A/N: I'm slowly making progress on Twenty Years, don't think I've forgotten about it... this one just came out of nowhere, took me an hour to write... and then a little bit longer to edit. Enjoy it, please.
A/N: Just fixed some really blatant errors, sorry guys - I'm workin on it.
Disclaimer: Chuck is not mine. =(
Open your eyes.
Her soft lips part by his ear, and her faint warm scent drifts into his nostrils. He feels her soft hair drift onto his shoulder, relaxing gracefully. He hears nothing, save for the slight exhale of breath following her words. He knows his heart is beating, he knows the ground is shaking, he knows he doesn't want to open his eyes.
But she asked him to.
He's sees carnage. Complete absolute total carnage. There is a man not three feet away from them who is trying to cover his intestines with what remains of his skin. He can't hear his screams. He only has ears for Sarah, hovering over him. The angel of death.
Chuck.
He knows that she isn't trying to seduce him or tease him or whatever he feels she is doing. She's trying to save his life. Her quiet request did not do her panic justice. Her eyes are on fire - from the fight or from this current situation, he does not know. He hears a foreign voice shout something menacing, he hears Sarah's radio report another man down.
Come on Chuck,
And then he only hears her again. He doesn't trust his eyes, he isn't seeing what he wants to see. Blooding is escaping from a gash on her forehead, probably from when she dove behind that crate, only to have it shatter seconds afterward. Her body armor is pierced, and he knows his is too. Her hair is in disarray, and the only light he has to see her with seems to be coming from muzzle flash.
He doesn't trust his eyes because he thinks she's beautiful right now, and he isn't sure if he should be thinking that.
Chuck, please, I need...
His head hurts, and he wonders about the intersect. How much more damage can his poor brain take? He wonders if she cares about the intersect at all, and if all this worry is for him. Chuck Bartowski. A man falls running by them. He hears her radio squawk something about reinforcements and too much risk and sorry we can't and sorry and sorry. He hears Sarah curse the man inside the radio.
He begins to feel again. He feels her hands rubbing his chest, near his heart. He turns his head, curious to see what his eyes will tell him - even if he doesn't trust them. The man that fell is scrabbling at his neck, Chuck sees blood seeping through the space between his fingers. The man kicks a few times, like he is trying to run, run away from this hellish place. But he can't. But he can't, he can't he can't he can't. So he stops kicking. Her voice calls out to him again, saving him from what his eyes show him.
I need... I need a little help here.
He wonders how he, Chuck Bartowski, could help her. She should be running. He wants her to be running. To get away from here. He doesn't want her to start running when it's too late, he doesn't want her to have to put herself back together.
I can't leave this place without you.
He thinks that's nice, and he wants to tell her so, but he can't. His chest hurts. He notices that he's breathing shallowly, taking big gulps of air, like he's afraid that its going to run out or something. And his head hurts too, of course, but he's unsure if that came from cracking it on the cement when he fell, or from the multiple flashes that led them here.
You have to get up, Chuck.
He starts to think that he shouldn't trust his ears either. She sounds beautiful, these words that she's saying - he's always wanted to hear them. But he hears sadness, and he doesn't think she should be sad. Scared shitless, sure. Sad? No. He knows for a fact that his eyes have been wrong this whole time because when he looks into hers, he sees tears. He closes his eyes.
Please, Chuck, just open your eyes. That's all I need.
He doesn't want to. All this, this life, it's too much. Too much. His head hurts, his chest aches, he doesn't remember what is going on, why he's here, why she's so concerned. Why there are so many people. It can't be worth all this. His life, that is. Her life. Their lives can't be worth all this.
I promise, I promise you, we'll get out of here. Both of us. But I can't go without you, Chuck. Please
Her voice, so close and gentle, soothes his mind. Her lips are so close to his skin that he wishes she would turn and kiss him. Right there. He feels her hands on his chest, he feels the ground shaking.
He begins to hear sirens, and the radio chatter is becoming too much. Screams of pain and groans of death permeate the air, he knows it probably smells like blood and burnt flesh and gun powder, but all he can smell is her.
He begins to know, know more than the shaking ground and his beating heart. He knows he wants her out of here. He knows he wants to kiss her and love her and care for her. He knows he wants her to kiss him and love him and care for him. And the only way to do that is to open his eyes.
So he does.
Chuck, Chuck, God, thank God. Breathe, Chuck, breathe.
He liked it better when she was making firm circles on his chest, instead of pounding it. He knows his heart is beating, she doesn't have to prove it to him. He sits up. He itches the back of his head.
His hand comes away bloody, and his first thought is concerning a mosquito bite. He didn't just break a scab did he? He knows his eyes are wrong, wrong wrong wrong.
But then, Sarah's eyes must be too. She doesn't speak, she quickly grabs the back of his head. His hair is matted with blood, and there is a significant split down the occipital region of his head.
Chuck, stand up.
Her voice is still distant, but he listens. Maybe she isn't the angel of death, but the bringer of life. The muzzle flash looks like a halo around her head. A man, running from the fight, falls. His knee cap skidding a few feet in front of him. He hears her gasp, and begins to think that maybe his eyes aren't lying. That this, this is all real.
His mind might possibly have a hole in it (once again, from the concrete or intersect he does not know) but he realizes that this is his fault. He wanted to attack this fortress as soon as he flashed on it. He didn't listen, he didn't obey, he didn't wait for a command.
He can see it now, and accepts the truth behind his vision. Sarah chasing him in her Porsche. Casey anxiously trying to reach the General. Saying he'll call for backup, calling Chuck a moron.
He can see himself, tears at the edge of his eyes as he drove over. Making a silent promise to his sister that this is it. He will get her out of here and be done. He will get her...
Ellie.
Ellie.
His own voice is distant and he's starting to think that that isn't a good thing. He stumbles to his feet to quickly, and Sarah catches him when he falls.
Come on, Chuck. Let's go!
She's excited, she's happy. Chuck can guess why, but he really doesn't have time to. He pushes forward.
He knows Sarah is shouting no. He can see her lips move, her body language stressing that he go the other way. But he can't. He thinks he says why, but doesn't know if she understands. He's here to save Ellie.
We'll come back! Please, we need more reinforcements... SWAT... Casey... please Chuck, she'll be fine.
He ignores her. He stops by the poor man who'd been trying to run. He sees the blood caking around the man's neck. Chuck stoops and takes his gun. It's a big thing, but he thinks he could handle it. His head is splitting, screaming for him to stop. He can barely breathe. Sarah is begging him, begging him, to stop. Until she isn't. She stops dead in her tracks.
You can't save her if you're dead!
He turns to face her. He thinks he must be a sorry sight. He doesn't know what to say to that. It's true, he can't save her if he's dead. Maybe someone else could?
But he doesn't get the chance to think about it. An explosion from somewhere nearby sends him hurtling through the air. He hears Sarah scream. Finally, it's clear. Everything is so clear: the gunfire and the shouting and the screaming and her voice, rising above them all, crying his name.
Open your eyes.
Before anything else, he obeys the command. His eyelids slowly flutter open, and he takes in the blank room around him. He takes in Sarah Walker, standing over him. An angel.
He tries to speak, but only croaks out something indistinguishable. That's ok, he didn't know what he wanted to say anyway. But she does.
Oh, Chuck. I was so worried... you, after you...
Her head is pressed into his shoulder and he can hear her tears. He feels nothing, but he thinks he might be on some heavy drugs.
Your... your heart stopped inside, after the explosion, and I... I'm just so glad your alive.
He smiles at her because he doesn't know how else to show that he is alive, to please her. His smile gives way to a puzzled look. Where's Ellie? She seems to read his expression.
Ellie's fine. I... after the explosion and I checked your pulse I went to get her...
Bastards didn't stand a chance.
Chuck looks toward the doorway to see Casey, smirking at his partner. Chuck realizes that Sarah went through the hell every available agent in the area had been trying to fight through by herself, and came out alive - with his sister. He mumbled his awe.
What was that Chuck?
Incredible.
The puzzled look on his teammate's faces was enough for Chuck to know that he probably wasn't making any sense. Yes, he's on some insane amount of painkillers right now, but he thinks the message is pretty clear.
You're... incredible...
Casey leaves, silently, and Sarah wipes the tears from her eyes. She smiles at him, her pure blue eyes lighting up in delight. Delight in seeing him. He smiles back at her.
Sarah... I knew... I knew that even if I couldn't save Ellie, that you would. You... you... always do.
She moves her fingers through one of his curls and places a slow, gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He relaxes his head on the pillow, letting the drugs put him back to sleep. He takes one last look around, and is glad that everything he sees, this incredible woman, his safe sister, his own recovering body, is true - in all it's entirety.
So he closes his eyes.