Chuck is the property of NBC and its respective owners. I'd much rather own NBC. Especially after the ad revenues that they reported for the Super Bowl…

This story has not been preread. All errors are mine.

The One That Got Away


As I peer through my binoculars at my mark, I think back on my life and the choices I've made. I'm looking through the window and blinds of the apartment in Echo Park, thinking that it could just as easily be me in there with him. I have no illusions about the life I've led. I know I've done things, bad things, that someone such as he would condemn without a single thought to the contrary. That's one of the many things that I adore about him. I thought that time away from him as well as time spent doing what I do would eliminate my feelings, but I was wrong. Seeing him again made that all too painfully clear. I mourn the fact that he and I are separated by such a distance, that once again his life is left in turmoil because of Bryce Larkin.

More than anything, I hate that instead of me it's Sarah Walker that he is sitting next to.


John Casey and Sarah Walker have been briefed on the situation. General Beckman had called them in previously in the day to let them know that a secret transport of captured Fulcrum operatives had disappeared, and among them Jill Roberts was the most notable and dangerous prisoner that had escaped. Jill. The hairs on the back of Sarah's neck had begun to stand on end when she heard that name. More than any other person Team Bartowski (Casey hated that name, which was partially why the other two of the group used the term… Oh, who was she kidding, that was the entire reason they used that name) had encountered over the time that the three had been brought together, Jill was the one person that made Sarah's professional and personal alarms ring without end.

Sure, Lou was a cute little thing, but Jill was the whole package. Jill was the woman who had derailed Chuck's life for five whole years, even more than Bryce. Sure, Bryce may have gotten Chuck kicked out of college and responsible for the Intersect being irreversibly lodged in his cranial tissue, but if Jill had stuck to Chuck's side, Sarah was sure the nerd would've been able to turn his life around eventually.

Beckman had made it clear that Chuck was not to know of the Fulcrum break, and especially not about Jill's escape. There was no telling what Chuck would do if he knew about that. Mum was the word of the day, whether Sarah liked it or not.

Family night at Casa Bartowski gave Sarah a convenient excuse to be over, having dinner and chatting with Chuck and his family. The extra coverage gave Casey some time off before he had to take control of the overnight surveillance. Sarah didn't have to be coerced to reveal that she enjoyed sitting on the couch next to Chuck, watching TV and talking with Ellie and Awesome. Something just felt right about the entire situation, and reaffirmed her desire to keep Chuck safe, no matter the cost. Jill, Fulcrum, she didn't care who it was – if they came for Chuck, she'd eliminate them all. Sarah and Chuck were developing something, and she was damned if she was going to let that just disappear.

So when Sarah got back to her hotel room and saw the little gray business card wedged under her door, she was going to take care of the most immediate threat to Chuck's well-being. If Jill wanted to talk, Sarah was going to give her a good talking to.

"Leaving a card at my door wasn't the most intelligent thing to do, you know."

The reply was a tense smile as Sarah sat down in the busy café. "Like I wrote on the card, 'It's personal'. I lied a little bit – there is a small part that has to do with work, but this is largely a personal call. I'm sure you know what I wanted to talk about, Sarah Walker."

"The fact that I know why you're here is why you aren't already in handcuffs, Jill. I warned you not to hurt him, and yet that's what you did. What do you want?"

"Ah, so the hand stays under the table." Bringing both of her hands up in a shrug, she continued. "As you can see, I don't have any weapons in my hands, but I'll let you keep your hand hidden – just to prove that I'm serious about what I'm going to tell you. I've left the company, not that they know it yet. I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying why, but I'm sure you've got a good idea. I've spent a good deal of time thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that he is more important to me than the job. The reason I'm here today is to check whether you feel the same or not."

"I don't know what you're talking about. My entire job is to keep Chu-" was all Sarah managed to get out before Jill cut in.

"Ah ah ah, Agent Walker, you don't get to use his name here. As for your job, I'd suggest you figure out if you're supposed to keep the asset safe, or to keep him safe. I know all about the Ghost of Minsk, Agent Walker." A slight narrowing of the eyes was all that Jill needed. The exact reaction she had wanted to see. "All you need to know is that if you hurt him or allow him to come to harm, I will kill you."

"That's not going to happen, Jill. Just stay away, for his sake. I'd love to have you locked up again."

There it was, that tense smile again. "We'll see. Have a nice day, Agent Walker."

Sarah watched Jill walk out of the door, amazed at how quickly Jill faded into the crowd, even to her trained eye. She would have something to think about.


Having delivered my message, I spent the next few days monitoring the Fulcrum chatter across the channels. It helped that we were all informed to lay low after breaking out, so I wasn't being ordered to make any moves, and no one was being sent after him. I managed to keep tabs on his movements, and every time I saw her with him, a cold vise clenched around my heart. I understood that she was a part of his life now, and I knew, even if she didn't, that she was quickly growing fond of him. He had that kind of quality – as long as you were around, he would entrance you with those warm eyes, those absolutely adorable locks of hair, the charming personality that always just put you at ease.

I hadn't realized how much I had missed it until we met again that day at the conference. With him, there was no deception around every corner, no cloak and dagger, and no wishing I could be away from it all. With him, I had that normalcy that I desired, of a time when life was simpler, where the extent of my worries was what to buy him for his birthday, or what I could wear that could produce that wonderful, beautiful smile. More than anything else, that smile was the single thing that made me aware of what I could have had – the smile that used to be all mine. I can't profess to know what other women might want, but I know that as long as he made me feel like I was the single person in his universe, I would be content.

I had no one to blame, however, about my current predicament, and his present feelings about me. All I could do about the situation was to live my life the way I felt was correct, and hope against all hope that he would forgive me for what I've done.

Over the next few weeks, I'm sure it became evident to Fulcrum that there was some other force at work hindering their efforts to find Bryce Larkin. As long as it had any possibility of affecting his life, I made sure that Fulcrum's efforts were in vain. They'd have to find Bryce Larkin and the Intersect elsewhere. If Sarah Walker was the person making sure that he stayed safe, I would be the person to make sure that there would be no danger to even come his way in the first place.

Sarah Walker was a necessary evil. One thing I was counting on was that as soon as her assignment was over, she would be gone, and I could have him all to myself again. This time, there would be no distractions. There would be no handler telling me to distance myself from the only thing that I now realized I wanted in life. There would be no striking out. I'd already messed up two chances, but I would definitely take advantage of the third.

The revelations of Christmas Eve had shaken me to my core. Fulcrum had been chasing the wrong trail the entire time. They had known that he was related to Bryce somehow, but to think that Fulcrum's target had been so close the entire time was a complete shock. I always knew that he was special, but never like this. More than once that following week I shuddered to think what would've happened to him if Fulcrum had its hands on this information months ago, what kind of a broken husk I'd be left with if I ever managed to get him back. As I saw Agent Walker shoot Mauser, I knew that the Ghost of Minsk hadn't disappeared. I knew that she wasn't right for him. He deserved better than that. Granted, if she hadn't shot Mauser, I would have. I have to protect him, after all.

Sarah Walker hated to admit it, but she couldn't help but acknowledge the fact that Jill meant it when she said that Fulcrum would not get close to Chuck. The latest analyst reports seemed to be drawing a common thread of 'incidents' in Southern California – Fulcrum activities seemed to produce no results. It was either that, or known Fulcrum agents (ironically, agents identified in the data that Jill helped Team Bartowski recover while still working for Fulcrum) had been coming up dead in various 'accidents' in the past few weeks.

Sarah couldn't help but become worried, however – while the blunt instrument that Jill wielded was effective in the short run, she had to realize that Fulcrum would quickly awaken to the trend that was occurring over the last two weeks. Jill's actions were nowhere near subtle enough to avoid an inevitable backlash, but Sarah had no way of tracking her down – Jill was a specter in her own right, impossible to track down if she did not want to be found.

One thing was for sure, though. Sarah knew this was all going to end very soon. Years of honed experience told her everything was coming to a head.

'I hate it when I'm right about a hunch,' mused Sarah as she took cover behind a wooden crate. A recent flash had led Team Bartowski to a warehouse in nearby Marina Del Rey. Of course, Murphy's Law had dictated that the first mission that Chuck had flashed on in almost three weeks turned out to be a Fulcrum ambush. The premise was simple enough, a Fulcrum storage facility for weaponry and equipment, a literal stockpile of firearms and electronics that would have the ATF drooling with envy.

Of course, the twenty or so Fulcrum agents that were there were definitely not supposed to be there, but apparently it had been some kind of important meeting. Twenty was a far cry from the zero resistance that their previous surveillance had suggested. Casey had even gruntingly agreed to let Chuck out of the car. Sarah was pretty sure he was regretting that decision right now as he had one hand on Chuck's collar holding him down while occasionally shooting over the wooden crate that he'd dragged them behind, not ten feet from where she was hiding.

The five other agents that had accompanied the trio had been quickly pinned down from multiple directions, and one of the agents was already down, while two others had already sustained wounds from the large amounts of gunfire. The group had already been forced to use weapons pulled from the crates around them, as they had already run out of ammunition a few minutes ago.

The decision had been made to slowly pull out when two canisters fell right in the middle of the assembled group, causing Sarah and Casey's eyes to widen, as he pulled Chuck onto the floor while yelling at everyone to get down. Not a second later, the tandem of the flash and concussion grenades rocked Sarah's world. Through the haze and disorientation and that damnable ringing in her ears, the agent in her mind immediately tried to take inventory of the situation while the woman in her mind desperately wanted to figure out where Chuck was and if he was safe.

Having not fully protected herself before the explosives went off, Sarah finally managed to shake off the disorienting effects of the concussion grenade when she saw two people standing over Chuck and Casey. As Casey moved to try and take down one of the Fulcrum agents, a lone shot rang out, and Casey fell to the ground, blood seeping from the hole in his head. Gasping, she was in the process of raising her arms and moving her head back a little more to line up a shot when the back of her head hit a metallic barrel.

"I think we can do without the heroics here, Agent Walker."

Sarah knew that voice. Tommy.

"Would one of you two like to explain to me why your little merry band of troopers seems to be responsible for so much of Fulcrum's grief? I and other curious minds would definitely like to know."

Walking over to the one definitely not dressed for the occasion, Tommy yanked Chuck upright using the Nerd Herd tie as leverage.

"And you, Mr. Charles Bartowski. Appearances are not what they seem, are they? There are no analysts that warrant their own protective detail. What secrets are hiding in your head, that you seem to know so much about our activities? I don't believe being associated with the NSA, the CIA, and Bryce Larkin, of all people, can be explained away with you just being a lowly analyst. I wonder what information we can glean from your absolutely interesting mind, Charles."

Sarah could only scream through the gag in her mouth as Tommy clubbed Charles over the head, and two agents came and took his unconscious form out of the small, bare room.

"Don't look so sad, Agent Walker. Surely you realized that Fulcrum would eventually figure out that your geeky analyst friend knew a little too much, that we'd have to find out why he poses such a threat to our organization? I suggest you get comfortable, because we're going to be working on your friend for a while. While I think the verbose 'bad guy' thing is entirely too cliché, I have to end it with the characteristic one-liner: Fulcrum has questions for you too, and I sincerely hope you hang around until we get to you."

Tommy's chuckles as he left the room were highlighted by Sarah's icy glare as she struggled against the fetters around her wrists that hung from the ceiling.

It definitely worked in my favor that I've been in this warehouse before. This was one of the field storehouses set up across the country where active Fulcrum assets could access supplies and equipment necessary for various activities. It also happened to be an incredible deathtrap. As far as layouts went, the blueprints for this warehouse frequently only had one way in or out for most of the facility, meaning it was especially easy for me to make my way in as I took out the lookouts stationed throughout the building between me and the room that he would be in.

I had already passed the storage area, where I saw the obvious signs of a gunfight, and burn marks on the ground indicative of non-lethal explosives being used. Not more than five feet from one of those burn marks did I see the remnants of what was a significant blood stain on the ground. Not without a large sense of alarm did I pick up the pace after seeing that mark on the concrete floor – he has to be okay, or I'm not sure what I'd do.

A quick peek in to the first of the holding cells shows four tied up and unconscious agents, none of which interest me. The second room doesn't prove to be much more useful, save for the fact that it's an empty room, with one of the chains hanging from the ceiling still dangling, with the leather restraints at the end undone. The entire thing sways just the slightest bit, which indicates to me that someone has either been moved or has escaped from this room, although the second is unlikely, given the state of the four in the first room. Anxiety starts setting in – these are the only two holding cells, and I haven't found him yet. The next room is an interrogation room, and I both hope and dread the thought that I'll find him next door.

I round the corner and almost trip over the three corpses lined on the floor. I know these three, and my eyes narrow. Each one of them has tried to make moves on me at one point or another, and I am definitely not displeased at their current lack of vitality. However, I am not sure that I want to open the door to the interrogation room, for fear of what I will see. A shot rings out, and that forces my hand. I kick the door open, and to my horror, there stands Sarah Walker, smoking gun in hand.

"Wh-what did you do?" Gasped Jill as she walked into the room.

"I protected the mission. I did what I had to do to keep the nation's secrets safe."

"The Ghost of Minsk... I didn't think I'd really get to see you in action, but… this?" Jill gestured towards Chuck's chest, the area around the hole in his shirt gradually staining larger and larger with blood. Sarah could see that Jill was beginning to become a bit frantic. "How could you have done this to him? I thought you were the same as me!"

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but Jill, in all of her cold fury, raised her own weapon, and without hesitation, pulls the trigger twice, dropping Sarah Walker to the ground. Almost overcome with grief, Jill moves over to Chuck's body, cupping his face in one hand.

A lone, single resounding clap echoes through the room and the hallway outside. A muffled sound is heard afterwards, the sound of Jill's body dropping across Chuck's chest.

At least he and I can be together now, and he is no longer the one I let get away.

I love you, Chuck.

End

Commence flaming, I suppose. I wanted to write a piece where Jill wasn't the cold-hearted bitch. I know the majority of the people here have a major hate-on for Jill, but to me I just see another character in a story, one whose tale may not necessarily have been told. The initial inclination was to write a Jill that had a definite dedication to Chuck, one that the reader would be able to realize was deeply regretful of her treatment of Chuck. However, somewhere along the line, the infatuation turned into an obsession of sorts, and I ended up letting the story run its course. I realize this doesn't help my cause of trying to get people to hate Jill any less, but hopefully still appreciate that Jill might not just be the embodiment of evil, that she's the source of everything wrong in Chuck's life. Maybe not.

This story marks a personal triumph for me – I've never published a chapter or a story that took me more than one day to begin and complete. Call it ADD or what-have-you, but I've never been able to do it until this story. I'm not entirely sure what was different this time, but I managed to squeak it out. Perhaps the credit goes to sharpasamarble, whose "Write the Jill piece! Write the Jill piece! Write the Jill piece!" was all it took.

Now if I could just get back to working on Scrambler…

Thanks for reading, everyone.

Oh, and by the way, in case anyone was wondering, the Ghost of Minsk just adds to the mythology that is Sarah Walker. Anyone interested?

Begin: 2/10/09

End: 2/12/09