To Find My Way To You
So You Just Bleed
Well, I can't find the words to say
Just to make, make this go away
So you just bleed
And I can't sleep
Tonight
When the bullet grazed Sarah's shoulder, she didn't wince. A little scratch - the bullet hadn't even really hit her. She was fine.
She continued throwing her elbows, whirling her kicks, keeping her balance by constantly looking at one spot on the far wall. Connect there - a hit to the nose, smashed into her assailant's unlucky head. Her blonde hair was coming down out of its updo, and although she had known going into the night that it was very unlikely her new blue dress wasn't going to make it very far on a mission to bust a Russian smuggler's ring, she cursed silently when the next assailant grabbed her and she heard the garment rip.
With a grunt, she put a well-placed knee in his groin. The second assailant sputtered and groaned, dropping to the floor. Sarah quickly stabbed him in the jugular with two tranquilizer darts - just to be safe - and turned to find the knife he had dropped, which had clattered to the floor and came to a halt only a few inches away from a familiar black Converse shoe.
"Chuck!" she snapped, looking at him furiously. He held his hands up, his face all stress. His tuxedo had a few rips and burns on it, and she was instantly distracted when she noticed them.
"What happened to you?" she exclaimed.
"Bomb - in the car - couldn't stay -" he gasped, as her blue eyes gave him a once-over, to make sure he was in one piece.
"Did the car explode?"
"No - Casey threw it -" he wheezed. His eyes suddenly widened in fear, looking behind her.
"Sarah!"
She whirled around to find that a third smuggler had his gun leveled at them. She reacted without thinking, the actions occurring before she could put rational thought to them.
Grab knife - push, Chuck, ground - throw - got him - NO!
She was too late. Chuck's body jerked with the force of the shot and she felt her whole world begin to spin out of control when she heard him cry out.
"Casey!" she said frantically into her watch. "Casey!"
"On my way, Walker," came his winded reply in her wire, but Sarah was past listening. She was smoothing Chuck's dark curls away from his forehead, panicking as she watched his lips pale alarmingly fast.
"Chuck," she said, almost pleading. "Chuck, I need to look at your leg."
Chuck groaned wordlessly and relented. His eyes were hazy and clouded with pain as he looked up at her. She paused, wondering if she could handle seeing his blood, but then she remembered that she didn't have the time to spare her own emotions. He was the Asset and she was his handler.
Her fingers found the bullet hole in his pants and tore it open, feeling around for the slug. It was still there, deeply embedded in his thigh. The bones seemed intact, but the amount of blood flowing from the wound made her suspect that at least one artery was damaged, and she couldn't be sure how badly. Sarah quickly unbuckled his belt, making a tourniquet around his leg to stave off the bleeding.
"Walker? Is the moron okay?" And Casey was there, kneeling beside her, a deep gash across the bridge of his nose. He put his gun in his belt quickly, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he searched for the bullet inside Chuck's flesh.
"How did this happen?" he growled, looking at her in confusion.
"Shot went wild when I took down the gunman," she whispered, her eyes closed in shame. Casey's silence did not put her at ease, but when she chanced a glance at him, she was shocked to find him nodding.
"It's not your fault," he said, and he scooped Chuck up and over his shoulder. Sarah's stomach flipped when she realized Chuck was passed out cold. "You've got no way of knowing which way the bullet will go."
"It's not an excuse," she said, furious and miserable.
"No, it isn't," he agreed as they jogged to the car. "But it's also not your fault."
Sarah climbed into the backseat of Casey's Crown Vic, which he had covered with liquid-resistant tarps, and then settled Chuck's head into her lap as Casey deposited him in after her.
"Are you hit?" Casey asked as soon as he saw her shoulder, but she shrugged. It was only when he nodded meaningfully toward the offending wound when she saw how much blood had dried all the way down her arm.
"Grazed me, I'll be fine. Casey, two of those guys are tranqued so Beckman can question them."
"I'll tell the team. They'll be here in two minutes." He paused as he shut the car door. "Walker, don't worry. He'll be fine."
She nodded mutely as Casey put the car in drive, his phone at his ear. His eyes flickered up to the rear view mirror every thirty or seconds or so to make sure Walker hadn't lost it. When he saw her lean down to whisper something in Chuck's ear, however, he kept his eyes on the road.
He didn't like emotions besides loyalty in his teams, but Walker was by far the most mature, dedicated partner he had ever had, and if her dedication was part emotional connection, well…he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he did so. At least it kept the moron alive, and at least it kept him cooperative.
Sarah refused to go home that night. Instead, she showered at Castle while the doctor they had given clearance extracted the bullet and sewed up Chuck's leg. The wound was deep but Chuck would make a full recovery. It would be easy to explain as a torn muscle or broken bone, as long as Ellie and Devon didn't see the bare wound. Chuck would have to stay with Sarah for a few weeks while the worst of it healed - she wasn't sure how he'd feel about it, but she couldn't see another way of keeping the real nature of the injury a secret.
She put her towel-dried hair up in a messy knot and changed into the spare clothes she kept in her locker. When she donned the black long-sleeved shirt and black military pants, she felt a little more comforted. Her job usually required her to wear skimpy bikinis and silk dresses, but she always felt safer in thick cotton.
Casey and Sarah were debriefed while Chuck was still unconscious. Sarah couldn't help but glance at him stretched out on their hospital bed every minute or so until General Beckman finally addressed her mistake.
"Agent Walker."
Sarah snapped to attention immediately, tearing her eyes away from Chuck's bandage.
"Yes, General."
Beckman narrowed her eyes at her, folding her hands on the desk. "I understand the Asset was harmed on this mission."
Sarah swallowed. "Yes, General."
"On your watch."
"Yes, General."
Beckman shook her head. "Walker, this is very serious -"
"General, with your permission?"
Beckman looked sharply at Casey as he interrupted. "Go ahead, Major Casey."
"Agent Walker had no way of knowing which way the gunman would shoot while she was protecting the Asset. I told him to run when I found the bomb, and Agent Walker was in the midst of a knife fight when he showed up."
General Beckman pursed her lips, thinking.
"Agent Walker, is that true?"
Sarah looked from Casey back to the screen. "Yes, General."
"Very well. We're lucky it was only his leg this time…and there will not be a next time," she added menacingly, closing the file in front of her.
"No, ma'am," both agreed. When the screen went dark a second later, Sarah turned to her partner.
"Thank you, Casey."
He grunted, turning to the stair case to leave. "You don't have to thank me, Walker. It was the truth."
Sarah was silent until he reached the landing. "No, I mean…thank you."
Casey paused at the door of the freezer. He looked down at where she stood, arms crossed and misleadingly small ten feet below him. He nodded and left without a word.
Sarah clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes closed, reveling in the silence. No guns, no shouting, nothing. And then -
"Sarah?"
Her lungs constricted at the sound of his voice, wary in the darkness of the room next to her. She went to his side quickly, a sad smile in place.
"Hi, Chuck."
He coughed a few times, blinked, and then how his leg was bandaged and elevated.
"Did -"
"Your first gunshot wound. You took it like a champ," she joked quietly, nudging him with her elbow, even though she felt nothing like joking. He stared at her, his brows furrowed.
"I really got shot?"
She nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
Neither of them said anything until her alert hearing noticed a change in his breathing. She looked up to see him struggling to breathe, and when she saw one single tear slip down the side of his face toward his pillow, she nearly buckled under the weight of it.
"I hate this," he said. "I hate this…this thing in my head."
Struggling to maintain her composure, she put a hand on top of his, even though the contrast of size between the two of them was almost comical.
"It's my fault," she whispered. When he looked at her, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw that her own eyes were filled with tears.
"Oh, no, no, Sarah, no," he said desperately, and tried to sit up to - what? Put his arms around her? Comfort her? She would never let him. Instead, he leaned on one elbow and awkwardly held out a hand, palm up. She snorted derisively through her tears, wrapping her fingers around his own.
"I'm your handler. It's my job to protect you. I failed tonight."
Chuck was quiet. He squeezed her fingers more tightly.
"I don't..." she whispered, feeling more miserable with every passing second. "I don't have the right words to make you feel better about any of this - all the things we put you through, that you never asked for. But I've always been able to protect you." She gulped, fighting the sobs that were trying to claw out of her mouth. "And I - I couldn't even do that tonight. You could have died, and…it would have been all my fault."
She was crying in earnest now, but she pulled away from the bed and sat down in a chair a few feet away. He stared at her, one hand still dangling off the side where she had let go of it.
"I didn't die," he reminded her.
She tried to smile. "I know." Her mouth wanted to form the rest of her normal words, the ones that told him that nothing would ever hurt him while she was there, but they sounded cheap as she looked at him, lying there, unable to walk.
Instead, she sat in the chair until the sun came up. He fell asleep soon after she sat down, and although a night of sleep probably would have done Sarah a lot of good, her guilty conscience somehow assuaged itself by repeating a mantra over and over, punishing her with a lack of sleep. She deserved the punishment. It felt savage. It felt fair. It felt as though the more pain she pushed on herself, the more she took away from Chuck. Chuck, who was innocent, who didn't deserve it.
I promise this won't happen again. I promise this won't happen again. I promise this won't happen again.
It was 7:34 before he stirred, and when he did, Sarah was shaken out of her reverie. She walked over to the bed, smiling as he looked up at her sleepily. She had to steel her heart against feeling every time she looked at him, but seeing his kind brown eyes just opening from sleep was more than she could handle. She couldn't help but lay a soft palm against his forehead very briefly, as he blinked. She looked from her hand back to his eyes, which were, as always, communicating more commitment to her than she deserved.
"Do you need more painkillers?" she asked softly, flexing her hand underneath the hospital bed.
"Didn't you sleep?" he answered her, looking at the circles under her eyes with concern.
"I'll take that as a yes," she replied, turning to get more medicine from the cabinet. She put four pills in his hand, along with a small cup of water. He swallowed them obediently, but before she could say anything else, he reached up a hand and cupped her cheek.
She froze, very glad that the camera in this room was turned to face away from them.
"Sarah," Chuck said seriously. "You did your best. It won't happen again. I trust you…I always…" he smiled his quirky little smile, his one dimple showing. "I always will, even now."
She nodded. The nerve endings in her cheek were on fire.
"Thank you, Chuck. I…" she blinked rapidly. "This won't happen again."
"I know," he said, and settled back into his pillow. Sarah cleared her throat and walked to the door, ducking her head to hide the flush in her cheeks.
"Emmett gave you the day off, by the way," she added. "Casey told him you're sick, and Ellie and Devon think you're at my apartment."
"Oh, good," he said to the ceiling. "Nerd Herding on crutches is not high on my list of things I'd like to do today."
"What would you like to do today?" she called to him from the next room. She peeked over the computer screen when she heard no response, but he had fallen back into slumber from the drugs.
I promise this won't happen again, she repeated again to herself as she began to look over the reports from the interrogations of the smugglers from the night before.
Never again.