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Just A Game	By : MoreCharahPlease Category: 1 through F > Chuck Views: 68647 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK or its characters. I am not making any money from this or any of my CHUCK stories.

Chapter List
- 17
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Notes: I sincerely wish I could respond to each of you personally. Some of you have pegged the characters and what I'm doing with them, the struggles of writing first person POV from one character's perspective, etc. And some of you are missing the point entirely. Which is totally your prerogative! You're going to read my story and characters how you read them. Nothing I can do about that.

I will say, however, that I know exactly what I'm doing. And where I'm going. Hint: Keep watching the characters' reactions. The looks. The things they say. I'm very serious about inserting subtle things in the hopes that my readers pick up on them. Some of you have and I'm STOKED about that. And whoever it was who said Sarah's somewhat of an unreliable narrator...especially where her own emotions/feelings are concerned...well done.

This chapter might be surprising for a few of you. Super plot heavy. SUPER.

Thanks for sticking around and reviewing, all of you! You're all great!

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I do not get paid money for this story.

“Walker? …Hey. Walker.”

   Something nudged my foot and I looked up. “What’s up?”

   Casey frowned at me. “What do you mean what’s up? There’s a glass of champagne over there with your name on it, woman.”

   I smiled at him. “Sorry. Just been a long day,” I explained, pushing away from the beam I was distractedly leaning against.

   “Hey, this whole party is for us, partner. We’re getting honored by the mayor. Remember? You aren’t allowed to be tired.” I glared at him and he held up his free hand that wasn’t holding a flute of champagne. “Just teasin’. Shit, Walker.”

   “Don’t you have a wife and daughter to attend to?” I asked, smirking.

   “Eh. They’re both grown up enough to attend to themselves.”

   He sipped some champagne and frowned at it a little. “Though I wish this was whiskey. How do people drink this shit?” He stayed next to me, surveying the room in that military-raised way of his.

   I rolled my eyes at him.

   We were surrounded by our peers, all of us dressed to the nines as the mayor lauded the LAPD in their efforts to bring a murderer to justice and bring a priceless painting back to its rightful home. There were a few agents from the FBI who’d shown up to take part in the celebration, since they’d partnered with us on the case.

   And in spite of the nice music and the fact that I’d worn an extremely expensive gown and gotten my hair done special for this occasion, I just wanted to go home.

   I really was tired. I wanted a bath and I wanted Netflix.

   And then I wanted my bed.

   This case had taken us weeks to solve. To the media, to the mayor, to the other representatives here, five weeks for a case this tough was impressive. The fact that we’d solved it in the first place was impressive, they said. And the museum was over the moon with joy. And the victim’s family was quietly grateful. Most of this was in his honor as well. A memorial of sorts.

   Five weeks to solve a case. It wasn’t bad. It might’ve even been pretty good.

   But it just felt to me like such a long time.

   And I knew I wasn’t just thinking about the case right then. I was thinking about the fact that I hadn’t seen or spoken to a certain nerd in just about the same amount of time. Not since he walked out of the station after giving his statement. They’d taken care of his lip and checked his head that day, but it was nothing a few days of ice wouldn’t solve. He’d walked out of there soon after, without looking back.

   I expected a phone call the next day. And when I didn’t get one, I called him that night. I left a voicemail, telling him I was just checking up on him. I didn’t mention anything about the argument. A voicemail wasn’t the place for that.

   And he didn’t call me back. Not the next day. Not the day after that.

   In fact, he never called back. And I’d since written him off completely. Sort of. Because I kept thinking about him.

   Served me right, I supposed. I’d said too much that day in the car. I’d let my worry about his safety, the fact that I was incredibly upset with him for his stupidity, cause me to say things that I shouldn’t have.

   Although, admittedly, it was…more than that. Things had progressed too far without me realizing it, and I’d become too comfortable, just as he had. And I’d been unfairly mean to him, when I was just as much to blame, if not more.

   And now we were done, apparently. It was my fault. I took full blame. And the guilt and general melancholy I’d been dealing with since then put me in a funk.

   I checked up on his case last week, though, and heard that the guy who’d attacked him was in the process of being prosecuted. Chuck was even going to receive some compensation. As was the woman who’d been terrorized in the first place.

   I was glad.

   And I missed him. Damn it.

   We were never boyfriend and girlfriend, sure. I’d kept it that way.

   No, we both had, in spite of the stupid, ego-driven things I said to him in the car that day.

   Maybe we hadn’t been a real couple, but we were close. What we’d had was good.

   Despite what he’d interpreted that day, I hadn’t just wanted it to be a thing where we didn’t talk unless it was about meeting up for sex. I cared about him. It didn’t have to be a full-fledged romantic relationship for me to still care. He wasn’t simply an object for me to get off with. Even if I had played that game in my own mind here and there when I was in a heat for him.

   We had fun together. We laughed together. And in between the sex, we would fall into such easy banter. It had been everything I’d needed. Shit, still needed.

   I shrugged the whole thing off to Carina, and she didn’t press me about it, for which I was grateful. And it was a little unnerving that she didn’t press, that she let it go. And she was extra quiet when I changed the subject, and I knew she was still thinking about my cutting ties with Chuck. She asked me if I needed to talk about it, but I scoffed at that and we moved on.

   She and I had gone out since then. And I had promptly shut down any men who even looked at me like they might try to proposition me. It drove Carina crazy, I knew. But I never was into that like she was, and I wouldn’t start now. In the end, she understood. Probably more than I meant for her to. And there was something in her face whenever I brushed away her offer to find me another fuck buddy.

   Granted, this not-quite-a-break-up wasn’t anything like what had happened with Bryce. The rip-roaring drunkenness and spending days in bed depressed, crying, hurting, feeling betrayed. The deep wound to my pride seemingly irreparable.

   Instead there was a lump in my chest that I couldn’t get rid of. It was a frustrating, constant annoyance, throbbing, always on my mind no matter how much I tried to distract myself.

   Me and Chuck had messed something up that was pretty good for what it was.

   Okay, me especially. I’d fucked up.

   And yes, I regretted it now. I’d regretted it the same day it happened.

   But it was a fact that this hadn’t destroyed me from the inside out like breaking up with Bryce had. And I’d managed to convince myself that it was because I kept that line between us. The physical without the romance. It made a difference.

   I decided to leave the celebration a little earlier than my colleagues, excusing myself to Casey and claiming to have a splitting headache. That was what people usually did, right?

   Agent Warner from the FBI—the one everyone called ‘the cute one’—asked me for a post-party drink on my way out. I wasn’t going to play with fire, though, so I politely declined. I damn well wasn’t going to start dating an FBI agent.

   As cute as he was. And as good of an agent as he was.

   That wasn’t something I wanted to start.

   That was not a path I wanted to follow.

   Even though I hadn’t had anything between my legs for five weeks.

   It was that last thought that eventually had me giving him my cell number. Maybe for later? I didn’t really know. It was idiotic and I knew the second I walked away that if he did call some day, I would probably make up an excuse and tell him I couldn’t until he grew tired and stopped calling altogether.

   My libido had acted stupidly. And selfishly. I couldn’t take it back now. I couldn’t go back to the party, find him, and ask for my number back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you that. Can I take it back? Thanks.”

   As I finally slinked into my bedroom, I undressed with that thought lodged in my brain. The emotional shit aside, the same shit I’d been trying to avoid, I sincerely needed a good orgasm.

   And yet I still didn’t regret declining Warner’s offer.

   Maybe he would’ve been a good fuck, but that was way too messy. Way way too messy.

   But that didn’t mean the ache between my legs went away, just because I’d disqualified ‘the cute one’.

   Dressed in just my panties and my bra, I stared at my bed for a long time, and then eyed my pillow.

   I walked to my bed slowly and climbed onto it, crawling on my knees to reach over and grab the pillow. Folding it in half and looking down at it in my hands, I decided this would have to do. And the ache between my legs got that much worse.

   So I shoved the pillow right where the ache was and lowered myself onto it, grinding a few times just to feel it. I adjusted a little, got comfortable, and started gyrating, feeling it rub against my clit through my cotton panties.

   I spent a few minutes just rocking back and forth, letting my eyes shut, concentrating on the sensation, going slowly. I had all the time in the world. I was all by myself. I could do whatever I wanted.

   And then my mind wandered. The last time I’d done this, there was a man underneath me. A man who was tall and lithe and strong. With the perfect amount of hair in all the right places, over smooth, tan skin. And beneath that, so much delicious muscle. And curls on his head that I could tangle my fingers in, broad shoulders I could really grab onto.

   I had his erection buried deep inside of my pussy. And I was riding him hard, his name on my lips. That was weeks and weeks ago. And yet I could still remember that sensation. How filling he was. The way his hot, throbbing cock felt pressed against my inner wall. His hands on my waist. Or better yet, one of them reaching up to hold onto my tit, flick my nipple.

   I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, shrugging it off and tossing it to the side. And then I pinched my nipples between my fingers and rubbed a few times, letting out a soft whimper.

   I lowered one hand to the pillow and pulled it up against my sex more, grinding a little harder. Chuck would be arching himself up against me right about now, meeting my thrusts. Buried so damn deep inside of me.

   I rubbed my tit.

   Pulling my lip between my teeth, I whimpered again, riding the pillow. And because I was totally alone, where no one would hear me or judge me, I whispered his name. And I sought to lose myself in the fantasy.

   Shutting my eyes tightly, I pretended Chuck was between my legs. I pretended my fingers flicking my nipple were his, and I rode the pillow even harder. “Oh yeah,” I gasped. “Oh yeah, Chuck. Fuck me good.”

   This wasn’t enough, I decided. So I shifted my legs so that I was lying flat on my belly, the pillow wedged between my thighs still, pressing hard against my sex, and I reached up to grab the headboard of my bed tightly.

   I slammed myself against the pillow over and over, clenching my ass, rubbing my clit against it. “Fuck yes,” I panted. “Oh Chuck, you feel so good.”

   My movements became rough and desperate. I clung so tightly, my knees digging into the mattress. And I fucked that pillow pretending it was Chuck Bartowski. “Nnng! Nng! Ahhh! Chuuckk!”

   I cried out for him, digging, aching, reaching for an orgasm.

   My movements became erratic and my voice high pitched as I yelped his name desperately.

   And when I finally came, it was with “Chuck” on my lips. One wasn’t enough, though, so I kept riding the pillow, gyrating, bouncing, grinding. I moved fast and rough, thumping my sex hard onto what I was pretending was Chuck’s dick. And I came a second time, rolling off the pillow onto my back and tucking my hand under the waistband of my panties to flick my nub fast and rough, arching my sex against my fingers until I came a third time. And then a fourth time.

   I kept crying out, my voice filling the empty room. “Fuck! Yes! Ah! Touch me, Chuck!”

   I slid two fingers into my pussy, arching off of the mattress to bury them as deep as possible until I met my own g-spot. And then I rubbed against it roughly. Over and over and over. Until I experienced my fifth orgasm, and I finally collapsed limply to my bed, sighing Chuck’s name. Repeating it again. And again, and then turning my face into the mattress.

   My body was buzzing.

   I tried not to think too hard about the implications.

   I’d just gotten myself off over and over again by pretending I was fucking the guy I’d parted ways with about a month ago. Not even my boyfriend. He was my fuck buddy.

   Deep down inside, I knew what just happened was probably really dysfunctional. But nobody knew. Nobody would ever know. Except for me.

   I wanted Chuck. I wanted him back in my life. I wanted the brightness that he brought to my days. The sound of his laugh. And the way it lit a fire between my legs when he whimpered my name. I wanted Chuck Bartowski the fuck buddy and I wanted Chuck Bartowski the friend.

   I knew I’d burned both of those bridges.

   And I just regretted it so fucking much.

—————

   I’d never been a deep sleeper. Which was usually incredibly frustrating.

   But right now, I counted it as a blessing.

   Because someone was definitely in my apartment.

   I rushed out of bed as quietly as possible, sliding my bedside drawer open and pulling my gun out, dressed in nothing but panties and a tank top. And I snuck to my bedroom door, pausing at the threshold and listening.

   Whoever was in here was opening the drawers of my desk in my living room.

   Were they looking for something?

   I heard the clicking sound of them typing on my laptop then.

   What the fuck?

   Why the hell were they on my laptop? Were they Googling a fucking recipe? What the fucking fuck?

   I pushed the panic away, took a silent, calming breath, and slid along the wall of the hallway. The clicking stopped and I stilled for a moment, trying not to breathe, trying not to make a single sound.

   Suddenly a dark figure stepped around the corner and chopped at my hand with the gun, bringing his other fist up to crash into my jaw. My head snapped back and thumped against the wall behind me. But before I could fall, I braced my foot against the floor and pushed forward, sending all of my weight into the intruder.

   He grunted and we fell to the floor together, struggling, wrestling. He was stronger than I was, but I was determined not to let him get the better of me.

   He rolled on top of me, pressing me down with his weight, and I squirmed desperately, fighting to keep his hand from closing around my throat.

   I got a leg between us and kicked as hard as I could, sending him flying off of me and landing on his back with a loud thump. “What the hell do you want?” I gasped, trying to crawl towards the gun he’d knocked out of my hand before.

   My fingers slid over the cool metal, but I felt a hard yank at my ankle and I cried out in pain, getting pulled back until my weapon was out of reach again.

   The masked man didn’t say anything, instead bringing his elbow around to crash into my shoulder. I cried out again and rolled onto my back, swinging my foot to crack it against his temple.

   It disoriented him enough that I was able to scramble away and grab the gun.

   But by the time I had it leveled at him, he was sprinting for my apartment door. I took a quick shot just as he ducked out, and then I clambered to my feet, hissing in pain as I put weight on the same ankle he’d yanked on. But I kept on moving, stumbling into the hallway. Too many of my neighbors were poking their heads out in shock, most likely having heard me shoot my gun, and I couldn’t get another shot off before the intruder disappeared around the corner. Maybe I could’ve, but there were too many innocents already wandering into the hallway, damn it.

   “Shit!” I yelled. “Get back inside and call 911! Tell them an officer needs assistance!”

   The slight, elderly man who lived across the hall and a few doors down from me saluted quickly and ducked back inside in a flash. Trusting he had it well in hand, I limped as fast as I could in pursuit of my attacker.

   But by the time I hobbled down the stairs, the pain from my ankle now shooting into my foot and up my leg, whoever the fucker was that had broken into my apartment was gone.

———————

   Graham narrowed his eyes. “You think he wanted to kill you, then?”

   “Absolutely he did. Maybe that wasn’t his goal when he first broke in. I got the feeling he didn’t know I’d be at home. He didn’t have a weapon that I could see. At least he didn’t reach for one. And he would’ve if he’d had it, I assume.”

   “Ballsy?” Graham guessed.

   “Or just sure I wouldn’t be there.”

   He nodded.

   I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulder. I was hurting all over from my altercation the night before. And I hadn’t slept at all. It wasn’t simply that I thought the guy might come back, it was the incessant thought that he’d been looking for something. But what? What could I possibly have that he needed?

   But then I was also afraid that he’d come back. Something I wouldn’t admit to the uniforms Graham had watching my building’s door the rest of the night.

   “Well, nevertheless, your computer must have had something he wanted.”

   I sighed and stared at my laptop as it sat on my desk, untouched ever since the night before. Except for when the forensics team came in to dust it for prints. Of course there weren’t any. Whoever had broken in hadn’t been an idiot.

   “Unless…” I nibbled my lip, then crossed the room to my laptop, lifting it up and looking underneath. “Maybe he wasn’t looking for something. What if he was planting a bug?”

   “Think he did something to your laptop?”

   “Maybe. If I toss it out the window, will the LAPD compensate me? I mean, will you guys buy me a new one?” I turned and smirked at him, earning a huff of amusement.

   My captain shook his head at me. “Absolutely not. What I can do is bring someone in to look at it. Make sure it’s clean.” He paused. “Albert is in Florida for his grandfather’s funeral, but I will find someone trustworthy. Let’s pack it up and bring it to the precinct. They can analyze it there. And anyways, I don’t like the idea of you being here alone with some computer geek.”

   If only he knew just how often I’d been here alone with a computer geek in the last few months. The things I had let that computer geek do to me. And the things he’d let me do to him.

   I felt melancholy come over me. It was like there was a hole opening up inside of me, and it was that much worse this morning, after what had happened last night. I didn’t understand why, but I covered the sudden influx of emotions with a roll of my eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

   “Oh, I know you can. But I’m not taking chances with one of my best detectives. Let’s go, Walker.”

   I spent the rest of the day at my desk at the precinct, wracking my brain for a reason why anyone would break into my apartment.

   I was between cases. There was nothing particularly secretive about my life. I wasn’t double dealing in the underground crime world or pretending to be a cop while I went behind the law’s back and dealt drugs.

   What in the hell was this guy after?

   Hours passed in a blur as I watched my colleagues walk in and out of the precinct, some of them guiding perps in handcuffs, others with witnesses, and others still strolling past my desk with some sort of delicious food wafting out of the sacks they held.

   But I wasn’t hungry.

   I was nervous, achy, and moody.

   “Walker.”

   I looked up and saw Graham gesturing for me to join him in his office. I glanced at my watch as I pushed up from my desk, wincing and stretching, feeling the pain in my back and shoulder again.

   I grabbed my crutch and put it under my arm, hobbling to his office without putting weight on what ended up being a sprained ankle. Minor, of course. But still, it hurt.

   As I finally swung myself inside of the office, Ruiz and O’Bannon moved into the room after me, and finally Casey strode in as Graham turned to shut the door behind us.

   “We’re going to find this piece of shit and my thinking is we’re gonna do it through Walker’s laptop. So I’ve called a professional in. He’s the best I could find on such short notice. And I’ve been reassured over and over that he’s trustworthy.”

   “…Albert?” O’Bannon asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Since when does he need an introduction? He’s just…Albert.”

   “Albert is at his grandpa’s funeral in Florida, OB. Get your head on straight,” Ruiz said, teasing his partner, per usual. He earned a glare.

   “So who is it, then?” O’Bannon asked with a shrug.

   “He’s not with the department. But he comes highly recommended. A friend of mine’s entire security system went on the fritz. This kid came in and not only fixed the glitch, but undid all the damage. Hasn’t had a problem since, apparently.” Graham shrugged. “He’s waiting downstairs now.”

   “Wait, wait, wait. We’re letting some guy from outside the department in on this investigation? I don’t know, Captain. I already don’t trust nerds, but a nerd from the outside? That don’t feel right,” Ruiz said, looking sincerely concerned.

   “Then don’t say anything about the case that doesn’t involve Walker’s laptop. We want to keep this quiet. No one outside of us and this specialist I’m bringing in, just in case the bastard who broke into Walker’s apartment is paying attention to our movements.” I felt a shiver go down my spine at that. “We run the risk of drawing attention to this if we dig into some other precinct’s analyst pool. Get a private analyst to come in, there’s less chatter.”

   “I don’t like civilians,” Casey grunted.

   “Should I tell that to your wife and daughter, Casey?” I quipped, earning a chuckle from Ruiz.

   “Captain. Sir,” Casey said, ignoring me. “With all due respect, how are we supposed to trust this guy you’re bringing in from the outside? This is kind of a serious situation. We’re not telling anyone outside of this office about the case, but we’re telling him? If he slips and blabs to his friends and it gets to the press—”

   “He won’t. He’s trustworthy. My friend said he is and I trust my friend. I can’t give you details but there was a cyber attack at his high security facility. They wanted to keep it out of the press so that their clients didn’t freak out. Never had a problem. I’m reassured that while he is a civilian, he’s our best bet for now. We can trust him. He’s already been apprised of the need for complete secrecy.”

   Apparently the captain was done defending his choice, for he stepped behind his desk and picked up his phone. “Auldene, send him up, please, will you? Thanks.”

   “Well, if he sings like a canary, we can always toss him in the cage,” Ruiz said with a shrug.

   I ignored their chuckles as I went through the possible motives in my head. Was my attacker trying to put a bug on my computer? Did he think my personal computer would have LAPD files that were of interest to him? There’d be no point in him going through my computer if he simply meant to break into my place and steal valuable things. He would’ve stolen the entire computer. It had to be what was inside the computer. But what information would I have that was of any interest?

   There was a knock on the door suddenly, and we all turned to watch as it opened. I was sure all of our faces mirrored the look of distrust Casey sent over his shoulder as Graham’s “trustworthy” tech guy stepped inside.

   I nearly collapsed. If it weren’t for the crutch jammed under my armpit, I might have.

   Because there stood Chuck Bartowski, in all his tall and lean glory, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, looking a bit unsure.

   And then his eyes swung over the faces in the room and stopped on mine.   Luckily he got a handle on himself before anybody else could notice, and Graham immediately explained the bare bones of the security situation. Chuck was paying attention, even as his eyes flicked over at me every so often. I knew he was slowly surveying me, taking in the bruises and the crutch under my arm. He looked concerned as he finally lifted his brown eyes to my blue ones.

   “Mr. Bartowski?”

   He jolted. “Uh, whu—uh, sorry. Absolutely. Yes. You can count on me. Where’s the laptop in question? I’ve gotta set up next to it.”

   God, I’d missed him. And his hair had grown out a little bit. The curls were especially messy, or maybe the wind outside had something to do with that. Or maybe it had just been over a month since I’d seen him and my brain told me he looked different when he really didn’t.

   Honestly, I had no idea what was happening in my brain. I was just so shocked to see him standing there. So glad to see him standing there. And I’d been perfectly fine just yesterday.

   But now…seeing him again, it was like…I didn’t know what it was like. But I had to check myself to keep from letting all of this show on my face.

   “We’re actually giving you your own room.”

   “But don’t think you’re special, kid,” Ruiz said with a smirk.

   “Ruiz, take Walker’s laptop into the interrogation room,” Graham said, ignoring Ruiz like he usually did. “Casey, O’Bannon…you already have your assignments.” Graham gestured to the laptop and Ruiz picked it up, winking at me as he walked past and out the door. It was some sort of weird gallows humor that he and some of the other guys in the precinct resorted to in order to deal with difficult situations.

   I knew everyone in the precinct was behind me. And that this had rattled everyone, even if the officers outside of this room weren’t full apprised of the laptop situation. They knew I’d been attacked and nothing else. And they were being very supportive.

   When you messed with one of us, you messed with all of us. It was comforting. And it was something I hadn’t felt at my precinct in D.C. I knew without a doubt that these men and women here would have my back no matter what.

   I felt Chuck’s eyes on me the entire way to the interrogation room and I did my best not to notice…or at least, I did my best not to let him see that I noticed. He even slowed down a little so that he could walk beside me as I limped along. And I knew he wanted to say something. He always had a tense air about him, like he was liable to burst, when he had something to say. But he was smart. So he kept it inside, instead grabbing the door and holding it open for me to move into the room. Ruiz set the laptop down on the desk and gestured to it in a bit of a bullfighter stance.

   Before Ruiz could say anything snide or witty, or at least what he might deem witty, Graham appeared at the door behind Chuck and I. “Ruiz, you’re with me. Walker, tell him…You know what to tell him.”

   Right.

   Not everything.

   Graham was gone then, leaving Ruiz to turn as he moved to the door, winking at me again. “Ay, I hope you were able to erase your search history before Inspector Gadget over here gets a looksie.”

   Ruiz left humming the Inspector Gadget theme, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone with Chuck.

   Before I could say anything, Chuck lifted his bag’s strap over his head and set it on the desk next to my laptop before closing the distance between us. He left less than a foot of space, his brow furrowed in concern. “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

   “Just a little sore in places. I’ll be fine.”

   It was suddenly very strange to have Chuck in my place of work. Granted, neither of us knew we would meet today. It was obvious Chuck had been just as shocked as I was.

   “What happened?” he asked.

   That little line between his eyebrows, his brown eyes so soft and comforting as he looked at me…It was all too much to handle when I thought that I’d probably never see him again.

   And leave it to Chuck to be concerned about me, before he even addressed anything else. Like the fact that we hadn’t spoken in almost 5 weeks. Like the fact that I’d obviously hurt him and quite possibly destroyed whatever it was that we’d had…our friendship. Because that was what it was at the end of the day. Friendship. With pleasurable benefits. Understatement.

   I bit my lip to keep it from trembling and shrugged, wincing just a bit when it sent a pang of fire through my shoulder. That bruise was one of the worst ones. From when the intruder cracked his elbow into it. My guess was the bone was most likely bruised.

   “Just um…an occupational hazard. He—”

   “This is more than just a lucky kick, Sarah, so don’t even say it.” There was a sparkle of humor in his eyes and I felt something fluttering in my chest.

   I smirked just a little bit. “Yeah…well…”

   “Seriously. Tell me.”

   “I can’t tell you everything, Chuck. It’s an active investigation. I was specifically ordered to only tell you what’s pertinent to the part that we need your help with.” I reached over to pat my laptop with my palm.

   “C’mon. Who the hell am I gonna tell? I don’t even know anyone besides the guys I work with at the Buy More. And I wouldn’t tell them my goldfish’s name, let alone something that might get you in trouble.”

   “You have a goldfish?”

   “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

   Usually something like that set a sparkle of amusement in his eyes, or he might outright chuckle. But I could tell he was sincerely worried. It was better than mere curiosity. And it made me want to spill everything.

   “I know you’re a detective which isn’t the safest profession out there, but I’m still…”

   Worried. I finished that thought for him in my head. He was so Chuck in this moment that I nearly burst, letting everything out I’d been holding in since last night. The fear, the anger, the disgust…

   But that probably meant tears—tears of fright and anger and numerous other things.

   Instead, I took a deep breath and looked away from him, deciding that a lack of eye contact might make it easier to say.

   Graham’s orders be damned. I trusted Chuck.

   Even after everything. Because in the end, I’d been the problem, not him. I still was, wasn’t I?

   I shook my head.

   “What I’m not supposed to say is that somebody broke into my apartment last night and I caught him. We fought. And he managed to get away before I could put a bullet in him.”

   “Holy shit…” Chuck swallowed loudly. “Are you okay?”

   “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

   His eyes flicked down to my wrapped ankle and slid up the crutch under my arm. “I mean, just barely.”

   I huffed and rolled my eyes, gesturing to the computer. “Can you please just do what we’re paying you to do?”

   “Right. Right, of course.” He rushed to the desk and grabbed his messenger bag, pulling it open and taking a bunch of crap out, and I had no idea what he was going to use any of it for. He connected things, screwed things in, and eventually powered both laptops up. “So what’s the deal with the laptop, then? The, uh, the captain said you think it’s been bugged or something?”

   “Hacked, maybe.”

   “By the intruder?”

   “He went onto my laptop for some reason. That’s why you’re here. I don’t know if he was looking for something or if he was trying to put something…on it. We need you to find out if it was either of those things. I mean, it’s my personal laptop. I don’t keep stuff from work on there.”

   “That’s weird. If he wanted the actual laptop, he could’ve just grabbed it.”

   “Exactly.”

   “Did he take anything else?”

   I arched my eyebrow. “Are you heading the investigation now?”

   Chuck gave me a sardonic look and plopped down in the chair, facing the laptops. “Did he take anything else or not, smart ass?”

   I smirked, feeling a bit of the banter we’d always had filtering back into our interaction. “No. He didn’t.”

   “Then it was definitely about this laptop.”

   “It had to be.”

   I slowly crutched my way up behind him, resisting the urge to rest a hand on his shoulder as I leaned down to watch him work.

   I needed to apologize to him. And then I wondered if I owed him one, or if it was the other way around. He was the one who hadn’t called me back. I made the effort. He didn’t.

   That didn’t matter, however, because I still owed him an apology for what I’d said the last time we spoke.

   And it made it difficult for me to stand this close, knowing what his body felt like on top of mine, underneath mine…the heat of his skin, the fingers currently tapping away at the keys of his laptop on my body instead…knowing the things he could do to me if there wasn’t a mess between us, and, um, if we weren’t in my place of work. Woops.

   Shoving my libido down where it belonged, I listened as he explained what he was doing, and thankfully understanding everything he was telling me. I thought maybe it was just how he was explaining it. I wasn’t computer illiterate, after all. I couldn’t be as a detective in the 21^st century.

   But then he started getting into the technical terms and crazy things I had no idea about, scoffing and shaking his head at my laptop, and I wondered if this was some sort of hacker language I wasn’t privy to.

   It was a little worrying how turned on I was by it.

   Like when you met a man who could speak different languages, and how hearing French come out of his mouth gave you a thrill between your legs. Chuck’s language wasn’t French. It was some sort of tech jargon. But it was sexy nonetheless.

   I knew he was smart, he had to be smart. We had such stimulating conversations between all of the sex. But this was confirmation of just how smart. Fuck me, but it was the hottest thing about him suddenly.

   I honestly had no idea that nerds were such a turn on for me. If I’d known this sooner…

   “Okay. Well…this is going to take awhile. This guy was a pretty damn good hacker, but I’m better, so…” He shrugged, not even a shred of modesty in it. He was just being completely matter-of-fact about how good he was at this.

   And I’d missed him so much. The way his tongue poked out a little as he frowned determinedly at the screens. His mussed hair from his hand combing through it in frustration. The way he’d actually rolled his sleeves up as he really got into the typing.

   I had no idea what he was even doing.

   But I could relate to that look on his face. He had so much he wanted to do and he felt like he couldn’t do it fast enough. His brain was moving faster than his fingers. It happened to me when I was working on cases. So many witnesses to question, people to visit, interrogations, leads to follow, and not enough manpower to do it fast enough. If only I could clone myself, send all of the clone me’s out into the city.

   If Chuck knew I was thinking that, he’d probably be turned on by how nerdy it was. God, when had this happened to me?

   “Do you need anything?” I finally asked, because lurking behind him wasn’t doing much for my shot nervous system. Or that feeling between my legs. “We have soda. Water.”

   “Do you have chardonnay?”

   I thought he was kidding, so I chuckled a little. But then he looked over his shoulder at me with a serious look on his face.

   “Wait. Seriously? Chardonnay?”

   “It gets my brain juices going. But if you don’t have any, that’s cool. I’ll take water.”

   I blinked at him. He was so weird. “I’ll get you a water.”   “Thanks—Wait! Wait wait.” He pushed up to his feet and nearly got caught on the wires. “You’re hurt. I can get it.”

   “I’m not an invalid. I just have a crutch, Chuck. It’s fine.”

   “No, I’ll—”

   “Fine, fine. Just…sit down. I’ll have O’Bannon bring it. Get back to work.” I shook my head at his back as he plopped back down and did as I said. And then I turned to open the door. “O’Bannon?” He looked up from his desk. “Can you grab Mr. Bartowski a water, please?”

   He pointed at me in the affirmative and surged up from his seat, going into the break room and coming back with a bottle. I thanked him, received a salute, and I ducked back into the room, moving over to Chuck’s side to hold it out to him.

   He didn’t notice, so I nudged his shoulder with it.

   “Hnn?” He looked up at it. “Oh. Thanks. Uh. Just a second…I might be…” There was silence for at least a minute as I tried to figure out what he was looking at. It was a flurry of numbers and shapes. But he seemed so intrigued by it, and then he switched out of it and pulled my desktop up again. “Fucker. Fucking piece of shit.” He pushed both hands through his hair, tugged his curls a little and then flattened his palms on the desk on either side of the keyboard.

   “What?!”

   “This mother fucking son of a bitch. If he were standing right here, I’d…”   “What?!?!”

   “I’d kill ‘im, that’s what.”

   “No, I mean…What did you find?”

   He grabbed the bottle from me angrily and unscrewed it, knocking it back and emptying the thing in a few gulps. And then he crunched the bottle in his fist and put it on the desk. “He must have been in your apartment before. If not once, then a few times.”

   A chill went down my spine. “Why—I mean, how do you know that?”

   “He’s installed a few programs. They’re difficult for the untrained eye to spot—sorry, not that—I didn’t mean that you’re—”

   “Just get on with it, Chuck.”

   “Right. So, this guy obviously wants some info. He’s hacked into your email. Any time someone sends you something, he gets it on his own system. And he did it through your laptop, which is…different. I mean, that’s really, really personal. Usually you do it from—That doesn’t matter right now. He’s keeping tabs on web searches as well. And he even installed…”

   Chuck pulled a program up on the screen that I’d never seen before and gestured to it in frustration, pushing his hand through his hair. “I zapped it first thing. But he was recording you. Anytime you had your laptop open, he could hear what you said when he had the program switched on. Whether you were on the phone or had someone here. Your camera here was activated but he disabled the light here that typically turns on when the camera’s on so that you wouldn’t know. I’m sure he did it during one of his visits. This was manually installed on your computer, as though you’d done it yourself. Which meant he had access before, because he wouldn’t have had time for all of this last night.” He turned back to the computers, working his jaw angrily. “He had access to your laptop for hours and hours before last night. He must really want what he’s looking for, because he went through great lengths to do all of this. Aaaand…” He tapped a few keys and everything he’d pulled up flickered and disappeared. “…I’ve just undone it in ten fucking minutes, so fuck you, ya fuckin’ creep.”

   He tugged the connecting wire from my laptop and turned to me with a half-triumphant half-pissed look on his face.

   I wasn’t aware that I was shaking until Chuck wrapped his large, warm hands around mine. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. He doesn’t have access anymore. I killed it. I’m wiping your laptop clean, cutting his link completely. I’m just going to run a few powerful sweeps to make sure he’s absolutely gone and that he stays gone. That’ll take an hour or two. Maybe more. But the worst stuff, everything he used to spy on you is gone. Totally and completely obliterated from your system.”

   “What does he want? Why the fuck is he listening to me?” I couldn’t help but allow myself a moment of vulnerability. Chuck wasn’t Ruiz or O’Bannon. He wasn’t my captain who would most likely make me step away from the case as someone who’s “too close” if he saw me being vulnerable or frayed.

   I shut my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, squeezing Chuck’s hands back. Taking his strength that he was offering.

   “I don’t know. But he isn’t anymore. I took care of it.”

   That was probably the time I should have thanked him, but I was too numb, too terrified. This guy had been watching me for who knew how long. How much had he heard? How many private moments had he witnessed? Had my laptop been open the times Chuck and I had—or worse, when I’d been alone and…?

   I shivered. “I don’t talk about work at home. I leave it all at the station. So he couldn’t have gotten anything about that.” I thought back to my emails. Who had I even emailed lately? Carina sent me trivial links to stories and articles here and there. An old contact in D.C. sent me one of his students’ resumes to pass on to Carina for an internship. My dad sent me one two weeks ago. Just a “hi how are you” type email that was really short. Had some stupid pictures he’d taken on one of his “business trips”. I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to respond. I didn’t owe him a damn thing. So I had just left it sitting there in my inbox. Didn’t even look at the stupid fucking pictures, because fuck it.

   I didn’t want to know where he was or what he was doing. Plausible deniability and all that.

   It wasn’t until the door behind me opened that I realized Chuck was still holding my hands. He pulled away just as fast as I did, so that by the time Graham stepped into the room, I was relatively sure he’d seen nothing. Chuck was staring at the laptop screen with a bit of a blush, though.

   “So…what’s the verdict?”

   “The bastard that broke in last night has been spying on me,” I spat.

   Graham gave me a bit of a look, then switched a significant gesture towards Chuck whose back was still facing him. I knew he was trying to signal me to keep quiet about the extra stuff, the stuff Chuck wasn’t supposed to know. But I was willing to take the heat. Chuck needed to be in on all of it, or he wouldn’t be able to do his job. And I would explain that to my captain if he needed me to.

   “He had a recording device installed in my laptop so that he could hear my conversations. A way to see my web search history and read my emails.”

   I felt cold as Graham’s face darkened. “What the hell is this guy after?” he asked.

   All I could do was shrug.

   “Whoever did this is pretty good,” Chuck said, swinging his chair around to face the captain. “It all looks pretty untraceable, unfortunately. I can try to trace it, if you want. See if I can get anything at all. Each piece could have something I can latch onto. I’ve moved the link he had between his system and yours and connected it to mine instead. So he’s gonna be in for a rude awakening when the only emails he gets are about my online comic book purchases. Maybe he’ll learn a thing or two about Deadpool but that’s about it.”

   Oh, Chuck. Stop while you’re behind.

   And yet…he was so attractive and adorable when he willingly relinquished nerd-facts about himself. One of those moments he had sometimes when it seemed like he wasn’t all that ashamed of who he was. Not that he had any reason to be ashamed in the first place.

   Langston Graham simply blinked at him, and then he shook his head and sighed. “Keep trying to track the piece of shit down, Mr. Bartowski. Don’t worry, you’ll be paid for your time. Just do whatever you can.”

   “Yessir.”

   “Walker, leave the man to his work. Come with me.”

   I didn’t want to leave.

   And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Chuck with the private stuff on my laptop. What did I care about my privacy now that some creepy pervert was privy to all of that for who knew how long?

   It was just that I was in the same room with Chuck again. Things were unquantified, yes. We hadn’t discussed the 5 weeks no-talking thing. What if when he walked out of here that was it?

   I just wanted to stay. Watch him work. Watch him tap away at the keyboard expertly, staring at numbers on the screen that made no sense to me. Muttering nonsense to himself, sniffing and scoffing at something only he would understand.

   But I followed my captain out of the room, feeling Chuck’s eyes on my back as I went.

   As we stepped back into Graham’s office, he sighed heavily. “What are you feeling here, Walker?”

   I frowned in confusion. I couldn’t remember another time when Langston Graham had ever asked me about my feelings. “Um…” I raised my eyebrows. “I feel violated, for one. Disgusted. Pissed.”

   “Of course you do. But I meant what do you think is going on? I should’ve phrased that better.”

   “Oh.” Yes, he should have. “Right. Well…I have no clue, to be honest, sir. And frankly, it is pissing me off. There’s nothing in my email besides typical things from friends. Interesting articles. Um…funny videos of baby animals.” I pursed my lips as he sent me a look at that. “I mean, I don’t have my work email on there. That’s on my computer here at the office.”

   “You don’t have some case you’re working on that I don’t know about?”

   “Of course not. There’d be no reason for me not to inform you about everything I’m working on. You’re my captain.”

   “Good answer.” He sighed and sat in his chair. “Well, if it isn’t about your work here, that means it is personal.”

   “That would make sense. I’ve put a lot of people in prison.” I shrugged. I’d killed a few, too, but I didn’t need to say that part out loud. We both knew it was true. He’d killed as well. We all had, except for a few of the rookies.

   “But why hack my computer? Why not just sneak in and attack me? This was a deliberate invasion of my privacy, but he didn’t make any attempt to hurt me until I caught him in my apartment last night. And if what…Mr. Bartowski says is true,” I said, doing my best to hide the pause, “they went into my apartment a few times to set this all up.” I shivered, unable to hide that.

   “You’re sure nothing happened, maybe in D.C., and someone followed you here? Something—anything you might know about a case you did over there?”

   “I left behind a lot of closed cases. Nothing was left open. I made sure of it before I left. Granted, there are a few cold cases, things that are virtually unsolvable at this point.” I shrugged.

   “Hm. Could it be something in your past? Before you became a police officer?”

   I didn’t like to think of the time before I’d gone into the academy. So I just shook my head. That would be something I could think about later, on my own, in private. When I could deal with everything without my captain staring me in the face.

   “I’m emailing Dale—Captain Patterson—over at your old D.C. digs. I’ll have him send your old files over and we’ll comb through them, see if you may have pissed off some tech-head bastard at some point. Just to be sure. No stone left unturned and all that.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   I went back out to my desk and plopped down in my chair, thanking Ruiz for the coffee he plopped in front of me, even though I probably wouldn’t drink it. He must have seen the circles under my eyes. Everyone probably saw the circles under my eyes.

   And there was still the whole issue of my fuck buddy (ex fuck buddy?) currently sitting in the interrogation room, attempting to out-hack the hacker who’d destroyed the safe feeling I’d always had in my own apartment. I didn’t feel safe there now. I was sure I would eventually. But the thought of someone breaking in more than once without me knowing…it made me a little ill just thinking about it.

   I could see Chuck through the blinds, hunched over the keyboard, typing like mad.

   I had to talk to him while he was still here, but I didn’t want to interrupt him. Maybe our three month long partnership was over now, but I at least wanted to say I was sorry for being so hard on him that day. It hadn’t been my intention to hurt him.

   From the very beginning, I’d wanted to establish our relationship as purely physical. And I knew I’d been clear about it. I knew he’d understood that. And while I’d done my best to keep it that way, he maybe lost his footing a little bit. I didn’t really blame him. It wasn’t exactly easy having great sex with someone and completely keeping the emotions out of it. I’d lost my footing, too. I could admit to that, at least in my own head.

   I cared about him. I really did. He had become a big part of my life. But I just wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship. Sex, definitely. But I didn’t want or need a boyfriend. And it was all too clear by his actions that day, and by a few of our interactions in the lead up to it (it had to be said), that he had started to see me as his girlfriend. Maybe I’d even started slipping a little. This wasn’t just on him.

   But it was up to me to get my footing again, since I was the one unwilling to take that extra step, unwilling to truly put myself out there for a real relationship. Just the thought of it made me dizzy with nerves.

   I needed to talk to him. I needed to reiterate where I stood, but apologize for coming at it as hard as I had. I’d just been upset. And worried. He’d called me instead of the police, for fuck’s sake!

   And he’d gotten clobbered for it.

   But that was just an excuse, wasn’t it? I couldn’t get hurt again. And I didn’t want Chuck hurting because of me, either. I wanted to stay here. In Los Angeles. With these people. In this precinct. With Carina in town. And I couldn’t let another sour relationship ruin all of it. I was terrified.

   I’d been burned by too many people. Because I’d let them get under my skin. I couldn’t let it happen again. Because I knew it might send me into a downward spiral. I’d have to leave again. Shoot myself off into space or something.

   Fuck, I knew how melodramatic I was being. But I couldn’t help how terrified I was.

   I watched Chuck a little while longer, and then I went back to reading my afternoon paper, hoping the next few hours went by incredibly slowly. For two reasons: the first being that leaving work for the night meant going back to my apartment again, having another sleepless night, feeling that unsettling tingling in my fingers and toes, fidgeting in bed before finally getting up to watch TV until morning, and the second was that Chuck would leave.

   I wasn’t ready for that to happen. Not now that he was here.

   Having him in there with my laptop, doing whatever he could to trace those hacks to whoever the fuck was out to get me, was way more calming than I’d expected it to be. It was more calming than knowing Graham had talked to the head of the FBI about what had happened, making sure the details of last night’s altercation and the current fall out from said details were kept from the rest of the squad, from anyone else besides us and the head of the FBI, and from the press especially. Chuck being here right now made me feel that much safer than all the rest of the precautions we were all taking.

   Maybe it was because Chuck had already proven himself in the short amount of time that he was here so far.

   Or maybe it was just because it was him.

   I’d seen his immediate concern when he saw the bruise on my jaw, the crutch under my arm and the brace on my ankle. And his anger when he discovered the hacks on my laptop. I knew that Chuck would work harder than anyone else to track this bastard down. It made me feel safe.

   I trusted him more than I trusted Albert, or any other tech specialist they might have brought in to do this. And I silently thanked whomever it was that had suggested Chuck to Captain Graham. Knowing he was going to bat for me, protecting me, made me the most comfortable I’d been in the last 24 hours.



———————————

   I heard the door slam open and I nearly shot to my feet, thankfully remembering at the last second that my ankle wouldn’t appreciate it. So I slowly eased myself up, grabbing my crutch as Chuck crossed the room to my desk.

   “S—Uh,” he looked around with a slight blush, “Detective Walker, I think I’ve got something.”

   “What is it?”

   Graham must have heard the commotion because he came out of his office. “Find something, Mr. Bartowski?”

   Chuck spun to face Graham. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

   Ignoring the rest of the officers in the precinct who looked more than curious, we followed him into his workspace, shutting the door behind us.

   He sat down, rolling his chair up to the desk. He tapped at the keys again, pulling up the internet. And for the first time I realized he’d gotten onto the wireless without any of us giving him the password. …That was interesting…

   I wondered if Graham noticed.

   “So the thing about hackers is they like to talk to each other, get ideas, bounce things off one another, insult the other guy, build themselves up, boast, blah blah. So there are threads for that. And I jumped on one I’m pretty familiar with, followed a few interesting key words, and found what I believe to be a pretty good indication of who it is.”

   Graham and I exchanged a look when Chuck turned back to face the computer.

   “B-Basically, these methods he used are pretty singular. Kinda recognizable. I contacted a few of the big names I knew from back when I—” He halted, paling a little, and then he cleared his throat.

   Graham gave me a flat look and sighed. “Just…don’t say anything else and we’ll leave that where it is, Mr. Bartowski.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

   “Right. Anyways.” Chuck cleared his throat again. “There are a couple of big names in that world. Really big names. And the thing about hackers is they tend to have massive egos, right? Massive, overblown egos. Which tends to do a lot of them in. The feds aren’t as stupid anymore, and…” He waved at the screen. “Uh…sorry. Not that ever were. I just…They’re smarter now.” He cleared his throat and I bit my cheek to keep from showing my amusement. Good thing there weren’t any feds in this room.

   “They get picked on in their real lives so they make themselves big and bad in their internet lives. I know the type,” Graham said, looking more than a little intrigued. “But there must be thousands upon thousands of people who go on there, and from all over the world.”

   “True. But one of the big wigs boasts a lot about his success. I did a search for all of his posts, went through a load of them and saw some that looked suspiciously similar to what he did on Detective Walker’s laptop. A lot of these guys follow patterns. It’s like a hacker signature.”

   Graham and I stood up a little straighter and exchanged another quick glance.

   “Like Anonymous releasing those hacktivism videos whenever they screw with someone,” Graham said.

   “Yeah, like that.”

   “Go on,” I prompted as Chuck clicked at a few things again.

   “Now I haven’t been—I mean, I don’t know much about any of this…”

   Something told me he did, however, as he reached up to rub his neck. And Captain Graham wasn’t a simpleton, either. But we had more important things to worry about at the moment. I stashed this away to ponder for later, however.

   “There’s one guy in particular who does stuff like this, the guy I just told you about. Usually he goes after the big guys. We’re talking CEOs of massive corporations. Oil companies. Tech companies. Bigger companies means high-level bragging rights. A few years ago, he allegedly handed off some insider trading info…really damning stuff…like career ruining stuff, and got Hunter Rowland sacked.” My eyes widened. “Yeah, apparently that was all thanks to this guy. He went onto the board and posted pictures, screenshots, the whole thing.”

   That had been a huge deal a few years back. The top executive of a major United States bank was let go by its founders when the IRS came across some seriously illegal dealings.

   “And…you think he’s the one who is doing this?” I asked, keeping my voice strong and unwavering even though I felt like sitting down and not getting up again until next week.

   “Wouldn’t put it past the simpering shithead,” Chuck mumbled. “Last year, the guy set off the fire alarm in two separate malls—one in Seattle, one in Chicago—both within two hours of each other. I mean, the uproar, stampeding people, effing up business. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he went onto the threads and taught novice hackers how to do the same thing. Basically gave master classes. A few places in the south were hit with the same prank. Really immature stuff. He’s a massive piece of shit. Like, I can’t even respect the skill involved—erm…” He ducked his head and looked away from my subtle glare.

   “Well, he’s done stuff like this before. That’s what’s really put him on my radar. It may or may not be him targeting you, but…” He licked his lips. “Here, take a look at this.”

   We both leaned in to get a look at what he pulled up. It was an article about an intruder breaking in and screwing with security cameras and electronic locks in various businesses. Chuck zoomed in on one of the pictures. It was a selfie of a person in a hoodie with a mask over his entire face. “He likes to break into places…which is more direct hacking. He disables the entire place, puts a business out of commission for a day or longer with all the shit he puts in their system. He was taking selfies for a bit there, cocky as all get-out. But he wizened up. He hasn’t done the selfie thing in over two years according to the threads. Even though he got called a pussy on more than one occasion.” He paused. “No one said hackers were particularly mature individuals.”

   He turned to look up at me in particular. “This guy is gutsy. I mean, actually breaking into places? It’s pretty unprecedented. Usually hackers do everything from the safety of their grandma’s basement, you know what I mean?” He let out a soft snort at his own joke and swung his chair back and forth.

   “You gonna give us a name then, or what?”

   I didn’t much like Graham’s tone as he spoke with Chuck, but I bit my cheek instead of letting it show. I couldn’t really blame him for wanting Chuck to hurry things along.

   “Not an actual name, no. Hackers make really ridiculous pseudonyms to go along with their massive egos—Fulcrum. He goes by Fulcrum,” he finished quickly when he saw Graham’s patience dwindling on his face.

   “Fulcrum. And he’s targeting a detective in the LAPD.”

   “Looks that way.” Chuck’s eyes swung to me, and then they stayed there. Like he was looking straight into me, like he could see the fear that was creeping up inside of me, the nerves mounting…

   I was afraid of this guy. Why the hell was he creeping on my private computer? Why was he breaking into my home? What the hell did I have that he wanted?

   “Is there a way to pull everything this Fulcrum person has put on that website?”

   “Abso-fu—erm, yes. Yes, you got it. I’ll do that now.”

   “Thank you. We’ll get you a USB to put it on.”

   Chuck finally dropped his eyes to the floor and sat up straight. “I’ve cleared Detective Walker’s laptop. It’s safe. Good as new. No bugs, hacks, recorders, and there’s nothing in your email, Detective. Completely swept clean. But I made sure to save everything he created on this baby.” He patted the laptop he’d brought with him.

   “Sorry, but that will have to be confiscated. We’re going to need our own analysts to get a look at it. Especially if this is…uh…Fulcrum. I’ll run that name by Agent Redding and Philips. See if either of them knows the prick,” he finished in a quiet voice to me. Then he turned back. “That should be everything we need for now, then.”

   Chuck just nodded, pushing to his feet so that he could disconnect everything. I felt bad for staring at his ass as he leaned over. It was just so nice. And I missed it. When he turned around, my eyes were fastened on something I’d missed even more than his ass, and I quickly diverted my gaze to the floor and eventually turned to look at Graham as Chuck spoke.

   “We have dozens of these at the Buy More, so take your time with it.”

   “Appreciate that, Mr. Bartowski. And thank you for coming in on such short notice. We’ll make sure you’re compensated properly, as I said.”

   Chuck swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s what I do. If there’s anything else I can help with, just let me know.” He dug in one of the pockets on his bag and pulled out a card, handing it to Captain Graham.

   His eyes fastened on me again and I felt a hitch in my breathing. “Best of luck, Detective. Hope you get the bad guy.”

   “Thank you,” I said, my voice surprisingly even. I didn’t have it in me to say anything else, even though he deserved a lot more than a simple thank you.

   He was something else. Everything he’d done today was just…staggeringly impressive.

   “Mr. Bartowski, I shouldn’t have to tell you, but this is a very serious situation. We’d appreciate it if you kept all of this to yourself. Your secrecy is paramount to this Fulcrum person, if he’s who’s behind this, not knowing our movements. We don’t usually bring civilians in for this sort of thing. But you came highly recommended by someone I trust.” There was a long pause, and it almost felt threatening for a moment. “Don’t make him look bad, young man.”

   That definitely felt threatening. And even a little patronizing. But Chuck took it in stride.

   “I understand, Captain. Sir.” He clenched his jaw and stood straighter, looking rather noble even though his hair was mussed and his tie was a bit skewed. I wanted so badly to cross the distance between us and fix it. Or just take it off altogether. Along with everything else he was wearing.

   I swallowed and watched as he swept past me, his arm just barely grazing mine as he left the room. And then I followed, hobbling after him as far as I could without looking desperate.

   “I’m putting a detail on your apartment tonight, Walker,” Graham was saying to me.

   “No. Captain. Please. I don’t need that. I don’t want it. I appreciate the gesture, Sir. I do. But I don’t…”

   “Walker. For shit’s sake, it isn’t a gesture. Your safety—”

   “Sir, I don’t need a detail.” I used the tone I knew he’d understand, as I’d used it with him before. I wasn’t budging. He sighed.

   “You’re damn stubborn.”

   I knew I’d won, if only because he didn’t like arguing with me.

   “You should be used to that by now. I can handle it. He won’t be back. Especially since he probably knows we’re on to him by now.”

   There was a pause, and I peeked at Chuck as he slowed just a bit in the middle of the room, glancing over his shoulder at the captain and I.

   “Fine,” Graham said, resigned. “No detail. But I don’t like it.”

   I huffed in amusement at him as he pointed at me and strolled back to his office.

   Chuck finally walked away from me through the rows of desks, not looking back even once.

   But then he did.

   Right before he swept out of sight.

   He looked right at me and smiled. Just a small smile. Then he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

   And as I spent the rest of the day reviewing the numerous cases I’d solved back in D.C., having to read about the murder, abuse, the reports of violence, and the name Larkin over and over and over again…I thought of that look Chuck had flashed me before he left.

   It helped me power through the next couple of hours.

Notes: If you got to the end of this without falling asleep, then I did my job. This was a looooonnngggg freaking chapter. Hence why it took forever to post. Thanks to all of you for reading. Let me know your thoughts!
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Just A Game