own ID, but it’s still a Chicago driver’s license and I’m not sure I want my real name anywhere near this.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t really want the name Sarah Walker to be in their minds for when all of the shit hits the fan for their buddy Tommy,” he said, and he put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. She thought it was a bit of protectiveness, something she hadn’t necessarily seen from him before. And, to her surprise, she liked it.

“Know any forgers?”

“I might. And he has access to an ID card printer.”

Sarah gaped at him. “Wait, seriously? I was joking. You really do?”

He shrugged. “You want an ID and some business cards or no?”

A slow smile grew on her face and she had the urge to kiss him. Alas, it would take some acrobatics to do so and she didn’t have time to waste, so she just winked instead. “Take me to him.”

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“Don’t ever stop surprising me, Tech Guy.”

She heard the wonder in her own voice as she watched Chuck fiddle with the ID card software on the system. He was meticulously building a California driver’s license for her, even superimposing the shiny golden gate bridge decal into the background of the card. He had his own license propped on the keyboard so that he could copy it as best he could.

“I’ll do my best, Sarah Walker, P.I.,” he muttered distractedly.

“Seriously. When I asked if you know any forgers, I had no idea the forger you knew was…you. What, did you do this for a little side cash when you were in college?” She snorted, but then his hands stopped what they were doing and he snuck a look at her over his shoulder, his features pinched.

“What if I said yes?”

She stepped around his chair and looked down at him. “Did you really?”

“Listen, those Beverly Hills brats had a lot of money and they coughed up big bucks for fake IDs so they could buy brewskies for their dumb parties. My dad was struggling and it was a help.”

To say she was shocked was an understatement. “You forged IDs for kids to buy beer? Also, did you just say brewskies unironically?? That feels like the more important question. Strangely.”

Chuck laughed, but there was a thread of nervousness in it. “Oh, I said it with complete and utter irony, trust me. And um…to that first question…yes…I did.” He winced. “It was easy, fast cash. And erm…I don’t do it anymore. Except, well…right now. I’m doing it for you right now. In the belly of Bartowski Electronics Corporation on a Saturday afternoon when it’s completely abandoned. Because I am not stupid.”

Sarah gaped at him. “Oh my God.”

She read nervousness in his face then as he swallowed, and she quickly dove in to put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait, wait…What d’you think, I’m gonna turn you in to the LAPD or something?” She giggled as he gave her a bit of a dark look. “Chuck, come on. It’s not like you’re a serial killer. You maybe contributed to a few alcohol poisonings, but teenagers eventually find a way to get alcohol anyway, so whatever.”

Chuck grumbled and went back to work, the dark look fading a bit at least.

“This is actually kind of amazing, if you think about it,” she said, still completely gobsmacked to have learned this pretty important tidbit about the man she’d thought was such a saint before today—well, in all the ways it mattered, at least. She stepped back behind him and slid her arms around his neck, cuddling him and pressing her cheek against his. “I’m in a very serious romantic relationship with a criminal. Maybe I am a little bit of a hardboiled detective. And you, my good man…You’re my nerd-fatale.”

He burst into laughter and shook his head, shifting in the chair to face her a little better. “I’ll take it, and gladly, but I also promise that in spite of my…checkered past…” he said with a smolder, and she snorted, “I would never lead you down any dark paths, or use you for my selfish whims…”

She growled, sliding her fingers into his mess of curls and tightening her grip, tugging his head back teasingly and meeting his laughing brown eyes with her blue ones. “That’s what they all say…in the beginning…”

Their lips met then, and she tangled her fingers of one hand in his hair, sliding the other around his neck, deepening the kiss. When she felt him sweep his tongue against hers, she pulled back quickly, even going so far as to put a good two feet between them, leaving him sitting there with a put out look on his face.

“Wha—why?” he whined.

“We have work to do.”

“No. But—No, why?”

She giggled. “Listen, buster, I’d like nothing more than to utilize this strange little illegal forgery den as a setting for a seriously hot private eye and nerd-fatale encounter, but first I need that driver’s license and those business cards.”

Sarah couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as his shoulders slumped and he turned back to the computer. She leaned in and hugged him from the side, kissing his temple. “I mean…there’s always…after…”

Chuck’s head snapped up as he gave her a wide-eyed look. A crooked smile tilted his handsome mouth for just a split second, before he dove back into his work with a vengeance. “One driver’s license for Jennifer Burton, coming up.”

XOXOXOXOXO

Sarah heard the door to the outer office open, then the shuffling of feet, and finally… “Miss Walker?”

Letting herself half a moment to take a deep breath, Sarah stood from her desk upon which she’d set up all of her materials, and walked to stand in the doorway of her personal office. “Mr. Mestik, good afternoon.”

He clapped his hands together upon seeing her. “Afternoon, Miss Walker. My assistant said you needed to see me as soon as I was able to come.”

“Yes. Thank you for coming so soon, sir. Come into my office.”

“Yes, uh…Of course. Thank you.”

He followed her into her office and took a seat in the chair across from her, on the other side of her desk. “I gotta hand it to ya, Miss Walker, you’re always prompt. This looks like…well, it looks like evidence.”

“Yes, well…My time is valuable, and yours is even more valuable.”

He nodded.

“Can I get you some coffee or…?”

“I don’t drink the stuff,” he said, waving his hand. “Trudy has weaned me off of it with tea.” Greg Mestik smacked his lips with a disgusted face. “But it’s better for my heart. I guess. So they say.”

“Understood. Well, let’s get down to business, then, Mr. Mestik. There’s a lot.”

“By all means.” And then he paused, his dark brow turning down, a frown on his face. “Is it worse than the news you gave me the other night?”

She’d told him about Penny Havert the Mistress the other night, and he’d wanted to see the proof, so she’d been forced to give him the photographs she’d taken. His response was… Well, angry would’ve been an understatement.

“I’m not sure.”

He sighed. “Just give it to me straight. Am I being swindled?”

“In no uncertain terms, sir, yes. You are. Now, I couldn’t tell you that for sure before because I had to collect evidence sufficient enough for you to go to the authorities. I planned on making sure you got that before the business trip to Atlanta, because…Well, there is no business trip to Atlanta.” She grabbed the folder in the corner of her desk, then turned it towards him, putting it between them and pushing it closer to him.

“No business trip? There’s a conference on insurance and marketing there. He practically begged me to let him be the one I sent, said he needed to brush up on…What’s this?” Mestik asked as she flipped the folder open and showed him a travel itinerary that looked very different from the one he’d emailed her a few days earlier.

“Thomas Pendleton purchased two plane tickets to Miami through a travel agency.”

“Miami? What the shit? And he used a travel agency? What is this, nineteen-seventy-five?” He shook his head, then scratched the back of his neck. “I’m very confused. What is all of this?”

“I used a very precise, rather genius computer program that a, um, friend created to figure out whom all of the unlisted phone numbers in Thomas’ phone belong to.” She took the suspect’s phone out of her bag and slid it across to Mestik. “There’s that for you.” His eyes popped. She probably should’ve warned him that she’d stolen his niece’s husband’s phone, but oh well.

“It’s supposed to be used as sort of a telemarketer deterrent, but it gave me a list of individuals and businesses he’s called in the last few months. A month and a half ago, he contacted a travel agency called ‘Go There��—I know, it’s a really great name, right?” When Mestik didn’t respond, she cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway, he used this particular agency because an old frat buddy from college owns it. He thought it’d be a lot safer and leave less of a paper trail doing it through someone he trusted rather than online. That whole Bro Code thing, I’m assuming. But it’s really easy to get around the Bro Code, I’ve found. I just pretended I was Thomas’ assistant and I needed them to change part of the trip. I had them email the itinerary to an address I created for this purpose exactly, and then I called them back and had them change a small enough detail in the plans that neither Thomas nor Penny would notice. I have the flight information, the hotel information—a suite overlooking the Miami bay, cocktails on the terrace every afternoon at the same time…which is…strangely precise, but whatever…uh, the rental car information. There’s also a reservation for a boat tour of the Florida Keys. A reservation for two. The dates coincide with the exact dates of the seven day trip to Atlanta he told you he was going on.”

She sat back and took a deep breath, letting Mestik look through all of it himself. The frown on his face grew deeper and deeper as he flipped through all of it.

“Swimming with the dolphins, is he?” He chuckled mirthlessly and then sat back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Well, you got evidence that he’s a lying cheating son of a bitch, but what about the money he’s stealing from me?”

She slid another file towards him. “Thomas Pendleton’s income doesn’t match the amount of money he’s been putting into three different banks systematically for a while. He then transfers the money into a fourth account, slowly but surely, and Penny withdraws. She’s the one whose name and money went towards air fare, the hotel suite, the reservations, the rental car, everything. Although it isn’t her money, it is your money, Mr. Mestik. Open that file. Inside is the concrete evidence they’ve been embezzling from Mestik Insurance. Redirecting client payments to their own pockets. Once you get the LAPD involved, they’ll have much more freedom as far as being able to go through private files to bring Mr. Pendleton down.

“Yes, of course you’re right.” He looked haunted.

“For what it’s worth, Mr. Mestik, I’m sorry. It’s hard enough to see actions like this from a valued employee, but I can’t imagine how much worse it is with family.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about him. I just didn’t want Irma hurt. This is awful.” He let out a long sigh and then shook his head. “You did exemplary work, Miss Walker. Thank you. I’m passing your name on to colleagues, you can be sure of that.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Mestik. Thank you.”

Sarah waited for almost a minute, as he sat there buried in his thoughts, looking very troubled. And then she quietly gathered the evidence into a neat stack, and eased them into a carrying case. Eventually, he lifted his gaze to hers and she continued. “Here’s all of the evidence I’ve found and notes I’ve taken. It should be more than enough to convince the LAPD to continue my investigation and make an arrest.”

“Thank you, Miss Walker.” He stood again. “Especially considering in just a few days, I would’ve been sending that little shit on an all-expense-paid getaway with someone who isn’t his wife.”

“I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen. I also, erm, didn’t want to have to go to Atlanta or Miami. That would’ve been expensive for you as well.”

“Yes. Thank you. I…hope I can also count on you…” He cleared his throat. “…keeping things under your hat about this. It is already going to be difficult enough for Irma without extra…attention.”

“I have a strict policy of complete secrecy. I used to work with Pinkerton, Mr. Mestik, and they taught me how best to stay out of the way of the press. I assure you, I won’t be talking to anyone.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Good good. Oh! Yes. Payment.” He went into his blazer jacket and pulled out a checkbook, leaning over on his desk and writing it out. “I take it the amount is still the same as the one you gave me before…?”

“I’m not charging you for any extra expenses. Same amount. Thank you, Sir.”

He looked pleasantly surprised and relieved as he looked up at her, and then he bent to his task again, finally tearing the check out of the book and handing it to her. “You do excellent work. And you’re kind. I’m grateful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mestik. And I hope everything turns out okay.”

“Me, too.”

They shook hands again and the man smiled, picking up the carrying case with all of the evidence the LAPD might use to arrest his niece’s husband. He walked to the door and pushed it open, moving into the outer office. Sarah slid into the doorway and watched him as he opened her outer office door. His shoulders were slumped and he was moving so much slower.

And for the first time since she began this case, she was starting to come to terms with the emotional and mental toll her findings would have on an entire family. Her chest throbbed a bit as he shut the door behind him and she let out a long breath.

She lifted the check Mestik had written her and she eyed the zeros, letting herself have just a moment of celebration, before she composed herself again and grabbed her jacket and bag. She had work to do.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Chuck had just finished arranging the gardenias in the vase he’d purchased at a corner store when he heard the door to Sarah’s agency open. “Oooh! You’re back already!” He lunged for the doorway to her personal office. “I have a surprise for y—You’re not Sarah. Hi.” He cleared his throat and stood up straighter, running his hands down the front of his T-shirt.

He eyed the man standing at the entrance to Sarah’s private investigative agency. He was even taller than Chuck, which was…something. And he was built like a tank, his hair cut close to his head, his features twisted in what seemed like a permanent state of distrust or disgust…maybe both?

And then he went into his pocket, looking around the place and letting go of the door so that he could step inside. “No, I’m not Sarah. She ain’t here?”

“Uh, she ain’t—isn’t. Can…Can I help you?”

“You her assistant or secretary or somethin’?”

Chuck pulled his lips between his teeth and winced, then made a popping sound. “Um, no. No, no. I am her boyfriend. Heh. She just solved a case and I snuck in here to put flowers on her desk. Sort of a congra—”

“I don’t care. You know when she’s gonna be back?”

Chuck frowned a bit. “No. I mean…soon maybe?”

“Not a very good secretary, are ya? Hope she doesn’t pay you a lot.”

“She doesn’t pay me anything, because I’m not her secretary. I’m her boyfriend. Are you just not listening to me?”

“Guess not.” He finally pulled his hand out of the blue windbreaker he wore and Chuck was sure for a second that it would be a gun and he was about to be shot in his girlfriend’s P.I. agency. But instead it was a badge. And Chuck noticed there was a gun in a shoulder holster, before the man pulled his jacket over it with a grunt.

“Detective Casey, LAPD. I need to talk to your boss as soon as possible, kid.”

“She’s not my boss—You know what? Never mind. I give up.” He went to the nearby desk and grabbed a notepad and pen from the drawer. “You have a number where she can reach you, or—”

“Move.” He was easily shifted out of the way by one hand on his shoulder. The detective scrawled a number down on the notepad. “Have her call me there the moment she comes in. Tell her to ask for Detective John Casey. Got it? Can you handle that much?”

Chuck had to force himself to remember the man had a pair of handcuffs somewhere and a gun, and his bail could easily be what Sarah spent her Mestik case paycheck on instead of building up her business like she planned to. And instead of reacting, he just nodded, keeping his annoyance from his face. “Yep. Got it. Will do. Uh…Sir? Detective, ahem…Detective Sir.”

“Casey.”

“Yes. Sorry. Detective Casey. Is Sarah…Is she in trouble for something?”

The man let out an amused grunt and ran his eyes down his tall, lanky frame, very blatantly surveying him. “She ain’t in trouble. Just need some information about a case. Filling in some holes, that’s all. Why?” He grunted again, humor in his face. As much humor as the man was capable of, at least. “You got a crush on ‘er?”

Chuck narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Mmmmm. Again, she’s my girlfriend.”

“Heh. Whatever you say, big-britches.”

Well, at least this time he acknowledged the words that had come out of Chuck’s mouth, even if he apparently didn’t believe them.

“Just make sure she calls. I don’t wanna hafta come back here.” The man flicked the pen in his hand at the desk, apparently not caring that it rolled right off the desk and onto the floor, and then he was gone, leaving the agency door slamming hard enough to rattle the frame.

“Okay bye,” Chuck said to no one in particular.

[victorianoir]

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.

[victorianoir]

The Detective Versus the Needle

The Detective and the Tech Guy returns for another installment. :)

If you have never heard of this stories, you can head to my Master Post that I’ve created HERE. If you’d prefer to read the story on fanfiction . net, you can do so here: DATG.

Hope you enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The drawer slid out of the cabinet with a satisfying rumble, and Sarah looked down into it with an equal amount of satisfaction. First case solved. Sure, the drawer was empty now, save for the dividers she’d labeled alphabetically.

But as she slid the thick case file in front of the divider, the paperwork, the clues in case she needed to revisit or if she was called to testify in the court case that was sure to follow her investigation and the eventual arrest of the mole in Mr. Sanderson’s law firm, she smiled to herself. “Not empty anymore,” she murmured, and then the smile died.

Because she solved the case two weeks ago, and she had yet to receive any phone calls or emails from anyone else. And that was in spite of Sanderson’s insistence that she allow him to pass her name around to his colleagues and peers. Because “Good work is best when nobody’s aware it’s even happening” he had told her before he left her office, placing a large check in her hand.

She was hoping others felt that way, but so far, her phone hadn’t exactly been ringing off the hook.

Sarah glanced at it, sitting there on her desk next to her laptop and wireless mouse. She resisted the urge to knock it onto the ground, and instead huffed and slammed the drawer shut with a resounding finality.

She wondered when she’d open it again. If she’d open it again.

Chuck’s voice swept into her mind as she walked to her office window and peered outside. As always, it was the good voice, the voice that drowned out the bad voices. A balm on the discouraging lack of success, telling her she’d get a client soon. She just had to be a little patient.

She turned to glance out of the door into the lobby where an assistant might sit if she had one. Always a pragmatist, she’d butted against Chuck’s idealistic nature when they first stood in this office space after she decided to start renting it. She knew it would take a few years before she could afford an assistant, and he was sure she’d have one in no time. He was sweet, but not very realistic. Then again, who knew if he really believed all of the optimistic things he tossed at her when she voiced her discouragement, or if he was just trying to bolster her confidence.

Either way, it helped. It truly did.

But he wasn’t here. He was probably in his own office, coding or catching up on emails, plotting and planning his next project for his dad. Whatever he did that kept him at Bartowski Electronics Corporation’s headquarters until late in the evening.

Sarah grumbled to herself softly and slid her blinds shut, turning away from the window and pushing her hands through her hair. It was an exercise now, Monday through Friday, she would wake up, put on her professional clothes, go to the office, check her email, check her phone, stand around, or sit around if she felt like it, spend a few hours researching and planning things she couldn’t afford just yet at this stage in her private investigative agency, and then she’d go home.

No cases.

No calls.

No emails.

For two weeks now.

What exactly did she think she’d be accomplishing at nine o’clock at night on a Thursday when she had no client to work for? Maybe it was just denial. If she was at home, it would just emphasize that she wasn’t working because she literally had nothing to work on.

As she sat at the edge of her desk, she looked into her office’s lobby again and caught sight of the door. Chuck had a blast helping her find the right space for her investigative enterprise, and in fact, the reason why he liked this place so much was how hardboiled the place looked. That was his word he’d used. “Hardboiled”. Like Philip Marlowe, who she honestly only knew about because of Chuck in the first place. He’d referenced that enough when she was working on his case two years ago that she’d looked him up, even watched a Humphrey Bogart movie in her scant free time. That was something she’d never told him before. Because she’d been embarrassed then.

Per Chuck’s request, they’d had a guy come in and put “Walker Investigative Enterprises” on the foggy glass window in block letters. It pissed her off to do it, but she’d decided on just Walker, without her first name. Sexism was still deeply ingrained into the mindset of male professionals…and even some female professionals. Seeing she was a woman might disqualify her right off the bat without further research into her history.

When she looked at it now, she didn’t feel the pride she wanted to feel. Yes, she had her own P.I. agency. But did it really even count without clients?

Her cell buzzed in her purse that sat on the desk behind her. She rummaged through her bag and picked it up. Two missed calls from Ellie, and three texts. “Shit,” she breathed, quickly swiping to answer and holding it to her ear. “Ellie? Ellie, are you okay? What’s going on? Is it time?”

She was met with a bubbly laugh. “Jesus, Sarah, you’re worse than Devon. Although…Yeah, on second thought, I don’t blame you. I did call a bunch and leave a lot of texts. At nine at night. Sorry.”

Sarah heard the wince in her voice. “Uh, no. No, it’s okay. I just….you know, I was worried. Sorry I missed your messages.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure you’re busy! It’s not that important…Well, I mean, it is…kind of. But not as important as me potentially going into labor three weeks before my due date.”

“Right.” Sarah climbed to her feet and straightened her skirt. “So what’s up?”

“Well…”

Sarah narrowed her eyes when Ellie took awhile to continue. “Ellie? What’s going on?”

Ellie huffed. “Nothing’s going on. I’m about to ask you to do something you definitely won’t want to do.” She paused long enough for Sarah to frown. “I need you to go shopping with me tomorrow. For new baby things.”

Sarah’s eyebrows popped. And then she felt a warmth go through her as she brought her free arm up to hug herself. She was beaming by the time she spoke. “You want me to go with you to buy things for Clara? Why wouldn’t I want to do that, Ellie? Of course I’ll—”

“Wait, wait…Before you get all cute and gushy, my mom is joining us.”

The warm feeling left and was replaced by a frigid, icy feeling. A chill went down her spine. “What?”

“Exactly.”

“Well—Oh. I mean…”

“Change your mind? I wouldn’t blame you. It was going to just be us. I was going to call you tonight to ask you to help me. And then mom came by this afternoon and was hinting so hard I almost felt bad for her, so I…asked her. Devon didn’t help,” she said, through her teeth Sarah could tell. “He kept prompting me with that look he does.” She growled in frustration.

Sarah didn’t know Devon as well as she did Chuck’s sister, but she thought she might know the look Ellie was referring to. It was the “try harder to get along with your mom” look. She’d seen him use it on his neurosurgeon wife before.

She bit her lip, not saying anything in response.

“I’m sorry. I totally get it if you don’t want to come. I was even considering just not inviting you at all, knowing it would suck for you. I mean, she is such a horrible person around you. I just…I need you there to stop me from snapping my mom’s neck, that’s all.”

Sarah couldn’t stop the laugh from coming out, as sudden as it was. “Wow. That was graphic.”

“Satisfying image, though, right?”

“Oh my God, Ellie.” Sarah giggled and shook her head. She really, really loved this woman. “It won’t be that bad, I’m sure. I mean, it’ll be a nice, fun outing. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never shopped for…baby things.”

“It will be fine, I’m sure. I just need you to buffer for me. Please. I know it’s going to be awkward for you. I’ll owe you big time for this.” Sarah could hear Chuck’s sister’s desperation, and it pulled at her heartstrings.

“Gaaaah, alright. I’ll go.” Ellie squeaked in happiness. “But I’m doing this for you. And I’m doing it for Chuck. I want him to see the effort I’m making so that I don’t look like the bad guy.”

“My brother’s smart. He knows who the real bad guy is. But you know I’ll stand with you no matter what. I’ve got your back, Sarah.”

That made Sarah feel so much better about agreeing to shop with the Bartowski women in the morning. And she said as much before hanging up.

But the moment the phone went back into her purse, she groaned and hung her head. At least it would break up the monotony. And how.

But God, did it have to be with a woman who hated her guts?

“You can do this” she breathed to herself as she grabbed her purse, laptop, and keys, leaving her office for the night. She could do this.

“Stay strong,” she felt the need to add as she slid into the elevator.

———

Chuck ignored the strain in his jaw as he pushed open the door into the hallway and strolled the rest of the way to his destination. His arms were full, the burlap grocery bags in his arms sturdy but definitely heavy, and the coffees he’d bought at the cafe in the grocery store were firmly ensconced in a tray, the handle of said tray trapped between his teeth.

He’d thought on the way up about the guys he’d seen on TV as a kid who could hold extremely heavy things with their teeth. And here he was, with his teeth and jaw aching from two small paper cups with coffee in them.

That didn’t matter, though.

Something had struck him the right way this morning. He was sailing. He had a lot of work at the office. But he also had a meeting later with his dad and two potential sponsors for the free conference Chuck was organizing to get high-school aged boys and girls in the greater LA area interested in STEM.

Chuck and a few of his marketing people at Bartowski Electronics Corporation had been putting their heads together about this for months, and if they could get sponsors, they could start targeting which schools had the lousiest supplies—lack of technology, old computers, no tablets. Those were the schools that would receive invites to the conference.

It was still in the beginning stages, but he had to sell the sponsors now. He needed the money now.

That all aside, he was currently thumping his foot against the door of the apartment where the smartest woman he’d ever met lived. The coolest woman he’d ever met. With a heart of gold. And the bad ass skill sets required to save lives and catch bad guys.

His mood went up a few more notches.

And as the door swung open, said smartest, coolest woman with a heart of gold stood there with a wrinkle between her eyebrows, surprised to see him obviously, but glad all the same.

Was that relief, as well?

“Hnnn,” was all he was capable of.

Not just because of the tray clamped between his teeth. But also because he’d neglected to add that she was staggeringly beautiful. And helpful! …As she leaned in quickly to take the tray from his teeth with an amused, “You’re going to need a dentist after this, you know.”

He worked his jaw a few times, wincing. “Gimme a kiss, Sarah Walker, P.I. It’ll make it better and then I won’t need a dentist. That’s why I said that. That was the charming response I was going for.”

“I got it,” she said, wrinkling her nose and moving in for a kiss, her hand automatically resting on his cheek and lightly grazing down to his neck.

Oh…and she was his.

What a glorious life this is, he thought to himself as he leaned into the kiss with a soft, “Mmmm.”

And she finally pulled back with a grin. “How’re the teeth now?”

“Good as new.”

She giggled and backed into her apartment, holding the door for him with her free hand so that he could move into the living room. He kept going, all the way into the kitchen where he set down his bags on the counter as she followed.

She put the coffee tray down and pulled her hand back, looking at it and making a face. “Yeggh. Got your spit all over my hand.”

Chuck laughed. “Really, Sarah? We literally just exchanged saliva.”

“Wow. Cute.”

He lunged at her the moment she turned to peek into one of the bags, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her against him, craning his neck so that he could give her an open-mouthed kiss at the crook of her shoulder, next to the strap of the white sleeveless blouse she was wearing. He swiped his tongue over her skin as she squealed, shoving at him and stepping back with a laugh.

“Eeewww!!! Seriously?!” She was grinning even as she glared, wiping at her neck with the nearest dishtowel.

He laughed.

“Hey, you look all spruced up for eight-thirty in the morning. You have a meeting with a client?” He tried not to sound too hopeful. He knew she was having some struggles with getting clients after the first one failed to pass her credentials on to other people. Elias Sanderson. Frankly, the guy tended not to follow through on a lot of things. Chuck didn’t play into the whole lawyers-are-scum joke a lot of the other tycoons around town enjoyed. But that guy wasn’t trustworthy.

He’d forced himself to bite his tongue with Sarah, not wanting to influence her first experience with a client. And to Sanderson’s credit, he’d had the sense and wherewithal to know a good detective when he saw one, and he had paid her in full, with some extra credit for solving the case as quickly and painlessly as she had.

The press had been kept out of it, which was probably one of the more impressive skill sets in Sarah’s arsenal of epic skill sets.

“Uh, no…” was the only answer Sarah had to his question. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek and reached into the bags to pull the groceries out. “Hey, what’s with all of this stuff you bought? You better not be putting all of this in my fridge.”

“Nope. Some of it will go in your cupboards.” He sent her a cheeky grin and she rolled her eyes.

“Chuck, I don’t want you buying my—”

“Sarah.” He interrupted her, putting down the eggs and shredded cheese, and setting his hands on her shoulders. “I spend so much time here that I’m going to end up eating seventy five percent of the food I bought this morning. You know it’s true.”

She shrugged. “That’s probably true. Fine. You get off on a technicality, Mister.”

Chuck arched an eyebrow at her. “Oooo. I like it when you do legal speak at me and then call me Mister.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she let him, before she pulled back and booped him on the nose with her finger.

As he unloaded the bags onto the counter, he subtly watched her move around the kitchen as she finished emptying her dishwasher. She never answered his question. Well, she answered it…but not to his satisfaction, which he supposed was his own problem.

But she was gently kneading her bottom lip between her teeth, something she did when she was nervous or antsy. When she had to do something she didn’t want to do.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” She turned and looked at him. He saw her shake herself a little and paste a nonchalant smile on her face. And when she met his eye, he knew she was well aware that he’d witnessed it and was seeing right through her. She dropped the smile and sighed.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Sarah pouted a little, and he knew she was probably frustrated by how easily he could pick through her attempts to guard her emotions. She just had to get used to it, that was all. Maybe she would someday. Eventually. He didn’t begrudge her for it, nevertheless.

“I’ll tell you if you make me one of those frittata thingies.”

“You’re telling me no matter what I make you.”

“I know.”

He smiled lovingly and reached out towards her. “Hey. C’mere. Of course I’ll make you a frittata. Even though I’ve got a long day of work ahead of me and meeeeetings and…” His voice drifted off as she faux glared, letting herself be pulled against him.

“No. Please. Continue.” She smirked. “Fine, I can make us burnt toast and fried eggs.”

He laughed and hugged her close. “Frittata it is.”

And when they pulled away, he continued emptying the grocery bags, folding them up and setting them aside as he let Sarah put away things he wasn’t using for breakfast. She knew where she wanted that stuff better than he did anyway.

“So…” She sighed. He was careful not to look at her. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought she’d feel more uneasy if he was watching her. “Ellie called last night.”

Chuck perked up. He was a sap. He knew he was a sap. But the idea of his sister and his girlfriend texting one another, talking on the phone, hanging out sometimes, made him feel like melting into a puddle and staying like that for eternity. “Oh, yeah? She say how she’s doing?”

“Mhm. Good. She’s trying to keep Devon from having a panic attack.”

He chuckled. “I know, he keeps calling me and threatening to beat my ass if I let Ellie, quote, ‘Go through this alone’, unquote, while he’s up in San Francisco for the surgery.”

Captain Awesome’s patient had scheduled a surgery with Dr. Woodcomb as his surgeon, and as it was a massively important surgery on the guy’s aorta, Awesome wasn’t about to reschedule. He was awesome like that.

In spite of Ellie not being due for a few weeks, the possibility of her going into labor early was high. Chuck and Ellie’s mom, Devon’s mom, and both sides of grandmothers had given birth early to all of their children.

At least, that was what Awesome kept texting both Chuck and Ellie. Much to Ellie’s annoyance.

Sarah smirked. “Like you’re just gonna go ‘Good luck, sis!’ and wave her off to the hospital in some strange van with the hopes she gets there okay.” She mimicked a grin and wave. He found it highly adorable.

But then her grin died and she slumped back against her counter. “She invited me to go shopping with her for a few last minute things for the baby.”

Chuck was confused. Why did that upset her? What about shopping with his sister made her upset? Or was it the baby thing? Was there some deep seated nervousness about…He couldn’t go down that road. That was a road he needed to stay the hell away from. He was moving away from that totally.

“Mom did tell her she should’ve had a baby shower,” he teased. Ellie hadn’t wanted one and it had driven her mother insane. At every turn, Ellie denied Mary Bartowski the chance to do all of the “Mom milestones” she felt she was entitled to, apparently.

Sarah gave him a flat look. “That’s exactly it.”

“What’s exactly it?”

“Your mom pressured Ellie into inviting her. And now I’m trapped.” She huffed.

Chuck frowned and cracked a few eggs into a bowl. “Wait, wait. So you said yes and then Ellie invited mom? That’s surprisingly underhanded of her.”

Sarah was quick to correct him. “No, no. She was perfectly up front with me about it. I knew before I said yes.”

Understanding slowly made its way through him. And he turned to face her as he beat the eggs. “Why’d you agree to go if you didn’t want to?” She gave him a look. “I know you don’t want to, don’t try to pretend you don’t. You and my mom aren’t exactly besties.” Her look got flatter. “Through no fault of your own, of course!” he rushed.

“I don’t want to avoid your mom, Chuck. That isn’t going to help anything. And Ellie needs a champion. She’s been tired, carrying around a human twenty-four seven, and she’s almost due, and she told me she’s achy and moody. Can you imagine your mom poking at her all day long, telling her what to do and how to do it in that way of hers?” She pulled back into herself a bit with a wince. “Sorry. She’s your mom. I shouldn’t be like that.”

“You should be whatever way you feel like,” he was quick to say. She gave him a small, grateful smile for that. “You’re right, though. I can imagine my mom driving Ellie insane, just the two of them spending a day together. Ellie might kill her.”

“She said something to me about neck snapping on the phone. Honestly, I think the best way I can make peace with your mom is if I keep her from being murdered by your sister today.” She shrugged. “I also want to do what I can to make the last days or weeks of your sister’s pregnancy as healthy and peaceful and just…easy for her as I can.”

Chuck watched her with no small amount of warmth. “You’re a complete and total package, Sarah Walker, you know that? Like, head to toe, inside and out. If my mom really and truly knew what she was going up against, she would throw in the towel. Immediately. And I don’t say that lightly; my mom is determined as all get-out.” He slid his gaze down Sarah’s body to her bare feet and back up her long denim-covered legs, torso, and finally to her face again. “She’s in trouble if she even tries.”

A slow smile grew on Sarah’s face, and then her lips broke into a grin and she chuckled, walking up to him and pecking him on the lips. “I’m really glad you showed up this morning to make me breakfast. Didn’t know I needed it ’til I opened the door to find you standing there with a coffee tray dangling from your mouth.” She patted him on the cheek and went to her fridge.

They enjoyed a quick breakfast, Chuck deciding not to talk about the day Sarah was about to endure. But he was grateful to her. She was actively taking on the role of his sister’s protector. And a part of him thought maybe Sarah wanted him to see she was making a legitimate effort with his mom.

She didn’t have to do that, though. He knew at whose feet the strife between his mom and girlfriend lay. It was up to Mary Bartowski to stop being so closed-off and stubborn about the people her children chose to be with.

Chuck knew he and Ellie could have both picked people who were way, way worse than Sarah Walker and Devon Woodcomb. In fact, he was sure neither of them could get better. Honestly, no other guy would go through what Devon did to be with Ellie. And Sarah…

He reached across the table and picked up her hand, holding onto it as he sipped his coffee. “I have to go. I’ve got a bunch of emails to write and you know I’m a wordy son of a bitch,” he teased, wrinkling his nose.

She giggled. “You are. But I loved those wordy emails when we were on different continents.”

They stood up and he moved to start cleaning, but she stopped him with a sudden, “Ah ah! No!”, grabbing his arm and steering him away from the table. “You’re incredibly sweet, making me breakfast when you actually have a job to be at this morning. I can clean everything up. I’ve got a few hours before Armageddon begins.”

Chuck snorted at that. “Okay, then. I’ll just bounce outta here and let the woman do the kitchen work.” He laughed as her hand smacked at the back of his head. Honestly, he hadn’t even seen it before it made contact. She was so impressive.

As she walked him to the door, he held fast to her hand, turning to grab the door handle and pulling her close at the same time. “Hey, listen. Don’t let my mom make you think you’re anything less than you are, okay?”

She made a face, teasing him. “And what exactly am I?”

Chuck took a moment to wonder if she picked up one of his habits after dating him all this time. He knew he sometimes reverted to jokes to hide when he was feeling vulnerable or nervous. He tried to lighten the mood. She was trying it now. And she never would’ve done that two years ago when she was head detective on his case.

It was cute. Sweet.

But he wasn’t letting her get away with it this time. “You’re everything, Sarah Walker.” Her face softened significantly and he could see clearly in her features that she loved him. He moved in to kiss her cheek, and then he swept the door open. “Will I see you tonight?”

“Please please please,” she rushed out, giggling self-deprecatingly.

“I’m here for you, bae.”

“And never call me bae again.”

“Hear you loud and clear, boo.”

“That’s only a little bit better.”

He was still laughing as he walked down the hallway, but by the time he climbed into the front seat of his car, he felt worry settle over him. Sarah could take care of herself. And Ellie wouldn’t let his mom get away with anything.

But his mother was a professional needler. She always had been. She always would be. And he was afraid his mom might put the needle in exactly the right spot.

———————

“This is atrocious, Mom. Sarah, is this not atrocious?”

Sarah held in a laugh at the incredulous look on Ellie’s face as she turned and lifted a pink and green polka dot baby moo moo for her brother’s girlfriend to see.

“It’s…not great, Mary. Sorry.”

Chuck’s mother rolled her eyes and huffed. “Feel how soft it is, though. The most important part is that she’s comfortable.”

“Okay, well…Can we find something she’ll be comfortable in that doesn’t also make her look like a terrifying nightmare clown baby? Do those two things have to be mutually exclusive? Like, comfortable and cute. I feel like there has to be something out there that’s both those things.”

Sarah watched the exchange and smartly slipped away, around one of the racks of clothes, and into another section of the store completely.

She stopped at an expensive looking dark wood crib that almost looked like an antique. She overheard Ellie tell her mom in the car ride over that she and Devon had already bought a crib. But this was beautiful. Something she could imagine wanting to buy if she ever had a child.

Sarah was with Ellie on at least that much. Chuck’s sister was attracted to very non-traditional things. She didn’t go for pastels and crisp, clean white. She liked greens, blues, dark woods, antique things. She went for safety over trends.

As Sarah turned the corner again, she came face to face with Mary Bartowski. She nearly yelped in surprise. Jesus, the woman was like a human version of a suspense thriller film sometimes. Mommie Dearest. Maybe she’d use that one sometime when Ellie was feeling down.

“I noticed you and my daughter have similar tastes,” Mary said, a little offhand, fingering the silk blankets stacked in front of her face.

“I noticed the same thing. But she and I agree on a lot. That’s why we get on so well.”

“Hm. Yes, I noticed that, too.” She stared at the younger woman for much longer than made said younger woman comfortable. “It’s very interesting you’re playing such a large role in this process. Ellie having her baby, I mean.”

“W-Why is that interesting? She’s Chuck’s sister. And my friend.”

A flash of something under Mary’s smile caught Sarah’s eye, but before she could say anything, Ellie showed up and pushed between them, grabbing one of the blankets. “I’ve bought Clara a lot of blankets already, but these are really nice. I mean, what if she spits up on one? I grab another and she spits up on that one, or we spill food on it or something? Three is a pretty good number for blankets, right? So soft.”

Sarah reached out and felt the green blanket Ellie pulled down from the pile. “That is really nice. Soft.”

“Right? Babies are so lucky. Everything is so soft and nice. Poor girl is going to grow up and start having to wear heels and fucking bras.”

“Ellie!” her mom whispered hoarsely. “You’re in a baby store.”

“What?” Ellie sassed. “It’s not like there are any actual babies in here.”

Sarah snorted, turning her face into her fist and pretending it was a cough. She’d learned that one from Chuck, and just like Mary Bartowski did with him, she turned on Sarah and said, “You’re not helping,” before skulking off.

Ellie lazily turned her head to Sarah. “Yeah, Sarah. You’re not helping,” she drawled.

“Hey. I’m trying to make some headway here. Stop getting me in trouble,” she hissed, unable to keep the amused smirk from her face.

Ellie winced. “Ooo. Yeah. My bad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I have a feeling no matter what I do or say, I’m not going to win with her.”

“Well…” Ellie reached up and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s cute you’re trying.”

Sarah laughed and playfully nudged Ellie. “Shut up.”

And then a buzz came from Ellie’s purse, followed by a soft, generic ring tone. “That’s probably Devon,” the soon-to-be mother mumbled as she rifled through her purse. Sarah took the purse and held it for Ellie so that it was easier for her to find the phone. “I should get it, though, to make sure he isn’t having a nervous breakdown. Did I tell you?” She pulled the phone out finally and held it in her hand, looking up at Sarah. “He went to sleep in his clothes one night. Not pajamas. Jeans and a T-shirt, socks, shoes, everything. His shoes inside my bed. So we could get to the hospital ASAP. He saw it in an episode of the Dick Van Dyke Show, but he didn’t understand we were supposed to think Dick Van Dyke was ridiculous for doing that.”

Sarah laughed as Ellie brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, honey—I—No, Devon. I have not had our daughter yet.” Ellie rolled her eyes to Sarah and grabbed her purse from her, mouthing “Jesus christ” as she walked away. “We talked about this, buddy. I’m not going to have our child without letting you know it’s happening.”

Shaking her head at the conversation as Ellie moved to the other side of the store, Sarah turned to do some more browsing and nearly ran into Mary again. “Jesus—!” She sighed and put a hand over her heart, collecting herself. Seriously. Kathy Bates would be proud. She was storing that one for later, too.

“Sorry to scare you.”

She didn’t sound that sorry.

“Who is Ellie talking to?”

“Oh, um…Awes—erm—Devon called. To check up on her, I assume.”

“How are things at the…agency, Sarah?”

The private investigator blinked at the suddenness of the change of subject. “Erm…” She collected herself quickly. She had to remind herself that she’d been dealing with difficult people virtually all her life, in law school, and in her job with Pinkerton especially. She could handle this one, too. “It’s going well. Just finished a case. If you know anyone who might need a P.I., send them my way,” she chirped, grinning in as friendly a way as she could.

“Yes. I’ll let you know if any of my friends need to find out if their husbands are cheating on them.” Mary smiled sweetly and pat Sarah’s arm as she swept past her with an “excuse me”.

Sarah stood there, burning. How dare that woman get the last word!

Clenching her jaw, she pulled her cell out and saw that she’d missed a text from Chuck. Exactly who she’d wanted to talk to. “How’s it going?” he asked. She texted back a short and sweet “Fine” and rolled her eyes at herself. It took a moment for him to respond with the flat look emoji. Of course he wanted more than just a one word answer. “Could be better,” she continued. “And I honestly hoped it would be better. But your mom is…” She paused, biting her lip, and then she finished typing and hit send, “…good at needlepoint.”

She had to wait a few moments for his response. “I love it when you talk in code. So private investigator-y. So hot.”

“Please don’t sext with me while I’m baby shopping with your sister and YOUR MOM WHO HATES ME.”

“Was that sexting? I’ve got a lot worse in my arsenal. Or better, depending on your POV on sexting. Also when you say ‘baby shopping’ I picture you guys walking down a row of babies picking one out like people do with carrots at the grocery store.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and put her phone away, turning to find the rest of her party. Ellie was right there. “Fuck!” She shut her eyes and huffed, blushing and looking around. “Is sneaking up on people a family trait?”

Ellie chuckled. “Maybe. Saying ‘fuck’ in a baby stuff store might have just become a family trait, though, so welcome to the family.”

That got Chuck’s sister a flat look for the ages.

———————

By the end of what proved to be a very fruitful day for Ellie and Clara, Sarah was half-blistered by the singeing sideways glances of Mary Bartowski, along with the backhanded compliments and condescension.

Sarah knew exactly what the woman was doing. She strategically planted herself near her son’s girlfriend when Ellie was distracted or elsewhere in another section of whatever store they happened to be in, and that was when she got her jabs in.

Ellie caught her only once, and Mary Bartowski was dragged off and probably spoken to in a way only Ellie could get away with. Sarah’d felt immature for the smirk that put on her face, and the “Haa haaa!” she thought as Ellie guided her mom away from the scene of the crime.

However, even though the private investigator saw Mary’s intentions clear as day, that didn’t make the barbs feel any less terrible. As much as she tried not to let it get under her skin, it did.

It hurt.

And she was pissed off that it hurt. Falling in love with Chuck Bartowski had opened her up to a lot of things—emotions mostly. Of course she should have known love wouldn’t be the only thing.

There was also frustration, longing, anger, and yes, hurt.

Love was the most important thing. That feeling she got when she opened the door this morning to find him standing there with his arms and mouth full. It hadn’t just been relief, or the pleasure of seeing the man she loved, though there was plenty of both of those things. It was also a feeling of safety and reassurance that was much needed. A feeling of security. Of knowing he thought about her enough that he went to the grocery store down the street to buy the makings for them to enjoy a nice breakfast together before he had to go to work, that he wanted to be with her in the small window of time he had in the morning.

She had to remember that to keep Mary from winning the day. She’d dig into her arsenal of things she learned from Langston Graham back when she first started at Pinkerton, simply by watching him work. Never let them see the chinks in your armor, never let them see your weak spots, and never let them see when they get to you.

She was human. And Mary was getting to her. She just had to steal herself to keep the woman from seeing it.

And take the high road. As hard as that was. As much as she didn’t want to—and probably wouldn’t have if she wasn’t Chuck’s mother. Sarah owed it to Chuck to at least try.

But then Ellie had invited them for dinner at her and Devon’s condo in Burbank since Devon had just landed at the airport and was on his way home in an Uber. Mary was tasked with calling the B.E.C. men and getting them to dinner as well.

The day seemed like it just wouldn’t end and she needed it to end so badly.

The only respite Sarah got was sitting in the backseat of Ellie’s car where Mary couldn’t see her face. She grit her teeth and glared at the back of the older woman’s seat, subtly lifting her middle finger and subsequently waggle it in Mary’s direction.

Sarah insisted on helping Ellie cook, and was dubbed the “sous chef” for the night while Mary poured herself a cocktail and sat at the table. It gave Sarah something to do, and she was better able to pretend she didn’t see the significant looks Ellie was trying to flash at her. The one that said “Are you okay?” was the one she avoided the most.

Because the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t okay. She would be later. She’d be fine later. But right now, everything was bubbling to the surface. A mixture of anger and general upset.

Finally the door opened and the booming, jolly voice of Devon Woodcomb brought a lift to the young woman’s spirits.

“Hey, hey, hey! My favorite three ladies in one room!” He shut the door just in time, because Ellie was quick on her feet for someone who was in her third trimester of pregnancy. And her arms were around him before he even had time to put his bags down.

Sarah let herself look a little longer than was maybe proper as they embraced, if only because it made her heart a little melty—and in spite of not being as big a sap as her boyfriend was, she knew she needed some of that heart-meltyness tonight. It was a balm on her wounds, and a reminder that it was possible for she and Chuck to flourish in spite of Mary Bartowski…because Ellie and Awesome were.

Devon put his hand on Ellie’s stomach. “Three and a half!”

“Three and four-fifths more like,” Sarah chirped as she swung out of the kitchen.

“See? I like you.” Devon pointed at her with a grin of agreement, his face so bright and sincerely ecstatic to be home that she wasn’t sure what she’d been upset about all day in the first place. She walked right up to him and gave him a hug, which he not only accepted wholeheartedly, he even hugged her back so hard she felt a few pops in her torso.

Sarah was careful not to pay too much attention to the exchange between Captain Awesome and Mary Bartowski, but she heard from the kitchen the quiet politeness of the latter in the face of the former’s enthusiasm.

But she froze when she heard Ellie say ,“Let me help you put your bags in our bedroom.”

No no no no no no no! No! Please!

She couldn’t be left alone with Mary Bartowski. She couldn’t. Not even for however long it took for Ellie and Awesome to make out or whatever it was they were going to do in their bedroom.

When was Chuck going to get here? Why wasn’t he here already?

Sarah spun from where she’d gone back to stirring the spaghetti sauce and caught Ellie’s eye. There was a definite look of apology there, and Sarah was quick to shake her head and smile reassuringly to let the woman know she’d be fine. The Woodcombs deserved a snippet of time to greet each other without onlookers in the room. And Sarah was sure Ellie needed to vent a bit about her mother behind closed doors.

“Need help with anything, Sarah?”

She looked up from the sauce again and smile at Mary. “Uh, I’m not sure, exactly, what Ellie has planned. I just know I’m supposed to stir the sauce.”

“Well, Ellie learned this recipe from me, so I’m sure I can figure out what’s next.”

Sarah kept the smile on her face even as she went back to stirring the delicious-smelling sauce in the pot.

“Though you might want to add a dash of oregano in there. Ellie sometimes doesn’t put enough, I’ve noticed. And she doesn’t take constructive advice well.”

“Oh. Alright.” Grabbing the oregano, she carefully sprinkled a bit more in the sauce, stirring with the spoon in her other hand.

“A bit more…” Sarah sprinkled more. “More than that. Here.” Mary walked up and took the oregano from Sarah, who moved out of the way, and let the woman shake even more oregano into the sauce. “There. That’s perfect.”

She set the oregano down and handed the spoon back to Sarah.

“You know, I find your line of work interesting, Sarah.” Because she didn’t entirely know what was coming, the P.I. stayed quiet, stealing herself for whatever was coming next. “Did it require any schooling?”

Sarah ran her free hand down her blouse, an unconscious attempt to straighten it or…who knew what? But she was mad at herself for it. It was a show of weakness, vulnerability. She was supposed to be above that. “I went to Harvard Law.”

The way Mary’s eyes widened did a lot to bolster Sarah’s confidence. Yeah, that’s right. I’m an Ivy League Bitch with a capital B.

“And you decided to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency? You could be a high powered politician by now, you know. And I know Pinkerton doesn’t pay that kind of money.”

How did she know?

And then Sarah realized she must have done research on it. A way to check up on the woman who was dating her son. Seeing what her financial status was, to peg whether or not money was a factor in Sarah’s interest in Chuck.

It burned her up, but she refused to let it show.

“No, it definitely doesn’t. But it was incredibly rewarding work. I’m proud of what I did there.”

“I see. But you left for my son Charles?”

“Yes. Er…no. Somewhat. Not entirely. But mostly, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“Because I was tired of always being on the other side of the planet from him, only seeing him every once in awhile when we could line up our crazy busy schedules.” She took a deep breath. “And, honestly, the agency did their best to make me stop seeing him because they thought it was a conflict of interest, and I refused to let them do that. So…here I am.” She gave Chuck’s mom a wide closed mouth smile.

“Interesting. Because honestly, Sarah, the way it looks from here is that you left a relatively low-paying job to live with my son and pursue a career that will garner even less financial stability than before…”

“What are you getting at, exactly?” Sarah asked, the spatula stilled in the sauce, her blue eyes flashing as she turned them on the shorter woman.

“My son is a pretty safe safety net if things don’t work out with this agency of yours.”

So she finally said it. Sarah let out a soft huff through her nose, her lips twitching in a semblance of a bitter smile as she looked away.

“I don’t want a safety net. I just want him.”

“It just doesn’t look that way from here. If you weren’t in Los Angeles, if my son wasn’t supporting you and you were off somewhere else in the country trying to get this going, you’d fall flat on your face. The only people who start enterprises like this one are those who have a fallback. Chuck is your fallback. And that doesn’t sit well with me.”

Sarah pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezed until it hurt. Then she turned on the woman, her gaze hard.

“You know, it doesn’t feel great, knowing what you think of me. But I can handle insults, backhanded compliments, the condescension, and the superior attitude you have when you address me—and that’s when you aren’t ignoring me completely. All of that I can handle. You know what really makes me mad, though?”

“What?” Mary asked slowly, her T clicking nastily.

“The complete and utter lack of respect you obviously have for your son.”

Mary reared back, her lips twisting. “How dare y—”

“Chuck is rich. He’s the richest person I’ve ever met. If I knew just how rich he actually was, I probably wouldn’t even be able to comprehend it.” Mary smirked in a self-congratulatory way that made Sarah want to say what she was going to say even more than she did before. “But he is so much more than what’s in his bank account.” She let that settle for a second before she continued. “He’s a good man. Best person I’ve ever known. He respects me, has faith in me. He makes me laugh. He makes me happy.”

“His wallet makes you happy.”

Sarah rushed on as if she hadn’t heard that. “And it makes me incredibly sad to hear that’s what you think of your own son. That he’d have nothing else to offer a woman besides what’s in his wallet. He’s your son. You should know better.”

“I know what my son has to offer.”

But it was a weak retort, one that lacked the bite of her earlier retorts, and the conversation came to a sudden stop as the door opened and Chuck stepped into the living room with Stephen in tow.

“Heyyyy!” Chuck drawled with a grin. “Smells like spaghetti!”

Stephen gave both of them smiles over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room as he shut the door behind them. “I feel like an old man for needing to follow Charles to my own daughter’s condo. All the twists and turns to get here, I get confused. Gosh, it does smell good.”

Mary had moved away from Sarah, going directly to Chuck and grabbing his shoulders, moving in to kiss his cheek. “Hi, sweetie. How was the meeting?”

She moved to her husband and they kissed with a sincere amount of affection. It boggled Sarah’s mind.

“Good!” Chuck swept his gaze to Sarah and kept it there, she noticed, probing, seeing how she was. She kept her mask in place. Now wasn’t the time to break down. She was just so mad. So ready to tear something to shreds. She was fighting tears of anger.

“We’ve got one and a half sponsors for the conference. Just three and a half to go.”

“And a half?” Mary asked.

“Well, Gordon’s not entirely convinced yet. He gave us a maybe,” Stephen explained as Chuck slid away from his parents and walked around into the kitchen.

Sarah watched him the whole way. And when his arms curled around her body, she let go of the spatula and clung to him tightly, burying her face in his collar for a moment, soaking him in. It felt so good to be held like this. The way he squeezed just right, in a way that let her know he needed her, too.

“Oops, spatula down…” he murmured in her hair.

She pulled away from him with a gasp as she saw the spatula sink into the sauce. And like an idiot, she tried to get it out.

She ended up brushing her fingers against the sizzling hot edge of the pot and pulled back with a hiss, sticking her fingers in her mouth.

“Hey, hey. Whoa. Sarah, you oka—?

And before he could even finish his question, Sarah was out of the kitchen. “Sarah??” he called after her.

She hurried down the hallway to the bathroom, fighting tears that had nothing to do with the minor burn on her fingers.

—————

Chuck was moving to follow Sarah before he was even aware of what was happening, like there was a magnetic pull between them. She’d squeezed him particularly hard when he hugged her. Like she had the night she’d shown up at his door after leaving Pinkerton. She needed him.

The only thing he could think was that today had been awful. And now she’d charged out of the room after burning her fingers—a careless thing that was very rare with his P.I.—and he needed to talk to her.

But Ellie and Awesome came out of the hallway as Sarah squeezed past them.

“What happened?” Ellie asked, obviously concerned.

“Sarah burned her fingers, I think. I’m gonna—”

“I’ve got this,” Ellie said, putting a hand on his chest.

“But—”

“I’ve got this.”

She gave him a look and he stayed put, watching as Ellie followed after his girlfriend. He was half-crazy with concern, but Awesome’s hand on his shoulder calmed him.

“Ellie’s a neurosurgeon, bro. Remember? She’s got this.”

Chuck let out a soft huff of amusement for Awesome’s benefit and let himself be led back into the other room. His mom, on the other hand, had a certain look on her face. It was pinched in annoyance. She was far off somewhere, thinking about something, and whatever it was made her angry.

Had something happened today?

Awesome looked pretty clueless, which meant he’d probably arrived just before they had.

There were another few minutes of empty small-talk about Awesome’s surgery he’d performed the day before. Chuck stirred the sauce and eventually turned it off, draining the pasta and leaving it for Ellie to do whatever she had in mind.

And eventually his sister and girlfriend came out to join them. Chuck was at Sarah’s side immediately. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. Put a little ointment on my knuckles and I’m good. Nothing too bad.”

He studied her features closely, looking for any sign of tears. If his mom had done something to make Sarah cry, he was dragging her out into the courtyard and blistering her with his words. He wasn’t standing for that shit. That wasn’t happening.

But there was no trace of tears, though she was upset. He could still see it. Ellie must have said something to her, though, because his sister winked at him behind Sarah’s back and mouthed “she’s okay”.

Before Chuck could say anything else, Sarah slipped her uninjured hand into his and pulled him to the table where everyone was sitting down. Awesome justified his nickname by insisting on finishing dishing everything up to keep Ellie from having to do it.

And then they feasted.

Chuck half listened to the conversation at the table. Awesome had performed an artery bypass grafting surgery on a middle aged man, saving his life from a potentially deadly situation.

But as heroic as it was, as much as Awesome deserved praise and respect for what he did for other people, Chuck was distracted by whatever had transpired between his girlfriend and his mother.

Something had transpired. Otherwise Ellie wouldn’t be switching her gaze back and forth between the other women at the table, her eyes narrowed. As though she was trying to figure out the same thing.

It would be just like his mom to wait until nobody else was around before jamming the knife in under Sarah’s ribcage. But his mom didn’t look as pleased with herself as he thought she might if that were the case. Did Sarah bite back? He was proud of her if she did.

Chuck knew inherently that Sarah would be more apt to stick up for herself if the perpetrator wasn’t his mother. She’d outright told him once that she loved him and therefore didn’t want him to be in the middle of some ridiculous rivalry straight out of a “crap romantic comedy”.

He appreciated more than he could say how hard she was trying…

But he didn’t want this.

He would deal with the fallout with his mom. He didn’t care.

“Chuck?”

He snapped to attention and looked across the table at his father. “Yeah, Dad? Sorry, I—I got distracted. Lots of things happenin’ in the ol’ noggin’ today. What were you saying?” He shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and sipped his pinot noir.

“I was just asking what you thought about our chances for getting Gordon to sponsor the convention?”

He nibbled his lip, then dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Well, I don’t know. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t part well with his assets. Very frugal. We’re still in the early stages yet. Still a lot to plan. But I think once he hears everything we mean to do at the convention, the lives we might change, how massive it’ll be for the future of STEM and, you know, getting kids from low-income households into science and math and tech, he’ll see the benefit of it. Maybe we can really pound home the fact that charity looks really really good to consumers. A charitable company always gets more customers, right? People love that stuff. Makes them feel good about themselves.” Chuck shrugged. “Granted, that’s a kind of crappy way to look at it. Obviously we’re doing it to help kids, to expand STEM in our country to non-wealthy, non-white kids with fewer resources than other kids…”

“That’s right, Charles. It’s one of the things that attracts people to you. You’re so charitable. Always giving, giving, giving. Never asking for anything in return,” his mother said. He wasn’t a fool. He saw the way her eyes flickered over at Sarah for a moment before she turned back to him.

He felt Sarah tense up.

He understood what his mom was getting at.

But before he could say anything, his dad jumped up from the table. “Hey, Devon. Why don’t you tell me about that ’64 Mustang your dad is fixing up? He told me about it last time we talked. He said you’re helping him with it while you’re down here.”

As his brother-in-law regaled his dad with muscle car talk, Chuck turned an angry gaze on his mom. He reeled it back just enough and then flicked his gaze towards the kitchen. “Hey, Mom. How about you and I do the dishes, since Ellie and Sarah cooked everything?”

“Sure.” She climbed up from the chair, and set her napkin on the table. “Excuse us.”

Chuck gathered up everyone’s plates, letting Mary go first, watching as Ellie turned to Sarah and leaned in close to talk to her. He went to the sink with the plates and set them inside, turning on the water and starting to scrub as his mom stepped in beside him with the dish towel to dry.

“You need to lay off right damn now,” he said in a quiet, steady voice.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what—”

“You fooled absolutely nobody at that table and it’s embarrassing that you’re still trying to play it off, Mom. I need you to stop saying shit like that to Sarah.” He turned to pin her with his intense gaze.

“Like what? I didn’t say anything to her this whole time we’ve been eating.”

“That whole thing about me giving and never asking for anything in return. You looked right at her. Like she’s some sort of charity case of mine. Like I’m supporting her.”

“You are supporting her.”

“I’m not. She won’t let me. You need to open your eyes and really look at her, Mom.”

“I’ve seen her.”

“No. You haven’t. Not like I have.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she replied sarcastically.

Chuck handed her the clean plate to dry and spun to face her directly. “Hey. Mom. I need you to lay off. I said it before. I’ll say it again. And this better be the last time I have to say it. Because you’re gonna run into a lot of trouble if you keep going down this road. I’m so serious.”

She didn’t say anything as she set the dry plate aside. “Just wash the dishes.”

“No. Mom, I need you to tell me you’ll try harder.”

“To do what? I’m not letting my son get taken for a ride.”

“I’m not getting taken for a ride,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one in the other room could hear them. They all looked fully engrossed in their respective conversations. He turned back. “Even if I was, that’s a ride I’d gladly take over and over again.”

She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat and grabbed the plate from him, drying it furiously.

“Mom. I need your word.”

“I don’t want to have to say ‘I told you so’ when you get hurt. When you find out your wallet is—”

“Mom. For shit’s sake. Just stop.” He turned off the sink for a second and glared. “Stop.”

She shrugged and sighed. “Okay.”

Chuck could tell that was the best he was getting for the time being, so he turned the water back on and finished the dishes.

Stephen and Mary left first, a storm cloud over the latter’s head in spite of the smile she flashed as they walked into the courtyard and disappeared through the gate.

Ellie put a hand on Chuck’s arm as Sarah and Awesome hugged at the door. She hugged him hard and when he meant to pull away, she clung tighter, preventing him from moving.

“Make sure you take care of her tonight. Mom was a total and absolute bitch to her all day. She handled it well, but she’s pretty badly blistered from the onslaught. You have some work to do.”

She pulled back and added a quick, whispered, “Love ya.”

“Love ya, too, Ellie. And thank you.” She shrugged and he leaned in close, squeezing her shoulders. “No, seriously. Sis. Thank you.”

Her eyes sparkled as she pat his cheek, and Chuck wrapped an arm around his brother-in-law, before they said their goodbyes and left.

Chuck slung his arm over Sarah’s shoulders and pulled her in close as she rounded his torso with both her arms and buried her face in his chest with a sigh.

They climbed into his car and he just sat there for a moment, the silence tense and awkward. She had to feel that he wanted to say something. He just didn’t know what.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” he finally settled with.

She bit her lip gently and shrugged. “Uh, yeah.” She lifted her hand and flashed the fingers she’d burned at him. “Don’t think it’ll scar or anything. I was just being clumsy and dumb—”

“Sarah, no. I—”

“I know, Chuck. But I really don’t want to talk about it just yet. Please.”

“Did she—?”

“Please. Later.” She turned and stared out of her car window, not looking at him for even a moment as she buckled her seatbelt.

Chuck sighed and followed suit, turning on the car and pulling out of the parking space, onto the street, and driving them back to Sarah’s.

The drive was silent, tense.

And by the time they got to Sarah’s apartment, Chuck felt the need to corner her, make her talk. He needed her to know that he wasn’t letting his mom pull this bullshit with her. He wasn’t brushing it off just because she was his mom. Sarah deserved respect.

But Sarah Walker looked tired and upset. And he wasn’t sure he had the heart to corner her when she was like this. So he stayed in the hallway as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

She halted when he didn’t follow, turning to face him. She must’ve figured out why he was still outside and she shyly pushed her hair back behind her ear.

“Will you stay?”

Not a single moment passed before he answered, “Of course.”

Sarah’s hand reached out and twisted in his shirt, pulling him inside with her, shutting the door behind them and clinging to him again. He didn’t say anything. He just held her.

They could talk later. When she wanted to.

For the moment, he was content to give whatever warmth and strength she needed.

[victorianoir]

Another chapter of The Detective and the Tech Guy is up on fanfiction.net! 

Same one I posted yesterday, but now you have it in a more official form. ;)

Enjoy!

[victorianoir]

New chapter of “The Detective and the Tech Guy”! Read it. Review if you have the energy. But like I say in the author’s notes, I completely get it if you don’t have the energy.

I’m also sad and exhausted.