A/N: First, a HUGE thanks to all of you who have left reviews on the story so far. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Second, sorry that it's taken me so long to update the story. I knew from the beginning that this story would take a while to write due to lots of life-stuff happening. Lot's going on over Christmas and New Years. Some of the insanity has resolved itself. Hopefully I'll be able to devote more time and energy to the story. Third, it looks like my original plan for the story to be around 30K words is getting "chucked" out the window. (Sorry, couldn't resist that.) At this rate it will break the 40k word barrier, and then some. Enjoy.
Chuck vs The Fight
Chapter 4
Sarah turned her eyes to the mountains in the distance. O'Flannery was silent beside her, his gaze on the mountains as well. She knew exactly what Chuck's response would be if she told him she needed to stay and fight. He'd stay. Until it was over. Until she was ready to finish. Until she was ready to start.
O'Flannery reached into a pocket of his sweat pants and pulled out a dog-eared card. He handed it to Sarah. It was one of his business cards. On the back, scrawled in blue ink, it read, 'Sarah and Chuck, VIP.' It was signed, 'Ryan'.
"What's this?" Sarah asked.
"Dinner," O'Flannery said.
At Sarah's raised eyebrow, O'Flannery explained. "Go to McGills on 14th Avenue and give this card to the maitre d'. My brother-in-law owns the place. He'll treat you right."
"Sarah's brother?" she asked.
"Aye."
"Thank you."
"You best be going. I expect he's waitin' on ya."
Sarah stepped up to O'Flannery and hugged him. "I am so grateful you came into my life, Ryan O'Flannery," she whispered into his ear. Then she kissed his cheek.
As Sarah pulled back O'Flannery's eyes looked wet. He quickly turned away and swiped a hand across his face. "Get on with ya, Lass," he said, his voice rough. "Quit your lolly-gaggin'."
Sarah smiled to herself and stepped toward the stairwell door.
When Sarah stepped onto the street she sent a text to Chuck. They'd exchanged phone numbers last evening and she needed to know where he was parked. She knew O'Flannery was right, that he'd be waiting for her. He responded and she found his Mercedes two blocks up and one block over. She slid into the passenger's seat.
"O'Flannery chew you out?" Chuck asked.
Sarah smiled and showed him the business card. "Actually, he gave us a free dinner. At a place called, McGills."
"McGills?" Chuck said, his voice incredulous.
"You know the place?" Sarah asked.
"By reputation," Chuck said. "It's the envy of every five-star night club in the city. Popular with celebrities. Pretty exclusive. Reservation only."
"Well, O'Flannery's brother-in-law owns it. This supposedly gets us in," Sarah explained. "But I need a shower and some sleep. Would you drop me at my motel and pick me up later?"
"Sure," Chuck said. "Seven o'clock okay?"
"Perfect," Sarah said. "Thanks."
As Chuck pulled away from the curb Sarah glanced into her door's review mirror and caught a glimpse of a small person ducking out of sight around the corner of the building behind them.
A sharp sound woke Sarah. She checked the time on her phone laying on the bedside table. It was half-past six. The noise came again. Knocking on her motel room door. Sarah grabbed the large, threadbare bath towel laying on the bed and wrapped it around herself. She walked to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Chuck. He was early.
Sarah opened the door and caught her breath. Chuck stood before her in his dark Armani suit, tall and handsome. Memories of that suit pushed to the surface of her consciousness. She knew that suit well. Had seen him in it many times. The attraction and desire she'd always experienced when he'd worn it flooded through her. Her body warmed, her chest flushed hot. She knew her pale skin was turning red.
Chuck couldn't have missed the flush from her neck to the top of her towel. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes.
"Sorry I'm early," he said. "I don't mean to be presumptuous, but I brought you something to wear." He held up a garment bag in one hand and a large plastic shopping bag in the other. "McGills is pretty fancy. I took a guess and figured you might not have evening attire packed in your duffle."
Sarah shook her head. She hadn't even considered what she'd wear. She hadn't done anything but fight in dark warehouses, sleep in ratty motels and ride cross-country on old busses for the past year.
"That's smart … and very thoughtful. Thank you." Sarah said, gesturing for Chuck to enter and closed the door behind him.
Sarah watched Chuck struggle to keep his eyes averted. But with only a towel around her she had a generous amount of skin exposed. Pieces of other memories sprinkled into her awareness. The many times Chuck had bashfully averted his eyes from staring at her before they had become lovers. The many times he'd tried - unsuccessfully - to hide his attraction to her. And the excitement she'd felt knowing that he wanted her. Because she'd wanted him, too. But she'd not been able to act on her feelings. That was then. But what about now?
Chuck set the shopping bag on the bed. He unzipped the garment bag and pulled out a dark blue, spaghetti-strapped cocktail dress. Sarah stared at the dress in surprise. It was beautiful. Simple. Tasteful. And expensive.
"You didn't have to do that," Sarah said. "That cost a pretty penny."
"It's your money, too," Chuck said.
Sarah didn't know how to respond to that. So, she didn't.
She took the dress from Chuck and held it up against her. It would be a perfect fit. She had more muscle now, but her overall measurements were almost the same."
"Wow," she said. "Good guess on my size."
Chuck's smile faltered and a moment later Sarah realized why. "Sorry. I suppose you know my size, since we were … are … married."
Chuck's smile brightened a bit.
Sarah laid the dress on the bed and opened the shopping bag. She pulled out a pair of three-inch, black heels that matched the dress perfectly. Digging back into the bag she went still, feeling the heat in her chest flair up again. Inside she found a black, strapless balconette bra and matching thong. She checked the labels. Both would fit perfectly. Chuck had even correctly guessed that her breasts were now a B-cup due to her physical transformation as opposed to a C-cup which she'd had for almost all of her adult life, including when they were … married.
I'm still married. Married to Chuck.
Before her blush got worse, Sarah took the dress, shoes and lingerie and stepped toward the bathroom. "Just give me a minute," she said.
It didn't take her long to slide into the silky smooth dress. The fit was perfect. A testament to how well Chuck knew her body, even if it had changed in the past year. She quickly applied some eyeliner, blush and lip gloss. Simple, but elegant. She brushed out her short hair and then paused, looking at herself in the mirror.
"Ready for a little experimentation, Sarah Walker?" she asked herself. She took in a steadying breath. "You've got nothing to lose." She nodded to herself and stepped out of the bathroom.
"Sarah." Chuck breathed out her name in reverence, his eyes wide.
Another hot flush pulsed through her. This was getting ridiculous. She didn't remember ever becoming this easily hot and bothered before. Then she realized, this wasn't about before. This was about now. She liked the way she looked, and she liked the way Chuck looked at her. She could easily see how she'd been attracted to him before. Because he was handsome and because of how he looked at her. In the moment, she was finding it hard to keep from touching him.
But she had to keep her hands off of Chuck for fear of what it might do to her if her memories began to flood back without preparation. Still, Sarah had a plan. She'd talk to Chuck about it over dinner and see where it would go.
"Shall we?" Sarah said and gestured toward the door.
Chuck's smile lit-up the room. "We shall," he said.
The front of McGills was a conservative combination of decorative stone and opaque glass. Chuck got out of the Mercedes and handed the keys to the valet.
As he stepped around the car to open Sarah's door he noticed a silver Audi luxury sedan drive by at a snail's pace. The windows were tinted so he couldn't see inside. But his training and experience as a spy told him that the proximity and speed of the vehicle meant the driver was surveilling him.
The Audi pulled slowly away as Chuck opened Sarah's door. He offered her his hand. She hesitated for an instant and he realized that she was unsure what would happen if they touched.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry," Chuck said and started to pull his hand back.
"Wait," Sarah said, reaching out her hand.
Chuck took it gingerly and they both waited for a moment. Sarah smiled, seeming none the worse. Chuck helped her from the car. Sarah's touch was like water for a parched soul and he found it excruciating to let go as they walked toward the club's front door. But he did.
The maitre d', a distinguished, older gentleman in a tuxedo, met them with a smile just inside the door. "Good evening. Welcome to McGill's. May I have the name of your reservation," he asked as he tapped on the screen of a small computer tablet.
Sarah handed him O'Flannery's business card. The maitre d' looked at both sides of the card, then looked up at Chuck and Sarah. "Very good," he said with a half-smile. "Please, come with me."
He led them through another door, down a hallway and into a huge restaurant and lounge filled with elegantly dressed people. Chuck guessed there must have been at least two hundred patrons dining at tables, sitting at the enormous bar at one end of the room, or dancing to music spun by a live DJ at the other side of the room. Though the space was full of people, the noise level was pleasant, allowing for normal conversation. A testament to the acoustics of the place and to the intent of the owner to present a vibrant, but classy atmosphere.
The maitre d' lead them up a flight of stairs to a balcony overlooking the main floor of the club, bringing them to a table next to the balcony railing with a view of the action below. He pulled out a chair for Sarah. Chuck sat across the table.
"May I get you something to drink?" the older man asked.
Chuck gave Sarah a questioning look, not knowing if she was drinking alcohol during her training regimen.
"Sparkling water with lime, please," Sarah said.
"The same," Chuck said, when the maitre d' turned to him.
"Very good," the man said. "I'll have your beverages delivered shortly. Also, I'll let Mr. McGill know you're here. He'll want to visit with you." With that, he turned and walked away.
Chuck looked at Sarah who raised an eyebrow.
"A visit from the owner himself," Chuck said. "Color me surprised."
Sarah let out a chuckle.
Chuck watched Sarah as she took in their surroundings, one of her habits - engrained by years as a spy. He'd been in situations with her where she'd done it a thousand times before.
Her gazed stopped and zeroed-in on a table on the main floor below at the far side of the room. "Is that …," she didn't finish the sentence.
Chuck followed her gaze. "Yep," he said, as he recognized the television star Sarah was watching. "In fact, her series was just renewed for another season."
Sarah continued to scan the crowd. She tilted her head in another direction to get Chuck's attention. "And is that …?"
"Uh huh," Chuck acknowledged. "His new movie was just released."
"But, they're down there and we're … up here," Sarah said with disbelief.
"Guess McGill really likes his brother-in-law," Chuck said.
"Aye and that's a fact," came a deep basso voice in an Irish brogue.
They both turned toward the voice. It belonged to a tall man with perfectly styled brown hair and a tightly trimmed goatee dressed in an expensive two-piece suit. He was walking toward them carrying — to Chuck's surprise — a tray with three glasses. The tall man stopped beside the table, gave a short bow while perfectly balancing the tray in one hand. "Terrance McGill," he said. "Welcome. May I join you?"
Chuck nodded.
Sarah said, "Please."
McGill's smile beamed as he sat the three drinks on the table and pulled a chair up from another table nearby.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sarah," McGill said as he offered has hand and Sarah took it. Chuck watched McGill as he gave Sarah an appreciative, but respectful, look. "You're stunning this evening, my dear." Then he turned to Chuck. "Welcome, Chuck," he said and shook Chuck's hand. "You two must be very precious to Ryan for him to be sending you my way."
Sarah gave Chuck a surprised glance, then said to McGill, "He's a special man. I'm indebted to him. We both are."
"Aye. As am I. Though I'd suspect the old dodger would most likely deny it." McGill shook his head and chuckled. "He's like that, ya' know."
Sarah nodded.
"He called me earlier. I hadn't heard from him in a long time. He told me to expect you both. Told me to make your evening special." McGill turned to Sarah. "I understand this is your last night as a free-bird, Lassie. Tomorrow Taggart will lock you up in a hotel until the fightin's done."
Chuck watched as Sarah's body tensed.
"You know about that?" she said.
McGill chuckled. "It's okay, Las. You can relax. Everyone knows about Taggart's big tournament. It's the buzz of conversation tonight. Probably a quarter of the people here will have money on these fights." He looked Sarah over again. "Ryan said you were good. Even badgered me a wee bit to put some money on ya'. It seems, though, that he forgot to tell me how beautiful you are. Beautiful and devastating. Quite the combination."
McGill turned to Chuck with a grin. "Chuck, me boy-o, you are one lucky bastard." Before Chuck could respond McGill raised his glass, also a sparkling water, and said, "Here's to a wonderful evening for ya' both and to Sarah's success."
The clinked glasses.
McGill rose. "So nice to meet you both. I'll leave you to your privacy. I've got a club to run, anyway. If you need anything, just ask."
"Thank you," both Sarah and Chuck said in unison.
McGill started to turn away but stopped. His gaze turned inward, thoughtful, as if debating whether or not to say something. After a few beats he lifted his gaze. Chuck saw emotion swirling behind his eyes.
"Whatever it is that you've done for Ryan, I want to thank you for it. He's my best mate. Has been since grade school. He's always been a scrapper - tougher than nails. But when my sister died, he closed up. Went inside himself. I've hardly heard hide nor hair from him in the past seven years." McGill's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "But you two did something to him. I don't know what, but he seemed like his old self on the phone today. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for that."
Chuck looked at Sarah. He could see the emotion on her face, the tightening of her throat. She was trying to speak, but having trouble, so she just nodded at McGill. McGill smiled, nodded back, then turned and walked away.
Dinner came, the food beyond excellent. They ate, mostly in silence. The small talk they indulged in focused on Sarah's training, observations of other fighters at O'Flannery's, eye rolls and chuckles about Blood Rayne. Safe subjects.
After their plates were taken away, they sat quietly for a while, both looking down at the patrons below and the couples on the dance floor. It was a tenuous silence for Chuck, but he refused to break it. Being with Sarah like this, after so long without her, was a gift he was unwilling to risk by sticking his foot in his mouth.
Eventually Sarah cleared her throat. Chuck turned to see her looking at him. "Yesterday," Sarah began, "something happened."
She paused, looking down at the table, her brow pinched in thought.
"I owe you an explanation. But I'm not sure I know how to go about it," she said.
"Sarah, it's okay. You don't owe me anything," Chuck said.
"Yes, I do. I'm not sure I understand everything that's happened to me - that's happening to me." Sarah shook her head. "When I left … left you … I didn't know you. I didn't know us. I knew I couldn't be what you wanted … what you needed."
She took in a long, slow breath, then exhaled. "Everything I learned … from my mission logs, reports, other people … painted a picture of how I'd hurt you, over and over again. I didn't want to start that downward spiral again. So, I left."
Chuck's heart squeezed tight at the pain in Sarah's voice. She thought he'd been the one in pain, but he could tell how hard it had been for her over the past two years. He remained quiet but nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"When my memories started to return, it was … hard to cope. But things have gotten worse over the past year. I see my life from before, but I can't feel anything. And I know I should. Hell, any breathing human being should. But I can't. And it scares me. It's like I'm losing my mind." She stopped and Chuck saw her shudder as she wrapped her arms around herself.
"That's why you fight," Chuck said softly.
Sarah just nodded, her head tilted down but looking up at him through her lashes.
"I meant what I said yesterday, Sarah. Whatever you need, whatever I can do to help, I will. Even if it means leaving you alone."
Sarah unwrapped her arms from around herself, placing her hands on the table. "I'm not sure leaving me alone is a solution," she said.
Sarah swallowed hard and it was obvious to Chuck she was struggling with what she wanted to say next.
"Chuck, do you trust me?" she finally asked.
"I never stopped," he said.
Sarah lips inched upward in a smile at his response. "And I trust you," she said. "So … I want to try something. An experiment, for lack of a better word."
Chuck gave her a confused half-smile.
"I trust you to … protect me, to keep me safe. Because my experiment might make me disappear. Like yesterday."
"Ooookaaaay," Chuck said, tentatively.
Sarah chuckled, then said, "I want to try to reconnect a memory with a feeling. Like what happened the past two days when I've been with you. I can't explain the relief I experienced when that happened. But it also scared the hell out of me." She shifted in her seat and leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. "I want to try doing that intentionally. Not having it happen accidentally. Will you help me?"
The spark of hope that had been glowing dimly in the back of Chuck's chest flared for a moment. "Anything you need," he whispered.
Sarah's smile was a mixture of gratitude, relief and anxiety.
"I'm not sure how to go about this," she said, "but when we touched, well … things happened." She ducked her head, shyly, then looked back up at him. "So, could we start out by … you holding my hand?"
Chuck's spark of hope brightened another degree. "Sure," he said.
He placed his left hand on the table, his palm up.
Slowly, Sarah reached across the table and gingerly rested her palm on top of his. She took in a slow breath, then smiled.
Chuck watched as Sarah closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering. A myriad of emotions worked across her face, her smile in a constant state of flux. But always, a smile. After a minute or so, Sarah opened her eyes and gave Chuck's hand a gentle squeeze.
"So … ah … I'm not exactly sure what to say," Chuck said. "Did that … help?"
"Yeah," Sarah said.
"And …?" Chuck asked.
"Lots of little memories. Snippets, actually. Of times when we were together, at a restaurant, like this," Sarah said.
"So, the experiment worked?" Chuck asked.
"Yeah. I was prepared for the emotions. They didn't overwhelm me. Granted, these were pretty basic memories, but still, they meant something because I could feel them." Sarah looked down at their clasped hands. "I could feel … you."
Chuck knew his smile was wide because his facial muscles ached. He hadn't smiled much in the past two years. He was grateful Sarah didn't pull her hand from his. He reveled in the warmth of it in his palm.
Baby steps, Chuck. Starting here. Starting now.
A thought crossed Chuck's mind. He looked up and caught Sarah's eyes. "Do you want to try again, but this time, maybe something a little more … intense."
Sarah tilted her head. "How so?"
"Would you dance with me?"
Sarah's breath caught. Her expression darkened. She was obviously afraid. He'd gone too far.
"Sorry," Chuck said quickly. "Too much." He started to pull his hand away.
Sarah's fingers tightened around Chuck's hand, refusing to release him. Their eyes were still locked.
"I don't know how I'll react," Sarah said. "What happens if I lose it … like yesterday at lunch."
"I'll catch you if you fall," Chuck said. "Always."
A flicker of emotion made Sarah's smile falter for an instant, as if she understood the deeper meaning of Chuck's answer. "Okay," she said. "Fate favors the foolish."
Chuck had to laugh at that.
They stood and walked down the stairs from the balcony to the dance floor, holding hands the entire way.
The DJ was spinning classic music from the crooners of the 50's and 60's — Sinatra, Crosbie, Martin, Davis Jr., Mathis, Anka, Bennett. All songs for dancing cheek to cheek, embraced and enamored with each other.
Chuck found a place on the floor and offered Sarah his other hand. She took it and they started moving slowly to the beat, an arm's width apart. Sarah closed her eyes as they swayed to the rhythm. Her face mimicked the emotional cornucopia she'd displayed at the table. As they drifted across the dance floor Chuck realized that Sarah was gradually moving closer to him. Her eyes were still closed, but her body orbited his, the slow attraction like gravity, drawing them together.
As Chuck watched Sarah's face he saw when the tears started to leak from the corners of her closed eyes, tracking down her cheeks. Her smile grew. She sighed and pulled herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek on his shoulder. He felt her tears on his neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close.
And finally, Chuck couldn't hold back his own tears. So, he let them fall.
They stayed like that for a long time. Slowly swaying in each other's embrace. And they danced.
Chuck let himself drift in and out of awareness, his arms wrapped around Sarah, gliding along the dance floor. He savored each of her breaths on his cheek, each inch of her body pressed against his. Time seemed to disappear, and he hoped it never resurfaced.
But eventually the tempo of the music picked up and they both pulled back to look at each other. For just an instant the love he felt for his wife — the love that he'd kept bridled and tamed for the past two years for fear it would overwhelm him — welled up from deep inside the dark places where he cloistered it. He stared at Sarah's lips, wanting to touch them with his. Wanting to taste her. Wanting to quench his parched thirst from the past two years. And although his heart ached to kiss her, his mind advised him to wait.
Baby steps. This is enough. Right here, right now.
Chuck looked into Sarah's eyes, their blue darker and more intense than he remembered. She must have known what he'd thought just then. She knew, and she hadn't pulled away.
They climbed the stairs and returned to their table.
"You okay?" Chuck asked.
"More than okay," Sarah said.
"That was … nice," Chuck said. "It seemed like you …," he let the sentence trail off, not sure how to finish it.
Sarah sniffled. "I want to tell you about it. But I must be a mess," she said, wiping her cheek and grabbing her small clutch. "I'm going to the ladies' room. I'll just be a minute."
"Sure," Chuck said. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
Sarah gave Chuck's hand a squeeze and walked away.
Sarah looked at the woman in the mirror. Her makeup streaked down her face. But she wasn't ugly today. She wasn't empty today. She was beautiful. She was full. Full of memories. Full of emotions. So different. She shook her head and chuckled at herself. So much had changed in just a few days.
She grabbed a thick, soft hand towel from the stack on the vanity and dabbed at the offending makeup. After a few minutes the streaks were gone. But her eyes were still red and puffy, her expression still rattled from her experience.
Out of her peripheral vision she saw a woman step up to another sink in front of the counter's long mirror.
"Are you all right, girl?" the woman asked.
Sarah just nodded and continued to wipe away the ruined makeup.
"You sure, sweetie? You know it's not hard to tell when a girl's been crying," the woman said.
Sarah let the smile that had been threatening her lips come through, turning her head to look at the woman in the mirror. She was beautiful, slender, elegant, with Asian features and golden skin.
"OH!" the woman said, giving Sarah a knowing smile. "Not sad tears. Happy tears."
"Uh huh," Sarah said and continued to dab at her face with the towel.
"Special guy or gal?" the woman asked.
"Guy," Sarah said.
"Well, a new beau is a wonderful thing."
"Not new," Sarah said, before she could sensor herself. She wasn't saying a lot, but for her, opening up this much to a stranger was unusual. The energy pulsing inside her was exciting and hard to bottle up.
"Really!" the woman said. "Oh my! Rekindling an old flame, are we?"
Sarah felt the heat in her face and saw the blush on her cheeks in the mirror. She just nodded.
"We'll, there's no mistaking a girl in love, sweetie. Good luck." The woman said, giving Sarah a smile as she dried her hands with a towel and left the lounge.
Love? Is that what I'm feeling?
When she'd taken Chuck's hands on the dance floor she'd been flooded with memories — and feelings. She wasn't sure love was one of them. But she wasn't sure it wasn't, either.
She'd closed her eyes as the memories had started to drift into her consciousness. She knew Chuck was there. She knew he'd protect her, keep her safe. So, she'd just let go and allowed the music and motion to take her deeper.
There was no tidal wave of visions and feelings like she'd experienced earlier. Instead a steady flow of scenes from her past with Chuck had played across her mind like a movie.
First, she and Chuck had been dancing, as they had many times, on a mission. The unrequited love she'd felt then — the desire to have him, coupled with the pain of her self-denial — had clenched her stomach.
But then, a microsecond later, another memory surged forward. They'd been dancing together after Paris, after they'd declared their love to each other and made the decision to be together. That memory had banished the pain in her stomach, replacing it with a warm desire that had moved deeper into her as they swayed to Sinatra's Witchcraft. She remembered that she'd finally been able to act on her attraction to Chuck. She'd felt her lips turn into a smile at that.
Then she'd had a vision of them dancing at their wedding reception, the emotion that had swamped her then had almost tipped her over the edge. But she'd pulled herself into Chuck, wrapped her arms around him and felt him bring his arms around her. The completeness she'd felt as he'd adored her with his eyes and his hands and his body on the wedding reception dance floor had come back to her in that moment. The emptiness she'd known all her adult life had been banished. Her life had become full. Full of family and friends. Full of Chuck. Full of … love. She'd felt that love as she'd pushed her face into Chuck's neck, letting her tears fall freely.
He'd loved her then. He'd always loved her.
And he'd forgiven her then. He'd always forgiven her. He always would.
Maybe I need to stop doing things he has to forgive me for — things I need to forgive me for.
At that thought she smiled at herself in the mirror. She wanted — needed — to get back to Chuck. To tell him what she'd experienced. To tell him that his suggestion had worked. To tell him she wanted to dance.
Sarah pulled some basic make-up supplies out of her clutch and went to work repairing the damage from her tears.
Happy tears.
It had been a long time since she'd felt happy.
Sitting at the table Chuck was lost in thought. The hope in his chest had moved from a spark into a small flame. Sarah seemed open to him. Open to being with him in the here and how. She seemed happy. He was dying to know what was going on inside her head. He was hoping that her memories and feelings were beginning to overcome her guilt and fear. He just needed to hang in there with her. To stick with it. Persevere. He was good at that. He always had been.
"Well … hello, Charles. It's such a pleasure to see you."
The voice was smooth, lush and feminine, and jerked him from his thoughts. Chuck looked up to find Alicia Taggart standing next to his table smiling down at him.
Startled, Chuck stood up quickly, smoothed down his suit coat and turned toward Taggart. Mountain Man stood a few paces behind Taggart, dressed in his black ensemble, obviously serving as Taggart's bodyguard.
Charles. Right! I need to be Carmichael.
Chuck worked to calm his features and hide his surprise. He wasn't sure he'd been successful. But he brought Charles Carmichael back to the party.
"Good evening, Alicia," he said. "What a surprise." He reached out and took her proffered hand. "But I believe the pleasure is mine."
Taggart gave Mountain Man a look over her shoulder and he moved away, taking a position against the wall.
She turned back to Chuck. "I hope my arrangements for you to view your favored fighters is meeting your needs."
"Yes. You've been very gracious. Thank you," Chuck replied.
Taggart's predatory smile had returned. She looked up at Chuck through long lashes. She inched closer to him, pulling their joined hands into her.
"I'm so glad I ran into you like this. Waiting for you to join me next Tuesday was becoming an arduous exercise in self-denial." Taggart clutched Chuck's hand tighter to her and pushed her hip into his.
Chuck struggled to relax and remain calm. Taggart was here. And Sarah would be back at any moment.
He'd believed Sarah when she'd told him she wasn't violating any of Taggart's rules by fraternizing with him while she wasn't training or sequestered. And it was unlikely that Taggart would recognize Sarah as one of the competitors in her tournament. But it probably wouldn't be a good thing if Taggart saw him and Sarah together in an intimate venue like McGill's. Especially the way Sarah was dressed.
"I've been anticipating our time together on Tuesday, as well," Chuck said, smiling at Taggart as she pressed her body more tightly into him. Another lie based on truth. He had been thinking about Tuesday — about how he was going to get out of being with Taggart during the championship fight.
Chuck's mind spun like a whirlwind. He definitely didn't want Sarah to see Taggart hanging all over him. Taggart was gorgeous, sensual and seductive. Chuck had absolutely no interest in her, even though he had to feign so. But he and Sarah had been apart for two years and he didn't want there to be any mixed messages. He didn't want anything to sabotage the tenuous progress he and Sarah had made over the past two days. He needed to get rid of Taggart. He just wasn't sure how to do that without compromising his Carmichael identity.
Taggart squeezed Chuck's hand tightly. "Now that we're here - together, perhaps we don't have to wait that long. Do you mind if I join you?" Taggart asked, her voice liquid and cool.
"Yes, he minds," came Sarah's voice, intense and quiet.
Chuck looked up to see Sarah stepping toward them. But instead of flustered and hurried as he might expect with her coming upon this scene, she was moving slowly, confidently placing one foot in front of the other, her tight dress accentuating every curve as she moved. With each step, she made sure her long legs were on display as she swayed hips slightly from side to side. Her blue eyes burned hot and her lips were pressed together in a fierce smile. Chuck swallowed hard. He knew this Sarah. He'd seen her before. She was in full-out femme fatale battle mode, ready to take on this female interloper who'd just invaded her territory.
As Sarah approached her table she saw the woman from the lounge. She saw that woman throwing herself at Chuck. And she saw red.
What the hell's your game, you back-stabbing bitch?
She dropped her clutch on the table and prepared to do whatever was necessary to make it clear that Chuck was hers. Whether that came to words or blows, it didn't matter to Sarah. She'd seen the big man standing off to the side, obviously a body guard. All she needed to do was kick off her heels and she could take him. For a moment she thought he looked a lot like Bennie. That fleeting recognition passed and her focus returned to the woman in front of her — the woman whose hands were all over her husband.
My ... husband.
That she had automatically thought of Chuck as her husband surprised Sarah. Then she was surprised even more when she realized her anger was fueled by jealously. She was jealous that the woman was making a play for her — husband. As unnerving as that realization was, she didn't have time to dwell on it and all of its implications. Sarah needed to get rid of the clingy bitch because she had unfinished business with Chuck.
One thing had become crystal clear for Sarah as she'd examined her reflection in the lounge's mirror. She'd realized that she wanted a chance for a life that was better than the nightmare she'd imprisoned herself in during the past two years. Just like she wanted a chance to fight and win in this tournament, she wanted a chance to fight for a better life. Since Chuck had arrived and his presence had made her memories and emotions play nice together, she felt a glimmer of hope that she might actually have a chance. And she thought she just might be ready to take that chance.
One of the fears that had manacled Sarah to her self-destructive existence of the past year had been obliterated by Chuck. She didn't have to live up to who she used to be. Chuck had smashed that barrier to bits. He was willing to start from here and now, even if that meant such a start might actually be an end for him — that he left her alone to live her life without him. But she was becoming more certain that if she was going to have any chance of digging herself out of her hellhole, she would need Chuck's help. Because she couldn't see any other way she'd be strong enough to do what needed to be done. He'd said he'd help her. He'd said he'd do whatever she needed. She knew enough about the man to know he kept his promises.
What had struck her on the dance floor, as memories and emotions had flooded back into her, was that she didn't want to try making this change by herself. More to the point, she didn't want to start that journey without Chuck by her side. She didn't know if that was love rekindled, or love anew, or even if that was love at all. But the emotions she'd felt had reminded her of one undeniable fact - that Chuck had loved her with all of his heart, and he still did. She wasn't ready to walk away from something like. O'Flannery had called it a gift. It was certainly that, and so much more.
Sarah turned to face the woman who was still pressing herself into Chuck. She glanced at Chuck, softening her eyes for an instant, letting him know that this was not on him and that she'd get him out of it ASAP. She saw the relief wash through him as he realized her expression held no malice toward him. Then Sarah let her eyes turn ice cold again and turned her gaze back to the woman.
"So much for your little act of sisterly support in the lounge," Sarah said.
The woman tilted her had back, letting out a tittering laugh. "Oh, my dear, all's fair in love and war. Don't you think?"
"So, it's a war you want?" Sarah ground out, shifting her weight evenly over her feet.
Sarah caught movement out of the corner of her eye as the bodyguard pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward them. She knew she was on the verge of violence. Even if she only grabbed the woman and pulled her away, her body guard would get involved and things would get real messy, real fast.
"Ladies, I think introductions are in order," Chuck said, hurriedly, cutting through the tension.
Sarah blinked, then looked at Chuck.
"Alicia, this is Sarah," Chuck said. Then he pinned an intense gaze on Sarah. "Sarah, this is Alicia. Alicia … Taggart." He raised his eyebrows several times in emphasis of Alicia's last name.
It took a second, then Sarah felt her eyes widen in recognition. Taggart. This was the Taggart. Fight promoter, Taggart. Taggart was a woman, not a man like most people thought. Sarah took in a steady breath but didn't relax her stance.
"Sarah," Taggart said, thoughtfully. "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Such a pretty name. I like it so much better than that other horrid name you prefer to use. Tell me, Sarah, why do you insist on using that disgusting moniker?"
Sarah's mind clicked. Taggart knew Sarah was one of the fighters in her tournament. And after Sarah's unguarded self-disclosure in the woman's lounge, Taggart knew she and Chuck were — something.
She said she could tell I was in love. Am I in love with Chuck? Did I ever stop loving Chuck?
Sarah took a moment to collect her thoughts. Whatever game Taggart was playing, Sarah would have to worry about it later. Right now, she had business to attend to. One way or another, the woman's hands would be off of Chuck within the next sixty seconds. She decided to switch tactics.
"It's a long story," Sarah said. She shifted her weight to one hip which strategically raised the hem of her short skirt exposing more of her long, lean leg. A warning shot across Taggart's bow, letting her know that if feminine wiles were the weapon of choice, Taggart had met her match.
"Do tell," Taggart sing-songed, still clinging to Chuck.
Sarah tilted her head down, looking up through her lashes with a sultry smile. "Let's just say, it's a constant reminder of the most important, and the most dangerous, thing in the world," Sarah said.
"And what would that be …?" Taggart twittered.
"You're a smart girl," Sarah said, her tone condescending. "You figure it out."
Taggart's smirk morphed into a frown.
Sarah cast a look to the body guard standing off to the side. Then she stepped slowly toward Chuck, reaching out with both hands to grasp the arm Taggart wasn't hugging to herself. She gently, but firmly, pulled him toward her until Taggart had to let go or look foolish trying to cling to him.
"If you'll excuse us," Sarah said, "Charles and I have some catching-up to do. You understand — girl to girl."
Taggart struggled for a moment to wipe the scowl off her face. She'd just been bested by Sarah and it was obvious she didn't like it. Sarah bet that Taggart seldom, if ever, lost when it came to competing for a man. But Sarah had shut her down with a one-two punch.
Schooling her expression Taggart forced a tight smile. "Enjoy your evening," she said to Chuck. She turned to Sarah. "Good luck, my dear. I'll be watching your fights with great interest." Then she gestured for her bodyguard to follow her as she walked away.
Sarah stood watching Taggart depart. She didn't let go of Chuck's arm. Instead she clutched it tighter. When Taggart finally disappeared down the stairs Sarah let out a breath.
She looked up at Chuck. "So, that's the infamous Taggart?"
Uh huh," Chuck acknowledged.
"And how do you know her?" Sarah said, narrowing her eyes at Chuck.
Chuck blanched. "Oh. Geeze, Sarah," he said. "It's not like … we never … I have no interest in her. None. Nada."
"Good," Sarah said, "because I'm pretty sure I'd rip her face off if you did."
Chuck's expression morphed from concerned, to confused, and finally to a half-smile.
"So," Sarah continued, "how did you two meet?"
"I … uh … met with her to get in on the action."
When Sarah raised her brow, he explained.
"You need to buy into the tournament in order to place a bet. I wanted to meet with Taggart because I wanted special consideration to be able to check out the fighters before the tournament started." Chuck blew out a breath. "It turned out that he was a she. And she … sort of … took a liking to me."
"Ah," Sarah said. She considered Chuck for a moment. She remembered his Charles Carmichael persona and how irresistible he was in that role, even if he didn't see it himself. Handsome, suave, smart and rich — of course Taggart would have been attracted to him. "So that's how you found me?"
Chuck nodded.
"What did you have to do to get the VIP treatment?"
Chuck squirmed a little, then swallowed and said, "I promised a minimum wager of two hundred and fifty thousand and left the cash with her as a deposit."
Sarah blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Then blinked again. Finally she said, "You dropped a quarter million dollars into this thing?"
"Uh huh," Chuck grunted.
"Just so you could find me?"
"Yeah."
Sarah tilted her head down and shook it back and forth in disbelief. Chuck had really gone all-in on this. The warmth in her chest sparked again as she fought unsuccessfully to hide a smile.
"Who are you going to bet on?" she asked, looking back up at him.
Chuck tilted his head and looked thoughtful. "Well, there's this one fighter with a cage name that everyone finds disgusting and I was thinking about putting some money on her."
"Really?" Sarah said, raising an eyebrow. "Is she any good?"
"Yeah. And she's also really hot. Like … hot, times ten."
"So, the hotness factor is part of your wagering strategy?"
"Yeah. One part. There are other parts." Chuck said.
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe five years of watching her take names and kick butt."
Sarah rolled her eyes. Then her expression became serious. She let go of Chuck's arm and grasped both of his hands, turning him to face her.
"That's a lot of money, Chuck."
"Yes, it is a lot of money. But then again, no, it's not. Because I'd pay anything … I'd do anything … to help you. To make sure you're okay. So, really, it was a no-brainer."
Sarah eyes narrowed. "I guess I'm really gonna have to step up my game so you don't lose your ass."
"Don't worry about the money," Chuck said. "I can bet on spreads and combinations where it's almost a statistical impossibility that I wouldn't break even. I wouldn't make any money, but I wouldn't lose anything either. This quarter million was all about getting access. That's all."
The relief Sarah felt must have been obvious on her face. Chuck stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. "Geeze, I'm sorry. Did that freak you out?"
Sarah chuckled and looked up at him. "Uh … yeah … kinda. But I'm good now."
Sarah didn't feel the need to move. She liked Chuck's hands on her. She felt safe with his hands on her. Not physically safe. She wasn't worried about protecting herself. It was about feeling safe to be herself, to talk about difficult things. She'd known from her memories that Chuck was a safe person for her. After all, he'd helped her find her way out of the spy life. Helped her learn how to love herself, and consequently, love him. But to be in his presence, to experience Chuck being Chuck, was unraveling the mystery of how her feelings had grown for him.
She'd never felt safe around anyone in her entire life. And in just a couple of days her heart had convinced her head to trust Chuck, enough to where she was willing to risk experimenting with her memories. But it wasn't a couple of days, really. He wasn't someone she'd just met. She might not have recovered all of her memories of Chuck, but her emotions were still intact, buried in her subconscious. She'd known him and trusted him. Enough to commit her life to him. To marry him. It made sense that those feelings of trust and safety would surface so quickly in his presence.
As Sarah processed this new revelation, she realized she was still in the here and now. His touch hadn't brought any memories flooding back. It was just his large hands resting gently on her shoulders. His warm, brown eyes adoring her. They could touch each other and just … be.
They stood by their table like that for a while, quiet, as they looked at each other. Eventually Sarah said, "I'd like to tell you about what happened to me when we were dancing."
Chuck smiled. "I was hoping you would." He pulled her chair out so they could sit and talk.
Chuck watched Sarah blush as she finished recounting the memories that had overwhelmed her on the dance floor. When she'd told him about her recollection of their wedding, they'd both had tears welling in their eyes.
"Even though this was tough, you seem okay," Chuck said.
Sarah nodded. "Yeah. It's hard to explain how relieved I feel."
"If me being around can help you get better, I'm willing to … you know … keep helping. No strings attached. No expectations," Chuck said.
"I know I can't keep doing what I've been doing," Sarah said. "I'm living on borrowed time."
Chuck's heart ached. He wanted more than anything to take her pain away, to let it flow through him and away from them both. But he needed to let Sarah decide what she wanted to do, let her be in control. He didn't want to scare her off with his need for her to be okay. What she needed was what mattered most.
"Any thoughts about what to do next?" Chuck asked.
Sarah's face grew serious. "I need … I want to do something different. I want to keep trying. But before I do anything, I have to finish this competition. I have to fight in this tournament. Then … maybe … I don't know. Something?"
Chuck was surprised at the question in her eyes. She was asking him, without saying the words, if he would stick with her through this final chapter of her journey in the cage. The little flicker of hope inside him flashed again.
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "Something. Something is good. Whatever type of something you need, I'm on-board."
Chuck saw one corner of Sarah's mouth start to turn up into a smile. But then her face darkened and she looked away.
"Sarah, what is it?" Chuck asked as he reached across the table and took her hand before he realized his touch might set off a deluge of memories. She turned back to him, seemingly unaffected.
She studied his hand around her's, then looked up into his eyes. "I'm … scared."
Chuck's chest tightened. "Scared of what?"
Sarah paused for a beat. "Scared I'll drag you into my insanity and … hurt you. Again. Like I've always done."
Chuck let out a relieved breath. This was territory he knew. This was stuff he could deal with. He squeezed her hand and gave her a soft smile. "Let me remind you of two things, Sarah Bartowski," he said quietly, emphasizing her last name.
Sarah gave him a puzzled look.
"First," Chuck said, "we both did plenty of things that hurt each other during our first three years together. The hurting was definitely not one-sided. And second, we both forgave each other when we decided to get married."
Sarah looked away and Chuck saw her swallow hard. "But, I left you. Two years ago … I just … ran away. Abandoned you."
A tear ran down her cheek. Chuck reach up, cupped her chin and gently turned her head so their eyes met.
"And I abandoned you," Chuck whispered, his heart heavy with guilt. "When you needed me most, I failed you. I was too afraid to go after you. To help you. Too afraid to face the possibility that I'd lost you forever. So, it was easier for me to run away by not running after you. I was more concerned about me than you."
Chuck's throat was so tight it hurt. He felt his hand trembling as it gripped at Sarah's. "I was a coward and I'm sorry. Sarah, can you ever forgive me?"
Sarah stared at Chuck, stunned. He'd done it again. Completely turned a conversation ass-over-teakettle. She was the one who was supposed to be sorry, asking for his forgiveness, even though he'd already offered it to her. And yet, here he was, asking for hers. Sarah couldn't fault him any more than she could fault herself.
Then a realization dawned on Sarah. Chuck had suffered from his fear and inaction, maybe as much as she had suffered from her fear and reaction.
Chuck didn't blame her for his pain. He put the responsibility squarely on himself. And as far as her pain was concerned, he felt responsible for it as well. He believed it was his fault. Which was exactly how she felt about him. Talk about the shoe being on the other foot.
The pain in Chuck's eyes cut across Sarah's heart like a razor. She didn't want him to hurt. She didn't want him to blame himself. It wasn't his fault. It was Quinn's fault.
For a moment Sarah was lost. Not sure what to do. She'd been focused for so long on her guilt and shame that she'd never even considered Chuck might feel the same as she, because he blamed himself.
Then O'Flannery's words came to her. About forgiveness. That it was a gift, freely given. That it was an act of love.
Chuck was asking for her forgiveness. She wasn't convinced he needed it. But he thought he did. She could help him begin to heal from that pain and guilt. This was her path to atonement. She could give him the forgiveness he needed. She would gladly give him that gift — an act of love.
Love. I do love him. I still love him.
Sarah tightened her hand around Chuck's. "I don't blame you for anything," Sarah said. "None of this is on you."
Chuck started to speak but Sarah leaned across the table and put a finger to his lips.
"I forgive you, Chuck Bartowski" Sarah said as she pulled her finger away. "Not because you need it — you don't. Not because you've earned it, because you don't need redemption. I don't have much left that I can give, but I can give you that. I can give you forgiveness." Sarah looked down at their joined hands. "I just hope that someday you'll be able to forgive me."
"Hey," Chuck said, ducking his head down to catch Sarah's eyes. She looked up at him. "Sarah, I-" Chuck choked to a stop and held his breath for a moment. "I will always forgive you, no matter what," he finished.
He had started to say something but thought better of it. Was he going to tell her that he loved her? That would be so like Chuck. But he'd caught himself. Held it back. She wished he hadn't.
"Besides," he said, "that was in the pre-nup I made for us."
"What?" Sarah said.
"It was in the fine print."
Sarah gave Chuck a dubious look. "What fine print."
"On the back. Didn't you read it?"
"Chuuuuck."
Chuck smiled. "It said, and I quote 'Chuck will always forgive Sarah and Sarah will always forgive Chuck, because they're both human and do stupid stuff'."
Sarah laughed. "Like hell it did."
Chuck parked the Mercedes in front of Sarah's motel and shut down the engine. He checked his rear-view mirror for the umpteenth time, scanning for the Audi that had ghosted past him in front of McGill's. It wasn't there.
He turned to Sarah and found her studying him. "What is it?" she asked.
"Maybe something. Maybe nothing," he said.
"The silver Audi?" she asked.
Chuck gave her a surprised look.
"I saw it at the restaurant, too," Sarah said.
Chuck nodded. Of course she had. She'd been the consummate spy. The best of the best.
"We weren't followed," he said with a grin. "You taught me well."
Sarah chewed on her lip. "There were two other times I think we were being watched. Maybe followed."
Chuck raised an eyebrow.
"I caught a glimpse of someone. Not enough to see who it was. But I'm guessing it was my new arch nemesis," Sarah said with a scowl.
"Blood Rayne?" Chuck asked.
Sarah nodded.
Chuck pondered that information for minute, then looked back at Sarah. "Taggart knew we were at McGill's. That wasn't a coincidence."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Sarah said. "She knew who I was. And based on her little act in the lady's lounge, she knew we were together. And she didn't like it."
"I agree," Chuck said. "But why would she care?"
Sarah gave him a flat look. "She wants you."
"Maybe. But why?"
Sarah gave Chuck an incredulous look. "What do you mean, why?" She made a sweeping gesture with one hand, indicating his whole body. "Are you kidding? What's not to want?"
Chuck ducked his head.
"I can tell you this," Sarah growled, "if she pulls that shit again she won't walk away on her own power."
Chuck felt a little flash of warmth at Sarah's obvious jealousy but was still unconvinced. "Nah, I don't think it's that. Taggart's too smart to get sidetracked by … that type of stuff. She thinks things through. Every move is calculated. She had us followed. She knew we were seeing each other. She wanted to check us out, to find out what was going on."
"Well, she sure as hell knows what's going on now," Sarah said, letting out a huff.
"Still, I wonder why she was so interested."
"I still think she has ulterior motives — that aren't all that ulterior. I mean, she was practically drooling on you."
Chuck let out a snort. "I forgot to thank you for saving me."
"I wasn't about to let that bitch muscle in on my-" Sarah abruptly dropped the sentence.
Chuck caught Sarah's embarrassed expression. He decided to throw her a bone and shift gears. He hopped out of the Mercedes and walked slowly around to her side, giving her a little time to compose herself. He opened her door and she climbed out. As she stood they were so close the heat from her body washed over him. The need to touch her again was almost painful. But he kept his hands to himself.
"Thank you," Sarah said. "Tonight was … important. We have more to talk about. And I promise, I want to talk with you. I won't run away." She averted her eyes. "But I've got to see this tournament through to the end, or at least, until I'm eliminated." She brought her eyes back to his. "Thank you for understanding — for sticking by me."
Fear and hope and sorrow and desire all pulsed through Chuck. It was a heady mix of emotions — almost overwhelming. But he pushed them down to be present for Sarah in that moment. "Sure," he said. "Always."
Sarah smiled at that.
"I need a favor," Sarah said.
"Anything. Just ask."
"Could you pick me up here tomorrow, around noon? I have to check out of the motel and take all my stuff to O'Flannery's. I plan a light workout, since it's the last day before the first fight. Tomorrow afternoon I need to check into the hotel where Taggart will lock us all up. So, could you also drop me and my stuff off after my workout?"
"Yeah. Of course."
Sarah leaned into him, her chest pushing into his, and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary. Chuck's legs felt rubbery. He struggled to keep his knees locked.
Sarah pulled back, her smile demure. "Thank you," she said. "See you tomorrow." She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then turned and walked toward the motel's entrance.
Chuck watched Sarah's hips sway side to side. Her long, lean body floated across the ground, then disappeared inside the motel. Her beauty still took his breath away. He fought down the pressure of his desire for her. She'd always had this effect on him. Even after being separated for two years, that hadn't changed.
Chuck climbed back into the Mercedes and sat for a while, trying to calm is racing heart and gather his wits.
She'd kissed him. Not an experimental kiss to see how her memories and emotions might be affected. A real kiss, of affection, of appreciation. Granted, it was a kiss on the cheek. But it had still knocked his socks off. Progress. They were making progress.
Baby steps.
He started the car and headed to his motel. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep. But that was okay. He could spend the night thinking about his evening with Sarah. Sleep was overrated, anyway.
Sarah closed the motel room door and leaned her back against it. Her heart thumped in her chest. Her lips still tingled from kissing Chuck on the cheek. It had taken a force of will to keep from moving her lips to his mouth, to keep from wrapping her arms around him like she had on the dance floor and urging him to kiss her back.
Now that Chuck was gone and she was back in her dreary room, she cursed her decision. Maybe she should have kissed him. Maybe she could kiss him. Soon. A real kiss. That thought warmed places deep in her that hadn't felt warm in a long time.
Kicking off her heels, Sarah walked into the bathroom and regarded herself in the mirror. A different woman than the two who had visited her previously, looked back at her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt as happy and safe and … hopeful … as she'd felt tonight with Chuck. And her experiment seemed to have worked — a whole lot better than she'd expected.
"You've got a chance," she said to her reflection, "and he gave you a gift. So, Sarah … Bartowski … what are you going to do with them?"
She smiled then. She knew the answer. She just had to wait - to hold out a little longer. Four more days and this would all be finished. Then she could start, again.
Chuck sat on the bench set back in the corner of O'Flannery's gym. He'd come to have a curious affection for the old piece of wood and vinyl. He wondered if O'Flannery would let him take it with him when he left. When he and Sarah left. Hopefully, together.
Sarah was moving quickly around the gym, from station to station, focusing on exercises for speed and flexibility. He glanced at his watch. He'd been watching her and the other fighters for a little over two hours. Sarah was almost finished, after which he'd take her to the Glass House, a five-star hotel that Taggart had reserved for the tournament's 128 fighters. There, she'd share a room with three other fighters. Once Sarah entered the hotel, Chuck wouldn't be able to have any contact with her until she was eliminated. Or, until she won the whole shebang.
Sarah finished a quick session of shadow boxing in front of a mirror, wiped her brow with a towel and took a swig from her water bottle. She threw her towel over her shoulder and turned to look at Chuck, catching his eyes and smiling at him. His stomach flip-flopped.
She started walking toward him when Blood Rayne approached her from the side, Bennie lumbering along in the background.
"Hey, blondie," Blood Rayne said as she closed the distance on Sarah.
Sarah stopped and turned to face the brunette. Chuck noticed that Bennie stopped abruptly, watching Sarah closely, his expression wary.
"How about a little sparing? You know, loosen things up. Get the juices flowing," Blood Rayne said, not trying to hide her sneer.
Sarah said nothing, her expression neutral, her face inscrutable. Then she slowly turned her back on Blood Rayne and continued walking toward Chuck.
Chuck's eyes widened. Turning her back on her opponent was probably the biggest insult Sarah could have hurled at Blood Rayne. It meant that she didn't perceive Blood Rayne as a threat. Didn't think she was worth talking to or even acknowledging. And Sarah's insult hit Blood Rayne hard.
"Hey, bitch," Blood Rayne shouted, "I'm talking to you." She hunched her shoulders and took a step after Sarah. Bennie reached out and put a huge hand on her shoulder, holding her back.
Blood Rayne turned her head toward Bennie. "Get your fucking hands off me, you moron," she yelled.
Bennie didn't move his hand. "Taggart won't back this play," he said. "You need to cool your jets, or there'll be hell to pay."
Blood Rayne huffed and glared at the big man. She pushed his hand off her shoulder, turned away and stalked off toward the other side of the room.
Bennie cast a glare toward Chuck, then turned and followed his charge.
Sarah reached Chuck and sat next to him, wiping more sweat from her face.
"That was fun," Chuck said.
Sarah just snorted and took another gulp of water.
Movement across the gym caught Chuck's eye. O'Flannery was standing at his office door waving at them, gesturing for them to come over. Chuck shoulder-bumped Sarah to get her attention, then pointed at O'Flannery. She turned back to Chuck, shrugged her shoulders, then rose with Chuck and walked around the room's perimeter toward O'Flannery's office.
"Good day to ya," O'Flannery said, his voice cheerful. "You got a minute for an old dodger?"
"Hey," Chuck said, "quit calling my friend old."
O'Flannery let out a laugh. "Chuck, me boy-o, you are a silver-tongued devil. Come in. Come in."
Sarah sat in the small chair. Chuck stood next to her while O'Flannery closed the door and went around his desk to sit in his chair.
"You met Terrance," O'Flannery said. It was a statement, not a question.
"We did," Sarah said. "He was wonderful. Dinner was wonderful. Everything was wonderful. Thank you so much."
O'Flannery raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Everything was wonderful, you say. Sure, and you've made some progress, then?"
Chuck looked at Sarah, who was looking back at him. He hesitated, not wanting to make Sarah uncomfortable with his response.
Sarah turned back to O'Flannery. "Let's just say that … gifts were given and received."
O'Flannery's grin grew impossibly wide. "You make an old man's heart glad, you do."
Chuck smiled at O'Flannery. "Are you sure you're not some type or magical fae or leprechaun or something? Casting spells to help wayward people find their way."
The old man smiled, then gave Chuck an exaggerated wink.
All three of them laughed at that.
After a few beats O'Flannery sobered. "Chuck, may I ask you a question?"
"Sure," Chuck said.
"Have you made your wagers on the tournament yet?"
Chuck shot a quick glance at Sarah. "No, not yet."
"Good," O'Flannery said. "That's good."
"Why is that good?" Chuck asked.
"Because if you haven't made any bets on Sarah, that means she can drop out and you won't lose your deposit. You can wager on other fighters — have an opportunity to win, or at least cut your losses."
Chuck saw Sarah stiffen. "Drop-out?" she said.
"'Gifts were given and received.' Did you not just say that?" O'Flannery asked.
"Yeah, but-"
O'Flannery cut her off. "Lassie, you don't need this anymore. You've got something better." He nodded toward Chuck.
Chuck watched as Sarah bit her bottom lip. Then she said, "But you've already placed a bet. A lot of money. On me." She gave Chuck a worried look, then turned back to O'Flannery. "If I drop out, you'll lose it all. I can't let that happen."
O'Flannery's expression grew stern. "Now, don't you go worrying your silly heads over an old fool like me. I'll be just fine. You have to go. No need to put yourself in harm's way." He shook his head, then added, "Not that I don't have confidence in ya, Lass, but it's folly to tempt the fates. You two have something to fight for that's more important than any fight on Taggart's docket. Do an old man a favor and get out of here. Tonight. Go and be happy together."
"I … can't do that," Sarah said, her voice almost a whisper.
O'Flannery turned to Chuck. "Lad, can you talk some sense into her?"
Chuck didn't respond. He kept watching Sarah, feeling the anguish that was obviously roiling inside her.
O'Flannery let out a huff. "Well, will ya at least consider it? Sleep on it?"
Sarah stared at O'Flannery for few seconds, then nodded. "Okay," she choked out.
"Right, then," O'Flannery said, pushing false energy into his voice. He stood and moved toward the door. "I've got a weight machine that needs adjusting." He opened the door and left the office.
Sarah looked up at Chuck and he rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
Late in the afternoon Chuck pulled the Mercedes into the drive-thru in front of the Glass House Hotel.
Sarah got out, pulled her duffel bag and backpack out of the back seat and set them on the ground.
As the valet approached Chuck said, "Just dropping off a guest. I'll only be a minute."
The valet nodded and moved off.
Chuck walked around the car and stood by Sarah. They both tilted their heads back, looking up at the hotel rising in front of them.
"Wow," Chuck said. "Vegas. A testament to overindulgence."
Sarah let out a snort. "Well, at least it's on Taggart's dime. This is probably the nicest place I've stayed at since …"
Sarah's voice drifted off. Her eyes closed as she took in a breath. She reached out and lightly grasped Chuck's forearm to steady herself as the memory flowed into her. A hotel room. Opulent. Soft, silk sheets. Feather pillows. Beautiful skyline visible through the window. A tower. The Eiffel tower. Paris. Chuck. All of Chuck. On her, in her, surrounding her. Making love. Professing love — finally. In love.
Heat coursed through Sarah as emotion swelled in her chest. She swayed a little, bracing herself against Chuck. Then she realized she was humming. Not necessarily a tune. More like a satisfied purr. Yes, definitely a purr.
Sarah opened her eyes to find Chuck looking at her. "Memory?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Paris?"
"Yeah."
"That's one of my favorite memories," he said.
Sarah grasped his arms and turned them both to face each other. She looked up at Chuck. His brown eyes were swirling with emotion, his desire and longing for her clear on his face. She shivered as the same feelings skittered through her. She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. His long arms went around her waist and he pulled her even closer.
In just a few minutes he would have to leave and she'd be — for all intents and purposes — locked-up for the next four days. She wouldn't be able to see his face, hear his voice or feel his touch. In the last couple of days she'd become familiar with all three, so much so that she couldn't think of anything else.
This must have been what it was like before. Why the hell did I wait so long?
She'd made a mistake last night — letting Chuck leave without kissing him. She wouldn't make that same mistake again.
Sarah stood up on her tiptoes as she gently pulled Chuck to her. She paused, their lips almost touching.
Chuck's eyes were soft and deep. The need in them palpable. "Are you sure?" he whispered.
The memory of Paris tickled the back of Sarah's mind. She smiled. "Shut up and kiss me, Chuck."
He did.
A/N: Although this could a great ending to the story — leaving a lot to the reader's imagination (but maybe doing a better job at priming fans' imaginations about where Chuck and Sarah were heading, than the writers did in "Chuck versus The Goodbye") — it is NOT the end. There is still a bit of a journey left. After all, we haven't had much action, intrigue and danger — yet. But, never fear, that's coming. Thanks again for your patience and for reading. Please leave me a comment or a review. They really are appreciated and motivating.