Inconvenient truths

A/N: "I thought it was obvious by now that I have no idea what I'm doing." Mary Shannon – In Plain Sight. I don't own Chuck.


The truth is inconvenient most of the time. An inconvenient truth is the one which you dare not disclose. Not even to closest. Most times not to them. But as you try to conceal the same, you continue to suffer for fear of getting disclosed. It's like trying to hold a beach ball under water. You get tired of the effort and eventually fail to keep the ball under water or drown trying.

My name is Sarah Walker. My name is not Sarah Walker. I am a spy.

In khaki shorts and a white top she looked just like any other tourist browsing through the various articles on offer in the bustling market. Popping a blue berry in her mouth she took a moment to savor the taste all the while discreetly scanning the café-lined promenades of the Ljubljanica River. It was her first time in Slovenia, but she didn't take the time to admire the baroque and Art Nouveau buildings lining the streets or the castle overlooking the city. Bringing a hand up to wipe the sweat from the back of her neck she turned a little.

"My three o'clock. Red umbrellas. Second table from the left. Black chinos, blue button down."

Her earpiece crackled. "I have visual. Are you ready?"

"Always." She moved to the next stall keeping the mark in her peripheral vision.

"He's on the move. You're up."

She slipped her hand into her bag and found her phone. Fiddling with the buttons she mentally counted her steps. The impact happened exactly as calculated.

"I'm so sorry." She sounded genuinely apologetic but didn't look up. Bending down to retrieve the items scattered over the cobble stones she suppressed a smile at the predictability of it all.

"No, no, it's my fault. Let me help." For the first time she made eye contact, a small smile forming.

"Thank you." She watched his hands deftly collecting a lipstick, a packet of tissues and small notebook. At the same time she kept an eye on the briefcase he put down beside him.


Stepping out of the line of fire, she grabbed the briefcase seconds after the body hit the ground. Making her way through the chaos that erupted, she reached one of the medieval alleys and took off running. She stopped at the first dumpster and opened the case. She pocketed the microchip, yanked of the red wig, stuffed it in the case and wiped the handle before burying it under the garbage.

It was a short walk to the railway station. She boarded the train for Bled. Bryce would meet her there for their extraction to DC. He never made it.

Sarah took a seat across Director Langston Graham. He slid the small red box towards her. "I need you to deliver this."

"With all due respect, Director, I wasn't aware courier services were part of a field agent's job description." She was taken aback. Not because Bryce didn't leave his spy will to her. She didn't take kindly to be suspected of something she didn't do. Especially since she didn't even know what she was suspected of. All she knew is that Bryce went off grid and now he's dead.

"Your duty is to follow orders, Agent Walker." If Director Graham was annoyed by her earlier comment it didn't show. "You can collect your flight information from my assistant."

"May I ask where I'm going?"

"Burbank, California."