Disclaimer: I don't own "Chuck."
A/N: I saw Les Mis tonight (last night?), and I absolutely adore the song/scene "A Little Fall of Rain." So this is just my brain taking that and running with it. You need no prior knowledge of the song, but if you do know what it's about, rest assured that Chuck is no Marius (because seriously, he's pretty much a 19th-century jerk, isn't he? Lol).
The Who Are You? Challenge is still going on, so be sure to check that out.
Happy belated Halloween? :P
This is unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine!
Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius
I don't feel any pain
A little fall of rain
Can hardly hurt me now
You're here, that's all I need to know
And you will keep me safe
And you will keep me close
And rain will make the flowers grow . . .
It's raining when she's shot. Not thunder-and-lightning storming, but just a light, steady drizzle. The kind that soaks into your bones and sends a chill through your veins if you stay out in it too long.
"Sarah!"
His shout cuts through the air as almost as swiftly as the pain cuts through her body. One minute she's standing, gun at the ready, senses alert. The next she's on the ground, and hot, red liquid is gushing from her side. The pavement under her hands is wet, so wet she can't tell whether it's from the rain or from her blood. And she doesn't want to look.
"Chuck."
Her voice is thin, weak, but he's at her side in a moment, kneeling down and scooping her into his arms.
"Sarah," he gasps as he cradles her face. "Sarah, are you all right?"
She looks at up, gazes into that adorably caring face she's come to know so well. His hair is plastered against his forehead by the rain, his lower lip cut up and bleeding. But his eyes hold such overpowering warmth . . .
His face crumples as he tries to hold back the tears. She reaches up a hand to brush back a curl.
"Don't worry, Chuck," she whispers, her hand falling away.
He swallows. "How can I not? You're . . . you've been . . ." He grimaces as he trails off, unable to say the words.
"No," she shakes her head. With a sad smile, she tells him, "Nothing can hurt me. Not now that you're here." Because here, in his arms, the pain dissolves, fades away like all that matters in the world is staring her in the face.
He looks up and around frantically and shouts, "Casey! Casey, where are you? I need some help over here!"
The rain falls steadily around them, beating out an unrelenting rhythm in her brain.
"Keep me safe, Chuck?" she asks, lifting her hands to his chest. His heart beats vibrantly beneath her fingers, and his shirt, once white, is now stained red with her blood. He feels so warm compared to the icy air and wind.
Nodding, he pulls her closer, holds her tighter so she can't see the fear in his eyes.
"Hey," she murmurs, but her strength's quickly fading. All she can bring herself to care about is being in his arms, and the way the rain feels as it falls gently on her face, like a blessing she never deserved.
"Hey, hey, hey," he cautions quietly. "Stay with me, Sarah. Stay with me." He glances up again and says, "Casey's coming. Help will be here soon."
He presses his forehead to hers and whispers mild ministrations, but she doesn't hear, and she can no longer tell whether the drops dampening her cheek are rain or tears.
His name slips once more from her lips as she slips from consciousness.
It's dark when she wakes up.
The hospital room is dim and warm, and she opens her eyes to find blankets wrapped around her and nighttime shining through the window. Raindrops patter melodiously against the window pane. She's groggy and sore, and the pain hasn't completely subsided, but she's alive.
"Hey."
She looks over to see Chuck sitting in cramped hospital chair, looking as if he hasn't slept in days. His hair's rumpled, and his clothes are wrinkled and blood-stained.
"Hey," she answers softly, a smile gracing her lips.
She scoots over in bed and pats the mattress beside her. He takes the hint readily, climbing on top of the sheets beside her. She curls into him as he stretches out and drapes an arm across her stomach. She takes a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He trails his fingers languidly through her long blonde hair.
"I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs.
Eyes closed, she lays her head against his chest. "You'll never lose me," she whispers back. "Will you be here when I wake up?"
"I'll be here forever," he replies softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Whenever you need me."
"I need you," Sarah sighs contentedly, already drifting off to sleep, without a fear in her heart. Because in Chuck's arms, she's come home.
Outside, the rain continues to fall, continues to pound its steady rhythm against the window. Beneath the casement, a tiny, vividly orange flower, nourished by the droplets, pokes its way through the soil in anticipation of spring. But inside hospital room 332, Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker sleep peacefully in each others' embrace, the picture of tranquility.