[ 10_hurt_comfort: chuck/casey ] [ Fear: Figments of Imagination ]
[ Fandom | Chuck ]
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 4,064 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | Continued from Tears: Going Mad. What Casey had been up to and how Chuck deals with it. ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
John Casey considers himself a man capable of doing anything. Afghanistan, Honduras, Chechnya, Iran and Burbank were all places Casey had been to and excelled at serving his country. Black Ops and Special Ops missions were all second nature to him. Leaving Burbank had been surprisingly easy to do. The morning he had left, Chuck had seen him off with a smile and a wave as if expecting him to be home by Christmas. Casey knew otherwise and had entrusted one of the few NSA agents he truly had trusted to take over his job as Chuck's handler. He folded himself into the back seat of the black unmarked SUV and didn't once look back at his former asset.
A private plane had been sent to fly Casey straight into the heart of the problem in the middle of Tajikistan. General Beckman hadn't wasted any time when pulling him out in particular from this assignment. "Consider this a break from having to protect the Intersect, Agent Casey," she had said before launching into missions specifics and the number of targets that needed to be neutralized before he could return. His former group was waiting for him to join before they could begin the operation.
Not a problem, Casey had initially thought. The time period the General had given him was reasonable enough. That he could do both sniper training with the marine recruits that had shown potential in that particular field as well as his mission. If there were two adjectives that could describe John Casey in a nutshell, effective and efficient would be them.
The recruits had dubbed the Colonel to be a special kind of crazy but had trained long and hard under his tutelage during the first few months. Casey had been unbearably harsh on them that it verged on the cusp of cruelty. Operation Moron may have softened him a little but not enough that he would have treated them any less different than in the days when Casey himself had been in their position.
The scant few days of rest he had given his small team of recruits were the ones Casey spent intelligence gathering out in the field. He had managed to whittle away at his targets one bullet at a time but the list had a strange tendency to grow at the most inopportune time. It was the Hydra list of assassinations that needed taking care of; kill one and two will replace its place in a never ending cycle of death.
That was until everything went pear-shaped. Someone from the new team wasn't as loyal as he could have been. They had known for a while that there was a mole amongst them but the identity was never found until it was too late when a night attack hit them from left field. The enemies were numerous and knew exactly when and where to strike in an orchestrated movement. It had damaged their ranks significantly. Casey and another handful of his men had retreated towards a second base of operation and waited out the night until reinforcements came.
Only they never did.
*
That was around the time that Casey had expected himself to be back in his apartment in Burbank, listening in to Chuck and his bearded loser friend prattle on about everything and nothing. Casey admittedly had liked the rather cushy job. A guaranteed bed and a routinely scheduled violence against Fulcrum and Ring Operatives had kept the Colonel well fed with a satiated feeling for flying bullets.
The hills of Tajikistan were numerous and the small nooks and crannies provided Casey and his men with enough hiding spots. The secondary base had been his idea. The location was good for overlooking the valleys around them whilst he supervised the recruits during their training. Casey had always been a man who was prepared for anything and for the past few weeks had made sure his base was well stocked and well equipped. Quickly making his way to the long radio he had stashed away, Casey felt a shot of adrenalin shoot through his system. The radio had been sabotaged and communications were down.
A small smile graced his lips. He hadn't had to play dirty in a long while and Casey was glad for the chance to equilibrate the amount of niceness back at Burbank. Chuck hadn't been more right when it came to unleashing the Casey. Casey made a quick note of his hidden caches of weaponry, quickly taking the two cases he needed with him. Donning the body armour, Casey made sure the magazines were full before slipping the guns into his holsters.
Why couldn't things ever be simple with these jobs, Casey thought to himself as he rounded the corner, staying in the shadows. He must have brought the mole with him up and by the looks of things he had been monitored on his trips up to his hideout. A breath left him silently and Casey rounded the corner to find himself staring at the runt of his unit. The bodies of the few men that had accompanied up lay on the sandy floor, safely in the arms of God now. The smaller man was good at acting and had a silencer in hand. He whirled around in surprise and the gun came up to chest level as the kid struggled to keep his hands from shaking. Still green and full of fear of death.
Casey has long since embraced that occupational hazard.
"You made one mistake. Should've taken me out first, son," Casey spoke as he fired off a shot into his shoulder. The firearm slipped from his fingers. Approaching quickly, he swept the gun to a deep corner of the room and placed a booted feet on a wounded shoulder. "Tell me who you work for."
The kid had the gall to laugh and Casey narrowed his eyes, applying more pressure down on him. The howl of pain is music to Casey's ears.
"It doesn't matter who it is. You'll be dead soon enough, John Casey."
Casey's eyebrow twitched and his finger squeezed upon the trigger.
Damned cocky sonuvabitch.
*
It was another few months before the list he had shrunk. Going off grid had been Casey's final option if he was to get the mission finished. It meant relying on himself between provisions and maintaining his weaponry and kept all his senses honed nice and sharp. Everything was put to the test and Casey was careful to not get caught. Between frequent bouts of pickpocketing and the occasional looting of his targets for both money and ammunition, Casey was pretty comfortable. He had survived wars that had inhumane conditions and appeared fine at the end of it.
The small room he had rented out was filled with used electronics and laptops - burners that gave enough time for Casey to get an updated list of targets. Then it was all old school intelligence gathering from there. At least he was making some progress with the list as the days rolled past. The bed in the corner was not for sleeping in. A large map was spread out over the thread bare sheets and Casey had marked on the map in pen where the last locations were. He knew he'd have to move soon enough. He couldn't afford to stay long in one place after all.
His surveillance suddenly screamed to life and Casey's eyes immediately flickered to the lone burner that he had set up as part of his security. He scowled and grabbed his backpack before setting his laptops to self-destruct. It would buy him enough time to get out of the building. Casey had cases of guns hidden at a storage facility. Flinging the backpack over his shoulder, Casey burst out of the window onto the rooftops below.
Gunfire fell upon him and Casey rolled forward to avoid the shots. He smirked as he heard the deafening screams of his enemies as the explosion finally rocked the foundations. Spectators on the street below screamed as debris flew every which way. Casey didn't linger long as he continued to make a run for it, jumping behind a car and ducking into an alleyway to catch his breath. His dog tags shimmered over his undershirt as he took in great breaths. His heart hammered against his ribcage and he quickly slinked along the alleyway. This area was definitely not safe if his enemies had found him so fast. He looked over his shoulder around the corner as he pressed himself into the shadows.
A number of men were doing a sweep of the place. Casey scowled, knowing it would be fairly difficult to escape from this pickle. Wrapping a grip around his dog tags, Casey pulled down on the ball chain and stared down at them. It was unlikely that these tags would make their way home but would serve to be a great distraction. Throwing it under arm, the dog tags landed on the sidewalk in the street and then Casey melted back into the shadows to live another day.
*
The final shot rang out in the hotel room and the target had never been aware of him. Casey had never been glad for the finale of this assignment. Holstering his gun, Casey didn't linger in the room as he slipped back out along the balcony. He dropped a few floors and commandeered the nearest vehicle and headed for the nearest American base.
It was definitely time to return home.
Days later after going through the proper channels of communications and having General Beckman fly out within a few hours to confirm his identity, John Casey was well on his way to Burbank. At least he had been given a change of clothes and someone had been gone to fetch his backpack from where he had holed himself for the past week.
"You gave us all quite a scare, Colonel earlier. We all feared for the worst."
Casey blinked, not quite following where the General was going with her statement.
"We apprehended someone with your dog tags. You nearly gave Mr. Bartowski a heart attack," the General looked slightly amused, "He has been keeping that safe for you for the past year, Agent Casey."
"How is-” Casey hesitated now that he was theoretically not part of Operation Moron any longer. The General seemed to understand well enough - she always seemed to be all knowing and all seeing.
"We will return to Burbank soon enough. You can find out for yourself, Agent Casey. Welcome back."
*
Casey had always a great sense of timing as he walked through the arch towards the fountain. Maxwell who had been waiting outside in the Nerd Herder had taken one look at Casey, nodded politely and driven off without a second word. It was good to have at least one person who could take a hint without the Colonel having to speak. A small smile flitted briefly over his lips as he watched Chuck's back as the younger man fiddled with his door.
"Chuck."
Chuck didn't appear to be fazed as he pocketed his door keys. From where Casey was standing, he noticed Chuck had once again made a terribly unhealthy breakfast of what appeared to be pancakes and bread. One of these days, he was going to have to make sure the younger man ate something healthier. Although it didn't matter too much when pancakes met the floor when Chuck turned around.
"Okay Chuck. Imagining Casey alive is definitely the first signs of you going mad. Ellie was right. This is going a little bit too far."
Casey raised an eyebrow as he watched Chuck move around the perimeter of the apartments as if he had seen a ghost. Well, he had never thought Chuck would have missed him so much what with Walker being more of his type being a woman and all. He folded his arms over his chest.
"Talking to yourself again numbnuts? And here I thought you'd have missed me."
Chuck looked torn between fleeing and staying, his brown eyes widened comically. Casey took a step forward and raised a hand up to run through those surprisingly soft curls before he could help himself. It had been far too long since he had been in this moron's presence.
"Casey...?"
"Surprise, it's Christmas come early. Now, be a champ and lend me your bathroom before your start asking questions." Casey was pretty sure the security codes for his old apartment would have changed now that Maxwell had taken residence there. Chuck's bathroom will have to do.
Chuck handed over his keys without question and continued to stare as if he had seen a ghost. Granted that Casey had to fake his death, he couldn't blame the kid. Casey made quick work of opening the door and left his duffel bag next to the shabbier looking couch as he made his way to the bathroom. The interior had changed drastically and Casey felt his eyebrow rise higher. Gone was everything feminine about the apartment to be replaced by various game consoles. There was only one explanation for this.
"Living with the bearded troll now?" Casey asked as he entered the bathroom and began to pull his shirt over his head. The sheer lack of any of Ellie and Awesome's things was a dead giveaway. He had apparently missed a lot on his trip overseas. Casey knew he would be able to get all the information out of Chuck. Whether he had to pretend to be a ghoul was another matter in itself.
Casey had a greater appreciation for creature comforts after living from one dilapidated place to the next for the past year and a half. The warm water that sluiced over his body felt wonderful and he pilfered some of Chuck's apple scented shampoo. Nothing felt better than having dust removed and clean skin.
Chuck on the other hand was freaking outside as he paced the hallways. Either the sleeping pills Ellie had prescribed to him were finally doing a crazy number on him or men like John Casey had nine lives. His heart was playing a staccato beat against his ribcage and being the ever optimist, he hoped it was the latter. Casey better have a good explanation for this.
His over imaginative dreams when coupled with the ever helpful Intersect had provided him with hours upon hours of fun and dismemberment. Sometimes Chuck didn't want to know that there were 26 different ways to use a seemingly harmless tool like an ice-cream scoop to maim someone. Fascinating and increasing morbid details had led to Chuck seeking his sister's help to get a good night's rest. Only it hadn't quite worked out the way he had hoped. Long gone was his sanity.
His iPhone buzzed in his pocket - finally Chuck had learnt to keep it on silent - and Maxwell's message appeared on the screen. 'I'll take of the shrimp if you'll take care of You-Know-Who'. He cast the iPhone onto the table and went outside to clean up his pancake toast mess. This day was getting even more bizarre and Chuck had to start it with an empty stomach. Looks like he wouldn't be going to work today because the next thing he'll know Sarah and Shaw would be doing something in the Buy More on their break that no amount of brain bleach could get rid of.
"Do dead people like pancakes?" Chuck wondered out loud to himself as he got a new batch of pancakes cooking on the stove. He flipped the over absentmindedly as his eyes trained on Casey's duffel bag. There were bigger mysteries than whether the Universe ever ended and Chuck wondered what instruments of death lay in that bag. He had never had the guts to ask Casey what he kept in his backpack all those years back. It was safer not to ask.
"Chuck. Pass me my bag will ya?" Casey's gruff voice commanded from the other side of the bathroom door. Chuck jumped, still very unsure about the whole obeying the figment of his imagination thing. Insanity was never a good way to go and Ellie would be so disappointed that he had followed their Dad's supposed downward spiral into madness.
Flicking the stove off, Chuck swooped around to pick up Casey's bag. The coarse fabric felt real enough and it was certainly heavy enough. "I'm losing my mind," Chuck announced as he stood outside the bathroom. "I'm having a conversation with a figment of my imagination and pretty sure I am not drunk. Actually I probably could use with a drink. Gin like Roan suggested. Maybe an entire bottle. This is bizarre. Damn coping mechanisms. There's no way you could be alive. Whilst that thought is really really nice, they found your dog tags and everything. I have them around my neck as proof. This is weird. Old friends don't pop up out of the blue after two years and pretend nothing ever went wrong you know. I'm seriously losing my mind here."
The door opened and Casey stood with only a towel wrapped around his middle. Steam rolled off him in waves and Chuck swallowed the lump in his throat at being in such close proximity with a manly man like Casey. Damn Morgan's inferiority complex was well founded. Casey gave him a small amused smirk before taking the bag off his hands. The door closed again without another word.
"Oh. Kay. I'm starting to think you are actually real or this is some dream that I will wake up from soon enough and find out it was Morgan's crazy idea to use a hypnotist or something to cope with... this." A hand flail was used to capture the pure extent of this. Chuck wandered back into the kitchen and shook his head. "Remember Chuck, Casey is dead." He didn't dare believe otherwise, fearing if he did this dream will really shatter and he'd wake up gasping for breath with that hollow feeling in his stomach.
Minutes later, Chuck piled the pancakes onto a plate and headed to the table. He sat down stiffly and presumed to pour maple syrup all over his stack. Maybe the sugar coma he could induce will allow him to preserve this dream forever. It was nice having a sort of corporeal and alive looking Casey rather than the various gorey scenarios. He spent the next eon poking at the pancakes, wondering about the possibilities of being able to survive a sugar dream coma in an Inception kind of way. A dream within a dream within a dream. Maybe he'd meet Casey and the man would sing him songs of a piano man. Yeah, definitely not happening.
"You know. Despite those pancakes being cooked by you and drowned in syrup, I'll take them if you won't," Casey's gruff voice said as he sat down opposite him, the towel now slung around his neck. Chuck stared at Casey clad in a white singlet and a pair of military issued pants.
"Uh, yeah sure,” Chuck placed his fork on the plate and pushed it towards Casey who began helping himself to his pancakes. "How do I know this isn't real? I mean not to say that you aren't very much real, but you've kind of been dead for oh I don't know, two years? People don't just come back from the dead you know. Where have you been for two years?"
Casey watched Chuck quietly as he ate his newly requisitioned pancakes. He chewed slowly knowing there was more on Chuck's mind that needed to be blurted. Besides it had been so long since he had heard Chuck's voice that if he hadn't been living by himself for the past two years listening to his own thoughts, Casey may have admitted it was a nice change.
"Casey. It may not be evident to you, but I'm freaking out right now man. I'd appreciate it if you said something. Or grunt or growl, I've missed those surprisingly," Chuck's voice was an octave higher than usual and if Casey wasn't the direct cause of it, the NSA agent would have found it hilarious. The clink of the fork on the plate stopped Chuck in mid-tirade.
"There are reasons that I can't disclose but the short version is a very long mission that is finally over," Casey said and leaned forward to rest his hands on the table, threading his fingers together. "You wouldn't mind if I crashed on your couch, would you? Until I get reassigned-"
Chuck lurched forward and leaned over the table, surprised by Casey's words. He hadn't actually considered that possibility that Casey would be leaving Burbank. "Wait, wait. What do you mean reassigned? Surely you'd be staying here and... and you know, be with the team again? Because that's what I've always thought would happen after you'd come back. After the whole sniper training thing which wasn't exactly sniper training at all since you practically told me that five seconds ago but it just isn't the same with Maxwell as it is with you. This can't be happening. You just got back, assuming that you are real and I don't wake up in the next few minutes and find out this is all just a figment of my imagination again."
"Chuck. Slow down." Casey hesitated when he realised the dark circles under Chuck's eyes. It looked like he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well in the past year. He reached a hand out and cupped the younger man's cheek, running a large thumb over Chuck's cheekbones. "I'm very much real and alive. More importantly, when was the last time you had a decent amount of sleep? I leave you alone for two years and you go and become a panda on me."
Chuck swallowed and couldn't break Casey's intense gaze as he subconsciously leant into Casey's touch. "It's been awhile. I... I've been having these dreams with the Intersect and missions and you not being here-" He bit his bottom lip to stop the flow of words before he blurted out one secret he had never had the chance to say out loud. He wrapped a hand around Casey's wrist, keeping his hand there. Chuck asked quietly, "W-What if I wake up to find that you aren't here? It's happened before you know, in my head. I nearly went a full three days without sleep because I thought it could happen again and I didn't really want to think you wouldn't be there, when theoretically you kind of weren't since you were in a different part of the country and everything and considering how you've actually been saving the world yet again, I don't think you should take the couch. In fact, I think you should take my bed because I doubt you'd had a good night's sleep for a while - still assuming you are real... and maybe I could be there too, you know. Just in case you decide to really disappear on me again and it'd be really a win win situation since the couch is rather lumpy."
There was an amused grunt. "Chuck, did you just ask me to sleep in your bed? Whilst you are going to be in it, might I add."
A few minutes ticked past then a small, "Yes, I believe I just did." An approving grunt followed then a shuffle of feet that headed straight towards Chuck's bedroom.
*
It was nearing sunset when Casey finally stirred from his slumber. He hadn't had such a long uninterrupted amount of sleep for a long while and it felt great to be partially recharged at least. He had his arm around a rather warm thing and when he opened an eye to peek down at exactly what it was, Casey found Chuck looking straight back at him. The nerd smiled brightly up at him in wonder. "You're still here."
"Hi." Smooth Casey, real smooth there. Though apparently it was the right thing to say as Chuck curled in closer and the vice like grip around his waist tightened. Casey felt Chuck's nose nuzzle against his collarbone and heard Chuck take a deep breath in.
"Never leave me again Casey."
"Don't really plan on going anywhere, anytime soon Chuck."
Author's Comment Ninth one for 10_hurt_comfort. This one just wouldn't stop writing itself and I'm not exactly pleased with this one entirely because it still hasn't finished. I'll be using the last prompt to wrap it up most likely because there are still a few things that I feel need to be wrapt up. Have Chuck's confusion about what's real and what isn't for now. ;)
Uh apologies for the rush-ish job and rather shoddy self-betaing but planning a quick day trip elsewhere cut into this as well as watching Season 3 of Chuck. Was it just me or was the whole Sarah / Chuck thing really awkward to watch... The vs Tooth thing was adorbs though with Casey and the Dr guy. Aww the softy.
Will be back with the last prompt and the last instalment of this soon.
[ Characters | Chuck / Casey ]
[ Rating | PG-13 ]
[ Word Count | 4,064 ]
[ Masterlist | Here ]
[ Summary | Continued from Tears: Going Mad. What Casey had been up to and how Chuck deals with it. ]
[ Disclaimer | If I were the owner of Chuck, there would have been more Casey and Chuck giving one another smouldering gazes. So nada, I just play in this sandbox. ]
John Casey considers himself a man capable of doing anything. Afghanistan, Honduras, Chechnya, Iran and Burbank were all places Casey had been to and excelled at serving his country. Black Ops and Special Ops missions were all second nature to him. Leaving Burbank had been surprisingly easy to do. The morning he had left, Chuck had seen him off with a smile and a wave as if expecting him to be home by Christmas. Casey knew otherwise and had entrusted one of the few NSA agents he truly had trusted to take over his job as Chuck's handler. He folded himself into the back seat of the black unmarked SUV and didn't once look back at his former asset.
A private plane had been sent to fly Casey straight into the heart of the problem in the middle of Tajikistan. General Beckman hadn't wasted any time when pulling him out in particular from this assignment. "Consider this a break from having to protect the Intersect, Agent Casey," she had said before launching into missions specifics and the number of targets that needed to be neutralized before he could return. His former group was waiting for him to join before they could begin the operation.
Not a problem, Casey had initially thought. The time period the General had given him was reasonable enough. That he could do both sniper training with the marine recruits that had shown potential in that particular field as well as his mission. If there were two adjectives that could describe John Casey in a nutshell, effective and efficient would be them.
The recruits had dubbed the Colonel to be a special kind of crazy but had trained long and hard under his tutelage during the first few months. Casey had been unbearably harsh on them that it verged on the cusp of cruelty. Operation Moron may have softened him a little but not enough that he would have treated them any less different than in the days when Casey himself had been in their position.
The scant few days of rest he had given his small team of recruits were the ones Casey spent intelligence gathering out in the field. He had managed to whittle away at his targets one bullet at a time but the list had a strange tendency to grow at the most inopportune time. It was the Hydra list of assassinations that needed taking care of; kill one and two will replace its place in a never ending cycle of death.
That was until everything went pear-shaped. Someone from the new team wasn't as loyal as he could have been. They had known for a while that there was a mole amongst them but the identity was never found until it was too late when a night attack hit them from left field. The enemies were numerous and knew exactly when and where to strike in an orchestrated movement. It had damaged their ranks significantly. Casey and another handful of his men had retreated towards a second base of operation and waited out the night until reinforcements came.
Only they never did.
*
That was around the time that Casey had expected himself to be back in his apartment in Burbank, listening in to Chuck and his bearded loser friend prattle on about everything and nothing. Casey admittedly had liked the rather cushy job. A guaranteed bed and a routinely scheduled violence against Fulcrum and Ring Operatives had kept the Colonel well fed with a satiated feeling for flying bullets.
The hills of Tajikistan were numerous and the small nooks and crannies provided Casey and his men with enough hiding spots. The secondary base had been his idea. The location was good for overlooking the valleys around them whilst he supervised the recruits during their training. Casey had always been a man who was prepared for anything and for the past few weeks had made sure his base was well stocked and well equipped. Quickly making his way to the long radio he had stashed away, Casey felt a shot of adrenalin shoot through his system. The radio had been sabotaged and communications were down.
A small smile graced his lips. He hadn't had to play dirty in a long while and Casey was glad for the chance to equilibrate the amount of niceness back at Burbank. Chuck hadn't been more right when it came to unleashing the Casey. Casey made a quick note of his hidden caches of weaponry, quickly taking the two cases he needed with him. Donning the body armour, Casey made sure the magazines were full before slipping the guns into his holsters.
Why couldn't things ever be simple with these jobs, Casey thought to himself as he rounded the corner, staying in the shadows. He must have brought the mole with him up and by the looks of things he had been monitored on his trips up to his hideout. A breath left him silently and Casey rounded the corner to find himself staring at the runt of his unit. The bodies of the few men that had accompanied up lay on the sandy floor, safely in the arms of God now. The smaller man was good at acting and had a silencer in hand. He whirled around in surprise and the gun came up to chest level as the kid struggled to keep his hands from shaking. Still green and full of fear of death.
Casey has long since embraced that occupational hazard.
"You made one mistake. Should've taken me out first, son," Casey spoke as he fired off a shot into his shoulder. The firearm slipped from his fingers. Approaching quickly, he swept the gun to a deep corner of the room and placed a booted feet on a wounded shoulder. "Tell me who you work for."
The kid had the gall to laugh and Casey narrowed his eyes, applying more pressure down on him. The howl of pain is music to Casey's ears.
"It doesn't matter who it is. You'll be dead soon enough, John Casey."
Casey's eyebrow twitched and his finger squeezed upon the trigger.
Damned cocky sonuvabitch.
*
It was another few months before the list he had shrunk. Going off grid had been Casey's final option if he was to get the mission finished. It meant relying on himself between provisions and maintaining his weaponry and kept all his senses honed nice and sharp. Everything was put to the test and Casey was careful to not get caught. Between frequent bouts of pickpocketing and the occasional looting of his targets for both money and ammunition, Casey was pretty comfortable. He had survived wars that had inhumane conditions and appeared fine at the end of it.
The small room he had rented out was filled with used electronics and laptops - burners that gave enough time for Casey to get an updated list of targets. Then it was all old school intelligence gathering from there. At least he was making some progress with the list as the days rolled past. The bed in the corner was not for sleeping in. A large map was spread out over the thread bare sheets and Casey had marked on the map in pen where the last locations were. He knew he'd have to move soon enough. He couldn't afford to stay long in one place after all.
His surveillance suddenly screamed to life and Casey's eyes immediately flickered to the lone burner that he had set up as part of his security. He scowled and grabbed his backpack before setting his laptops to self-destruct. It would buy him enough time to get out of the building. Casey had cases of guns hidden at a storage facility. Flinging the backpack over his shoulder, Casey burst out of the window onto the rooftops below.
Gunfire fell upon him and Casey rolled forward to avoid the shots. He smirked as he heard the deafening screams of his enemies as the explosion finally rocked the foundations. Spectators on the street below screamed as debris flew every which way. Casey didn't linger long as he continued to make a run for it, jumping behind a car and ducking into an alleyway to catch his breath. His dog tags shimmered over his undershirt as he took in great breaths. His heart hammered against his ribcage and he quickly slinked along the alleyway. This area was definitely not safe if his enemies had found him so fast. He looked over his shoulder around the corner as he pressed himself into the shadows.
A number of men were doing a sweep of the place. Casey scowled, knowing it would be fairly difficult to escape from this pickle. Wrapping a grip around his dog tags, Casey pulled down on the ball chain and stared down at them. It was unlikely that these tags would make their way home but would serve to be a great distraction. Throwing it under arm, the dog tags landed on the sidewalk in the street and then Casey melted back into the shadows to live another day.
*
The final shot rang out in the hotel room and the target had never been aware of him. Casey had never been glad for the finale of this assignment. Holstering his gun, Casey didn't linger in the room as he slipped back out along the balcony. He dropped a few floors and commandeered the nearest vehicle and headed for the nearest American base.
It was definitely time to return home.
Days later after going through the proper channels of communications and having General Beckman fly out within a few hours to confirm his identity, John Casey was well on his way to Burbank. At least he had been given a change of clothes and someone had been gone to fetch his backpack from where he had holed himself for the past week.
"You gave us all quite a scare, Colonel earlier. We all feared for the worst."
Casey blinked, not quite following where the General was going with her statement.
"We apprehended someone with your dog tags. You nearly gave Mr. Bartowski a heart attack," the General looked slightly amused, "He has been keeping that safe for you for the past year, Agent Casey."
"How is-” Casey hesitated now that he was theoretically not part of Operation Moron any longer. The General seemed to understand well enough - she always seemed to be all knowing and all seeing.
"We will return to Burbank soon enough. You can find out for yourself, Agent Casey. Welcome back."
*
Casey had always a great sense of timing as he walked through the arch towards the fountain. Maxwell who had been waiting outside in the Nerd Herder had taken one look at Casey, nodded politely and driven off without a second word. It was good to have at least one person who could take a hint without the Colonel having to speak. A small smile flitted briefly over his lips as he watched Chuck's back as the younger man fiddled with his door.
"Chuck."
Chuck didn't appear to be fazed as he pocketed his door keys. From where Casey was standing, he noticed Chuck had once again made a terribly unhealthy breakfast of what appeared to be pancakes and bread. One of these days, he was going to have to make sure the younger man ate something healthier. Although it didn't matter too much when pancakes met the floor when Chuck turned around.
"Okay Chuck. Imagining Casey alive is definitely the first signs of you going mad. Ellie was right. This is going a little bit too far."
Casey raised an eyebrow as he watched Chuck move around the perimeter of the apartments as if he had seen a ghost. Well, he had never thought Chuck would have missed him so much what with Walker being more of his type being a woman and all. He folded his arms over his chest.
"Talking to yourself again numbnuts? And here I thought you'd have missed me."
Chuck looked torn between fleeing and staying, his brown eyes widened comically. Casey took a step forward and raised a hand up to run through those surprisingly soft curls before he could help himself. It had been far too long since he had been in this moron's presence.
"Casey...?"
"Surprise, it's Christmas come early. Now, be a champ and lend me your bathroom before your start asking questions." Casey was pretty sure the security codes for his old apartment would have changed now that Maxwell had taken residence there. Chuck's bathroom will have to do.
Chuck handed over his keys without question and continued to stare as if he had seen a ghost. Granted that Casey had to fake his death, he couldn't blame the kid. Casey made quick work of opening the door and left his duffel bag next to the shabbier looking couch as he made his way to the bathroom. The interior had changed drastically and Casey felt his eyebrow rise higher. Gone was everything feminine about the apartment to be replaced by various game consoles. There was only one explanation for this.
"Living with the bearded troll now?" Casey asked as he entered the bathroom and began to pull his shirt over his head. The sheer lack of any of Ellie and Awesome's things was a dead giveaway. He had apparently missed a lot on his trip overseas. Casey knew he would be able to get all the information out of Chuck. Whether he had to pretend to be a ghoul was another matter in itself.
Casey had a greater appreciation for creature comforts after living from one dilapidated place to the next for the past year and a half. The warm water that sluiced over his body felt wonderful and he pilfered some of Chuck's apple scented shampoo. Nothing felt better than having dust removed and clean skin.
Chuck on the other hand was freaking outside as he paced the hallways. Either the sleeping pills Ellie had prescribed to him were finally doing a crazy number on him or men like John Casey had nine lives. His heart was playing a staccato beat against his ribcage and being the ever optimist, he hoped it was the latter. Casey better have a good explanation for this.
His over imaginative dreams when coupled with the ever helpful Intersect had provided him with hours upon hours of fun and dismemberment. Sometimes Chuck didn't want to know that there were 26 different ways to use a seemingly harmless tool like an ice-cream scoop to maim someone. Fascinating and increasing morbid details had led to Chuck seeking his sister's help to get a good night's rest. Only it hadn't quite worked out the way he had hoped. Long gone was his sanity.
His iPhone buzzed in his pocket - finally Chuck had learnt to keep it on silent - and Maxwell's message appeared on the screen. 'I'll take of the shrimp if you'll take care of You-Know-Who'. He cast the iPhone onto the table and went outside to clean up his pancake toast mess. This day was getting even more bizarre and Chuck had to start it with an empty stomach. Looks like he wouldn't be going to work today because the next thing he'll know Sarah and Shaw would be doing something in the Buy More on their break that no amount of brain bleach could get rid of.
"Do dead people like pancakes?" Chuck wondered out loud to himself as he got a new batch of pancakes cooking on the stove. He flipped the over absentmindedly as his eyes trained on Casey's duffel bag. There were bigger mysteries than whether the Universe ever ended and Chuck wondered what instruments of death lay in that bag. He had never had the guts to ask Casey what he kept in his backpack all those years back. It was safer not to ask.
"Chuck. Pass me my bag will ya?" Casey's gruff voice commanded from the other side of the bathroom door. Chuck jumped, still very unsure about the whole obeying the figment of his imagination thing. Insanity was never a good way to go and Ellie would be so disappointed that he had followed their Dad's supposed downward spiral into madness.
Flicking the stove off, Chuck swooped around to pick up Casey's bag. The coarse fabric felt real enough and it was certainly heavy enough. "I'm losing my mind," Chuck announced as he stood outside the bathroom. "I'm having a conversation with a figment of my imagination and pretty sure I am not drunk. Actually I probably could use with a drink. Gin like Roan suggested. Maybe an entire bottle. This is bizarre. Damn coping mechanisms. There's no way you could be alive. Whilst that thought is really really nice, they found your dog tags and everything. I have them around my neck as proof. This is weird. Old friends don't pop up out of the blue after two years and pretend nothing ever went wrong you know. I'm seriously losing my mind here."
The door opened and Casey stood with only a towel wrapped around his middle. Steam rolled off him in waves and Chuck swallowed the lump in his throat at being in such close proximity with a manly man like Casey. Damn Morgan's inferiority complex was well founded. Casey gave him a small amused smirk before taking the bag off his hands. The door closed again without another word.
"Oh. Kay. I'm starting to think you are actually real or this is some dream that I will wake up from soon enough and find out it was Morgan's crazy idea to use a hypnotist or something to cope with... this." A hand flail was used to capture the pure extent of this. Chuck wandered back into the kitchen and shook his head. "Remember Chuck, Casey is dead." He didn't dare believe otherwise, fearing if he did this dream will really shatter and he'd wake up gasping for breath with that hollow feeling in his stomach.
Minutes later, Chuck piled the pancakes onto a plate and headed to the table. He sat down stiffly and presumed to pour maple syrup all over his stack. Maybe the sugar coma he could induce will allow him to preserve this dream forever. It was nice having a sort of corporeal and alive looking Casey rather than the various gorey scenarios. He spent the next eon poking at the pancakes, wondering about the possibilities of being able to survive a sugar dream coma in an Inception kind of way. A dream within a dream within a dream. Maybe he'd meet Casey and the man would sing him songs of a piano man. Yeah, definitely not happening.
"You know. Despite those pancakes being cooked by you and drowned in syrup, I'll take them if you won't," Casey's gruff voice said as he sat down opposite him, the towel now slung around his neck. Chuck stared at Casey clad in a white singlet and a pair of military issued pants.
"Uh, yeah sure,” Chuck placed his fork on the plate and pushed it towards Casey who began helping himself to his pancakes. "How do I know this isn't real? I mean not to say that you aren't very much real, but you've kind of been dead for oh I don't know, two years? People don't just come back from the dead you know. Where have you been for two years?"
Casey watched Chuck quietly as he ate his newly requisitioned pancakes. He chewed slowly knowing there was more on Chuck's mind that needed to be blurted. Besides it had been so long since he had heard Chuck's voice that if he hadn't been living by himself for the past two years listening to his own thoughts, Casey may have admitted it was a nice change.
"Casey. It may not be evident to you, but I'm freaking out right now man. I'd appreciate it if you said something. Or grunt or growl, I've missed those surprisingly," Chuck's voice was an octave higher than usual and if Casey wasn't the direct cause of it, the NSA agent would have found it hilarious. The clink of the fork on the plate stopped Chuck in mid-tirade.
"There are reasons that I can't disclose but the short version is a very long mission that is finally over," Casey said and leaned forward to rest his hands on the table, threading his fingers together. "You wouldn't mind if I crashed on your couch, would you? Until I get reassigned-"
Chuck lurched forward and leaned over the table, surprised by Casey's words. He hadn't actually considered that possibility that Casey would be leaving Burbank. "Wait, wait. What do you mean reassigned? Surely you'd be staying here and... and you know, be with the team again? Because that's what I've always thought would happen after you'd come back. After the whole sniper training thing which wasn't exactly sniper training at all since you practically told me that five seconds ago but it just isn't the same with Maxwell as it is with you. This can't be happening. You just got back, assuming that you are real and I don't wake up in the next few minutes and find out this is all just a figment of my imagination again."
"Chuck. Slow down." Casey hesitated when he realised the dark circles under Chuck's eyes. It looked like he wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well in the past year. He reached a hand out and cupped the younger man's cheek, running a large thumb over Chuck's cheekbones. "I'm very much real and alive. More importantly, when was the last time you had a decent amount of sleep? I leave you alone for two years and you go and become a panda on me."
Chuck swallowed and couldn't break Casey's intense gaze as he subconsciously leant into Casey's touch. "It's been awhile. I... I've been having these dreams with the Intersect and missions and you not being here-" He bit his bottom lip to stop the flow of words before he blurted out one secret he had never had the chance to say out loud. He wrapped a hand around Casey's wrist, keeping his hand there. Chuck asked quietly, "W-What if I wake up to find that you aren't here? It's happened before you know, in my head. I nearly went a full three days without sleep because I thought it could happen again and I didn't really want to think you wouldn't be there, when theoretically you kind of weren't since you were in a different part of the country and everything and considering how you've actually been saving the world yet again, I don't think you should take the couch. In fact, I think you should take my bed because I doubt you'd had a good night's sleep for a while - still assuming you are real... and maybe I could be there too, you know. Just in case you decide to really disappear on me again and it'd be really a win win situation since the couch is rather lumpy."
There was an amused grunt. "Chuck, did you just ask me to sleep in your bed? Whilst you are going to be in it, might I add."
A few minutes ticked past then a small, "Yes, I believe I just did." An approving grunt followed then a shuffle of feet that headed straight towards Chuck's bedroom.
*
It was nearing sunset when Casey finally stirred from his slumber. He hadn't had such a long uninterrupted amount of sleep for a long while and it felt great to be partially recharged at least. He had his arm around a rather warm thing and when he opened an eye to peek down at exactly what it was, Casey found Chuck looking straight back at him. The nerd smiled brightly up at him in wonder. "You're still here."
"Hi." Smooth Casey, real smooth there. Though apparently it was the right thing to say as Chuck curled in closer and the vice like grip around his waist tightened. Casey felt Chuck's nose nuzzle against his collarbone and heard Chuck take a deep breath in.
"Never leave me again Casey."
"Don't really plan on going anywhere, anytime soon Chuck."
Author's Comment Ninth one for 10_hurt_comfort. This one just wouldn't stop writing itself and I'm not exactly pleased with this one entirely because it still hasn't finished. I'll be using the last prompt to wrap it up most likely because there are still a few things that I feel need to be wrapt up. Have Chuck's confusion about what's real and what isn't for now. ;)
Uh apologies for the rush-ish job and rather shoddy self-betaing but planning a quick day trip elsewhere cut into this as well as watching Season 3 of Chuck. Was it just me or was the whole Sarah / Chuck thing really awkward to watch... The vs Tooth thing was adorbs though with Casey and the Dr guy. Aww the softy.
Will be back with the last prompt and the last instalment of this soon.