A/N: This is a combination of the earlier two chapters, considering the fact that they originally belonged together anyway.
DEPRESSION
I stumbled forward, inching closer towards her with each step. She had been tortured before, I figured. But that didn't lessen my reaction to seeing her broken body—stripped of her clothes and hung up like cattle—in the slightest. Bruises and cuts varying in depth and severity were all over her body and her face was caked with dried up blood. But her chest was rising and falling. It all hit me at once, and I rushed towards her, unhooked her from the wall and cradled her while softly sobbing. Whether it was from relief or anguish, I couldn't tell.
I held her tight to me, rocked back and forth and whispered, "You're okay now, nothing will hurt you anymore, I love you," kept on whispering even when Casey put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed once. His version of showing he actually did care for his partners. In the back of my mind, a voice told me that they weren't allowed to see handler and asset so compromised. I didn't care. Casey already knew, anyway. There was not a chance in hell that I was going to waste another second of our precarious lives where she wasn't going to know how I felt, each and every day.
My sobs eventually died down, I couldn't tell how much time had passed. And when I looked down at the most precious bundle I've ever held, a pair of blue eyes was looking back up at me. "I didn't talk," she whispered, her voice ragged. "I didn't talk." I could see the tears that she was trying to keep at bay, pooling up in the corners. I softly thumbed her cheek, letting her know it was okay and that if she wanted to cry, she was more than allowed to. She burrowed her head against my chest and did, all the while keeping up her mantra of assuring me she didn't talk. Casey walked up, but I looked at him while softly stroking her naked back and minutely shook my head once. He got the message and backed off.
"What happened to him?" I asked as he retreated, my voice hoarse while not knowing whether it was due to the fact that I hadn't uttered a word for the past hour except for the sudden shout, or because my throat was parched from crying myself.
"It's been taken care of," he replied and that was all I needed to know.
"Good," I said, before pressing a kiss into the crown of her hair. He left me to it, as Sarah's sobs and small squeaks of pain and anguish continued to cut through the otherwise silent room, every sniffle a reminder of what I failed to protect... of what we all failed to protect. Of the things that we took for granted. And I promised to myself that if I ever heard General Beckman utter the words 'occupational hazard' in relation to the events that had transpired these past few days, I would personally put a bullet between her eyes. I figured she wouldn't though. For the first time since I'd known her, she had acted like a human being.
Between sobs Sarah managed to tell me what happened. How those barbaric people had treated the most amazing woman I'd ever known. They'd beaten her, demeaned her and violated her. And how she never talked. They had reduced the strongest woman I'd ever known into a shell of a human being. I felt my stomach lurch and my heart break when I heard about what she had to endure. And I realized how blind I truly was, how blind I had been. How everything that was bad in the world had always been partially shielded from me by both her and Casey. I thought I had seen the depravity of mankind, but it wasn't until I looked down on those big blue eyes, that beautiful face with bruises all over, the unshed tears fresh in her eyes that it truly hit me. And as the tears prickled in my own, as I fought to keep a brave face to not let her see how her pain affected me, she continued with a little voice about the hell that she was thrust in.
She managed to tell me that the only thing that had kept her going was thinking of me, how I was the only reason she was still alive and somewhat sane, and in response I clutched her tighter. She told me she loved me and I let her speak, I didn't offer anything in return. She didn't want me to, anyway.
It seemed as if the tears had simply dried up as she softly admitted to reaching her climax while they did unspeakable things to her. Her eyes fell down to the ground, her body so small and tucked in on itself that if someone were to walk in, they'd never be able to tell that they were dealing with a strong independent woman. I put my fingers under her chin and lifted it, her eyes locking with mine. And that's when I saw that her eyes, which used to beam with hope, now only stared in remorse.
"It's okay," I whispered. "It's okay, Sarah. You don't have to be ashamed of that. It's not your fault. Nothing's your fault." I pulled her closer, afraid to let go, and I looked past her, to the room where she was held. The horrible smell assaulted my nose once more and I had to make a conscious effort not to gag.
When she had said everything she wanted to say, and spilled the tears that she had allowed herself to spill, I told her we were done. We would resign in the morning, I didn't care whether I was the Intersect and she, one of the finest agents the Intelligence community had ever seen. We were done, and that was final. I'd still do the dailies and flash on Intel, but we weren't going into the field anymore. My time would be devoted to her and making sure she got over this, getting as much support from me as I could possibly give. She managed a small nod, before I lifted her up and carried her to the SUV. The cleanup crew gave me sympathetic looks, but I ignored them, my attention wholly focused on Sarah. I reached the SUV and gently sat her down before I gave her the backpack, and closed the door so she had time to dress herself. After five minutes, I opened the door and sat down myself, seeing her dressed in a t-shirt, some pants and my Buy More jacket. She immediately lunged for me again, and when her head found my chest, I felt fresh tears soak into my t-shirt.
I did the only thing I could. I whispered reassuring words to her and promised myself that no one would ever in their entire life be allowed to harm her again.
The drive back was torturous for me. I just wanted to put her into a bed and give her some much needed rest, but time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Every bump caused a little hitch in her breathing and a small whimper and I felt my blood boil. I wanted to lash out at someone, make them feel the same pain that they had put her through but I couldn't. At least I knew that with Casey in charge of the men who did this, they would meet their fate soon enough, but not until enough pain had been inflicted. To me though, it wouldn't ever stop being enough. They deserved every bit of torture that Casey was going to inflict on them.
My own thoughts disturbed me and I had to shake myself out of the destructive pattern that it was following. I usually wasn't this vengeful, but as I looked upon her hair, her face still buried in my shirt, I couldn't help but wonder what I would do if I was allowed even five minutes with them. Idly, I wondered whether I would be even more vengeful if it involved my own family, but I realized that even if she hadn't thought of me like that before—although with her declaration from an hour ago, and the napkin from at the bar, I was pretty sure it was a moot point anyway—I had always thought of Sarah as family. If not as my girlfriend, or at least the times where I pretended she could be my girlfriend, at least as my confidant.
"What's the matter?" an impossibly small voice asked me and I shook my head.
"I just... I just want to hurt them, Sarah. I want to kill them for what they've done to you."
She didn't know how to respond to that, and truth be told, I didn't know what I was going to add to that either. All I knew was that I meant every last word.
We reached the hospital and I carried her out, through the doors of the white, imposing building. I walked up to the desk and waited. Eventually, a woman in her mid thirties strode out, took one look at me and rushed to the desk. "What can I do for you, sir?" she asked, her voice sounding practiced, but her eyes betraying her readiness, ready to make whatever call was necessary.
"She's been tortured," was all I said. "And whatever you do, do not get a male doctor. Trust me on that."
She immediately rushed to page a doctor and started pulling up admission forms and all other kinds of forms. "I'll take care of those later," I told her, my voice hardened. Not just for myself, but for Sarah too. "Just get her in a room and take care of her... please?" My voice lost its edge as I almost begged her to make sure Sarah was alright. She nodded and set to work.
I never strayed from her bedside as she lay there, her entire body covered in gauze. The wounds had been tended to and the doctor had given me a few dirty looks. I thought that they had called the police at one point, but an equally fast phone call from me to General Beckman made sure we were undisturbed. She also told the police to back off the investigation. The government of the United States would take care of that.
Sarah spent the night in the hospital. The doctors had started her on an IV to counteract any possible infections and even though I hated needles with a passion, I swallowed my distaste so I could hold her hand. After the phone call from the General had cleared the air, the staff began to treat me better. They even offered me a cot in which I could sleep, which I graciously accepted. When Sarah woke up, she seemed to be in pain, but didn't say a word. And when the doctors checked her wounds and said that she was fit to go, I helped her get dressed, while shielding my eyes as much as possible. Because even though I had plenty of guilty moments where I drew in the unknown myself and I was dying to know, her comfort still trumped any of my desires.
She sat down in the wheelchair and scowled at me. I smiled. "Hospital rules. Nothing we can do about it." A tiny smile, laced with sadness, covered her face. I stroked her cheek, before pushing her to the black SUV that was waiting for us outside. I helped her in the car, and the driver took the wheelchair back as I clambered in behind her. And, like before, the moment I had buckled my seatbelt, she slid next to me and grasped my arm. I loosened her hold on me, but before she could display any emotions of hurt or rejection, I drew my arm across her, and drew her closer. She sighed and my fingers lazily raked through her tresses and I lost track of time, my entire being filled with her and her every need.
We rolled up to Maison23, but when she noticed where we were, she shook her head with fear in her eyes, and I relayed her message. Echo Park would be our destination. The driver nodded and turned the car around.
I continued to stroke her hair softly, combining the soft ministrations with words of encouragement that I didn't believe myself. I knew she had gone through hell. She had survived, but at what cost? I didn't dare to think about what this had done to her psyche. It took a while, but finally, we reached the last corner and stopped in front of the apartment complex. I stepped out and Sarah clung to me like a barnacle. I saw the desperation on her face, desperate to maintain contact with one of the only men that she could still stomach seeing at this point in time, and I stomped on the urge to go back to Castle, or wherever the hell any of the remaining men involved with this were, and finishing the job myself.
As we approached the courtyard, I felt her grip on my shoulder tighten even more, and I saw her hesitation. "Don't worry," I told her. "Ellie isn't here." She nodded her thanks, but regardless of my knowledge, I didn't want to take any chances, so I guided her through the Morgan door. I saw her struggling, her usual grace that bordered on being feline replaced with grunts of exertion and small squeaks of pain. My fists clenched on their own accord, but I couldn't help her. This was one of those things she wanted to do herself. To prove to herself that they hadn't broken her. So I stood by, watched as she finally clambered through after what felt like minutes had passed, before climbing through myself. She limped her way to the bed and settled on the covers, exhaustion painted on her features.
I walked through the room and grabbed my chair, which I set at the foot of the bed. When I looked up, Sarah's eyes were closed and her breathing had evened out. I quickly went to the bathroom, preparing myself for a night of staying awake, watching her sleep and making sure that she was in as little discomfort as possible. But when I finished my business a shriek emanated from my room. I ran back, still fastening my pants as I burst through the door. I saw her thrashing wildly, screaming in a language I'd never heard before. "Sarah!" I called out, but she didn't respond. I moved my hand and shook her shoulder, which had the desired effect. Her eyes flew open and grabbed my wrist, before turning around at a speed I had never witnessed before. She flipped me over and wrenched my arm behind my back while she sat on my lower back.
"I told you I'd fucking kill you!" she screamed, and I felt the rage emanating from her body, coursing through the clothes that she hadn't shrugged out of yet, and straight through mine, scalding my skin. I moaned in pain as I felt flames shooting through my wrist. The awkward angle in which it was held served to make me see white sparks at the edge of my vision, and it got her to snap her out of her state between sleep and wakefulness. "Chuck," she breathed as she crawled off me, and her tone was reminiscent of a child, caught with its hand in the cookie jar. I felt my heart break for her as I turned around and found her looking like she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She stared back at me in pure terror and sorrow. The tears that pooled in her sapphire orbs proved to be my own undoing and as I lovingly stroked the wisps of hair out of her face with the hand that wasn't injured, I felt the tears that I had valiantly tried to hold in, break free of their confines.
"I'm so sorry," I said, my voice breaking.
She put her hand on mine and looked at me with a curious glance, maybe trying to ascertain my motive. It hurt me that she couldn't trust anymore. It was already ridiculously hard for her to trust at first; it was only going to get harder now. "No, I'm the one that should be sorry," she said. "This is a part of the job that you weren't supposed to know about."
Even when beaten and broken, she still tried to keep me safe. Safe from myself and safe from knowledge that could taint me further. I wasn't sure whether I could love her any more than I did at that point. "Not this," I replied. "How can this possibly be a part of the job, Sarah?"
"It just is, okay?" she spat, and immediately her eyes went wide. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
I shushed her and gently pushed her back to my bed. "You..." I started and I made sure that she was looking at me, "have nothing to be sorry about. So stop thinking that you do. If you want to lash out? Lash out. If you want me to go, tell me, and I'll leave."
"Please don't go," she quickly said, her eyes widening even further. Her voice was pleading. "Please stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere," I promised and slid in next to her. She intertwined herself with me and I felt her shaking in terror, and not for the last time I found myself wishing that I could leave her alone for an hour or so, just so I could end the miserable lives of those responsible. But that would mean leaving Sarah and I just didn't see that happening. Not for the foreseeable future anyway.
She quickly fell asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Occasional shocks would pass through her body and she often moaned, but I figured this was a normal reaction after what she went through. How was I supposed to know? Better yet, what was I supposed to do? There were only two things I knew with absolute certainty. We were done with the spy life, and no one would ever touch her again, under penalty of death. Casey would see to that, and I couldn't be more grateful to him for it.
It occurred to me, as we laid on my bed completely tangled up in each other, that we needed to clean the wounds again. I woke her up by softly speaking to her. Her eyes fluttered open and she regarded me with weary eyes. "Sorry Sarah, but I wanted to clean your wounds before you went to sleep. I'll be right back." I pressed a kiss to her forehead and gently laid her down on bed, before dashing to the bathroom. I picked up the first aid kit and sprinted back. She lay on my bed and her eyes were focused on the door. Her muscles seemed tense, as if preparing for someone attacking her. Her eyes softened when she saw it was me and I set to work. Gingerly, I lifted her T-shirt, until the bottom of her breasts, dabbing iodine on the various cuts and bruises that were prominent on her stomach and back, before sticking band-aids or gauze over them. Sharp intakes of breath were the only affirmation I got that she was still in pain.
I finished my work and slowly pulled the T-shirt down again. She sighed and sank back on the mattress. Instead of crawling in with her, like my mind told me to, I sat down in the chair and was content simply to observe her.
"You not coming?" she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.
"No, I'm going to stay awake in case you need anything. Just go to sleep, sweetheart."
She shifted and gasped in pain, but there was a tiny smile on her face. "I like the endearments," she mumbled before succumbing to sleep. I stood up and turned off the light before returning to the chair and once again being left alone with my thoughts. I couldn't tell how much time passed, simply listening to the rhythmic breathing of her, as well as the occasional hitch or whimper. All I knew was that she was alive and that despite the horrors she had endured, I'd make sure she would get better.
The distinctive sound of a key entering the lock shook me out of my trance-like state. And I knew that I would have to update Ellie on what had transpired. Because if it wasn't now, then she'd surely find out at the worst possible moment, and Sarah was going to have it hard enough already. No one would be able to come out of a situation like hers without any trauma.
I tiptoed my way to the door and opened it. The light from the hallway briefly illuminated Sarah's sleeping face and the worry lines that should've been absent were still there. Even in sleep, she couldn't find any peace. I blew out a sigh and walked out before softly closing the door and making my way over to Ellie, who was bend over in the fridge. She stood up when she heard my shuffling feet over the hardwood floor.
"Hey little brother," she chirped happily. Black bags hung under her eyes. "What's been going on in the land of the living since..." she trailed off and looked at her watch. "...two days ago?" She blinked once and then asked, "What's wrong?"
"Something horrible happened," I said. "And I need you to turn off every instinct you are sure to get and hear me out. Sarah's... she's been..." I couldn't get the words over my lips. Even after getting her back, I still couldn't wrap my head around the crimes that were committed against her. Ellie had gone pale already. I figured that something in my voice had tipped her off that whatever happened was bad. "She was kidnapped and tortured."
Ellie gasped and stumbled. She was holding a carton of milk, but when I dropped the bombshell on her, she let it fall. The liquid was spilling over the floor and she only just caught the island situated behind her. "What? How? Why?" The questions came in a rapid pace, and I couldn't keep up with them all, so I held my hands up to forestall the hurricane. It wasn't fair, I knew. After all, I myself had been as frantic as Ellie was. But it wouldn't do Sarah any good if Ellie went all mother bear right now—which I knew she would, because Ellie loved Sarah like a sister—so while I grabbed a few paper towels and started cleaning up the mess, I told her a cover version of the events that had transpired. She was kidnapped, tortured and beaten, and the police had found her a day later by tracing her cell-phone which she had turned on. It took me an enormous amount of willpower to not lose it completely while telling her. I wisely left out the fact that she had been violated. It would surely open up the floodgates.
Ellie was white as a sheet when I was done. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice shrill with panic. "Get out of my way, Chuck. I've got to..." Her voice trailed off when she ran straight into me.
"Not now, sis. She's terrified, even if she won't admit it. Just let her be for a while. I'll take care of her, but please, if you see her just... she doesn't like talking about her feelings, so please don't pressure her."
She looked like she wanted to argue against me, use her stern 'mother' voice that she had perfected at the tender age of sixteen. But after a tense second where I thought she might knock me out and run into my bedroom to fuss all over her—and truthfully, Sarah deserved nothing less than an Ellie Bartowski who fussed over someone because it would mean that she would be handled with the most amazing care in the world—her shoulders slumped. "Fine, but... why? Why did this have to happen to her? She's the sweetest girl I've ever known. She doesn't deserve this."
Of course I agreed with her, but what could I say? I figured that telling her that Sarah was a spy and as such, she could turn on a dime from the sweetest woman in the world—which I could personally attest to her being—to one of the best agents that the world had ever seen, wouldn't go over well. "I know," I said. "I don't know why this happens, but trust me, if I ever find out who did this to her... they'll pay."
She scowled at me for a second before grabbing my shoulders. "Chuck... Charles. If you find them... I know you. I know that you wouldn't hurt a fly. And I never figured I'd say this, but when you find them... I want you to make it count."
I swallowed. "I will, sis. Trust me." And if I couldn't do it, then Casey sure as hell could, and I'd gleefully watch.
"I've got to... I've got to tell Devon... excuse me," she said, stammering quite a bit. She stumbled towards her bedroom, ashen faced.
"I'm gonna go back. I'll see you tomorrow, Ellie," I said, before retreating back to my room. I contemplated whether or not to go back to the chair, but decided that for both our sakes, I'd crawl into bed. After changing in some PJ pants and a shirt, I slid in under the covers and stayed on the far side of the bed, not wanting to jostle Sarah, or get up in her space really.
My plans proved to be moot, as she snuggled up to me within a couple of seconds. I put my arm around her, stroking her hair and drifted off to sleep.
I was roused by the smell of pancakes, as the aroma wafted through the apartment. As I opened up my eyes, and I saw that it was around nine-ish, I felt a wet spot on my chest. Sarah was silently crying. But, she looked asleep.
"Sarah," I whispered, slowly rousing her from her slumber. "Sarah, wake up, you're having a bad dream." A sharp intake of breath told me that she had in fact awakened. "You're okay. You're safe," I told her, hoping that it was enough. Hoping that her mind would blink away the horrible images.
"Good morning," she said, trying her best to sound chipper as she quickly wiped her eyes. "How'd you sleep? Ready for another day at work?"
"What? No, I'm staying home to take care of you."
"Why'd you do that, Chuck? I'm fine, I can go to work today. It's no problem." She hopped out of bed and left me behind, my mouth wide open in shock, as she hobbled towards the kitchen.
"Sarah, wait!" I shouted, as I jumped up and ran after her. I found her, lowering herself in one of the chairs. "What do you mean, you're fine and you can go to work?"
My shouting had caused Devon to look up, and he eyed Sarah warily. "Sarah, are you sure this is a good plan?"
"What do you mean, Devon?"
"Nothing," he said. He stood up and dragged me into the hallway. "Dude, there's something wrong with her."
"You don't say," I replied. "I don't know what's going on. She was all vulnerable yesterday, and today it's like somebody flipped a switch. Do you think she could be losing it? A psychotic break?"
"I don't know bro, but what I do know is that she should be on bed rest right now. You've got to keep her in the apartment by any means necessary. And maybe suggest that she sees a psychologist. I've seen a few cases where people were tortured. Trust me bro, you don't want her spiraling down a path like that. Because it might be one from which she can't climb back up."
I nodded. "I know, Devon. Can you recommend someone?"
"Try doctor Heidigger. He's got a really good reputation around the hospital. He's also specialized in trauma victims. But dude, she's going to need you every step of the way. Do you think you can handle that?"
I swallowed. "Definitely. I have to."
"Good. Now, let's go eat breakfast. Just make sure she doesn't overexert herself. I've got today off, so I should be able to keep an eye out as well, but the main load is on you. And trust me when I say, that after Ellie, there's no one I'd rather have helping me than you. She's in good hands with you, Chuck. Live up to your reputation."
I nodded. "Thanks Devon. For everything."
"What are almost-brothers for, if not that?" he smiled, but it came off as a grimace. We returned to the table and despite Sarah's obviously forced chipper mood, the air around us was somber. Suffocating even. I kept alternating stares between Ellie and Sarah, the latter happily munching away at the pancakes that Ellie had prepared for us, despite the little amount of sleep that she had to be on. The small talk we made was for Sarah's benefit though. We kept things light, and no one dared mentioning the horrible gorilla that was sat in the room.
Breakfast mercifully ended and we returned to my bedroom. I gently guided her to my bed, and crouched in front of her, making her look down on me. "Sarah, how can you even contemplate going back to work now?"
"Why not?"
"How do you mean why not? Why would you even contemplate going back to work now?"
"I feel fine, Chuck."
"How can you feel fine, Sarah? How could you possibly feel fine after that?"
"Chuck, stop it, please!" she pleaded, almost desperately. "Why would I not go?"
"Because you were tortured?" I almost shouted, exasperated. "Because not twenty-four hours ago, you were lying in a damn hospital with lacerations and bruises and God knows what else. That's why."
The panic disappeared from her face and instead, anger flared. "So what? You want me to stay here? Where my mind can oh so gently remind me of what happened? Pass, Chuck. I can't deal with that. Not now. So yeah, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to work. I'll see you at five."
She stood up and brushed past me, despite the room that was next to me. I stood, stunned. I hadn't thought of it that way. But I knew that I couldn't let her go. "Sarah, wait!" I shouted in a panic. "Look, I'll entertain you. I'll keep your mind off of things. Do you trust me?" She froze then, as her hand reached for the door handle. She nodded, but didn't turn around. "Then please, please stay here. If not for you, do it for me." I was playing dirty now, but her health trumped anything at this point in time. Losing our relationship, I could live with. It would be hard, but I would do it. Losing her? Out of the question.
She turned around then, and regarded me from under weary eyes. But the vulnerability that I had known was always hidden within those steel-blue eyes was on full display. "Chuck..."
"Yeah?"
"I'm scared."
"Oh, Sarah," I sighed and within three paces I was next to her, enveloping her in my arms, never letting go, never wanting to let go. I stroked her hair as she pressed her face in my shirt and gently guided her back to the bed. She didn't cry, but the tremors that made her muscles spasm shook me to my core. "I'll always be here for you Sarah. Nothing will ever separate us from each other ever again." The rational side of my brain pointed out that she could decide that she wasn't in this relationship whenever she damn well pleased, but I figured that wasn't what she wanted or needed to hear right now. So I held her, tried to make her feel safe, tried to take the demons that plagued her away.
I managed to get her to reconsider her efforts at getting to work and we spent the day watching stacks of DVDs, but despite the weak chuckles that she managed to give to a few comedic moments, I felt that her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't surrender to the mindless entertainment. It felt like we were slaves to the clock, waiting for the next bad thing to happen as the seconds ticked by in its slow fashion.
Sarah hadn't shown the progress that we were all hoping for. Most of the time, I found her sitting in front of the TV, staring at it blankly. She barely registered anything around her anymore. She didn't work out anymore, hell, she barely even ate. Usually, we had to bring her food. I'd sit by her side, helping her eat. Casey had shown up a couple of times and he'd sit in my bedroom, silently regarding her as she sat there. She hadn't spared him a glance.
At night was the only time she seemed to even be alive. She'd often crawl against me and holding my hand for dear life. Sometimes, I'd feel her shake. Most of the time, she stayed as still as possible. It seemed like she was afraid that I'd get angry at her, for moving. I approached her about it, but she denied it. Then again, she denied the fact that something was wrong as well.
A few days after we had found her, I tucked her in for the night, before climbing in myself and holding out my arms in a silent invitation. But instead of snuggling up against me, she perched herself on her elbow and looked at me. I mimicked her actions and we were just staring at each other. She kissed me then. It was slow, almost searching in its nature. But when I didn't pull back, mostly because I was cheering internally at the fact that she had initiated things, it slowly grew in intensity. Before long, she was straddling me, and I was more than okay with giving her the power that she so desperately craved. But I stopped her when her hands went to her shirt.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Isn't it obvious," she said. She didn't bother phrasing it like a question. "It's time to make love. For real this time."
"Wait, wait, wait," I sputtered before my brain could shut down and I would surrender myself to the amazing sensations that she was sure to bring. "Sarah, stop." I stilled her hands and awkwardly pushed myself to a somewhat sitting position, made more difficult by Sarah's position. "Why are you so intent on doing this?"
"It's been a long time coming, Chuck. Sooner or later this was going to happen," she said as she leveled me with a flat stare. "Why are you fighting this? Don't you... don't you want this?"
"God, I do. But Sarah, you've just come home. You've just come from the hospital. There's no rush on it."
"I feel fine," she said airily, waving away my protests before they had even formed. "Are you a doctor, Chuck? Do you know what's best for me?"
"Damn it, stop trying to make me look like the bad guy, Sarah. I'm just trying to look out for you, and I'm pretty damn sure that it's in both of our interests that you heal before we start doing stuff like that."
"Fine," she said, before promptly hopping out of bed, grabbing her pillow and walking out of my bedroom. I wanted to go after her, but a voice in my head—which sounded a lot like Ellie—told me to let her cool off before I went in after her. So I laid on bed, counting down the minutes—I had decided to give her a quarter of an hour—until I could ask for an explanation. To ask why she was so stubborn.
As the clock finally drew past the point of acceptable cooling-down periods, I walked to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door. "Sarah, can I come in?" I took the feminine grunt as acquiescence. I found her sitting on the bed, staring at the door, seemingly lost in thought. I closed the door and leaned against it. "What was tonight all about?"
"That was me, showing that I loved you in the best way I could," she said.
"But why? Sarah, you've been..." I couldn't say the word yet, so I just shook my head. "... you know what. Why in God's name would you want to make love already?"
"Because I can't let them win."
And there was really nothing I could say to that.
A week after our argument over whether or not to make love, I had just finished my shift and found my way home. The sounds of a laugh track buzzed through the courtyard and I chose to forego the door in favor of the Morgan door. As I climbed through the window, Sarah looked up, shot me a tiny smile, and returned her fixated stare on the television set. I greeted her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, like I had grown accustomed to doing. I felt that, if I kissed her the way I really, really wanted to, she'd feel violated, so I figured I would let her dictate the pace.
If I had blinked, I would have missed the brief smile, that evaporated within milliseconds. The grimace had returned. It seemed that every time she found herself in a good place, it was torn away from her in seconds. I sighed. "How are you feeling?"
She gave me a blank stare in answer and I blew out yet another sigh. We were in an interesting—if interesting could be considered infuriating—composition, Sarah and I. She would change on a dime. Sometimes she was open, other times, she boxed herself in, not allowing anything to slip past her carefully constructed walls. And I just didn't know how to behave when she acted like that. I wanted to pry, to get her to open up so that we could share her misery. So that the burden that she was carrying was no longer her own. I had meant it when I had offered to be her baggage handler, despite the fact that it was a supremely awkward moment to be confessing things like that. And of course, when it turned out that I was an assignment to her, well, that just made my exclamation moot.
But as far as I was concerned, I would go to the ends of the earth for her. And when stuff like this happened, it just made it impossible for me to prove to her that we were in this together.
I settled myself on the bed next to her and despite the fact that I hadn't eaten anything in a while, and my curiosity was almost burning with intensity, I put an arm around her and was content to join her in the mindless entertainment that the TV was sure to bring. But when I had just put my arm around Sarah, and she burrowed into me in what had fast become our thing, the TV switched to Casey, who was panting.
"Walker, Bartowski. Get your asses to Castle. I've got a surprise for you."
He left it at that, and the TV switched back to the sitcom we were watching on its own accord. I looked at her and I saw the confusion that was without a doubt etched on my face, reciprocated on hers. "You want to go check it out?" I asked. She shrugged, which I took for assent. I grabbed her some clothes—we had somewhat agreed to move in together, considering the fact that she didn't seem to want to return to her hotel room, so I had gone over after a shift and picked up her clothes—and gave her some privacy. I figured my attire would be good enough for whatever Casey had planned.
We climbed through the Morgan door, and Sarah's grace had seemingly returned, but it stood in stark contrast with her mood. The physical wounds were healing, but the part that I had so much wanted to heal, her frail emotional state, seemed to be stuck in stasis. She wasn't getting any worse... but she wasn't getting better either. We made our way to the parking spaces, and without a word, we walked to Sarah's Porsche.
The drive to Castle was made in silence. Sarah had chosen to drive—she had sworn to me that she was at least fit to drive and I couldn't help but believe her—and I found us driving at a sedate pace, something highly unusual for her. Still, I chose not to comment on it. I found it to be a nice change of pace, what with me usually clamping my eyes shut and praying to anyone who would listen that I wouldn't die in a violent car crash.
The parking lot was deserted, so we slipped into the Orange Orange without attracting too much attention. The people that did see us, saw Sarah with a key. They probably figured we were going to lower the health-code rating from an A to a B minus. I wished that were the case. It would mean that she was getting better. We slipped through the freezer door and entered Castle. The main room was desolated. "Casey?" I said. "You in here?"
"Interrogation rooms," echoed through the base. I looked at Sarah who blankly stared back at me. We continued down the stairs and made our way to where Casey said he was. We found him waiting in front of a room.
"Glad you could make it. I've got a little surprise for you."
"Yeah, you've said that Casey. What is it?" Sarah asked, her tone becoming slightly irate.
"Did I interrupt you two or something?" he asked with a frustratingly smug smirk.
"Shut up, Casey," Sarah said, beating me to the punch. "Now what do you have to show us."
"I thought you two might appreciate getting a little one on one time with our good friend mister Porter."
"He's still alive?" I asked before my brain-to-mouth filter could kick in.
"You think I'd just off him without offering my partner a chance to get even?" he asked, sounding vaguely hurt. "I've been keeping him alive. He cracked a few days ago, but I figured that turnabout is fair play. He thinks he's been in here for a month."
Sarah smirked. It was unlike anything I had ever seen from her. It was wholly evil, totally uncaring for the life of another person. I found myself smirking alongside her. "How'd you manage that?" she asked.
"Every time he'd fall asleep, we'd bring him food. Screwed up his internal clock like nobody's business. Right now, he probably doesn't even know what side is up."
He led us into the observatory and I saw Lucien tied up to the chair, his eyes rapidly moving, trying to take in his surroundings, but never truly registering them. He looked a far cry from the evil incarnated that I had seen in the warehouse. He looked miserable. It was perfect. Casey walked out of the observatory and into the room. Lucien twitched when he heard the door being opened and his leg started jiggling under the table.
"Hey Luke," Casey said as he walked in. "Brought some friends. You remember agent Walker?"
"What? Who? Who is she? Is she here to release me?"
"Not quite," Casey said as he directed Lucien's stare towards the one way mirror. "She's the entire reason that you're in here in the first place. See, you hurt her. And where I come from, that just doesn't fly."
"I didn't hurt anyone," Lucien cried. "You have to believe me."
Casey barked a laugh. "You know what happens if you lie, right?"
Lucien actually started sweating. "No, please... fine, yeah, I know who she is. But seriously, our job was to break her, we just did what we could, it wasn't personal!"
"Oh, but it became personal when you took my partner. That's when you crossed the fucking line. Whatever you managed to think up in that sick, twisted mind of yours afterwards only served to increase the amount of pain you've inevitably brought upon yourself." He directed his voice towards us. "Walker, Bartowski, I feel like this would be a nice time for you to get your shots in."
I stood up immediately, a red cloud having descended over my vision. The sick twisted bastard was going to suffer. I had run through so much scenarios in my mind, of things I would do to him when I would have him at my mercy, that I had lost count. My hand found the knob of the door and was about to yank it open, when I noticed that Sarah had yet to move. The one thing I had never thought about, was what Sarah would think of me if she saw me acting out the way I wanted to. Because I knew. I knew that he wasn't going to leave that room alive. Maybe it wasn't my place. Maybe it was Sarah's. Maybe she would be able to free herself, if only partially, from her demons by having her revenge.
"Sarah... you should grab this opportunity."
She didn't look at me. Her elbow was perched on her leg, and her head was resting on her fist. She kept looking in the room, where Casey was standing in the corner, his arms crossed, waiting for us to make a decision.
It seemed like ages before she answered. It was soft at first, and I asked her to repeat. She looked at me then. "No, I won't do it."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want you to see that side of me."
"What? Sarah, please. I don't condone violence, but if there has ever been a situation where retribution was a-okay with me, this would be it."
"But you don't understand. I'm not that much better than him," she said, as she spat the last part. "But you don't see that side of me. If you would, it would destroy your image of me. And that would destroy me. Can you look yourself in the eye and claim that you could love a cold blooded murderer? A torturer?"
I stroked a wisp of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes during her tirade away and looked her square in the eyes. "If it was you? Without a doubt."
She seemed speechless then, as if contemplating whether I was being genuine, and it hurt me that she still couldn't trust me as freely as I had wanted her to. Finally though, she seemed to have found a response. "You say that now... and you might mean it. And then what? In a few years, you'll realize that you're spending your life with someone who killed people. Who tortured people. Who had sex with other people, people she barely knew, for a living. How can you love something that's made up of things you hate?"
"Because I don't give a damn about the individual parts, Sarah. I care about you. I know damn well what I'm getting myself in to, and you know what? I'm ecstatic to begin. I can't wait to show you around to people I've never seen before and saying that a woman as beautiful, capable and plain amazing as you, fell in love with me. And you helped people by doing those horrible things. You may not know it, but I've seen it in each and every mission that we completed, as a team. You're a hero, Sarah. And normal people don't know about it. But you know. And so do I."
She seemed lost for a moment, before remembering how she had mirrored the speech to me, and once again, her mood flipped. "That sounds familiar."
"I learned from the best."
"I also remember something else."
"What?"
She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine and I melted into her, as I willingly allowed myself to drown in her lips, her soft, wavy hair, her touch, her everything. When she broke it, she allowed a smile to break through the pain that she was still feeling, and I felt my day brighten. To offer her a brief respite from the constant emotional and mental torture was worth so much more to me than anything else had ever had. "Told you I could suffer through it."
"Hmm," I said as I continued to hold her.
"Chuck... thank you."
We left the observatory and I informed Casey that Lucien was in good hands with him. He grunted and assured us that he'd make sure that he would at least equal Sarah's pain, if not double it. I nodded, and gave him a firm handshake. A hug would have probably gotten me an uppercut to the nose, so I played it safe. As Sarah and I walked away from the interrogation rooms and into the main area, hand in hand, I saw the visage of the General displayed on the monitors, silently watching us. I cleared my throat, and Sarah turned. Immediately, her posture became rigid, and she looked to be about three seconds away from throwing in a salute for good measure. "General," she greeted.
"Agent Walker. It's good to see you again. How are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling fine, ma'am," she said. But her voice was a bit too strained, a bit too theatrical to fool me. I highly doubted it would fool the General.
"Cut the crap," the General shouted and I flinched. Sarah did as well. "Damn it, Walker, this isn't the time for you to put on another tough act. I'm not asking you this as your boss, a general of the United States. I'm asking you as a woman, someone who has seen first-hand, the effects something like this can have on a person. So I order you, to tell me how you are feeling. And so help me God if I think that you're lying."
"I'll… I'll just go ahead. Sarah, I'll see you upstairs," I stammered, before making my exit. This wasn't something that I was supposed to hear.
"Chuck, wait," she said and I turned around. She held out her hand and her eyes were begging me to stay. "Please."
"Are you sure?" She nodded and I sided myself next to her, taking her hand in mine. Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but rather than hearing her voice, a terrible wail cut through Castle. "What the frak?" I shouted as I jumped back thanks to an instinctual reaction. "What was that?"
Casey stumbled into the main room, his clothes soaked in blood. "Sorry," he said. "Forgot to close the door. Don't mind me." He walked to the armory, grabbed a mean looking cleaver and went back to the interrogation room.
Sarah seemed to be unaffected by the inhumane scream, or Casey walking around with vicious looking knives, so I tried to copy her, but my heart was beating in my throat. Still, neither Sarah nor the General chose to comment on what had just transpired, the latter looking rather smug about the whole ordeal, so I thought it prudent to keep my mouth shut as well.
"Regarding your question, General. I feel… empty."
"I see. And how is your support system?"
"General?"
"Are there people that are taking care of you? Is Mr. Bartowski taking care of you? Often, in situations like these, the victim follows a destructive pattern with his or her thoughts. It's important that you have people around you, that care about you. Do you have that support system?"
"General… Chuck… Chuck has been great. It's just that, I've not been acting like myself lately." I squeezed her hand and was about to tell her she was crazy for thinking she had to be acting like herself in a time like this, when the General beat me to it.
"Agent Walker, in what possible universe do you live, that you would expect yourself to act normal in a situation like this? I highly recommend that you get help, on both a personal and a professional level. Mister Bartowski can take care of the personal level, but I'd like to refer you to one of the Company's psychiatrists."
"General," Sarah replied, her voice tinted with a steel edge. "I am an agent of the CIA. We are trained for this. Now, is this everything you wanted to know? If so, I'd like to go home now." Her poker face, the one I had been trying to break through for years, was back in place and she hadn't missed a step. Her face was inscrutable, anger emblazoned in her features. And just like that, the tiny steps of progress she had made were destroyed as her defense mechanism kicked in. Deny, deny, deny.
It was a new revelation for me, but I had figured out that was her go-to mechanism when she told me, while under the influence of truth serum no less, that there wouldn't ever be a chance for us together. And a year later, I was the only thing that had kept her going and she loved me. Loved me. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place then.
I wondered what had set the change into motion, but the clicks of Sarah's heels against the metal staircase pulled me out of my musings. I set off behind her, but the General's voice made me stop in my tracks. "Mister Bartowski. While I normally wouldn't condone a relationship between an asset and an agent, I feel that it is in the best interest of all parties involved that I allow this to be a onetime digression. As such, the following advice is given with everyone's best interests in mind. Get agent Walker professional help. Trust me." She stabbed at the keyboard below the camera and disappeared from sight.
I found Sarah waiting in her car and I sat myself in the passenger seat, without saying a word. I had no idea on how to approach Sarah, especially not when she was in this foul a mood. She didn't say a word as she revved the engine and we drove away, leaving the double O, and Lucien's screams in our wake.
I kept quiet, until we reached the apartment and Sarah had reverted back to her emotionless state. The state in which I most feared for her. Who knew what went on in her head? She had no intention of telling, and we—Devon, Ellie and I—just didn't know how to get through to her, despite our continued attempts in doing so.
"Sarah," I said as I closed the door to my bedroom behind me. "What was that in Castle? Why are you so against getting help?"
"Don't need it," she said, like she hadn't a care in the world.
"But why not? What if it could help? Don't you want to get better?"
"Who says there's anything wrong with me?" she asked. What infuriated me was that she still wore the blank expression. Any sort of emotion, be it challenging, annoyed, angry, anything would've been better than that same blank expression.
"The people that care about you," I said and I saw that one hit home. "You have people who care about you, Sarah. And I know that might be hard to believe for you, but it's true. Ellie cares for you, Devon cares for you, even Casey and General Beckman seem to have your best interests at heart. And I... I love you, Sarah. So all that goes doubly for me. It seems that the only person who doesn't think about you, is you."
"Damn it, Chuck," she said, and finally there was an edge to her voice. "I don't need it. I'm going to do fine, so you can rest comfortably in that knowledge. Now leave it alone."
"Why are you fighting me about this?" I shouted, exasperated to the point of despair. "What's so wrong with admitting you need some damn help for once in your life? It's not a crime you know! In fact, it's actually human."
"You don't understand," she shouted back.
"How can I, if you never tell me anything?"
"Because it's weak! I'm not weak, Chuck! I don't need any help. I can do this fine on my own."
"Like hell you can. If we weren't around to feed you, you'd have died from self-induced starvation."
"I never asked for you to help me! I don't need this, Chuck. I don't need you fussing over me, I don't need Casey throwing me a bone, and I sure as hell don't need to see a fucking shrink! You know what? I'm going back to my hotel. Good bye." She began grabbing her clothes and stuffing them in her suitcase. I knew I should've apologized, knew I shouldn't have pushed her, but her stubbornness was driving me insane.
"Go ahead," I said. "Run away, like you always do. I expected better of you. I expected you to be strong enough to admit you couldn't win this fight on your own. I guess I was wrong." My eyes widened in shock then, not believing the words that had just come out of my mouth. Sarah wore a similar expression. But then she glared at me and left. The door slammed shut with a bang and I sank to my bed, my hands shaking with adrenaline and fear that coursed through my veins. I wanted to run after her, explain myself, but my legs felt like jelly. I couldn't believe I had lost my calm, but she was so damn infuriating. Couldn't she see that the only thing I wanted was for her to be happy, to be safe, any way that I knew how?
I dropped myself on the bed with a groan, and I felt like grabbing a pillow, pushing it against my face and scream until my voice would give out. Instead, I looked at the ceiling, ran the conversation—if you could still call it that—through my mind and winced at how much of an ass I was being. My accusations were justified. My timing? Not so much.
Minutes drained into hours, and Sarah still hadn't called. I hadn't made an attempt at calling either. I knew I should, but I held out a small ember of hope that what I said got through to her. It was up to her to make the first move. I just hoped to God that I wouldn't end up regretting that decision.
The world around me slowly receded into darkness as I felt myself drifting off. My dreams were filled with Sarah and me, happy together. A month into the future, a year into the future... a decade. We were happy. I was happy. Sarah looked happy. I didn't know whether it was a mask or if she truly was happy. And I hated myself for doubting it, but how could I know?
"Chuck," she said as she slowly stepped toward me, her hips sashaying in a hypnotic pattern. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" I asked.
"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"You're not making a whole lot of sense, baby," I said. The way her words sounded so sad stood in stark contrast with the smile that was beaming on her face. She kissed me then. I felt the soft, supple press of her lips against mine, and I couldn't help but smile. Smile because she chose me. Smile because I was the luckiest guy in the world. Smile because the dream was really realistic.
My eyes flew open when Sarah pulled back and I was back in my room, rather than the pitch black surroundings of my dream. Sarah was crouched next to the bed. She looked like she had been close to crying. Her eyebrows were lowered and she looked frazzled. "I'm sorry," she said again.
I shook out the pleasant haze from my dream and I reached out for her, putting my hand on her cheek. She leaned into my touch and I softly stroked her skin with my thumb. "I'm sorry too," I said. "I shouldn't have said the things I said."
She shook her head. "No, you were... you were right. I just... God, I just don't know what to do anymore, Chuck. I don't know and it terrifies me. I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared all the time and I hate myself. I got captured Chuck. It was all my fault."
"Don't say that," I said, the vehemence obvious in my tone. I stood up and hugged her tight to me. "Don't you dare say things like that. I don't care how much you try and convince yourself that this was somehow your fault. Listen to me, and listen carefully. It's not your fault." She tried to look away but I forced her to meet my eyes. "Do you understand? It's not your fault."
"Yeah... yeah, I understand you." She didn't sound sincere though. "I'm gonna go... I'm going to see a shrink. For you."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. C'mon, let's call it a night."
The day after that, we informed the General through video-chat that we would like to take her up on her offer. She smiled at us and even shot me a grateful look when Sarah wasn't looking. Sarah got an appointment for later in the day, and I drove her there. Since it was a one-on-one session, I stayed in the car, content with playing games on my iPhone and waiting for Sarah to come out. I noticed that I was nervous. I felt myself praying that the shrink could get through to her in a way that we hadn't been able to, despite trying. Then the door opened, and my breath caught in anticipation.
She came out, and her face was wrecked by crying. Her mascara had run out, her eyes were red and puffy and her entire face was flushed a scarlet red from the strain. A small smile was playing on her lips though, and her eyes looked just a little less frightened. Just a little less tainted, and I breathed a sigh in relief. She had never been more beautiful to me.
"How'd it go?" I asked as she slid into the passenger seat.
"It was... good," she said. She sounded completely sincere.
"Thank God," I muttered. "Let's go home."
"Yeah," she said as she wiped a few more tears away. "Let's."
Over the next couple of weeks, things went well. Sarah had taken to the psychiatrist with gusto, and it seemed that after every session, a little of the woman that I knew and loved was returning. Her smiles became more radiant, and more frequent. She started engaging other people in conversation again, and she was crawling out of her shell. To celebrate, I had decided to have a romantic dinner for two. Now that it seemed like she was getting better, I couldn't help but let my mind drift to the possibility of us connecting in the most intimate way possible. I wouldn't ever push, but I knew that if she offered, the odds of me saying no were astronomically low.
I had shanghaied Ellie into making lasagna, although it turned out that she was more than happy to do it without me having to threaten to get out the baby pictures. She seemed to be elated that Sarah was getting there again. I completely understood where she was coming from.
I lit the candles and put on some soft music, before knocking on the door to my bedroom. "Sarah, dinner's ready."
She came out, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, while I was still in my Nerd Herd getup. She froze and gasped. "What's this?"
I smiled. "I thought we'd celebrate your progress with a dinner, just the two of us. No Ellie, no Devon, no spy business."
"Chuck," she hissed. "I'm not dressed for a nice dinner. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Hadn't noticed," I said, and shrugged. "You look fine to me. Fantastic even." I blamed the lighting of the apartment, because if it wasn't the lighting, Sarah was actually blushing.
"Thank you," she said. "You look nice as well."
"I'm in my working attire," I said, brows knitted in confusion. "What could possibly be nice about that?"
"Because it's you. Not Charles Carmichael in a tux, but Chuck Bartowski. That's the man I fell in love with."
I beamed at her, and pulled out her chair. She giggled, but padded over nonetheless, and sat down. She thanked me, and I made sure she was comfortable, before getting the lasagna from the oven and serving two plates, along with a decent red wine I had picked up. "Please don't throw this over me again," I said, but I didn't get the chuckle I had vied for. Instead, tears sprung to her eyes. "Oh shit. Sarah, I... God, I'm such an asshole, please... I'm so sorry I said that."
She sniffled and it was a far cry from the amazing woman that I had gotten to know. The old Sarah would've never let me see her cry. Even when she thought I was blown up when we rescued the ambassador from the Triad their bomb, she quickly turned away from me. Now though, she seemed to be okay with me seeing her emotions. But damn it, I was an idiot. I walked over and enveloped her in a hug, murmuring apologies in her hair.
She hugged me back, but she never did cry. Her shoulders never shook, and she didn't make a sound. Her breathing had turned ragged, but abated with time, back into its normal pattern. I released her and pulled back. She looked me in the eye, her eyes still glimmering, but she had found her composure once more. I just hoped that my little joke hadn't ruined the progression that the psychiatrist had made with her. I would probably never be able to forgive myself.
I sat down again, and waited for her to make the first move. Waited for her to let me know that she was alright. Luckily, I didn't have to wait too long, and I enthusiastically jumped on the opportunity to talk about my day. She listened, enraptured by Jeff and Lester and their futile attempt at jumpstarting Jeffster's career. She chimed in with questions, and when it was my turn to ask her about her day, she didn't shirk away from telling me about her progress. She admitted she hated talking to someone about her issues—she had finally accepted that she had them, which was a huge relief—and that she would rather talk to me about them, but all in all, she felt she was getting better. I almost lost it when she said she wasn't feeling as scared anymore. I felt like running to whoever Sarah had appointed, and hugging the guy to within an inch of his life.
When our dinner had finished, we cleaned the table together, and a comfortable silence washed over us as we did the dishes. I scrubbed and Sarah toweled them off. It was domestic tranquility at its finest. But as I looked at her profile, I noticed how much weight she had lost. Her cheeks were hollow and her hair had lost some of its sparkle. Still, I figured that was absolutely normal, and if the portions of the lasagna that she ate tonight were any indication, it wouldn't be too long until she was back to her normal physical self. The wounds were healing and all that remained were the scars.
"I'm glad that you're seeing the shrink," I said as I started draining the sink. She didn't say anything in reply, she just smiled that small, cute smile.
We ended the night by watching a movie, cuddled up together. I must've dozed off though, as I blinked and the credits were playing. "Why don't you go to bed, Chuck? I'm just going to grab something and I'll join you."
I nodded—I stopped having the physical strength to talk—and carried myself to bed. I plopped down, making sure that I left the light on so that Sarah wouldn't have too hard of a time finding it in the dark. I closed my eyes, until I heard a very feminine voice clearing he throat. I blinked lazily, and then my eyes widened. Sarah was standing wearing a black negligee, with lacy bits in all the important parts. It was a damn near copy of my dream-turned-nightmare. "Holy sh—Shhh," Sarah shushed me.
"Sa—sarah what are you doing?"
"It's been too damn long, Chuck. Unless you're not up to it of course... but..." Her eyes flicked down and back up, a victorious smirk coating her face. "I'm guessing that you're up to the task."
I sat up and threw the covers over me in an attempt to protect my decency. "Look, Sarah... I want to, I really want to. But it's all up to you. Can you look me in the face and say that you're completely up to it?"
She walked over on her knees towards me, and cupped my cheek. She searched my face, and smiled. "I'm ready, Chuck. It's been a long time coming. And I'll admit, the first time I tried, I may not have been in the best place... but I'm ready. Trust me, Chuck." And then she kissed me. Hard. All my objections died a silent death as I surrendered to her, pulled her closer to me until every inch of my being was filled with her. She sat up and removed the top half, cladding her only in the black panties and nothing else. My jaw dropped. I had always had fantasies about her. What sane man wouldn't? But the reality outclassed the fantasies by a mile. She seemed bashful at my gaze, and I lowered it, only to be met with her flat stomach and her panties. I began to look anywhere but her, trying to keep her as comfortable as possible, although I really just wanted to stare.
She grabbed my face and forced me to meet her eyes. "It's okay," she said. "It's just... different, you know. Know that someone's worshipping you. I've never really had that."
"You should have," I said. "You deserve the world, Sarah."
"We can talk about giving me the world later. How about now, you just give me you."
I sat up and she removed my shirt, before meeting me in a blistering kiss once more. She took my hands and guided them to her chest, sucking in a hard breath when I cupped her breasts. She broke for air and moaned softly as I massaged them, feeling the comfortable weight in the palm of my hand. I softly pinched her nipple, and a combination of a moan and a giggle broke free. It was the sexiest sound I had ever heard, and before I knew it, I surrendered to the passion.
It was three weeks after we had made love for the first—and definitely not the last—time, that I woke up in bed, cuddled up with Sarah like we had woken up so often. I still couldn't get used to it. I hoped I never would.
I had woken up before she had, and I took the time to revel in her. I breathed her in, before dropping myself back on my pillow. I was pretty damn content with life at that point in time. I had everything I ever wanted. Which was easy, because I really only ever truly wanted Sarah. It wasn't until I had met her that I realized how what I felt for Jill could easily pale in comparison to true love. And when I had replaced Sarah with Jill, it had more to do with the fact that I couldn't be with Sarah than wanting to be with Jill. I had been foolish then. Not anymore though.
Sarah stirred and she turned around when she opened her eyes.
"Morning, gorgeous," I said.
"Good morning," she breathed, before stretching out. Her face was still rumpled with sleep and her hair was fussy. She was breathtaking. But there was something off about her. I just couldn't put my finger on it.
"Are you feeling alright?" I asked.
"Actually... no..." she said, and she started fidgeting with the covers. "I think... I think I want to go back to the CIA again."
