Chuck Vs the Swan Song
An: I honestly don't know what got into me with this one. It was probably that epic preview for the Chuck Season finale. Who knows…? I for one, wanted to have a try at what might go on in the final fight between Chuck and Shaw. I'm so giddy for an Intersect Vs Intersect fight *squee*
So this probably won't happen, but I wrote it anyways. Don't be too critical with this please, I wrote it last night like at one in the morning. There's gonna be mistakes, so deal.
I don't own Chuck (that's NBC), Supernatural's finale episode title (Swan Song), Die Hard, or Raiders of the Lost Ark. I wish though…
Please R&R if you have a heart.
It did not take long for all Hell to break loose from inside the Buy More. It did not take that much longer for it to settle into a slow rhythm of destruction either. The bombs had been detonating in continuous succession, erupting like fireworks and torching anything that was in its doomed and unfortunate path. The fire danced and swirled, spat and hissed. It was a macabre melody of sight and sound and Chuck had trouble focusing. He found it hard to tear his eyes away. Orange and red, colors melded into another, and sparks flew unrepentantly, devouring all it touched into a rising inferno.
Upon writing his Spy Will, Chuck knew that something was coming down the pipeline. It was going to be something big, catastrophic, and it was going to happen soon. Very soon. And now, with everything from a lost era up in flames, he realized that it was finally happening.
It had come. It was here, just like he knew it was going to be.
And it—he, he was there; standing on the opposite side of the playing field, bringing the reckoning with him in the form of fire. Chuck was inclined to say he wasn't surprised; the way it was all going to unfold and eventually end. Shaw being alive, it was a shocker. Regardless, every fiber of his being realized that this was the point of no return. This was his destiny and he was going to fight for the better outcome.
He then would thank every higher power in existence for one last time, grateful that it was only the two of them left. After all, he did lock them both in…There was no way out, no way in.
It was in fate's hands now.
Chuck hoped that it was on his side this time. Because he'd give up the world to know that Sarah was safe. He'd give up his very life--
"—A final duel between Intersects," Shaw announced with a new, twisted brand of smirk. His soulless eyes flickered to Chuck in mild interest. Arm raised, the muzzle of the gun was aimed lazily between a pair of hardened brown eyes. "Think you have one good flash left?"
Chuck returned the sneer with a sly smile of his own. It projected a sense of sanity, unlike his deranged nemesis. Most of all, it was etched with the upmost determination. He clenched his fist absentmindedly until his knuckles bled white. The gold watch strapped to his wrist gleamed from beneath the red glow of the store.
The Governor was working at full capacity and Chuck could feel the liberation running through his veins. The mental strain he had been accustomed to for so long, it was only a mere phantom of what it used to be. He would no longer become the Intersect's victim. He had won that battle. Unfortuneatly, it was at the cost of a loved one, an integral member of his dysfunctional family…his father.
Stephen Bartowski, the father of two was dead. Orion, the legendary genius of his time, he had fallen like a soldier, consumed by the roar of gunfire. He collapsed onto the bloodied asphalt and Chuck watched in slow motion. He had knelt beside his father, doing nothing but being there until death claimed him after one last labored breath. Chuck wept as everyone suffered in silent grief. When the two CIA agents pulled him away, Chuck became terribly afraid. From then on, for what was to come.
Who else could he lose?
Things changed however. And now it was different. He clutched the gun tightly in his palm and was absolutely still. He smile did not falter, and he advanced a step forward. The emergency lights flashed and bathed the store with warning. Alarms blared loudly while the sprinklers overhead attempted to extinguish the flames. There was no one left in the Buy More. The customers had been safely evacuated, the employees all fled as well. Morgan had been freed from his bindings just in time to escape. But not before enlisting the aid of the rest of Team Bartowski (and their newest members) to rescue an unconscious Sarah before the entire store would cave in.
And so, Chuck was no longer crying. His eyes were dry as bones. His emotions were in check. He felt stable. He was composed, almost overconfidently so. After everything that had happened, all the hell he had been through, Chuck was feeling more than just hopeful. He was feeling good. It radiated off him in waves. The feeling, the powerful sensation that seized his entire person, telling him that it was ok; that there was nothing to fear.
There's nothing to fear but fear itself. He mused wryly.
Chuck was no longer afraid: of Shaw, of losing, or even of dying.
He was at peace for what was to come. Fully aware of the sacrifice he was due to make.
Seconds ticked by without a response. Then an explosion from afar interrupted the silence and Chuck resorted to a casual tone, "Saved the best for last."
Shaw was unperturbed by the banter. In fact, his lips spread into a wolfish grin and from that alone, he appeared more sadistic and consumed by righteous anger than ever before. There was no room in Chuck's body that felt an ounce of remorse for that man. If he could hardly be called a man. The only result of this nonverbal taunt was something to well deep within the pit of his stomach. It shifted from an irresistible anguish—cutting like a blade, to a numbed coldness that he only succumbed to on one other occasion.
It shocked him like a shot of adrenaline. Pupils contracted and his heart sped up to an incredible speed, thumping staccatos in his chest. His nostrils flared, inhaling the black smoke and his eyes stung because the hazy film contaminating the air around him. Yet, the smile remained in the same bold fashion.
This was it.
"—Charles, take the watch…its finished. You're…going to need it."
"No, Dad! Come on, stay with me, you're going to be fine. Just…hold on."
"Son, listen to me: people are counting on you. They need you, need you to pull through for them…I can't be that person anymore."
"Dad…don't go, don't leave me again."
"You're sister needs you. Sarah needs you. Your family, friends, your country, they need you. You're aces, Charles. Now don't let them down."
"Dad…Dad? Dad!"
"Won't let you down," he echoed his father's dying words—his swan song.
A flash suddenly enveloped his senses. It sent an electric charge to every never-ending in his body. It was a suspension of the pain, guilt…betrayal. All he felt was the domination, the supremacy, the control of the Intersect. It was no longer a separate entity. They were fused: one.
The corner of his lip curved into a familiar—confident smirk. Then he made his dash towards a seemingly not expectant Shaw.
The CIA-turned-Ring agent saw the ambush with great foresight. Before Chuck could throw the first punch, Shaw made a startling jump upward. Now airborne, Chuck let the Intersect calculate an audible; instructed him down to the floor. He slid across the length of the store and sprang up to his feet, successfully evading out of any harm.
Shaw landed just as gracefully a few feet from where he stood. But his back was turned with shoulders squared up; the gun still in his hand, unused at the present. Chuck observed this with great caution. He used his discretion when tucking his weapon back in his pants. It left his both hands free, ready for combat.
"Not bad," Shaw said. He still had his back to Chuck, making him feel anxious for what was going to be his next move. "I can see you've been training since Paris, haven't you?"
Chuck's was short: "Trained enough to know i'll defeat you. Traitor…"
Shaw flinched. He glanced over his shoulder, dead eyes boring into Chuck's. Among all the fire and flames Chuck shivered. He must've struck a nerve. Even with the unpleasant look he was facing, he pressed on in a smooth deprecating tone. "Your wife must be turning in her grave right now. To see what you've become…killing innocent people—"
"Nobody's innocent!" Shaw spat in his own defense.
"—betraying your country," he continued on. "Just so you could devise some petty scheme you think will bring Eve back."
"Don't you dare pretend to know what I've gone through, what I've sacrificed! You can never…."
Chuck inched closer. He licked his weathered lips when the smog became worse. He coughed, "I do understand. You lost somebody you loved. She was taken from you and for some reason, you can't get past that sometimes…bad things happen to good people. But Shaw, you're forgetting one thing."
Shaw was back at refusing to make eye contact. He stared right ahead of him. The rows of television screens that were displaying Jeffster's first music video--a rendition of Bon Jovi's Blaze of Glory--began to short-circuit. Lights popped and electrical wires danced from the ceiling and the walls like little black snakes. In an instant, the Home Theater room was blasted out of existence. Chuck swallowed thickly. The place was falling apart. It'd only be a matter of time before…
"What's that, Chuck?"
Chuck pulled his eyes away from the chaos. He said, "You're not a good person. Not anymore…"
Ash was falling from the ventilation system, covering the floor in a blanket of debris.
"Really, what gave you that idea?"
Sarcasm dripped from every word. Chuck paid no heed. He was right behind him. A smile crept into his otherwise serious expression…
"Well, for one thing. You've tried to kill my girlfriend…twice. And you managed to kill one of the most important people in my life."
Shaw chuckled under his breath. "That lunatic? He meant that much to you? Oh, Chuck. I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I much rather would have killed Sarah instead of your dead-beat father."
"Sadly, you won't get the chance."
Chuck snaked his arm around Shaw's neck, his forearm applying great amounts of pressure to his windpipe. A foot was placed securely between both of Shaw's legs; summoned all his strength facilitated by the flash and flipped him onto his back. Shaw groaned, staggered to his feet but Chuck prevented this. He grabbed him roughly by the throat and all five fingers dug into charred flesh, squeezing with no intention of letting go.
He thrust Shaw upward. Shaw flailed his arms around in desperation. He was met with a furious, almost murderous glare that he never thought Chuck Bartowski was capable of. In this distress, the Ring's Intersect was activated. The flash passed through Shaw's eyes, and while granting him an advantage in the fight, it was coupled with seconds of disorientation and a pounding migraine. Shaw managed to push Chuck away and quickly kneed him in the gut. Chuck balked, taking a startling step backwards. He was holding his stomach and gasping for air.
He left Chuck no time to recover. He charged the younger man and took him by the scruff of his neck only to repeatedly punch him in the gut until he was sure he heard the sound of ribs cracking. Shaw then took Chuck by the hem of his white shirt and dragged him down to the ground. The back of his skull collided with the hard surface and Chuck groaned, seeing stars. He could taste blood on his tongue. And it was all he could do to ignore the cruel laughter that came from Shaw. It sounded dark, maniacal…crazy.
He lost it. He completely lost it. Chuck squeezed his eyes shut until the epiphany struck. The Intersect, it's driving him insane. He can't handle it….doesn't have the Governor to regulate his brain from overheating. He's going to… His vision began to return gradually. He suddenly found his second berth. He's going to die.
"Chuck, I'm disappointed in you. I thought this was going to be a better fight." Shaw teased and his footsteps became louder as he approached. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for another onslaught of pain. "I mean, you're the Intersect—or the original at least. This should've been a piece of cake." Chuck felt a sharp pain attack his right hand. All his fingers practically crumbled into dust. His eyes popped open and he saw a foot planted squarely over his hand. He howled.
"But maybe you're just not as special as everyone makes you out to be. I for one was expecting a lot more out of you. Hopefully Sarah puts up a better fight; you know what they say, right? Third time's a charm."
Chuck's breathing stopped. He suddenly became consumed with irrevocable rage. But that was just what Shaw wanted, wasn't it? To mess with his emotions. Chuck wouldn't let him have that satisfaction. No, he'd not get one inch. He was going to fight tooth and nail, tear Daniel Shaw apart from the inside out.
The heel of the boot dug further into his broken hand and then Chuck gave Shaw an inch: he screamed. Crouching down to one knee, Shaw looked at him with an unsympathetic gaze. There was no guilt lurking in either iris. They were black as coal, and blank…just eerily blank.
"Have any last words, Chuck?"
Chuck gnashed his teeth together. If he was going to do this, it needed to be perfect.
"Well, do you?"
His eyes skimmed the fiery remains of the Buy More. He sighed inwardly.
Talk about going out in a blaze of glory…Oh the irony of that statement.
The gun was pressed into his back. An uninjured hand was fidgeting to possess it. Chuck let his fingers creep out of Shaw's line of sight as they inched for the concealed weapon. All the while, he kept his bleary gaze fixed on Shaw himself. He stared soundlessly and then burst into laughter.
Shaw craned his neck, clearly perplexed. He inquired, "Why are you laughing?"
Chuck internally rejoiced that Daniel Shaw much too boring of an individual to know any film references. He was no movie buff, or a nerd for that matter. Thank god for that. He was just a stallion lacking personality. Thank you, Bruce Willis. He smiled faintly.
Chuck lifted his torso and with a broken hand, took Shaw by the nape of the neck. He brought his mouth close to the older spy's ear, felt his hand grip the cool metal and he whispered: "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker."
The burst of gunfire had Shaw propelled backwards, falling flat on his backside as blood splattered like paint on the floor. Shaw's hands snapped immediately to the site of the wound, trying to stop the inevitable draining of his body. He whined pitifully.
Chuck crawled to his feet. The gun was in his hand, the barrel directed at Shaw's head. He circled the Ring spy, wincing as his injuries began to take its toll. Shaw was panting heavily. He looked up to Chuck, following him with wet eyes.
He said, "You know you're going to die too. This place is going down in flames."
Chuck cocked the chamber back and nodded, "I know."
"And you're ok with that?"
"If it makes it so that no one ever has to feel like their lives are being threatened, then yes, I'm ok with it."
"Sarah must be overjoyed that she was able to turn you into some great martyr," Shaw commented drily.
"After everything is said and done, Sarah will never forgive me for doing this." Chuck said honestly. "But, you can see, with your uncanny ability to resurect yourself that I have to put an end to this. I'm just being…cautious...professional."
Shaw rested his head uselessly on the floor. He stared at the ceiling and his eyes glazed over in paused and then, "I wish things could've turned out differently."
"I know," Chuck replied, "Me too."
You have no idea.
"You're a good spy, Chuck."
Chuck frowned bitterly. He thought of his father. He didn't think he was much of a spy. If he was, he could've done something--anything to save his life.
But he said anyway,"Thank you."
"I hope you realize that I had done all of this for Eve, my wife. I never wanted to—"
Chuck cut him off, "What you did was despicable and you'll never be forgiven for that."
"You're right…" Shaw admitted with a sigh. He winced in pain. "God…my head, hurts…"
I should put him out of his misery. Chuck knew what Shaw was experiencing, and it wasn't pleasant. He could imagine what was becoming of Shaw's brain. It was deteriorating, wasting away. The image of Shaw's brain melting came straight out of Raiders of the Lost Ark.
"I think I can help you with that, Shaw." He said quietly.
Shaw closed his eyes. "Chuck, just get this over with. Kill me…for real this time."
He was planning on it. Chuck's features turned grim when he made his final approach to Shaw. The Buy More was crashing down and yet another cataclysmic explosion came and went. Chuck widened his stance and, he too closed his eyes.
"Know that I'm not doing this out of revenge, Shaw." Chuck explained somberly. A twinge of guilt stabbed him for the half-truth. He shrugged it off and resumed, "I'm doing this for Sarah, Ellie, Morgan, Casey, Devon, and my Dad: my family."
Shaw finally understood, but it was far too late. Chuck pulled the trigger. Amongst the destruction and chaos, the gunshot barely registered at all. He opened his eyes and glanced downward. Shaw was lying motionless on the floor, a red mark on his forehead. Chuck bit his lip until it bled. He held back the tears.
It's over.
There was a loud bang and then a large beam shook the frame of the store. It was jarred loose and it fell at the entrance, barring it shut. Chuck saw this and rolled his eyes, tears began to roll down his face.
It's really over.
He let the gun clatter to the floor. Then he simply sat down. He stared tiredly at the entrance. His vision was growing increasingly blurry. He coughed. Finally, he let his mind wander to that one day. That day that felt eons ago…
It was the day that changed everything. The day where he had met Sarah. The day where he had fallen in love.
It all began when she walked through those automatic doors. Only, they were not on fire.
"Stop the presses! Is that, Vicky Vale?"
"Vicky Vale, Vicky Vicky Vale. Vickity Vale, Vicky Vale. Vicky, Vicky Vale."
That was the beginning. It was only the beginning. It was the beginning of the end. But this was a good ending. He did the right thing. He saved them. He saved almost everyone.
Relief possessed Chuck –enormous exquisite relief.
At last it was over.
There was no more fear—no more stealing of his nerves.
He was alone in a burning building…
Alone with one dead body…
But what did that matter? She was alive.
Sarah…please understand why I had to do this.
He sat there—content—and at peace.
No more fear…
"You came back for me."
Chuck was so tired—terribly so. His limbs ached, his eyelids were drooping. Not to be afraid anymore…To sleep. Sleep….sleep….sleep. To sleep safely since he had first experienced those vivid nightmares.
He smiled to himself.
"I'll always come back for you."
"Chuck?"
It was so hot.
"Chuck!"
The voice was strangely familiar. He hesitated a moment, unsure whether to bring himself back from the brink of oblivion. Sure that he was only hearing things, he decided against it. He was really too tired…
"CHUCK!"
Begrudgingly he opened his eyes. Saw the brief outline of someone racing through the ruins of the Buy More. He squinted but it was rather useless. He cursed his mind for playing tricks on him, especially since he was so close to the light…
"Chuck, please say something!"
It was that annoyingly persistent voice again. It was her voice.
"You're not real…" He said with defeat.
Soft fingers caressed his face. He twitched and blinked in confusion.
"I am real," Sarah told him.
"That can't be," he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be dead."
"No, you're alive."
Chuck furrowed his brows. Still lost in disbelief, he said. "How can I be sure that—"
She cut him off with a searing kiss. It was hotter than the fire surrounding them. When they parted, Chuck gasped for breath. Sarah, with a few stray tears sliding down her ashen face, hoisted him up to his feet.
He panted wildly. "You know that light I saw? I'm pretty sure now that I was just intoxicated by the fumes. I mean, this whole place is on fire…literally on fire," his eyes widened in sudden terror. He moaned, "Oh my god, Sarah, we're in hell aren't we?"
Sarah was currently keeping Chuck upright as he continued to ramble incoherently. She touched him with a comforting hand and then said, "Chuck its ok. You can take it easy, you're safe. I got you…"
He felt his body being dragged across the length of the store. Embers were flying airborne, but somehow, Sarah was really doing it. She was saving him, again. When lucidity began to wane, he gave Sarah a few more lumbering steps toward the entrance. He could vaguely hear other voices from outside. Sarah was calling for help.
"Is it really over?" Chuck heard himself rasp. He was drained; consciousness was on borrowed time.
Chuck knew he had been rescued successfully when he felt the cool rush of air fill his lungs. It was an amazing feeling, so soothing, so cold. Strong arms placed him gently on the sidewalk. Everyone surrounded him, all conveying an expression of unadulterated awe.
Ellie was sobbing, in either joy or sadness; Devon holding her in his arms as she broke down. She was blaming herself for the entire thing. Chuck's heart clenched and he wanted to speak up, but couldn't find his voice.
Casey and Morgan were exchanging words—
"So, do you think he killed him for good?"
"Isn't it obvious? Bartowski did a job well done."
—Mostly about Daniel Shaw.
Alex McHugh, however, she was shocked into silence. Chuck heard the slight hitch of her breath as she fought for control. Her father, he came to her side, and oddly enough, enveloped her in a comforting embrace.
And Sarah, she was kneeling beside him. She was telling him over and over again how stupid he was; how much she loved him; and that, yes, yes she would marry him.
He peered through the veil of his lids and noticed the faint sparkle of a golden band nestled on her left hand. She had found it: his spy will. He wondered what her reaction had been like…
Even so, he asked. "Is it over?" He asked because he had trouble believing anything without the confirmation of absolution. Point proven with the truly deceased Daniel Shaw.
No one said a word. Chuck heard the fire rage on in the background. His stomach dropped. He closed his eyes for a final time that night.
Then, Sarah answered him: "For a little while, Chuck."
And she said nothing more because there were no words sufficient to reinforce it with.
Chuck gathered that "a little while" was the same thing as a break, which was something he desperately needed. They all needed a rest, didn't they?
"Let's get out of here," he heard Casey say after awhile. "We will deal with the repercussions later."
The corners of Chuck's lips turned upward in a relieved smile.
He was going home.
That's good enough for me, he thought.
And it was. So he slept undisturbed, for the entire ride back.
Fin
An: And that's it! What's the feedback? Good, bad, meh? Please let me know!
Again, R&R