Reconciling Sarah and Sam
by MySoapBox
She lie awake watching the rays of the afternoon sun move across the hotel room floor. She doesn't know if it's the after effects of the toxin or just jet lag, but she can't sleep. Events of the past day keep racing around and around in her brain. Chuck snores softly beside her, one of his arms draped protectively over her stomach. He had stayed up all night watching over her, and now, even in sleep he's still protecting her.
She tries to concentrate on the way he feels, his body pressed up against hers. She should be enjoying this moment, instead of lying here replaying the same thoughts over and over. She makes a frustrated huff, and gently lifts Chuck's arm away.
"Whu?" she hears Chuck mumble. "Sarah?"
"Shh, it's okay. I just need some air."
"I'll come wi' you," he says, but his body doesn't move.
She slides out of the bed and gently kisses his forehead. "I won't be long," she whispers, though she knows he doesn't hear.
Sarah nods and smiles at the doorman as she exits the hotel. Usually cognizant of her appearance, she cares little now. Her hair is tight in a pony tail; one of Chuck's t-shirts hangs to her thighs. Evening is beginning to fall and the tall buildings lining the narrow way have cast the street into shadow. Sarah shivers, but decides not to go back for a jacket. The street traffic is light and for that at least, Sarah is grateful.
She starts walking in long determined strides, putting more and more space between herself and the curly headed Nerd-Herder-turned-spy she has fallen in love with. She can't let go of the fact that he had to kill for her less than a day ago. The images of blood blossoming on Shaw's chest, of the smoking gun in Chuck's hand, march mercilessly before her. She quickens her pace.
She turns a corner and she sees a place she recognizes: Parc de Berc. It's one of several patches of green in the hardscape of Paris. As she walks toward the oasis, the truth, that it was her own weakness that forced Chuck into killing Shaw, eats at her very core. If only she hadn't let Shaw dominate her, if only she had been paying better attention, if only she had listened to Chuck, if only she had been a better spy, if only….
She reaches the park, a winding sidewalk stretches out before her, and she's running now. When she was fresh out of the academy she was a good spy; one of the best, even. But since she met Chuck, Sarah Walker the spy had been deconstructing from the inside out. The Agent had always pushed him away, always kept him at arm's length, but Sam, the girl she once was, the girl that she imprisoned inside, had always taken comfort in his affection. The more time they spent together, the more the Sam in her had tried to break free; working just as hard on the walls of Sarah's resolve from the inside, as Chuck had from the outside.
And then Barstow happened.
And then Prague.
She pushes back a strand of hair that had fallen from her pony tail and she keeps running. Prague - that was the wake-up call that made her frantically try to rebuild Sarah Walker. Shaw was part of that. He was the kind of man Sarah Walker dated. But she had found it impossible to reconstruct Sarah while she watched Chuck deconstruct into a spy right before her eyes, causing Sarah and Sam to blur into an unstable mishmash, the worst of them both.
Her pace doesn't slow but she keeps running when her path ahead becomes a long set of cement stairs. The ache in her shoulder and wrist reminds her again of last night on the bridge. How could she have read Shaw so wrong? Now looking back she recognizes the signs, but in the moment she had convinced herself that everything was fine. Sarah shakes her head. The spy in her should have seen the danger; the woman in her should have felt something when he died.
As she runs, step after step, she thinks of Chuck sleeping quietly in her bed. He is a man of paradoxes. She didn't think it was possible, but somehow he had found a way to be both man and spy. He had managed to get the missions done while still keeping his humanness. He had been able to do the bad parts of the job, but never feel comfortable. He had opened his heart and loved the one person she thought was most unworthy of his love. Her heart warms as she thinks of him.
She reaches the top of the stairs, panting, her calves burning. She looks back for a moment and allows herself one last glimpse of the leafless trees and worn lawns behind her. The skyline of Paris is so familiar, yet held no warmth. She had lived here, but it had never been home. She turns her back on the view. The pathway in front of her continues on and so does she.
As she runs, the path turns towards a reflection pond, surrounded by white washed archways. The last rays of the setting sun warm Sarah's face. She slows and stops. There is a reverence in this place that she respects. As she walks, her breath starts to come more slowly. Hands on her hips, she catches sight of her reflection in the still water.
Who am I now? she wonders. She tries to imagine what she wants to be: both lover and spy, both soft and strong, both Sarah and Sam.
She must be Sarah: Strong and confident in her work so that she can protect herself and the people she loves. Chuck, but not only him, Casey too, and Devon and Ellie, and yes, even Morgan.
She must be Sam: Soft and open so that she can build on the new relationship with Chuck. This is the hard part. But then, she had never loved anyone as much as she loves him. He had proven time and time again that he was a man that she could trust both with her heart and with her life.
She leans over and draws her finger through the water. Her reflection breaks into a thousand points of light and shadow. As she watches her image fall apart and then reassemble, in one thing she is determined: She doesn't know how to become all that she wants to be, but somehow she will reconcile Sarah and Sam.