A/N: First Chuck fic, and first fic I've written since forever. I hope you enjoy. This is Chuck post-Intersect, inspired by the latest episode wherein he emphasizes that one day he's going to get it out of his head to get his normal life back. Also inspired by these two little lines I chanced upon. This is kind of fluffy, methinks, I hope you like. I've not written much other than unemotional, scientific essays in about two years so this may be a little rough.
I hope you enjoy, and do review with your criticisms.
"I was waiting for the longest time, she said. I thought you forgot.
It is hard to forget, I said, when there is such an empty space when you are gone."
...
He had been waiting for at least three hours. The sun had set some time ago, casting citrus colored light with the odd shard of blue into the ocean. Where he was, was lonely. Human traffic strayed behind him, and Chuck was awarded with one of his most favorite views in the city kept pristine and untouched. Sounds of children giggling in the background, shrieks of playing teenagers, and the hum of silence of lovers filtered towards him. Lowering his head into his knees, Chuck closed his eyes and let the gurgling music of the rising tide wash over him.
To be honest, it felt like she wasn't coming. He was close to giving up, but she had promised. She had promised him that she would return on his birthday with tears in her eyes as they parted ways at LAX the year before. That day felt like decades ago; he remembered her face, of course, but while the image was still vivid as ever the quality it took now was like an old photograph kept in the depth of a pocket for too long.
Chuck felt a hundred years old; his heart ached constantly, and his mind dulled – few things made him laugh now. Ellie had tried fixing him up with women a month after Sarah left, at first, he let her, because he was too tired and sad to care. However, a few days before Christmas, when she had trailed him to his room after a long day, yammering on about how sweet Nicole the nurse was, Chuck had rolled his eyes and caught sight of a photo frame that was put face down, instead of upright, the way it had been when he left for work in the morning. He imploded with the anger of a hundred bulls. He had raged at Ellie for not respecting his items, for not respecting the memory of Sarah, for constantly meddling with his life, for making it just so damn hard to find peace in his life. He yelled about the women she had set him up with, how they were inadequate and hollow and could never possibly amount to anything for him. His sister was taken aback, and plastered her back against the wall as she watched with grief-stricken eyes as he punched his bed and then curled into a ball, smoothing out the dent in the sheets when he realized that was the last spot Sarah had occupied in his room, weeping.
She stayed until he calmed down, and pulled him up into a warm hug. "Okay, no more girls. Do you want to talk?"
"Not now, Ellie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream at you."
"It's alright, I'm sorry, too. I loved Sarah, I just hate that she left you so quickly, and never even checked in."
"Don't, Ellie, don't compare her to Jill. Sarah...she...she sacrificed a lot for me, you guys just didn't see it."
Ellie nodded, accepting that she was in no position to pass judgment over the beautiful blonde who had stolen her brother's heart away and disappeared to halfway across the country without even a phone call.
"I know what you're thinking. I can't talk about it, Elle. One day, I promise you I'll tell you everything, whatever I can. But Sarah's explained everything to me, and she's made some promises that I hope she sees through. Don't ask me anymore, please?"
"If you say so, little brother. Why don't we go downstairs, set up your XBOX, and I'll call Morgan, and we can all have a night of fun, huh?"
He wasn't really in the mood, but given the way he had mistreated his elder sister, and that she was willing to spend time with Morgan to cheer him up, he acquiesced, and stood up, rearranging the sheets, righting the photo frame, as Ellie left his room to get the phone. Chuck stared at the photo, on which Sarah's grin was wide and her golden hair glistened in the braid that fell against her Princess Leia outfit. She had wanted to make him happy that night, and it was by far one of the sweetest memories he had of her.
The Intersect had been removed from his head for over three months now, and so was the weight of the world. He thought its disappearance would return him the life he wanted to get back to, but all it left was an abyss of sinking solitude; never had he dreamt he would miss Casey's acerbic words and the death-defying missions with such magnitude. Sometimes, when all he could hear was his own voice moping like a lovesick puppy, Chuck even missed the numerous bugs that were all packed up and gone now. At least with the bugs, Casey or Sarah would hear his sorrows and empathize in their own unusual manners.
...
"Must you really leave me?"
"You know I have no choice, Chuck."
"Will I ever see you again?" Part of him was still sore that she hadn't left the CIA behind for him, the other part recognized that it was a hefty request to place with a girl who had never trusted anyone in her life.
"I hope so."
John Casey cleared his throat behind them. They ignored him, eyes melting into each other's. Casey grunted, and turned back, giving them a ten feet radius of privacy.
"Call me whenever you can?"
"Chuck..." her face contorted in misery, "I don't know if I can. I've been reassigned, and in deep cover missions I can't contact anyone from the outside world."
His face crumpled in sorrow, and he whispered lowly, "Did last night even mean anything to you?"
Gasping softly, Sarah cupped his face with clammy, tear-stained palms, and kissed him on the lips. "Of course it did. It meant the world to me. Everything."
"Please, stay?"
She grabbed him into a fierce hug and whispered into his ear, "I love you, Chuck Bartowski. I can't stay, but I promise you I'll come back."
"When?" He needed to know when he could start giving up hope, and work on forgetting Sarah Walker.
Her eyes flickered to Casey, who seemed to have a pained expression hidden in the depth of his eyes, "Nobody can know, Chuck, not even Ellie, promise me that. I'll come back on your birthday. I'll try my very best."
Her heart panged when he pushed her away, but his tiny smile soothed a small fraction of the pain to a dull throb. "You promise."
Nodding shyly, she all but begged him, "Please, Chuck, don't tell anyone. Not Ellie, not Casey, not Morgan. They can't know, or it'd compromise too many things and I want you to stay safe. Just be at the beach at night. I promise you I'll try my best."
Her heart sang, small traitorous bitch, when he tucked her hair behind her ears, a nervous gesture of affection, fingers brushing against skin. "I promise. I think I can keep a few secrets."
He smirked, she kissed it away, and for eight seconds the world disappeared and it was just them, their promises, and a glimpse of time together. For eight seconds they were just young lovers about to be separated by distance, expressing their love with a kiss.
"I have to go now." She mumbled to him, unnecessarily, as Casey clapped a hand over her shoulder and squeezed firmly but gently.
"I know."
They separated, and immediately he felt the loss as her warmth was replaced by the cool draught of the A/C vent they had been standing under. He watched, a little helplessly, as Casey shook Sarah's hand, and surprised them both with a hug. "It was a pleasure working with you, Agent Walker."
Sarah sniffled, but her lungs threw out a strangled laughter, "Likewise, Agent Casey. Will we ever meet again?"
"It'd be an honor."
Both men stood stiffly, Chuck more hunched than Casey was, as she waved, put on a brave smile, and walked towards her gate, towards D.C, and away from California and all its meaning.
"Come on, Bartowski," Casey grunted, "I'll take you out for some drinks."
Chuck let himself be dragged away from the airport gallery, not missing the tearful glance Sarah sent behind her shoulder, before disappearing into the departure hall.
....
Sarah Walker existed for another two days before she didn't, and Annalie Tarasova did. Annalie roamed the streets of Moscow dressed in sleek couture, 'accidentally' bumping into very important men who lived on cigarettes and vodka, and then letting them buy her drinks and run their sweaty palms along her thigh as courteous apologies. Fearing nothing, caring for nothing, Annalie was a skilled seductress who always completed her missions. In fact, she had thrown herself deep into accomplishing her goals and never made a mistake, that she was drenched in utter horror when almost a year into the assignment, her partner shot her in the back twice when she had expected him to cover her, and left her staggering for safety.
Annalie stumbled, her thick winter coat soaking up blood like a sponge, into the nearest cafe, filled with civilians. Frantic eyes surveying the crowd, she picked an elderly couple with kind eyes to collapse on, pleading with them in Russian to get her to a hospital. They didn't fail her, and the man dialed for an ambulance, while the woman kept her warm until the roar of an engine coupled with whines of a siren parted the crowded street towards them. Just before stumbling into the street, though, Annalie had speed-dialed the Director and requested with a heaving voice, in an American accent, that CIA keep track of her at the hospital.
Maybe it was Annalie who collapsed at the feet of two wizened strangers, but it was Sarah Walker who was carried up the ambulance on a gurney, and Sarah Walker whose last coherent thought, barely heard in the midst of the rough accents of Russian paramedics, was that she quite possibly wasn't going to make it home. Before passing out from blood loss, she was overwhelmed by the strength of the sadness grasping at her heart.
Surgery and a day later, Sarah Walker was transferred via air to a CIA military controlled hospital in Sachsen, Germany. She slept through the flight and awoke to see the Director in her room.
"Agent Walker, welcome back."
She frowned in confusion, tried to speak, but her throat was parched. The Director handed her a cup with a straw, waited until she had taken a few sips, and collected the cup away from her. "I'm sorry to hear that Agent Dixon had gone rogue. Your assignment has been aborted, and there is a search for Dixon. I assure you that he will be dealt with severely once he has been recovered."
"Thank you, sir." She croaked.
"Do you have any questions for me, Walker?"
"When can I return to the States?"
"Tomorrow morning. The doctors want to ensure that you aren't hypovolemic before sending you home. I'm aware I didn't give you much rest in between your assignment with the Intersect and this one, so I'm suggesting you take a two month break, to heal, see the Agency's psychiatrists for evaluation, before taking on new assignments."
Two months. Sarah processed that she was being benched, and the Agent within her protested in anguish. Still, two months was enough for her to see Chuck, spend time with him before deciding on her next move. Lucid enough to feign disgust at her temporary demotion, Sarah sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Don't worry, Agent Walker, I'm sure you'll be up and about in no time. Meanwhile, rest, go home and see your family, spend some of your savings, and report in D.C in two months." The Director patted her shoulder and chuckled, she was after all, one of the CIA's most prized field agents. He didn't want her burnt out and stale like soda left in the sun for too long.
"Thank you, sir." Sarah fought the urge to grin. It wasn't under the best circumstances, but she was going back to see Chuck, perhaps track down her father, and eat all the sandwiches 'worthy of bringing to a deserted island' she wanted. She was really getting sick of all that beef stroganoff and vodkas.
...
She watched him from the same spot she had four years ago, on the first day she had gotten to know him. His silhouette was the same, and his hair still curled deliciously at the nape of his neck. Sarah shivered in the cold, and felt silly for not bringing a sweater along. She had returned to US soil six days before Chuck's birthday, but had spent two trapped in a glass office in Langley with several psychiatrists who tried to dissect her emotional stability endlessly. The bullet holes in her back were still raw, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Stretching or bending still hurt, but Sarah didn't care as the fabric of her tops clung to her, scratching at the dressing as she drove her Porsche from Virginia to L.A. It was a long distance to drive, but it wouldn't be prudent to fly domestic, with the directorate keeping an eye on her, to California. At least with her car, she wouldn't be traced so easily. Quite frankly she didn't really care; vacation time was hardly mentioned in her line of work.
She reached the pier at ten p.m. on September 18th, and searched for him for ten minutes, the anticipation of the moment wrapping her in an intense fist of frenzy. She found him easily, spy senses didn't just disappear overnight, and her heart slammed against her ribcage with such vigor she thought she was going to faint. Chuck, whose memory she had shoved into the recesses of her mind while in Russia, was sitting on the sand in his thin windbreaker and old jeans. Should she run to him? Or walk calmly?
Sarah felt like her feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk as her eyes raked his form from head to toe, drinking everything in. Eventually, with a deep breath, she lifted her right foot and stepped forward, and then her left. Before she knew it, Sarah was flying towards him, ignoring the pain in her back, and crashing, with a happy sob, onto the sand next to him.
"Sarah?"
His voice, a little uncertain, tickled her pink. She was just so goddamned delighted to see him.
"Happy Birthday, Chuck." She smiled the smile she saved for him.
"Sarah!" Her name rolled off his tongue as a laughter and she found herself being enveloped in the most suffocating yet wonderful hug of her life.
"I'm sorry I took forever to get here. I was afraid you'd forget." She spoke into his ear, inhaling his scent and the salty sea spray, refusing to let him go. I was afraid you'd moved on.
Chuck, her wonderful Chuck, kissed her with such passion her toes tingled and said, "How could I? You left such an empty hole beside me, I could never forget."
"I love you."
Her simple declaration spoke of many things, and Chuck remembered the great lengths both of them had suffered through before she was capable of vocalize her feelings for him.
"How long do you have before you need to leave again?" He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness.
"Almost two months."
Sarah saw the joy on his face, and the confusion, so she tried to explain. "I got shot."
"What?! Where, when, how? Are you okay?"
Placing a finger on his lips to shush him, she grinned, "I'm okay. I got benched for two months, and I'm going to spend it all with you. I'll give you the details later."
He smoothed the goose bumps on her arm with his fingers, "You lost your tan."
"Had to blend in, I was in Russia." The tide had risen, and waves crashed against the shoreline, foamy fingers extending up and shining in the moonlight. Sarah felt like there was likely nothing in the world quite as poignant as this moment, so she cuddled into him and sighed contentedly. "How are things with you?"
"I missed you. A lot. Ellie and Devon are attendings at the hospital now, and she's seven months pregnant. Morgan and Anna are still dating, and there may be wedding bells in the near future, if he would stop chickening out. I've left the BuyMore; left once Casey got recalled by the NSA. Still have the jacket though, and another piece of that shirt you stole from me," he stroked her hair and basked in her presence, "I'm working in a software company now, doing security encryption and designing software. It's a definite upgrade from the NerdHerd but kind of boring, without crazy people and government agents trolling my life," he nudged her playfully, "I am working on my own game projects on the sideline. Hopefully I'll be done by Easter and sell it to a company who will buy it."
"I'm proud of you, Chuck. I missed you, too."
"Hey, you wanna come and see everyone again?"
Sarah played with the fabric of his jeans as she pondered his questions. So much had changed, and she doubted she would be accepted by his family again. "Doesn't Ellie hate me? I don't want to cause any conflict."
"Come on, don't worry, things are fine. I promised her I'll explain the complexity of our relationship one day, and explicitly told her she had nothing to hate you for."
"I really don't think I can handle any rejection today." She stated, honestly.
"Trust me." He replied and got up, stretching out his hand.
Pausing to collect her thoughts, some of which had shuffled out of her brain, she gripped his hand, still exactly the same, and pulled herself up, clasping her fingers between his, "Always."
"I promise to protect you against any drama that may arise with your return."
"Okay."
...
Ellie had frowned, her eyebrows doing gymnastics as she took in the sight of her brother's ex-girlfriend (or were they still together?) at her doorstep. The blonde looked paler than she remembered her to be, and frankly looked like she had walked halfway across the world. "You're back."
She watched as Sarah shared a look with Chuck, who reassured her with a smile, "Yes, for a while."
"A while? You're going to leave again and he will be stewing in his misery and disappearing from his own birthday party?" She couldn't help sounding irate.
Chuck stepped in to intervene, "Ellie, I'm happy. And none of this was Sarah's fault."
"Not her fault? Then whose?"
"Bryce Larkin." He mumbled.
"You're blaming Stanford for Sarah leaving?"
The two shared another look, piquing her curiosity. "Well, kinda. Anyway, please, don't be mad at her. She misses you and you've missed her being around. Can you be nice for me? She's staying with me until she needs to go back."
"Okay. Fine. But only because I love you, Chuck, and I've missed you, Sarah."
She was then enveloped into a hug and found a pile of blonde hair in her face. Ellie chuckled, as Sarah cooed at her very pregnant belly and thanked her for her acceptance. If her brother was complete, then she could be happy for him, even if she didn't understand a thing.
...
Warm and blurry. Chuck felt decidedly warm and blurry, whatever that meant, he mused to himself. For the first time in a long time, he didn't wake up to that infernal music of the radio station his alarm clock was set on. He didn't feel downtrodden, although his head was pounding loudly, like his heart had suddenly taken residence within his skull. Grumbling, he turned and pulled a pillow above his head. Unfortunately, his bed had for some apparent reason became a hundred times harder, and squealed in anger.
"Ow!" Chuck screamed as he was flipped unceremoniously, his head sinking into his pillow, a crushing weight above him. When the stars cleared, he saw a mop of golden hair shrouding a very quaint vision of the woman he loved deeply.
"You still scream like a little girl." She stated, pinning him down, wrists above his head.
"I'm sorry! We drank so much yesterday I forgot you were here and hit my head, which hurts, by the way."
"You bumped my head! And what do you mean you forgot I was here?" She hissed.
"I have early onset Alzheimer's." He joked.
"Nice try."
Realizing she had set his hands free, he reached out to caress her face. She smiled, and his world grew two degrees warmer. "You got me, what can I do to make you forgive me?"
They shared a heated kiss, and then she whispered into his ear with a throaty voice that made his toes curl, "You've been a bad, bad, boy and you need to start apologizing now."
Chuck grinned, rolled her over, and then the feel of her skin replaced the heavy alcohol induced cloud that had been stuffed into his brain like dull clumps of cotton wool. Placing kisses down her neck and raveling in the tangles of her giggles, he mumbled against her clavicle, "I'm sorry, Agent Walker. So, so, sorry. I hope you're pleased with my sincere apology."
…
Two months later, Sarah Walker walked into the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, black stiletto heels clicking against the marbled floors. Eyes had stared, some obviously, others from behind paperwork, as she made her way through the maze of passages to one of the most important rooms in the wing. She waited demurely outside the Director's office, adjusting her navy blue suit which Chuck said brought out the color of her eyes, sat on the wooden bench with one leg folded over the other, studying the new secretary and glancing at portraits of the past hanging on the wall.
"The Director will see you now, Agent Walker."
She smiled at the secretary and stood up, poised herself for what came next, knocked on the mahogany door and entered.
"Good to see you again, Walker."
"You too, sir."
"How was your rest?"
"Good, sir."
"I'll have your new file ready in two hours, if you don't mind waiting."
"Not at all, sir. I quit."
There was a deafening silence that ricocheted off the ugly green wall-paper and bounced to her feet.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I quit, sir. I'm tired and I don't want to deal with any more partners who go rogue."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Well, there are a few others, but my heart is not in it for deep-cover operations anymore."
"You are aware you are the best operative I have, Walker."
"Thank you, sir, and I appreciate your opinion. However, flattery won't work now because I really don't want to do this any longer."
She steeled herself for angry yelling, or even objects being thrown in her direction.
Neither came.
"Very well. It seems I cannot convince you. Agent Walker, will you be happier, if you were stationed in L.A?" A trained agent, Sarah could detect the veiled threat in the Director's words.
"How so, sir?" It seemed the Director knew of her whereabouts for the past two months.
He smiled at her, albeit a little dangerously, "I know you better than you think I do, Sarah Walker. The CIA will not be happy to lose the best Agent it has to a dream of cul-de-sacs and pet dogs. However, the Agency is willing to relocate you as a strategist in our L.A. base."
"Strategist?" She recognized that if she didn't accept the job, it was highly possible that she meet with a manufactured accident a few weeks later, courtesy of the classified information she knew.
"I am aware of your brilliant mind, and your loyalty to the country. If you can assure me that you will not turn Fulcrum, or go rogue and corrupt, I will send you to L.A, reorganize your cover, and you can do clandestine planning and groom young agents, in the comfort of your own office. Occasionally, I may need you to do some field work. Are you willing to accept that?"
Sarah was beyond pleased, the hidden or else didn't even faze her. "Yes, sir. I can assure you of my loyalty to the CIA."
"Well, that's that, then. I assume Mr. Bartowski is in D.C?"
She tried not to blush, "Yes."
"I may not turn up, but I hope you will send me an invitation to the wedding."
"But we're not..."
"In the future, Walker, in the future."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll gather the details you need by tomorrow, you can drop by to pick it up."
"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."
Sarah skirted out of the office, excitement coursing through her bones. It was settled; she had a significantly less dangerous job, with most of the CIA perks still applying. She was stoked, and as she walked out of the headquarter building into the parking lots where Chuck was waiting in her Porshe, Sarah paused to admire the blue November sky.
"How did it go?" Chuck asked once she got into the car.
She sighed dreamily, "Fantastic."
"Aren't you sad you had to leave the CIA? I mean, it's been your only job."
"I'm not leaving," she looked at him with giddiness in her eyes. Kissing him to get rid of the dejected look that had pooled in his brown orbs, she screamed in uncontained excitement about her new job prospects and the Director's demand for a wedding invitation. "Aren't you glad, Chuck? Aren't you?"
He got out of the Porshe; she was shocked to the core and deeply hurt that he wasn't happy for her. Then, he opened the door, pulled her out by the arm and started hopping around in glee. His enthusiasm was contagious and Sarah, who was always well behaved anywhere near Langley, was soon dancing a silly jig with him in the parking lot of the CIA headquarters. She didn't care that guards were staring at them like they were two lunatics freshly delivered from the psych ward, or that distinguised CIA members who had just left their cars were watching.
As they zoomed away from Langley to the places she wanted to share with him, Sarah thought her heart was finally at peace with itself, and that upon finding true love, the world seemed to shine with more luster, and even the broken twigs lying of the floor, that were victims of fast approaching winter, had more life in them that she had ever noticed before. The future still held uncertainties of an unquantifiable nature, and although Ellie had accepted her back into her family, there were still issues to settle, truths to tell, lies to set straight. Leaning into her seat as Chuck drove, Sarah allowed herself to be content. It was a beautiful closure of a thick chapter of her life, and she was looking forward to writing the next, however strange it may be.
A/N: P.S, I think Sarah would use an excessive amount of 'sir's when talking to her boss/superiors because she's trained to lose all personality and defiance in their presence.
Read and Review, thanks. (: