Chapter 48: The Final Domino

Discontent is the first necessity of progress. — Thomas Alva Edison

1 FEBRUARY 2008
THE BACHELOR PAD
20:03 PST

Chuck stared. With his mind absolutely blank, it was easy for the repeated mantra of “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap” to echo through the recesses where his brain had once been. Should he tell her that it was merely Awesome’s ring, and that he was holding onto it? She looked so immeasurably happy, glowing like a supernova or a beauty queen who’d just won the tiara.

Wait a second.

Wait just a damn second.

Sarah looked happy that he was proposing? Holy hell! He wasn’t ready to get married, and yes, even though he liked—well, it was stronger than that, if he were going to be honest with himself, much stronger—Sarah, he wasn’t nearly to the point where he could possibly be thinking about things like a wedding. And, marriage? Proposing? He’d only been out of the bunker for a little over four months!

Chuck nearly began to hyperventilate, especially when Sarah put her hand over her mouth and continued to stare at the ring she clutched in her fist. “You know,” she said, sounding breathless even through her fingers, “I’ve always dreamed of this moment…”

How in the name of Eternia, Chuck wondered, do I get out of this?

“Ah, yes,” he said, stammering a little. “But you see, that’s not actually—”

“But I never expected anything like this! It’s so gorgeous! I mean, look at this diamond!” Sarah plucked the ring from its case, and he experienced one dizzying moment of terror when he thought she might actually slip the ring onto her finger. “So pretty!”

She was practically crooning at a piece of jewelry. Chuck felt a single bead of sweat slide between his shoulder blades and track its way down his back.

“This is a total shock,” Sarah said, still going even though Chuck was now officially frozen in horror. “I mean, I had my suspicions, but…”

And there it was. Somehow, his stunned-stupid brain caught the tiniest anomaly in the way Sarah’s eyes flicked down and to the left. Normally, he would have dismissed the gesture, but this time, it hit him: she was messing with him.

She knew exactly whose ring that was. And she was yanking his chain.

He almost burst out laughing, an odd, strangled noise of sheer relief and amusement, though some latent self-preservation instinct screamed that this would be a bad, bad idea. Sarah might not be amused at the fact that he was relieved not to be proposing to her. Through herculean effort, he managed to keep it inside. A devilish voice whispered suggestions in his ear. Normally, he would have ignored it, but…she had started it.

So he forced the shocked look from his face and instead made himself give off an exaggerated, relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God,” he said.

Sarah’s expression faltered for a split-second. This clearly wasn’t part of her script. “Yes?”

“I was so worried, you know. I got that ring awhile ago—” The day had felt like an eternity, after all, what with all of the things he’d put his body through. “And I wasn’t entirely sure how well it would go over, but if you’re—if you’re acting like that, that puts a lot of my fears to rest. I wasn’t going to show you the ring yet, I was planning on doing something special with it, but if you’re amenable…” He deliberately let his voice trail off.

“Amenable?” Sarah asked, and seemed to remember she was supposed to be playing a role. That bright, outshine-the-sun grin came back. “Of course I am! This is the best thing ever!”

“I’m so, so, glad you think so.” Chuck carefully reached out and took the ring and the box from her fingers, nearly giving it away by laughing. Sarah’s fingers had been absolutely lax around the ring. He waggled the box at Sarah. “I’m so glad you found it. I was going to wait, but what the hell? Now’s as good a time as any.”

Sarah’s expression faltered even further. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t like it?” Chuck hid a grin by looking down at the ring. “It’s been in the family for years.”

“I…what? You have a family heirloom? But you never talk about your family! I mean, besides Ellie—”

“A very pretty family heirloom,” Chuck said, interrupting her. He forced himself to look up at her. He was still sitting in the desk chair, with Sarah standing over him. A minute before, she had seemed impossibly huge, looming over him, but he could see the fake-excited smile breaking at the edges as panic began to set in. He should probably stop, but the same devil urged him on. So he brightened. “What kind of wedding, do you think? I was thinking something splashy and huge, an affair to be celebrated for years, with friends coming far and wide from both sides.”

Sarah was positively turning green.

“On an unrelated note, what do you think about Carina wearing organdy?”

“Chuck…”

“What is organdy, anyway? That’s a funny word. Organ-dy. Is it a color? Is it like orange?”

“Chuck,” Sarah said, the panic now a little more evident. “We really need to talk—”

“Just a moment.” Oh, he was going to pay for this, Chuck knew. He threw aside a dozen adages about tweaking the tiger’s tail, and forced himself to bend at the knee, going forward out of the chair. He waited until he was on one knee before he looked up at her fully. “Sarah, would you do me the honor of…”

Sarah looked like she might actually pass out.

“Waiting a second while I put this away?”

He could see her bracing herself, and then the moment of confusion struck. She did an actual double-take. “Wait, what?”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to leave this lying out. That would be irresponsible.”

“What?”

“I mean, Ellie might come up here any time and poke around since I gave her a key and…” Chuck made his eyes widen and gave an overly dramatic gasp, pointing at Sarah. “You thought the ring was for you!”

“I did not! I just—you said it was a family heirloom and—”

“Gotcha.” Chuck pushed the ring under his desk. Sarah’s shock seemed to have rooted her to the spot, thankfully. “Oh, come on, you didn’t think I’d just leave a ring there and forget about it to propose to you, did you? Awesome asked me to hold onto it for him last night. And it is a family heirloom, I just didn’t say it was from my family and—oof!”

Sarah was slim to the point of skinny if she missed too many meals, but getting tackled by her was still like being railroaded by a linebacker with bony knees and elbows. Even so, Chuck was already laughing by the time his back hit the floor. Thankfully, he had just enough warning not to slam the back of his head into the rug under his desk chair. He immediately had to put his arms up to protect his face and chest, as Sarah set in, half-laughing, and half-swearing. “You big jerk! I can’t believe you did that with a straight face!”

“Hey! Pot! Kettle!” He tried to roll over to get away from Sarah’s sometimes-not-so-playful slaps, but she had him pinned with her legs. “You started it! Ow! No biting!”

“I’ll bite you if I want to bite you,” Sarah muttered, and Chuck only laughed harder. Sarah punched him with the side of her fist, once, below the ribcage, and he jolted. The laughter continued. “Lunatic.”

“Yes, but you love that about me,” Chuck said. Satisfied that his girlfriend was no longer attacking him—and knowing he’d gotten off light—he ignored the fact that she was still sitting on him and instead folded his hands behind his head. “Nice try.”

“I had you for a minute.”

“Ha, I’ll never tell.”

Sarah poked his ribcage. He shuddered and snickered.

“Torture me all you like, Agent Walker. My lips are sealed.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “Are they now?”

“Well, it’s more of a metaphorical thing,” Chuck said, stammering once more as he realized the intentions behind that eyebrow raise. “You know, a hypothetical, not-real situation, not that I’ve got duct tape over my mouth or anything, which, you know, obvious because I’m talking right now.”

“Well, that’s good. I’ve got big plans for your lips.”

He suddenly wanted to shiver; it wasn’t quite a tingle, not nearly a surge, but he definitely felt excitement, dark and almost treacherous, begin to pump through his bloodstream. Sarah’s look left little to the imagination about what she might be thinking, for once. For having such a constant poker face, she could really make some downright lewd expressions. “Oh, those kinds of plans,” he said without thinking.

She grinned, good-naturedly. “Now he gets it.”

“Hmm, I happen to think I’m a very astute individual.” Chuck caught the eye-roll. “Okay, I’m denser than hell, but…” He used the element of surprise and his extensive knowledge of physics to roll them over, pinning Sarah to the floor. She let out a breathless giggle. “I can understand some things.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“What if I’m feeling contrary and don’t want to prove it?”

Sarah grinned. “And how would that be different from any other day ending in—”

Chuck sprang. He’d learned bad things about surprising fully trained field operatives, but he figured Sarah would forgive him. Indeed, he felt her tense for just a split-second, but it hardly mattered. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, and after a minute, he felt her smile against his jaw.

He lifted his head. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just…” Sarah broke off into giggles that felt strange, since he was still pretty much on top of her. “Your face! When you looked up, and I was holding that ring, I thought you’d seen a ghost or something!”

“Hey, focus. I’m working here.” Chuck forced himself to give a gusty sigh. Contact with the floor had rucked up Sarah’s shirt, and he ran his thumbs over her sides in gentle circles. Because of that, he literally felt Sarah go still in that statue-like way she had. “What? What is it?”

A blink and the strangeness was gone. In fact, he was nearly blinded as Sarah smiled at him. “Nothing,” she said, and pulled his head down to hers. He had a brief flashback to the torrid embrace they’d shared in the corridor at Kanichen Enterprises, but this kiss was nowhere approaching that level yet. In fact, it seemed rather slow and deliberate. They had the place to themselves.

For now, at least.

As if she could read his thoughts—and that was slightly terrifying in its own right—Sarah shifted. “When does Casey get back?”

“He’s taking Ilsa to dinner.” Chuck worked his way down Sarah’s neck, pausing only to grin when he felt her responding tremble. “Should be at least an hour or two.”

“Good. And then maybe we take things over to my place.” Sarah smirked when Chuck lifted his head again, as this time it was to gawp at her. She toyed with a lock of his hair, which was just beginning to curl at the end. “You said you were ready.”

He was, but that didn’t stop the sheer surge of nerves writhing around in his midsection. “I did? I don’t remember that.”

Sarah grabbed either side of his face. “It’s okay. I do.”

“Are—are you sure you’re remembering right?”

“Damn near—”

“Photographic memory,” Chuck finished with her, and they paused to grin at each other. Because of that, neither was too distracted to hear the front door open.

“Oh, damn,” Chuck breathed. “Miscalculated.”

“Walker! Bartowski! You here?”

“Go away,” Sarah and Chuck both called. Sarah added, “Come back in an hour! Maybe two.”

Casey definitely sounded amused. “No can do. Beckman keeps calling, and there’s a meeting in Castle in ten minutes or the team gets reassigned to, and I’m paraphrase, somewhere very, very hot or very, very cold. Get decent and get down here.”

From the look on Sarah’s face, she seemed like she might be tempted to try her luck, but she just sighed and pushed a hand gently against the side of Chuck’s ribcage. He, however, didn’t move. He’d spent five years in Siberia; extreme cold or heat couldn’t get much worse than that. And it was Friday afternoon. His life didn’t revolve around his job anymore.

Sarah, still beneath him, looked a bit strained, though. And when she squirmed, his eyes nearly crossed. “Chuck, if you don’t move, we’re going to owe Casey a hell of a lot more than a box of cigars.”

“We could just be really loud and scare him away.” Feeling brave, he nuzzled against her neck, closing his teeth gently around her earlobe.

He heard the catch in her breath. “As much as that appeals to me on every level…”

“I don’t have all day, CIA! Move your asses!”

“There’s always time for this later,” Sarah said, and locked a leg around his waist. The mixed signals were enough to fry his brain—hopefully not literally, though he might have sensed the faintest smell of burning flesh on the air—and enable Sarah to literally shove both of them over, so that she was once again on top. He groaned when his back hit the floor.

“And just for that, Bartowski, I’m taking a cigar!” Casey called up the stairs.

“That wasn’t—I wasn’t—it—” Chuck broke off helplessly as Sarah shoved a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles. In the end, he sighed and let Sarah pull him to his feet. “Enjoy your cigar, Casey. We’ll be right down.”

1 FEBRUARY 2008
CASTLE: MEETING ROOM
20:27 PST

Very, very hot or very, very cold was looking better and better by the second.

Chuck wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but somebody must have done something like kick Beckman’s cat or run over Graham’s foot; neither of the bosses looked happy. In fact, if he had to say anything about it, he’d claim they looked downright pissed. He stood in his normal spot, to Casey’s left, and was grateful that he didn’t have to talk at the moment. He was under no illusions that his “idiot talk,” as Casey had once deemed it, would get them all in trouble.

Sarah, on the other side of Casey, seemed to be holding her own. “Yes, ma’am,” she said in answer to Beckman’s latest question. “The others and I agreed that I would speak with the FBI team on site and they would fetch Ms. Trinchina, and that we would convene at a set point. I arrived at the meet-point a moment or two ahead of the FBI. The Russians must have known Ms. Trinchina was being extracted, for they were out in force. I saw a couple of them through the doorway, and nearly didn’t get away in time. They were armed.”

Chuck hadn’t even considered what might have happened to Sarah while he and Casey had been getting Ilsa. Well, he’d worried, and freaked out, but his fears had been nonspecific.

“Unfortunately, I was spotted,” Sarah said. “A few of them chased me, but I was able to get a warning signal off to Agent Bartowski’s phone. Again, unfortunately, not in time. While I was running away, I ran into Ilsa Trinchina, who was also trying to evade the guards. We convened with the FBI team a block from Grand Saville. I convinced the team leader to give Trinchina gear as well, as she was the most familiar with Federov out of all of us. We arrived at the Grand Saville just in time to see Major Casey and Agent Bartowski land in the pool.”

After she’d finished giving the rundown, Beckman and Graham remained silent, each obviously processing the spoken reports. Given that it was almost midnight in D.C., their individual offices were dark. Chuck had no idea what sort of lives their bosses had, but clearly they must be social butterflies if they were in their offices at nearly midnight on a Friday.

Graham took the lead. “So, let me get this straight. You sent the Intersect into the heart of a group of Russians with criminal records as long as my arm, exposed him to a foreign operative operating illegally within U.S. boundaries, were unsuccessful in apprehending said operative, and failed to retrieve the Intersect before he was forced to jump seven stories into a swimming pool? Did I leave anything out?”

Put that way, Chuck thought, it sounded pretty terrible.

“Answer me,” Graham said, and Chuck realized that none of them had responded to the question.

Sarah apparently decided to take the fall for the team, possibly since Graham was the head of her agency. “Yes, sir. You could look at it that way.”

“How else am I supposed to look at it, Agent Walker?”

Chuck felt himself step forward before he could stop himself. “As a success,” he said.

Beckman’s eyebrow went up. How the woman put so much displeasure into a tiny facial move, Chuck would never know. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, as a success.” Neither Casey nor Sarah looked at him, but Chuck could practically feel them twitch. He’d regret it shortly, but he was getting fed up at being at the beck and call of the bosses at all hours. Especially those hours he could be with Sarah, picking up where they’d left off on the floor of his room and—that thought was too dangerous to continue in a briefing. So Chuck put his best “agent” expression on. “The FBI arrested nearly twenty of Victor Federov’s men today and may have set the Russian mob back years, thanks to work that Agent Walker, Major Casey, and I did. Yes, I made a Molotov cocktail to try and get us out of danger, but chances are, the bottle wouldn’t have shattered enough even if I had thrown it for it to be dangerous at all. In addition, Casey and I survived the drop into the pool and I for one commend Major Casey for his actions since he saved my life.”

“Chuck,” Casey said under his breath.

Chuck ignored him. “So what if the way we went about it was unorthodox? We still produced results. And you know what? You’re welcome.”

By now, Sarah was outright staring at him.

“Agent Bartowski, I don’t believe we asked for your opinion.”

“Why not? I was there at the hotel, too.” Chuck bit his tongue before he could remark that he was more than a meat case for the computer in his brain, and he’d like the higher-ups to remember that, too. “Be honest. How many times do your training scenarios actually go according to plan?”

“You’ll find, Agent Bartowski, that there is a difference between ‘according to plan’ and dropping seven stories into a pool.”

“A drop, I’ll point out again, we survived.”

“Chuck.” This time it was Sarah hissing his name, looking pained.

“I apologize for the insubordination, but this is twice that Team Prometheus has successfully neutralized an enemy threat and has been chastised for it. It’s Friday night. I’ve put in over fifty hours of time as the Intersect this week, and then to have this meeting foisted on me and messing with my daily plans is not helping.” Chuck carefully took a step back, folded his arms behind him in a parade rest position. “So that’s my report of the situation, Director, General. Team Prometheus one, Russian baddies zero, and I’d really like to get back to my night now, thank you.”

By now, General Beckman was gaping at him as well.

Graham, meanwhile, had an expression like a thunderclap. “Understood, Agent Bartowski. Perhaps the Intersect needs a nap.”

Chuck bristled, but Casey’s sub-audible growl was enough to keep the sarcastic reply in check. “No, sir,” was all he said.

“Very well, it’s Friday night, you’ve got a ‘life’ to enjoy. Dismissed, briefing first thing on Monday and we’ll discuss tonight’s…event. Agent Walker, General Beckman wants to have a word with you.”

That was it? Chuck nearly voiced the thought, but Casey clamped a hand over his arm. And then Chuck caught it: the cold-eyed promise of retribution on Graham’s face. Casey all but frog-marched him to the back part of Castle, away from the conference room. The instant they were out of range, he let out an explosion of breath. “What the hell was that, Bartowski?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Chuck scowled and jerked himself free. “Our mission was a success. We got Ilsa out, we got enough on Victor Federov to throw him into prison for three lifetimes, and it’s all, ‘How could you risk the Intersect!’ And it’s Friday. Did it never occur to them we might have had things to do?”

“You’re just upset you’re not doing a blonde.”

“Damn right I’m upset.” In a rare moment of sheer energy, Chuck began to pace back and forth, quick, choppy strides. “I’m more than just some puppet with a computer for a brain, you know.”

Casey crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that. As a minor side note, where the hell is all of this coming from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m used to the ‘poor me’ carnival, Bartowski, not…” Casey gestured at Chuck’s pacing. “This. Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know.” Chuck pushed his hands through his hair. He couldn’t blame the hangover, as he’d stopped feeling that hours before. So close, he wanted to say. They had been so close, things had been perfect, Sarah had felt so good. Of course, that was apparently a cue for the bosses to stick their noses in and judge everything. “Just frustrated, I guess.”

“Frustrated. Uh-huh.” Casey’s tone told Chuck he knew exactly what kind of frustration Chuck was currently experiencing. “You do realize Graham is going to come down on your head like a sack of hammers on Monday.”

“What’s he going to do, fire me?” Chuck snorted. “Oh, wait, nope, I’ve got the Intersect. Bzzt. Next.”

“They could always throw you in a padded cell; let you stare at the walls.”

“Yeah, right. As if Ellie, Gwen, or Sarah would ever let that happen.”

Casey grunted: point. “Just know it’s coming. And thanks to your little show of cojones, we’ve all go the evening off. Thanks. I left Ilsa waiting in the car. You still okay with me having the apartment?”

“Sure. I think…” Chuck straightened his shoulders a little bit. “I think I’m going to stay over at Sarah’s.”

“Good for you.” Casey shook his head once more, and left.

Once he was gone, the hallway seemed a great deal emptier. Chuck was almost tempted to tiptoe towards the conference room and eavesdrop to see what Beckman could possibly want to talk to Sarah about. In the end, he decided against it. Sarah would probably give him the highlights later. If they remembered.

He felt something in his midsection flutter. Nerves, he realized.

Well, it figured. He should be nervous, a little. This sort of thing was important. It had weight. And unfortunately, until Sarah was done with her briefing, it would have to wait. He debated what he should do in the meantime and decided that he could go into his office, surf the web for a bit. If he watched something particularly funny or stupid on Youtube, he could possibly even fight the growing nerves down a little bit. And he’d been neglecting some of his forum boards lately.

He had just sat down at his desk when he saw the manila envelope. It was a testament to the fullness of his day that it took him a full minute to remember Casey had mentioned leaving it on his desk earlier, before the situation with Ilsa had exploded. Finally, Chuck thought, picking it up and feeling the papers inside the envelope sag to gravity against his fingers. Some concrete information on Phillip Dartmoor, Bryce’s mystery. Should he look at it at Castle? The fact that Bryce hadn’t expanded on it in D.C. meant it could be stuff the government didn’t want him to know. Or it could be Bryce playing his typical mind games.

In the end, Chuck sighed to himself and moved the folder to the side. He’d look at Phillip Dartmoor’s files at home, later on, when he could really focus on the information Casey’s contact had gathered. Besides, tonight was reserved for time with Sarah Walker, anyway.

Since it didn’t look like she was done with her briefing yet, Chuck powered his work computer out of sleep mode and began surfing the usual sites, checking up on new video game developments. An article about Bungie was particularly engrossing; he bookmarked it and saved it for a future reread. An email from Dave pulled him into a brief debate about a theoretical use for one of the algorithms they’d designed for the Fulcruminator, and then of course, he had to check his gamer tag and make sure Morgan hadn’t spammed him again for the fun of it. The search for a job, Chuck knew, was not going well.

He accidentally clicked over the Castle security feeds as he navigated through the windows, and tabbed away just as quickly. A full ten seconds later, his fingers stopped typing mid-word. Had he really just seen… Chuck pulled the feed back up, and frowned. Apparently, Sarah’s briefing with Beckman was over.

And just as apparently, it had not gone well.

On the screen, a slightly-grainy version of Sarah drove three uppercuts in a row into Frank’s ribs. The velocity of any single one of those punches looked like it could have dented the finish on a tank. Sarah took no pity on the training dummy, though, and whirled to pummel his face with a roundhouse kick.

She looked furious. More than that, Chuck thought, wincing in sympathy for Frank as Sarah’s left hook found its mark, she looked upset. Beckman must have been feeling particularly brutal tonight.

Chuck hoped it wasn’t something he had said in the briefing. He didn’t want to make Sarah’s job any harder than it already was. His thumb, still on the spacebar, twitched. Should he go talk to her, try and calm her down?

On screen, Sarah let out what looked like a short scream, possibly of rage, and ran at Frank again. That decided Chuck.

He clicked open the private conference room feed and began to work his computer magic. He knew better than to approach Sarah when she was in full ninja mode, but he wanted to get to the bottom of this. If it was something to do with him, he was going to have words with his bosses.

He wasn’t sure what it said about him, or Castle’s security, that it only took him a few minutes to crack the encryption around the conference room video feed, which Beckman had obviously set to private for her briefing with Sarah. With the latter taking up the monitor on his left, still beating Frank to hell and back, Chuck leaned back in his seat to watch and figure out just what his boss had said to his girlfriend.

Next Chapter