Split Second

Wow, I can't believe I've waited this long to write a Chuck story! This idea's been hanging around for a while now, and I'm finally writing it. Hope you enjoy! Please check out my poll!

Mere minutes before it happens, Chuck's sitting at the bar inconveniently squished between a children's museum and a library, ordering drink after drink.

The bartender's been staring like he's never seen a man in this level of heartbreak.

Chuck's first thought is that that's ridiculous, he literally gets people drunk all day, but come to think of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen someone in this much heartbreak and he's a spy.

He slams the shot glass down on the bar, a request for the glass to be filled again.

Chuck's been following this routine for over an hour and his brain is still bluntly refusing to slip into that state of unconsciousness most people are widely familiar with. He thinks it has to do with the Intersect somehow, the drunkenness still not settling into place where the pain still sits, oblivious to how much his heart hurts.

Maybe that's the look the man behind the counter's giving him, filled with confusion.

It's not like he could suddenly scream, "I have a computer in my head packed with government secrets!" and make the whole thing go away. Or could he? It's not like he would have anything else to lose.

The other people in the room have long been ignoring him and his misery. He knows he should be more careful with people, can almost hear Sarah's voice warning him, but pushes it out of his mind; she's the reason for his heartbreak, he doesn't need to remember.

Chuck sets the shot glass down again, trying to focus on literally anything else. He examined the centimeter-long crack lodged deep in the dark wood. He rubs along the flaw in the bar, the crevice simple yet complicated, deep but thin.

That crack's symbolic, somehow, Chuck thinks. "Anything can be a symbol if you just let it." He's pretty sure that he's heard that somewhere, but just can't place it. He racks his brain, but still can't figure it out.

Chuck's still thinking about the quote when the faint popping noise from outside the bar starts.

A slight frown fills the bartender's face. "Any idea what that is?" he asks Chuck, who silently gives a shake of his head.

The bartender sighs and mutters a quick "Ignore it."

Chuck keeps drinking, and he keeps cleaning until a loud scream of "PUT THE PHONE DOWN RIGHT NOW!" explodes from outside of the bar.

The flash comes quickly at the sound of the voice pattern in his ears.

Joseph Bratton, thirty-nine years old. Arrested for the murder of an entire wait staff at a restaurant. Escaped from prison two months prior.

His reaction is instant, springing from his barstool and practically leaping through the door, trying to process the scene. Screaming people are everywhere, from small children to fully-grown adults, trying to flee, call 911, or flat-out surrendering.

It's absolute chaos and Chuck wants to curl up in a ball and wait for Sarah and Casey to come and save him, but his handlers aren't here now. It's his turn. No more waiting in the car.

He sees it almost instantly, his eyes still attracted to the danger others are in. It's his good heart, the heart always willing to save others from anything.

There's the man Chuck notices who has his hands raised in surrender, tears slipping down his cheeks, that has him running, determined to save him even if he can't save anyone else. One would be fine.

The instant Chuck shoves the man aside, he feels the thud of the bullets land, squarely in his chest.

He knows he's dying in that moment, reaches for his watch to activate the tracker. He knows it's too late.

In that one split second, he gets it. The man's alive because of him, he's gone of course, Chuck can't really blame him for getting out of there.

He whispers it that second before his life slips away and it's all over.

"Sarah Walker, I still love you."

Chuck is one of my favorite shows and I don't know why I wrote a sad fic about it. Vote in the poll in my profile, please!