A/N: I admittedly borrowed the fight from "Chuck vs. the Cougars," but the dance afterward and accompanying song wouldn't have fit, otherwise. Don't sue me, NBC. You wouldn't get anything of value from this lowly English major. And, before I forget, I don't own the song either. That belongs, with sincere thanks, to Jessica Andrews and her record label. I doubt anyone else could make this song feel as powerful as she does.
Sarah moved cautiously through the locker room, her sidearm leading the way. She always knew Heather was evil. She just figured it was simple High-School evil, and not Russian-mob evil. Makes sense, though, she thought, she was a controlling, conniving bitch throughout high school, so, of course, she'd be the same person today. "Why'd you do it, Heather?" she asked out loud.
"Money," the former cheerleader said simply. "My husband makes enough doing his computer crap, but his ambitions are sadly lacking for this cheerleader, and the Russians offered me a truckload of cash for his plans." Sarah turned a corner to have her gun kicked away followed by another kick aimed at her face. She dodged and tried to get through to her former classmate diplomatically.
"You have no idea what the people you work for will do to get what they want. Please, let me help you get out from under them, Heather." Sarah said as she dodged another attack, but her figurative helping hand was swatted away by two kicks in rapid succession to her stomach and face. "That's it," Sarah said, throwing diplomacy out the window. "Your name has been at the top of my list of people who need a good ass-kicking." She threw two punches, both of which were blocked. Her third got through, though, and it stunned her opponent enough to let Sarah follow with a reverse roundhouse. Heather rebounded with her own tornado kick that sent Sarah down to the benches following the lay of the lockers. Heather took the opportunity to bolt, with Sarah close behind. Sarah slowed down after a few seconds, though. "This is what she wants," she thought, "she wants me so pissed off that I run into whatever trap she's got set up down here. Too bad, bitch." Sarah glued herself to the wall and forced herself to move silently.
She slunk along wall leading down to the showers, her eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Unfortunately, Heather anticipated this and came from behind with a kick to the kidneys that sent Sarah into the plumbing in the middle of the room. Sarah used her anger to rip a loose pipe from its moorings, spraying water everywhere as she took a swing at her nemesis and missed. Heather kicked Sarah in the stomach again and took the second's reprieve to snap her own pipe off the framework, deluging the place in even more water. The two went at each other like valkyries in Vera Wang, clanging their makeshift swords at each other with all the ferocity of two Bengal tigers fighting over a mate. After a few minutes of even fighting, Sarah smacked Heather with what would've been considered the butt of her weapon, sending her reeling back to retreat along the backside of the showers. Sarah thrust at her diminutive dissident, only to be yanked into the solid steel shower bar, elbowed in the cheek, and turned around to be choked by her own weapon. "You should've been suspicious of me from the start," Heather said with that annoying tone of superiority. "Why else would a girl like me fall for a creepy, dorky, antisocial nerd like him?" she said, referring to her engineer husband.
Sarah gagged for a moment and said, "You'd be surprised," before headbutting Heather in her holier-than-thou face, flipping her over the divider, and slamming her to the ground with a satisfying smack. Heather retaliated by sweeping Sarah's legs from under her and retreating again. She raced up to find her pistol where she'd left it and leveled it in front of her. She listened for the sound of footsteps and pulled out another barb.
"Now, I gotta ask how you ended up working for the Feds. I mean, if you had told me back then that Jenny Burton wanted to be an agent, I would've said, 'Dream, jailbird's jailbait, dream.'" A locker slammed near her, and she turned to look for the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sarah Walker moving fast towards her. She tried to get her in her sights, but to no avail. Sarah kicked Heather so hard that she flew back into a nearby trophy case, shattering the glass and causing all the little trinkets and trophies to fall around her while Sarah stood over her, cold, soaked, bloodied, and triumphant. No, she would not be beaten by that trailer trash outcast! She pulled her gun and leveled off, but Sarah was too fast. She'd pulled a throwing knife from the belt around her thigh and hurled it at the solid-copper cougar bust precariously perched on the trophy case's top shelf. The bust fell from on high and conked Heather on the head, knocking her colder than a foundered flounder. Sarah thought about a witty one-liner but decided to leave that to Casey and Chuck. Instead, she padded back to the gym where she could hear one of the ultra-hyper greeter girls getting ready to announce the reunion queen. "Great," she said to herself, "I finally get that bitch knocked down a peg, and she still wins 'reunion queen.'"
"And the queen of the class of 1998's 10-year reunion is... Ms. Jennifer Burton!" the greeter girl said with way too much enthusiasm. Sarah hadn't even heard her name when she walked in, and the next thing she knew, she was having a spotlight shined on her (it reminded her of several other times in her spy career, none of them pleasant), and people cheering for her, a novelty not wasted on her in either life, spy or civilian. The hyperactive greeter girl was then putting something on her head and said what sounded like, "See you at the twentieth, Jenny." Sarah was just stunned.
Chuck was just stunned. Sarah looked like she'd gone a few rounds with both Vegeta and Goku. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, her lower lip swelled from its bloodying, and her hair lay stringy and messy on her head. She never looked more beautiful, in Chuck's opinion. Even the tiara, askew on her head, made her look like a princess. He watched as she seemed to come out of her trance and started to smile softly, first at him, and then at the people cheering her. Chuck walked down to meet her, pushing through the crowd of admirers. "Hey, Sarah," he said awkwardly.
"Hi, Chuck," she said back, feeling like she suddenly had two left feet.
"You look great," he said, his voice full of awe and affection. And before she could disagree, he'd tucked a few strands of still-soaked blond hair behind her ear.
"Thanks, Chuck," she said softly, having enough grace to accept his compliment. Music started again, and couples started slow-dancing around them.
"So, can I have the last dance, Ms. Burton," Chuck asked as he offered his hand. She thought about all the cheesy lines she'd heard from the teen movies she'd seen a decade ago, but they didn't sound so hollow coming from Chuck. She took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. "Slow dancing is the one kind I know I can't make a fool of myself on," Chuck said, making Sarah giggle in spite of herself. She had never heard a lot of music in her time as a spy; it had never been big on her to-do list, but this song seemed to capture something in her, and she started to listen.
I can stand with the weight of the world on my shoulders
I can fight with the toughest of the tough
I can laugh in the face of all my insecurities
Anytime, anywhere, anything
I'm strong enough
But when you're holding me like this
I'm carelessly lost in your touch
I'm completely defenseless
Baby, it's almost too much
I'm helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly
Falling in love
Sarah didn't want to think about why Casey had played this song. She didn't want to think about how it made her feel about Chuck, because that would mean opening herself up again. She'd kissed him in front of Bryce's pod because she thought they were about to die. She didn't want any regrets then. She'd almost lost him once, for real, to Longshore and then to that pita delivery girl/Fulcrum agent. And tonight, he'd had to go and be all charming and make her feel beautiful when she felt anything but. How could she be expected to think that she, a cold-blooded, government-sanctioned killer, could deserve someone as thoughtful and selfless as him? She put her head on his shoulder and willed those thoughts away, feeling only his touch holding her, and listening to the music.
So let consequence do what it will to us
I don't care
Let the stars stand as witness to it all
Say the word and tonight I will follow you anywhere
I just can't pretend anymore
I'm too sturdy to fall
'Cause when you're holding me like this
I'm carelessly lost in your touch
I'm completely defenseless
Baby, it's almost too much
I'm helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly
Falling in love
Sarah hadn't noticed how tightly she was holding Chuck, or that she had started crying. She was just glad her appearance hid the tears. Chuck, on the other hand, had noticed both her increased grip and her silent sobs. He just held her as the song finished.
I am not afraid
I am not afraid'Cause when you're holding me like this
I'm carelessly lost in your touch
I'm completely defenseless
Baby, it's almost too much
I'm helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly
Falling...
(Helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly)I'm helplessly, hopelessly, recklessly
Falling in love
Even as the last notes died away, Sarah didn't let go of her beau. "Chuck, can we just stay this way a while?"
"Sure," he whispered, silently thanking Casey for another slow song.