A/N: A short story giving some background into what I believe has to be the foundation for the start of S3. Of course, I am going to be a little more dramatic but I still think that Chuck will flash on Sarah's file in the season opener. So what you read here is just a setup to that story.
No beta, so overlook my mistakes.
Anyway, all in good fun. Hope you enjoy.
Decisions
I walk into my hotel room and throw my sweater on the chair and step out of my shoes on my way to the bathroom. My arms move with sluggish exhaustion, more from the mental roller coaster I've been riding than physical exertion.
The rehearsal dinner was more difficult than I thought it would be with the promise of a future with Chuck staring me in the face.
Chuck, Casey and I have just rescued Chuck's dad from Fulcrum and Casey made sure that I wasn't arrested for running with Chuck. He no longer has the intersect in his head and according to the original plan, I should be preparing to leave LA for good.
All in all, everything has turned out like I had always dreamed.
Then why do I feel like my whole world is falling in around me.
I walk into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Lifting my head, I look passed my hands, still holding my face, to the blue eyes I see looking back at me. Those eyes have always held secrets that were indiscernible to anyone who looked into them. Now, I'm afraid I'm the one being kept in the dark.
Who am I trying to fool?
I knew that I had feelings for him, but I thought I had it under control. I thought he was just a friend. Someone I cared about but not in that way, or at least, not enough in that way.
I pull the phone out of my pocket to call Bryce, but realize that he's not able to take calls tonight. As I walk back to my bed and just fall on it, I'm suddenly glad that I can't reach him tonight. What would I say to him? How would I explain that I disobeyed orders and ran away with Chuck to save him from a bunker? He would know what that meant.
Bryce has been asking a lot of questions the way it was. I know he suspects that I've fallen for Chuck.
I honestly thought I had it under control.
I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling. I do not have the emotional energy to get up and remove my clothes. And that's when it hits me.
Oh my God, if not for the fact that Chuck was missing his weenie cap, I would have had sex with him. I feel the guilt wash over me like thick paint remover running over my head. As it contacts my skin, I feel the sting of the acid as it eats away at me. The strength of the raw emotion seems to grow exponentially with each second that time consumes. And that hunger cannot be satiated because of the shear weight of my deed. As the guilt accuses me, as a stand-in for my fiancé, of not doing the very thing that I had promised… Recognize when I'm at that point of no return and step back. I don't even have a feeble answer to supply.
The room starts spinning as though I've had 13 shots of tequila.
There is no way to avoid what this means. No way to wrap it into a "for the mission" category. I was going to make love to Chuck because I wanted to. I can remember that moment when I still had a choice and I chose.
I chose Chuck.
Shit, I thought. How much more complicated can this get? For the first time since I joined in the CIA, I feel like a slut, or at the very least, a cheat.
Lying flat on my back, as I look at the ceiling fan, I think about the choice I have to make. And when I've made that choice, a man that I love will be hurt.
I close my eyes but cannot contain the tears as they find a pathway to my cheeks. The thing is…I already know who will be hurt. I made that decision when I ran. At that moment, I had given it all up, my job, my fiancé, and the future that I always thought I wanted.
And for what, a picket fence and computer nerd? I shake my head at the incredulity. I feel as though I'm a character in a horror movie and Chuck has somehow managed to change me from the inside out. I try not to even think about it but fundamentally, I know, if he has changed me it's for the better.
I think back to the rehearsal dinner and almost smile when I recall the excitement in Chuck's voice. He had the intersect out of his head and the girl he wanted on his arm. And I had compartmentalized the situation so that I didn't think about Bryce. But now, I have to think about Bryce.
I grab my phone and hit speed dial number one. I know Bryce won't answer but I need to start the process.
"Bryce, its Sarah." I take a deep breath, a part of me cannot believe I'm actually getting ready to say what I'm about to say. "Listen, we need to talk. Ellie's wedding is tomorrow and I've got a lot of stuff I'm going to be busy with…but… we need to talk."
I disconnected and threw the phone on the foot of the bed. I know he will know what that means. We have a way of communicating that requires few words. I think that's why I gave him a chance in the first place, and then grew to love him.
How did Chuck ever worm his way into my heart? He always wanted me to talk.
And I hate to talk.
But I love Chuck. There I said it. I love Chuck. Get used to it Walker. There will be no denying it soon enough. Not to Casey, not to yourself and certainly not to Chuck.
I think briefly about Dad. What would he think?
I sigh in exasperation.
Sarah Walker, you've done it this time. There was no way to see this coming. I've got to think how I'll play this out. I can't just walk up to him a say that I've decided to stay with him and I'm leaving the CIA. What are we going to do now? He would probably freak out!
As my mind begins to slow down and I feel the inevitable race with sleep about to overtake me, my thought is that tomorrow something will allow make it easy for me to tell him. Maybe I won't even have to say it. Maybe I can just show him.
The last thought I have is, I hope the wedding goes as planned.
