A/N: I finished writing this epilogue shortly after 2C but didn't have time to edit it. By the time I finished editing it, I didn't feel like posting anymore. And now that I'm feeling nostalgic and ready to post, my account flops on me. I probably deserved that. It's probably for the best since the last chapter was sufficient and for most, satisfactory. Shocking as it may be, I did intend for the ending to be a bit more uplifting than where I left it, I just never got around to creating it.
Anyway, for old times' sake, here is the last addition to Chuck vs the Second Chance. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.
Chuck vs the Second Chance:
Epilogue:
Sarah goes in to town for her monthly check-up. The doctor is a friend of a friend of the President's National Security advisor, which is the only reason she even allows his hands near the novella otherwise known as her medical history.
The only other person is her therapist; coincidentally also a friend of a friend of Diane Beckman. For everyone else, she's memorized a succinct narrative.
"So, Doc, do you think I'll be able to dance anytime soon?" Sarah asks, stretching her legs as she hopped off the examination table.
The doctor smirks at their little inside joke. "Up to you," he says. "Anytime you want me to give you that green light to head back to the city—"
"No!" Sarah blushes when she realizes the man's just teasing her. "I mean, no, thank you. I think I've settled in nicely." She shrugs and makes it all look so passé. "I couldn't possibly go back and perform. Not after that awful accident."
Sarah smiles innocently. "Besides, I like it here. It's so quiet and peaceful."
The doctor smiles and shakes his head. "Has anyone ever told you you'd be great on stage?"
Sarah gets a clean bill of health, as she expects to. Sure her shoulder still gives her trouble in the morning and she gets short of breath faster than she used to but considering all that could have happened, she's already very, very lucky.
The sudden reminder causes Sarah to look down at her hand. The polished stone on her fourth digit flickers in the sun. The diamond's modest for their salary and the band is scratched from the years but it's all hers. Every time she sees it all she can think is that she's all his. His Sarah.
"Mrs. Collins!"
Sarah freezes as someone from across the street recognizes her and runs over.
"Oh, Wendy, hi," Sarah says. She vaguely remembers the woman from an earlier visit to town. "And please, you can call me Sarah."
Wendy grins whilst not-so-subtly staring at Sarah's flat midsection. "Coming from the doctor's I see."
Sarah smiles back ruefully. The trouble with small towns is everyone seems to know everyone else's business.
"Yeah, my knee's been bothering me lately," she says and emphasizes an imaginary weakness. She couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of shock and sympathy she'd get if she showed Wendy one of her real scars. "Chuck kept saying I should get it checked out."
Disappointment flashes across Wendy's face but she's not one to give up so easily. "Ah, is that all you went to see Doc for?" she prods, giving Sarah an oblique wink'n'nudge.
Sarah does the only thing she can and laughs it off. "Yep." She shrugs. "Guess I won't be dancing for some time."
"Well it'll give you some more time to spend with your new husband," Wendy says, grinning from ear to ear. Clearly subtlety was her forte. "Although he'll probably be busy writing his next great—" She frowns. "What was it he writes again?"
"Espionage thrillers," Sarah supplies with another rueful smile.
"Ah. Yes." Wendy nods. "Has he ever thought of writing something more practical? That has to be a very niche market, no?"
Sarah laughs and shakes her head. "I suppose. He's rather one of a kind."
Wendy seems to agree. "I don't know how you do it, coming from the big city and just living in the middle of nowhere. I mean it's a small town here but I couldn't imagine taking up at the Jaspers' old lot and with Mr. Collins' brother and girlfriend hanging around—" The woman pauses. "Say...isn't that her right there?"
Sarah looks in the direction she's pointing and narrows her eyes.
"Yes...it is," Sarah says, and not without a trace of annoyance.
Realizing that she's been spotted, the brunette agent meekly crosses the road with her head down and a proverbial tail between her legs.
"Hello," Rachelle greets in a quiet voice. "Fancy bumping into you in town, huh?" she asks with a weak laugh. Then, changing tactics, she takes control and grabs Sarah's arm, leading her away.
"Well it was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Humphrey, we have to go now. Bye!" Rachelle cries as she drags Sarah down the sidewalk.
Her brief moment in command ends as soon as Wendy turns her back on them. Sarah pulls away and they walk at a distance from one another.
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you back at the house?"
Rachelle snorts. "Do you really think Mr. C would be okay letting you visit town on your own without backup?"
"He's not the boss of you, I am." Sarah doesn't know why she's arguing though, it's not like it will change anything. Chuck is going to continue to worry and Gardner is just going to crumble under that chocolate brown gaze just as Sarah has countless times before.
"Well you're done so let's go home." She touches Sarah's arm gently. "Everything's okay, right?"
Rachelle chances a superfluous glance at Sarah's flat stomach but nothing goes undetected.
"Oh my God! Not you too!" She swats the younger agent's hand away and shields her torso from view with her arms but already her face is fire-truck red. "Why does everyone in this town think I'm pregnant?"
Rachelle rolls her eyes. "I don't know, maybe it was your shotgun wedding?"
"It was not a shotgun wedding," Sarah defends. "It was a very nice civil service." She actually preferred their wedding do-over to the one five years ago. There was less fuss, less people and less nerves; the second time around Sarah knew exactly what she was agreeing to.
They always say that a wedding should be one of the happiest days in a girls' life and Sarah finally understands what they mean.
"Yeah, but you technically only acquainted yourself with Mr. C for all of three weeks so either you're pregnant or he's dying of some terminal illness. I told you it would be a bad idea."
Sarah frowns. "Why can't we just be fools in love?"
Rachelle gives her a funny look. "Yeah right," she mutters.
Sarah just ignores her. Someday Gardner will understand and then she'll see what Sarah means. Love can change a person and if Sarah's fallen under the spell, then there's no hope for the rest of the fairer sex.
"See if you had waited people wouldn't be asking all the time and you wouldn't have had to make up all those extra stories so suddenly. It would have been more normal. "
Sarah shrugs. She's waited long enough.
Chuck and her fill in each other's stories here and there to placate the locals and somehow, someway, it works. Their three-week whirlwind romance is still unorthodox, their marriage is still the talk of the town, and the old memories of Sarah Walker and Chuck Bartowski still keep mixing with their new lives but it's a choice they made.
Some days Sarah isn't sure she can keep the fabrications straight; that's why it's easier to stick to the facts. Burton—Walker—Bartowski—Blake—none of that matters. He'll always be her Chuck, no matter what, and she'll love him forever.
"So we can go home now?" Rachelle asks, jingling the car keys in her hand.
Sarah smiles sweetly at the junior agent. "I want to stop by the bakery and pick up some dinner rolls. You can head back first if you want."
Rachelle gives her an equally over-the-top saccharine grin. "No, that's fine. I'll come with."
The junior agent sticks to Sarah like gum to the bottom of a shoe, refusing to let her out of her sight. They cross the street together and head into the local bakery. Immediately all eyes are upon Sarah, or to be more exact, her perfectly flat midsection.
"Maybe next time you should wear a billowing dress," Rachelle suggests with an evil smirk. "Oh, or we can go down the street and look for nursery supplies. That'll give them something to talk about. What do you think?"
Sarah rolls her eyes. "You know I'm not the only one who's got people talking," she whispers. "They think Agent Gill is your boyfriend. I'll bet the town has a pool on when he's going to pop the question."
Rachelle looks revolted. "What?" she hisses, trying to keep her voice down. "That's ridiculous! Russ and I are nothing but colleagues. That's all."
Now it's Sarah turn to laugh. "Sure," she says, clearly insinuating the very opposite. She'd say more but the shop-owner approaches to help. "Oh hey, Barb."
Sarah gives her her request and the shop-owner waves down one of the assistants to fetch the order.
"You know," Barb says, giving her a careful look over. "Your hair seems different from last time."
Sarah blushes and tries not to look so pleased with herself. "Oh, do you like it? I'm using a dye that's a little lighter than my usual shade."
The baker nods her head enthusiastically. "Yeah, I think it looks great. Have you ever thought about going blonde? I think you could really pull it off."
"I think she looks better as a brunette," Rachelle cuts in and gives Sarah a nudge.
"No." Barb shakes her head. "Sarah's got the blue eyes and the pale skin—"
Rachelle's never understood the concept of a gray area. "No, I really think she looks better as a brunette," she insists.
Sarah huffs in annoyance. She doesn't care. She'll never be happy as a brunette, even if Chuck says he doesn't care one way or the other.
"You know..." Sarah smiles coyly at the baker. "I might just take your advice next time I head to town."
Sarah pulls the car into the front of the cabin and he's sitting, patiently waiting for her at the doorstep. When she cuts the engine and steps outside, he sticks his tongue out and ambles slowly towards her.
"Simian!" The wiry mutt immediately sticks his head against her palm and nudges her with his wet nose, demanding a scratch behind the ears. She complies and throws in a firm neck rub, but only because he's giving her the big brown eyes. What can she say, it's her kryptonite.
Simian pants contently and even though she knows dogs can't smile, she's sure it's the expression he's giving her at the moment.
"Where's Chuck?" she prompts. "Where is he, Boy?"
"On the back patio."
Simian's ears perk and he runs over to Agent Gill. He pants and wags his tail but the man misses all the cues for attention.
"Sit," he orders and Simian immediately obeys. One second he is an overzealous puppy and the next he's a guard-dog on duty. Agent Gill gives him a look and Simian shrinks a little under that gaze.
Sarah shakes her head. They'd only named their dog to cover for that one time someone in town overheard a conversation they shouldn't have. Who knew their pet would live up his name?
"It's okay. He's allowed to be friendly with me," she says and waves her hand for Simian to come over. The mutt's bright pink tongue lolls out again and he scampers across the lot, hiding behind Sarah for protection.
Agent Gill grunts. "You should go visit the back patio," he says with a shake of his head.
Sarah's mood immediately falls and not even Simian with all his wiles and warm puppy breath can make things better. "Oh," she says, catching on to all that the agent wasn't saying. "How long has he been there for?"
The man sighs. "Awhile?"
Sarah finds him on the back patio just as Agent Gill had warned. She worries about Chuck, more than she'll admit, but nothing makes her worry more than the sight of him just sitting there all alone, staring at nothing for what has probably been at least two or three solid hours. It's just not Chuck.
She lets Simian walk ahead. He pads over and wags his tail, giving him a silent hello with his tongue. Chuck slowly stirs out of his reverie and pats him on the head but there's no playful tweak of the ear or bellyrub today. Simian lies down on the deck, making small whining noises, but Chuck doesn't seem to hear.
He does however register Sarah's steps as she walks onto the patio. He immediately grins and shakes out of his stupor. Sometimes Sarah thinks he's as good at putting on a mask as she was.
"You're back. Everything good?"
He scoots over to one side and she lays down, half on him, half on the chair. He holds her tight against him and they make it work, even if it's a little uncomfortable.
"Yeah," she says, giving him a quick kiss. "Everything's fi—good." She knows how much he hates that word.
He nods and there's obvious relief in his eyes. "That's good," he says and rubs her shoulder.
Simian whines and raises his head, hoping for a little reciprocation, but Chuck's attention is completely devoted to Sarah.
"Poor Simian," she murmurs, nuzzling her husband.
Chuck rolls his eyes. "Yeah, poor Simian indeed." It's not entirely clear which Simian he means until he adds: "He shredded my Chucks this afternoon. Do you know how hard they are to replace out here?"
Sarah laughs heartily. As long as their dog doesn't destroy anything of hers, it's still funny.
"Hey Chuck?" She rests her head against his chest, preparing herself for a more serious conversation. "What were you doing out here?"
Chuck stares out at their vast backyard. "Nothing."
She raises her eyes curiously but his expression isn't very telling. "Do you..." She hesitates; this isn't usually her area of expertise. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Chuck raises his brows. "You...you...want to talk?" It's only funny because there's a mischievous glint in his eye, otherwise, he's right. She's never been much of a talker.
Sarah blushes, suddenly self-conscious. "Well if you'd like, you can talk to my therapist."
"Oh my God." Chuck pinches her, as if to remind one of them that this is still all real. "Sarah. Are you advocating for a therapist?"
Sarah blushes even harder. "Shut up. Fine. Don't talk about it then."
Chuck laughs and rubs her back. "Aw, it's just a surprise to hear it from you. Not that it's not nice. Obviously that woman is worth every penny."
Sarah rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Maybe," she says with a noncommittal shrug. She's still not sold on the idea of a therapist but Beckman wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.
"So?" She turns the tables back on him. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Chuck shrugs. "What do you mean?"
Sarah sighs. Does she need to break out the list? "You don't play your video games anymore."
Chuck shrugs again. "I haven't felt like shooting at space aliens for awhile, Sarah." He kisses her. "It doesn't mean anything's wrong."
Sarah studies him carefully. They're not really the same people anymore and she doesn't just mean their names and identities. When she looks at herself in the mirror, she knows she's no longer that girl from the buried wedding photo.
She's older, harder and she has the scars to prove it. And Chuck, too, is different. He hasn't come out of the last five years unscathed; he just has a different set of scars.
She's brought him back, little by little, but it's days like these that make her wonder if they've regressed down a slippery slope.
She takes his hand and squeezes. "You'd tell me if anything was wrong, right?"
He smiles and squeezes back. "Yeah. I'd tell you." He kisses her. "And you'd tell me, right?"
Sarah nods. "Of course."
Chuck beams at her and they have a moment. She knows there are still days when he has his doubts about her; her long track record seems to go against everything she's doing here. And then there are moments like now when he realizes that she's here for good; that she'll never leave him again.
"I'm sorry," he says, breaking the silence. "You must be so bored here. Maybe when I get SIMIAN under control and some other computer nerd makes a huge scandal they'll forget about us and let us move back to LA."
Sarah snorts. "I don't need any more excitement," she assures him. She's still paying the price for their last misadventure. "And where is this coming from? When did I ever say I was bored?"
Chuck shrugs. Obviously he's been alone with his thoughts for a little too long.
"Are you happy?" he asks, and looks almost afraid to hear the answer.
Sarah looks at him strangely. "How can you even ask me that?" And here she thought she was making so much progress in therapy.
"Well, our lives are just really different now and when I asked you to leave the agency all those years ago you couldn't." He shrugs, to make it seem like it's less of a big deal, but fails. This was ultimately the crux of why their marriage failed the first time. "I just want to make you happy. That's all I've ever wanted."
Sarah doesn't know what to say. It's going to take time to wipe away all his doubts; she needs to be patient.
"Chuck," she finally says, and clasps his face in her hands. "The only reason I came back at all was because of you."
He looks at her with that guarded gaze and she knows he understands what she means. This is about neither LA nor here.
"I am happy. So very happy." She kisses him perhaps a little more aggressively than he's prepared for, but she's always been better at showing than telling. "And I want you to be happy, too." She ruffles his hair affectionately. "You are, aren't you?"
He looks at her like she's lost her mind. "What do you think?"
She shrugs. "I don't know what to think," she says. Even though she reads him like an open book, she wants to hear the words for herself.
He holds her tight to his chest. "I think you already know," he says.
She nudges him playfully. "Say it."
Chuck's eyes crinkle just the slightest. "Say what?"
"Say it to me," she repeats and withdraws her hand from his. "Charles Bartowski, I'm waiting," she says. She pulls back and feigns to leave the patio chair.
She sees the light catch in his eyes and he smiles the kind of smile she loves best. Sometimes he surprises her with how much of the old Chuck remains.
His arms wrap around her and he inches closer and closer until there's barely any space at all separating them. He presses his forehead against hers and threatens to lean in until their eyelashes tangle.
"Sarah Bartowski," he announces, making her heart flutter. "I love you."
He says it to her all the time but the effect the words have on her never seem to diminish. Already she can feel her cheeks growing hot.
"I love you too." The words tumble out of her mouth as if it were second-nature.
Chuck grins. "Wasn't so hard now, was it?"