Happy Halloween to all the FanFic readers out there!
Agent Sarah Walker vs. The Ghost
Sarah stepped out of the shower onto the shaggy bath rug; the steam still swirled around the room as she toweled off. She stood in front of the mirror above the sink and frowned. Droplets of steam had coalesced and formed tiny rivers running down the glassy surface. But there were ten wider streaks as well. It was as if someone had run their hands down the mirror, the fingertips leaving a wet trail. Despite the heat radiating off her damp skin, she shivered. Suddenly, she felt very claustrophobic, the steamy air became oppressive, and she opened the bathroom door and stepped into her bedroom, welcoming the cool rush of air.
She dressed for the day—khaki pants, blue button-down shirt, and her black leather jacket. Chuck would have liked this shirt, she thought. She missed him. He had been gone for nearly a month now, undergoing extensive CIA and NSA training for field work. He had left just after Bryce's funeral, and things hadn't been right between them. She didn't know what to say to him. She had been prepared to stay behind to be with him, and then he re-Intersected himself. And now Bryce was dead. And the world she had glimpsed for only a moment had collapsed.
She grabbed her bag and left, turning to lock the door of her apartment; the deadbolt slid into place with an audible click. Her phone rang, and she snagged it from her pocket as she walked to the elevator. She glanced at the picture of the caller. It was Bryce. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the phone, uncomprehending. It continued to ring. She answered it.
"Hello?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
"Walker? Casey."
Startled by her partner's voice, Sarah brought the phone down and looked at it closely. The picture was that of Casey, taken after his run-in with Carina. Why did I think it was Bryce? she wondered, shaking her head. Suddenly, she realized that Casey was still talking, and she put the phone back up to her ear.
". . .is progressing on schedule. The moron nearly shot off my hand yesterday, but he's doing better. Another two weeks. Walker? You there?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Thanks for the update."
There was silence for a moment. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine. Talk to you later." She ended the call, sliding the phone back into her pocket.
She drove to the Orange Orange and descended the steps into Castle. She spent the afternoon polishing up old mission reports, filing them into packing boxes. The mission files were being transferred to D.C. next week. General Beckman wanted 'some people' to look them over. For the first time since her 49B, Sarah was worried about losing her assignment. Beckman was being even more vague than usual about the future of Team Bartowski.
Sarah carried a box over to the large stack of boxes along one wall. As she shifted it into place, she heard something. She turned, straining her eyes to see beyond the lighted area where she had been working. Was there someone standing in the shadows?
Ssssaaarah.
Sarah's breath caught and she broke out in gooseflesh. She drew her gun and advanced slowly, angling toward the wall with the light switch panel. Upon reaching it, she placed her hand on the switches and turned to face the interior of the room. She readied her gun, and then turned all four switches on with one fluid movement.
Nothing. She walked to the center of the room. Nothing.
Sssss-sha-sha.
She cocked her head slightly, trying to identify where the sound originated.
Sssss-sha-sha.
Her eyes flicked toward the back wall, where a series of pipes lined the upper half. She walked over to them, and listened as the sound repeated. There. One of the pipes had a small leak, and air piped into Castle from the surface was escaping with a soft hiss. Sarah chuckled softly. I'm starting to lose it. Maybe it's time to call it a day.
As she walked past her desk, she noticed a file lying on the floor. Must have dropped it when I moved that last box, she thought, picking it up. Her eyes widened. It was a personnel file. Bryce Larkin. She flipped through the file and examined it closely. She confirmed that it was his file. What the hell? She hadn't seen this earlier, and it wouldn't have been with the mission reports anyhow. The folder seemed to become warm in her hands, and she dropped it onto the desk.
She locked up and left quickly. Driving, she kept seeing the file in her mind's eye. She tried to force the image away and found herself thinking about Chuck, which wasn't much better, considering how distant he had become.
Arriving at the hotel, she parked her car and entered the building. Waiting for the elevator, she wondered what Chuck was doing right now. Maybe I should call him. But she left her phone in her pocket as she stepped onto the elevator. As the elevator ascended, the lights flickered, and Sarah eyed the ceiling warily. She half expected the doors to not open, but they did, and she lost no time getting off and making her way to the door of her apartment.
She pulled her keys out and inserted one into the deadbolt lock. It was already unlocked. She glanced down the hallway and then stepped back, drawing her gun. She turned the knob slowly, and then pushed the door open, stepping inside and flattening herself against the wall. The apartment was dark, but she knew every inch of it. She searched each room methodically, but found no one. Turning on the lights, nothing seemed to be amiss.
Shedding her jacket and throwing it on the couch, Sarah went into her bedroom and set her gun and phone on the nightstand. Leaving the small lamp on, she collapsed heavily onto the bed, kicked off her shoes, and closed her eyes. She felt so tired.
A short while later, she awakened with a start. The room was very cold and dark. Blinking in the darkness, she reached over to turn on the lamp. The air conditioner must be turned up. She stood and realized that she could see her own breath in the air. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Suddenly, her phone began to ring, and her heart quickened. She looked at the nightstand, and saw a picture of Bryce on the phone. Her eyes widened. I'm dreaming, she told herself. Then it dawned on her that her gun was missing. She looked around the nightstand, and all the while, the phone continued to ring.
Unable to find her gun, she reached for the phone, hesitated, and then drew her hand back. She left the room and nearly ran to her apartment door. She flung it open and stepped out.
Strong arms grabbed her, pulling her close. She pushed back against the attacker, reaching at the small of her back for her gun, forgetting that it had disappeared.
"Sarah."
She continued to struggle.
"Sarah." The voice was more insistent.
She finally looked up, breathing heavily in a near-panic. "Oh God," she said, collapsing into his embrace. She shook uncontrollably, and he held her for a long moment, stroking her hair.
"It's okay," he said softly. "It's okay."
She clung to him and slowly, she began to relax. "What are you doing here?" she asked, looking up at him.
"It's a strange story." Chuck met her eyes. "Bryce called me."
"What?" She stepped away from him, suddenly wary again.
"It was a wrong number, but his picture kept showing up on my phone. I didn't know what to make of it, but I felt like he was telling me something. And I thought of you." He paused. "I just felt like I had to get to you. What happened?"
She shook her head and returned to his embrace. "It doesn't matter now."
He smiled and led her inside the apartment.
Sarah noted that the air was no longer chilly, and her phone had stopped ringing. She entered the bedroom; her gun was lying on the nightstand, next to the now-silent phone.
"I like that shirt," said Chuck, taking off his shoes and climbing into the bed. "C'mon, we can still get a few hours of sleep."
Sarah climbed in beside him, nestling her back against his chest. He wrapped an arm over her, and she took hold of it, pulling him closer. She thought about the new Intersect, and Chuck's training, and the uncertain future of Team Bartowski. And then she thought of Bryce, and just before she succumbed to sleep, she called out to him silently. Message received.
The End
