Disclaimer: I don't own "Chuck." :)
A/N: Yes, this is set post 2.20, "Chuck vs the First Kill." (And sorry for yet another "Chuck and Sarah on the run" fic!)
Thanks to BillatWork for beta-ing. Also, special thanks to M4dh4tt3r for convincing me to write it. Either she's very persuasive, or I have very little willpower, lol.
"You're committing treason, Sarah. You could go to jail."
"I know."
They've been driving for almost eleven hours, and that's been about the extent of their conversation. Chuck won't go to sleep, even offers to drive, but she refuses, because she can see how tired he really is. Sarah's been wired all night, the import of what she's done never lifting from her shoulders, and the reason she's done it sitting beside her to remind her with each passing second.
The sun comes up slowly, its red-orange rays spreading out over the horizon as the world starts to stir. She glances over at Chuck, struggling to stay awake, and realizes it's time for both of them to get some sleep. So she pulls off the highway, drives for a little while longer, and keeps her eyes peeled for a cheap, out-of-the way motel where it won't look too suspicious if they use cash and don't have any luggage.
She takes a deep breath to clear her head. He needs her right now. He needs the skills she has.
And she's going to do everything in her power to not let him down.
Sarah lies on her back and stares at the peeling yellow paint on the ceiling, wide awake. It's nearly eight o'clock in the morning, she's lying next to the man she's loved for the past eighteen months, and there are suddenly no barriers separating them. Of course she can't sleep.
She swallows, trying to control her breathing and to ignore the sunlight coming in through the blinds. The room feels too small, the bed sheets too restrictive, and she feels as if the ceiling's crashing down on her, as if the entire sky is.
And for the first time in a long time, Sarah decides to go after what she wants.
"I can't do this," she blurts, sitting up violently.
Chuck, still awake as well, props himself up by his elbows. He frowns. "Sarah, it's okay. Really," he says softly. Dragging himself to a full sitting position with a sigh, he continues, "I understand. But maybe we could get some rest and you could help me get a car later today. Then we can call it even and you can go back. You're a fantastic agent. Beckman has to forgive you."
She stares at him, baffled that that's the impression he took from her outburst.
"No. Chuck," she begins, shaking her head, her words coming haltingly, "that's not what I meant."
He tilts his head curiously. "What . . . what did you mean?"
"This!" She gestures vehemently to the bed, hoping that he understands how difficult it is for her to merely sleep beside him. She sighs and runs a hand through her loose hair. "I can't do this."
Chuck swallows, his gaze unwavering. But then the corner of his mouth twitches into the slightest of smiles, and he starts to lean forward. After eighteen months of pent-up affections, it's not nearly fast enough for her, and she launches herself at him impatiently, smashing her lips against his, her fingertips grasping his jaw. Chuck, though surprised, responds by wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her closer. She slides her hands down to his chest and pushes him onto his back, swinging her leg over his torso and settling onto his stomach. His stubble is rough against her cheek, and it surprises her that his kiss, as fervent as it is, is still gentle.
"Chuck," she breathes, panting, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone.
He grins up at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He tightens his embrace, chuckling throatily, and rises to kiss her again. Without warning, he takes control of the moment and rolls her over. Sarah fists her fingers into his hair, holding on for dear life, and her heart drops into her stomach as her shoulder hits the mattress.
Their lips separate during the fall, but even that brief division is too much for her, and she quickly rectifies the situation, using her hand against his head to pull herself up to him and pull him down to her. Chuck eases her back down to the mattress, detaching himself only to tear off his undershirt. He inclines his head, sending her heart racing when he stops a centimeter from her mouth and pulls away again.
He hesitates, looking down at her in awe.
She knows what he's thinking, knows how unsure he is. She smiles, giving him a look that tells him he has nothing to worry about.
"Taking charge, huh, Chuck?" she whispers huskily near his ear. She grins. "I like it."
Smiling, he holds the stare. And as she looks into his intense gaze, she swallows, finally realizing just how far gone she really is.
Creeping into the motel room, Sarah sets the shopping bags on the floor in front of to the bed and places the coffee and bag of bagels on the bedside table. The early evening light streams through the curtains, casting an orangeish cast over the room, already brightly colored to begin with. But Chuck's still sleeping soundly, his even breathing immediately setting her worried heart at ease.
She sits down on the edge of the bed and leans over to gingerly brush his hair off his forehead. She places a kiss on his eyebrow, letting her lips linger. He doesn't stir, so she moves her lips down to his.
"Mmm . . ." he groans, his eyes still closed.
Sarah chuckles lightly and kisses the corner of his mouth. "It's almost dark," she tells him softly. "We need to get going soon."
He opens his eyes slowly and squints up at her. A shy smile spreads slowly across his lips, and she suddenly realizes that there's no need for an explanation. She returns the smile with a full, unabashed one, and curls her fingers into his hair.
"I brought you some breakfast," she continues, tilting her head toward the bag of bagels and cups of coffee sitting next to the lamp and telephone. "I also went out and bought you a change of clothes, so why don't you take a shower and we can get going soon? We're going to be driving all night."
Chuck sighs and sits up. "Okay, yeah," he agrees, his voice still gravelly with sleep. "Yeah."
Rubbing his eyes, he slips out of bed in only his boxer shorts. She hands him the bag with one of his new outfits in it on his way to the bathroom. He pauses, stooping to place his hand on her neck and gently kiss her temple. Sarah smiles and grasps his fingers as he walks away.
As he's showering, she eats breakfast and glances over the paper she had picked up at the front desk. When she's done, she gathers the new outfits she purchased – two shirts, one pair of jeans, a package of underwear, and a package of socks for each – and packs them tightly into the book bag she bought.
Returning to the bed, Sarah takes the last bag onto her lap and pulls out a thin shoebox. She opens it slowly, throwing a glance at the bathroom door, to reveal a pair of black Converse All-Star low-tops in her size. She smiles as she pushes back the tissue paper and runs a finger over the side of the rubber sole. She pulls the shoes out, sets the discarded box on the bedspread, and lays the sneakers on her lap. Pursing her lips, she withdraws a black sharpie from the book bag.
Sarah uncaps the marker and, with a steady hand, writes 'SW' on the back of one shoe and 'CB' on the back of the other. She stares at her handiwork for a moment, chuckling at how sophomoric it seems. She feels like she's in high school again, and these shoes are the spy version of letterman jackets. But no, these are so much more than that.
Satisfied, she shucks her boots and slips her feet into the sneakers, wriggling her toes to test the fit. She lets out a low, tired groan and falls back onto the bed, glad to be changing her high-heeled boots for the more comfortable Chuck Taylors.
The bathroom door opens suddenly and Chuck emerges, newly-shaven and dressed in dark jeans, a black t-shirt, a grey cotton button-down, and a black ballcap. He smoothes the shirt as he walks over to the bed to pick up his now-lukewarm coffee. He looks good in the jeans, and she's happy that she got the right size, happy that she's here – alive and free – to appreciate how good he looks in them. But then again, she knows his size, knows him by heart really.
"You almost ready?" he asks through a mouthful of egg bagel.
"Mmm-hmm," she nods, coming over to him and wrapping an arm around his torso.
"I can eat in the car if you want, if we need to get going."
Sarah nods and takes a bite of his bagel when he offers. "Sure," she answers, dragging her fingers across his stomach as she moves away. "We should move quickly."
"Where are we going?" he asks quietly, and she can hear the strain in his voice that he tries to hide.
She takes a deep breath and turns to face him. He has his back to her, still fiddling with his breakfast.
"Wherever you want to," she finally says. "But somewhere they won't expect us to go."
Chuck doesn't answer immediately, and she's not quite sure he's even heard. But then he turns abruptly, walks over to her, and slides his arms around her waist. His brow is furrowed, his eyes clouded, and still he doesn't speak.
She lifts a hand to his cheek in a comforting caress. "What? What is it, Chuck?" she asks softly. "You can tell me."
He sighs, biting his bottom lip nervously. Finally, he confesses, "I know where my father is."
She narrows her eyes, confused, and moves her hands to his chest. "What? How?"
"I had a flash, when we were trying to break him out yesterday."
"Who else knows?"
He purses his lips. "Jill. But she's the only one."
"Are you sure? Chuck, this is important. Are you certain?"
"Of course. They're taking him to a place called Black Rock, in Barstow."
She takes a deep breath, thinking it through. "Chuck, we'd have to go back nearly the same way we came."
He smiles and shrugs weakly. "The last thing they'd expect us to do is turn back, right?"
Sarah sighs heavily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close. She breathes him in, breathing in his familiar, clean scent. "You know how crazy this is, right?"
Laughing lightly, he leans into the hug. "Yeah, I do. But really, what part of our lives for the past year and a half hasn't involved some sort of crazy?"
It's raining as they squeeze into a phone booth to call Ellie, the drops hammering noisily on the roof. They've ditched their cell phones, and, as it's not safe to call the apartment, they've contacted the hospital in the hopes of finding her on-shift. Sarah hates this, hates worrying the only woman she's come to love as a sister, hates the pain in Chuck's eyes as he finally gets Ellie on the phone, fretfully wanting to know where they are and if they're safe.
Chuck, holding the receiver between their ears, grimaces.
"Ellie," he says over her hysterics, his voice soft and concerned. "Ellie, I'm sorry."
Ellie quiets, taking a moment to compose herself before replying, "I know you are, Chuck. But what's going on? Devon and I are worried sick about you. Are you with Sarah?"
"Yeah. Yeah, she's here, too."
"Hi, Ellie," Sarah interjects.
"Ellie, I'm so sorry," Chuck breaths. "But it's . . . complicated."
Ellie scoffs sadly. "Just, please tell me you're not in any kind of trouble. I couldn't handle that."
"No, Ellie," Sarah says quickly. "We're all right. Everything's all right. We're safe."
"Ell, I don't want you to worry, okay?"
"Can you at least tell me where you are? When you're coming back?"
"I'm sorry, but it's better if you don't know."
He closes his eyes, and Sarah, seeing his distress, slides an arm around his waist and squeezes lightly.
Ellie sighs. "Fine. I understand. Just be careful. You hear me?"
"Of course, sis. We will." Chuck even nods dutifully, though his sister can't see him through the phone.
"I love you," Ellie sniffles. "Both of you. Remember that."
"Sure, Ellie," Sarah responds quietly. "We'll take good care of each other. And we'll be back as soon as we can. I promise."
She wants to promise that they'll be back for the wedding, but that will be the most obvious place the government will look for them. So she settles for taking Chuck's hand in hers and offering him a sad smile.
"That's all I ask," Ellie tells them.
"I love you, Ellie," Chuck says. "See you soon."
"Goodbye, Chuck. And remember, you're aces."
Chuck hangs up the phone with a sigh, hanging his head. Sarah rubs his back soothingly.
"Hey," she says in a soft voice, "it's going to be okay."
He grimaces. "I'd really like to believe that."
Sarah takes his wrist and spins him to face her. "It will be, Chuck." He gives her an incredulous look and she continues, "Because I'm with you. Just trust me."
"That's just the thing," he begins, so softly she can barely hear his voice above the raindrops.
"Hey, hey," she soothes quietly, sliding her hand up to his neck. "You do trust me, right?"
He looks up at her sharply. "Of course I do. We've been over this, Sarah, and that's not an issue."
"Then what is it?"
Sighing, Chuck rubs his forehead. "This probably isn't the best time to talk about this."
"No," Sarah says, stopping him with a hand to his chest before he can squeeze out of the phone booth and into the rain. "This is the perfect time. Just say it."
Chuck looks up at her, his eyes clouded with confusion. "Are you doing this just because you still feel the need to protect me? Or . . ." He sighs and closes his eyes, seeming to choose his words, "is it something more?"
Glad that it's not another revelation like the previous one about his father, Sarah sighs and lets a smile come to her face. Deep down, she suspects that he knows what it is, they both do. But after a year and a half of being forced to hide it, he deserves to know for sure.
Snaking her arm around his neck, she lifts herself onto her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips. When she pulls away, his smile matches her own.
Softly, she says, "It's about you."
Sarah leans against the side of the Porsche and stares up at the sky, waiting for Chuck. She zips up her jacket, breathing deeply as she watches the twinkling of the stars. She's already filled up the gas tank and gone inside to go to the bathroom, and he's still taking his sweet time picking out snacks.
Two minutes. Two more minutes and she's going in after him. They can't waste any more time than they need to. She's already on edge as it is.
It's funny that Sarah fully appreciates the weight of their situation, fully sees what lies in their future, only when she's standing in the parking lot of a nearly-deserted gas station in the middle of nowhere. She inhales deeply, breathing in the rich, open air and the clarity that accompanies it.
She's marked herself. She'd made her choice in a split-second the night before as she looked into those brown, trusting eyes. They've been on the run for a day, and will be on the run for as long as she can foresee.
But the truth is she doesn't regret her decision. He's become her life. She lives for him now, lives to keep him safe and to love him as best she knows how.
Her hands shake as comes to that realization, hoping what she can offer will be enough for him.
"Excuse me, miss. Are you all right?"
Sarah looks up, into the kind face of a middle-aged man. She smiles, nevertheless hugging her jacket tighter around her torso. "Yeah," she replies slowly. "Thank you. I'm just waiting for my boyfriend."
Right on cue, Chuck exits the gas station, a bag of snacks and drinks swinging from his hand, and she lights up at the sight of him, convinced that she's finally found the missing part of herself.
The man looks between them, smiles, and says, "Okay. Take care."
"You, too," she says absently, not taking her eyes from Chuck.
Offering her a goofy half-smile, he places a hand on her hip and asks, "Everything all right?"
Sarah nods and, leaning up, gently touches her lips to his. "Mmm . . ." she murmurs contentedly. "Yeah, everything's all right now."