ed. note: This one doesn't fit into the flow of any of the fics I've written.
Warning: It is VERY heavy.
It just kind of ... happened ... one morning. I've barely edited it.
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Chuck's eyelids were heavy as he flashed, but it was a flash unlike any he had ever had. He was flashing on himself, and the images came fast and furious.
He saw an image of himself at Stanford, meeting Bryce Larkin on the quad. He could almost smell the freshly cut grass.
His mind whirred to the next image: one quad over, he met Jill for the first time. He could almost hear her laugh as he forced out a lame joke.
Whir.
Professor Billings was accusing him of stealing the test key, and explained his best friend Bryce was the one who had accused him of the crime. He could almost taste the bile in his mouth.
Whir.
Ellie stood on the train platform waiting for him, her face a strange mix of compassion and disappointment. He could almost feel the tears running down his cheeks.
Whir.
Morgan was playing Call of Duty with Chuck in his room, managing to elicit Chuck's first real laugh since getting expelled. He could almost taste the Red Bull and the Doritos.
Whir.
Looking up, he suddenly saw Sarah standing by the counter of the Buy More, her stare strangely intense. He could almost hear her first words to him.
Whir.
Casey, Sarah, and he stood on a rooftop. Casey was pointing a gun at Sarah, while Sarah, his date, was pointing a gun at him. Suddenly, everything shifted, and Sarah was pointing a gun at Casey while Casey pointed his at Chuck. He could almost feel the cold night wind whistle through his hair.
Whir.
The clock on the bomb ticked down, entering single digits. He said his goodbyes to Sarah, his eyes closing against the coming blast. Suddenly, there was only Sarah. His senses filled with her as she kissed him passionately, revealing the feelings she had denied for so long.
Whir.
Another rooftop, with Sarah holding his hands as she wordlessly said her goodbyes to him. As usual, he did most of the talking, although her eyes said plenty. He could almost feel the lump in his throat, knowing he would probably never see her again.
Whir.
The images came faster now. Casey pointing a gun at Chuck's head, his eyes filled with regret.
Whir.
Sarah's tear-filled eyes as she apologized, her face showing that she already knew how he would respond.
Whir.
Ellie and Devon getting married, their smiles radiant.
Whir.
Chuck standing in the room with the beta Intersect, a gun pressed against his back.
Whir.
Jill standing in his doorway, her expression holding both hope and fear.
The images started flipping through his mind so quickly that he could barely keep up.
A terrified Morgan walking through a train station, a bomb strapped to his chest. Whir. Chuck standing in front of his mother's gravestone, realizing she wasn't dead. Whir. A beautiful beach in the Caribbean, the water as blue as he'd ever seen it. Whir. Casey lying face-down on the black-top, blood running from the gunshot hole in his back. Whir. Sarah's face screwed up in pain as she lay there, the sound of pained cries filling his ears…
WHIR. WHIR. WHIR.
Chuck snapped out of his flash and back to the present.
A man's voice said, "I asked, 'Are you ready to die?'"
Chuck looked up. The flashes weren't triggered by the man's face, but by the barrel of the gun leveled at his head.
He considered the man's question. He looked to the series of pictures scattered around his living room.
There was Ellie and Devon, along with their six (six!) kids: five boys and a girl. The youngest was just finishing high school. Given their parents, it was no surprise the children all had radiant smiles.
Hanging on the wall was a photograph of Morgan and Anna, who had long ago decided to not have kids.Despite the situation, he grinned; at least the prima donnas recognized that there was enough drama in their lives without kids. The two were mugging for the camera in front of the Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica pier; they refused to grow up.
On the coffee table next to him sat a picture of Casey and his latest fling, sent to them just a few days ago. Casey had never found Ilsa, but had quieted some of the demons that had haunted him during their early days as a team. There was almost … almost … no sarcasm evident in his smile.
Hidden back on a shelf was a smaller picture of Bryce, obviously taken some years ago. Bryce had finally gone on one mission too many, and the end of his story was unknown to anyone.
Chuck knew his own story was about to end.
He looked over at Sarah, her blond hair starting to show streaks of gray. Her hand gripped his tightly; she looked not at the gunman, but at Chuck.Her eyes were clearly concerned about Chuck and only Chuck. Such had it always been: Sarah took care of Chuck, and Chuck took care of Sarah.
He glanced beyond her to the picture of their three children, safely away at college and carefully protected against harm. While they would miss their parents, he knew they were prepared for life without them. Ellie and Chuck knew everything there was to know about living without parents, and they had taught the young Bartowski's well.
Sarah had once longed for a normal life, but that desire was misplaced: living life on your terms, no matter what it entailed, made any life anything but normal. Their life, while not as they could have possibly scripted, was everything they could have asked for.
He gave her a smile, one of the thousands he had given her over the years. That smile carried everything she needed to know. Her concern evaporated, an answering smile taking its place. She understood, and adjusted her grip on his hand.
Chuck turned to look at the gunman. With a content look on his face, he answered, "Yes, we are."
Bang.
Bang.