A/N: On the road again. Explanations are made. Feelings are expressed.
And there's sorrow. There's a scene in this chapter that may upset some of you. One that I hope you'll find has been handled with dignity and sensitivity.
Continued thanks to michaelfmx, my stalwart beta. As always, any errors that remain are the responsibility of the writer.
Remember, my stories are always more canonish rather than canon. And more talk than action.
Just saying that so you know what you're getting into here. (Although, I suppose if you've gotten this far, you've already figured that out.)
Don't own Chuck, et al.
Enjoy! (I hope)
—
CHUCK VERSUS THE MAN WHO NEVER WAS-THE THIRD ARC
Chapter 6
Casper is fifty miles behind them, when Sarah, snuggled close to him in the back seat of the Crown Vic, gently asks, "Chuck, please tell me what happened to you. How you know it was Beckman."
…
He's just about to open his mouth to answer, when Sarah jumps in. "Sorry, almost forgot something." She looks toward the front seat. "Time for the earplugs, Casey."
"Roger that." Using one hand, he takes a few seconds to fit them in, then says, "OK, we're good."
Chuck looks her way, surprised. "You're forcing him to wear earplugs?"
She chuckles. "Trust me. It was his idea. Said he might drive the car off a cliff if he was overly nauseated by all the stuff he might hear from the back seat." She smiles toward the back of Casey's head. "The truth is that we have a long car ride ahead of us and he wants to give us some privacy while we catch up, but just doesn't want to admit being that considerate."
Chuck shakes his head. "Is he always like that?"
"Seemed that way when we first met, but he mellowed over the time we worked together. He's a good friend, a kind man behind that gruff exterior. Just doesn't like to let on about it."
He gives the man a glance. "Yeah, I kinda got that from the matchmaker comment."
He turns his head and looks down into her eyes, quietly says, "So, you're wondering about the Ilana Truffaut thing, I guess."
"Yes. I'm not sure of the connection between that and your certainty that Beckman was behind all of this."
"Well, number one, she was there when I downloaded the Intersect."
"So you do have it. We weren't totally sure."
"Yes I do, although she informed me that I was the one who created it, something I now know isn't true."
She gapes at him. "Excuse me. She told you that you were the brains behind the whole Intersect project?"
He grins. "At another time, I might take offense at your lack faith in my abilities, but, yes, that's what I was told after I woke up from some sort of coma. According to her, I'd overworked myself trying to make the damn thing functional."
"That lying b…" Sarah shakes her head. "Sorry, that's a discussion for another time. Go on."
He obliges her. "Since I've been in Casper, Beckman's been sending me a regular stream of data, almost anything that was deemed intelligence worthy. If I flash on it, I send the information back to her. And before you ask, it's all very hush-hush. No one here knows I have the Intersect and the intel from my flashes is disguised at her end, attributed to many different sources."
Sarah nods thoughtfully. "OK. I'm following. We weren't sure exactly how, but we were pretty sure she'd found some way to make it work. So what triggered your alarm bells?"
"To make a long story short, there have been gaps in the Intersect. As if certain data had been hurriedly, and rather clumsily, digitally redacted."
"What kind of data?"
"Ilana Truffaut is just one example. Ran across the name while flashing on another file. Flashed on it in turn, but there was nothing behind it, so to speak. Just a blank space where there should have been the agent's file. And it happened more than once. For example, Rebecca Franco and Katie O'Connell." He raises an eyebrow.
She shrugs a shoulder. "Both me."
He nods. "At first I thought it was random. Some sort of glitch. But then I started to see a pattern in what you might call adjacent files. Data that, perhaps, should have been removed, but of a type that would be easy to overlook. Travel orders. Requisitions. Directives. All relating to the current identity, current mission. Digital detritus, you might call it. After some time had passed, I began to suspect that the redacted data was referring to one person and one person only. Someone who, for some reason, it seemed that they didn't want me to be aware of.
"A woman. Just so happens that it turned out to be you."
"And you put all that together. Amazing." She shakes her head.
He grins. "Well, to be fair, I didn't know it was you until you confirmed those were your aliases."
"Still, to get even that close was pure genius."
"Thanks." He flushes with pleasure at her words, then continues, "Anyway, I realized a couple of things. If I had designed the Intersect, there would be no reason to cut you out of it. Charles Carmichael didn't even know you, so why? And why just this one person?"
"Wait, Chuck. Didn't they take Casey out too? Weren't they afraid he could trigger memories as well?"
"That's a good point. Thinking back, I realize that I can't recall having a similar experience with any data that could've related to him. Is it possible that whoever sent the information had better a handle on his cases, so made sure I never got sent anything that could lead me back to him?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"He works for the NSA, so they would have access to his complete dossier, every mission he'd gone on. But maybe, since you're CIA, their access was more restricted, and stuff slipped by them?"
"Chuck! I never told you I was CIA. You remembered?"
He's puzzled. "I guess I did. It just seemed like I've always known that."
She smiles happily. "Well, let's hope that sort of thing keeps on happening.'
"Amen to that."
She nods. "OK. Just so I'm clear. Casey didn't crop up because they removed him more thoroughly and/or filtered the data more efficiently with him. That's what you think happened?"
"Probably. But maybe there's another possible explanation."
"What's that?"
"Maybe, deep down, I somehow knew that Truffaut and the others were important to me. That, when stuff popped up, I simply paid more attention. Was less willing to let it go without knowing what was going on behind the scenes. Maybe I was searching for you without being consciously aware of it."
Smiling gently, she says softly, "I kinda like the thought of that."
He leans in close. "Me too," he replies, suddenly losing himself in her eyes.
After a moment or two passes, he gives himself a little shake. "In any case, even if I'd had a reason to cut you out, I wouldn't have done such a sloppy job of it. Professional pride and all that. So logically, this Intersect wasn't my creation. As soon as you confirmed the Truffaut thing, it became clear that this was a version that Beckman had created and controlled. A version that I'd downloaded voluntarily after she'd somehow made me believe that I was Charles Carmichael. Clearly, in order for me to remain useful to her, she needed to minimize the chances of me recalling my real life. She recognized that you would, almost certainly, be the strongest possible trigger for my memories."
He smiles. "And she was right. You, Sarah Walker, are one helluva trigger."
Grinning, she replies, "Happy to be of service."
But then he sees her expression change, sudden concern replacing her good humor.
"What is it, Sarah?"
She looks away from him, down into her lap. Her voice is small, tentative. "Chuck, how much detail was there in the missions you flashed on? The ones using my cover identities?"
It's easy to see the worry in her eyes.
"Not much. Just the bare facts of the mission's outcome."
She brightens a bit. Looks up into his face once more. "So no precise description of what had happened?"
"No, Sarah. That had been redacted." He pauses. "But there was a listing of casualties, so to speak."
"Oh." Her face falls again.
"What's worrying you, Sarah?"
He sees her gnawing at her lower lip, senses her reluctance.
"Chuck, Gillian said some things, back there in your condo."
He's caught off guard by this seeming left turn, but quickly realizes she's leading him somewhere.
Wherever it is, he's willing to follow.
"What things, Sarah?"
"That I was no more than a soulless, heartless weapon. A monster."
His anger boils once more at this reminder, his voice harsh at the memory. "Yes. I remember her saying that. She upset you too, didn't she?"
Shrugging one shoulder, she quietly, almost breezily, replies, "I'm used to most people looking at me that way. It doesn't really bother me anymore."
Chuck, while doubting the complete truth of her words, wisely makes no comment. Instead, he asks, "What did upset you, then?"
She pauses. "I was afraid."
Somehow, Chuck can't picture the woman at his side ever being afraid of anything or anyone. And yet, here she is, confessing those feelings to him. Intuitively, he understands how agonizingly difficult this must be for her, to admit that sort of thing to anyone. That she's willing to do so with him causes an upsurge of emotion, makes it hard for him to speak.
Finding his voice, he squeezes her hand, then gently, tenderly, asks, "Of what, Sarah?"
She looks down at her lap once again. "I was afraid, Chuck, of what you might think. That her words might make you doubt your feelings, your reasons for caring about me. We're just starting out again and I thought that—"
"Stop, Sarah. Stop right there." His voice, though quiet, is firm.
She looks up at him, her eyes wide, surprised by his forcefulness.
"Do you remember what I said to her? About how I couldn't be in love with someone who actually was the way she portrayed you?"
She nods. "Yes, but—"
"No buts. Did you believe me?"
Her eyes search his face. "Yes, Chuck. I did." He frowns, "I do believe you. It's just that right now you know so little about me. Yet you told Gillian you were certain, but how can you be?'
She turns her head, stares straight ahead. To Chuck, it feels like she's physically distanced herself without actually moving.
Her voice is so quiet, almost a whisper. "Maybe I am no better than she thinks."
While he can't recall specifics, Chuck is quite certain that, in their past, he'd been the recipient of her oft-repeated reassurances.
It's his turn now.
He takes his hand and, placing it softly on her far cheek, slowly, gently, turns her head back to face him
His eyes on hers, only a few inches away, he quietly says, "Sarah, there's only one person in this car who believes there could be any truth in that. And that's you."
"How can you know that, Chuck?"
He knows he needs to find words, not just tell her that's it's this absolute conviction in his mind and heart, although it's so very true.
"Sarah, why did you come to Casper?"
There's a flash of disappointment. "I thought you knew why, Chuck."
He nods. "Yes, I do. But I want to hear it from you."
She looks into his eyes for a few seconds, then replies, earnestly, "I had to see you. To try and find out if you could be in my life again. If I could have a place in yours."
"Why?"
It appears she's about to raise an objection again, but he cuts her off. "Humor me."
"Because I love you."
"Why, Sarah? Why would a woman like yourself pay any attention to someone like me? I'm nothing special."
She's angry. "Stop talking like that! You're the best person I've ever known! You're everything to me! Everything!"
"But, Sarah, the woman that Gillian described would never have taken the time to come to know me. A soulless woman would've dismissed me out of hand. A heartless one would've burned me, handed me over to the powers that be without a second thought. A monster would never have cared enough to come and find me."
She's still fuming. "Yes, of course, a woman like that would...Oh!" She stops, sudden comprehension replacing her fury.
Softly. "Do you understand now? Why I'm so certain, even though I know so few facts about you?"
She nods, blinks back abrupt tears.
He leans closer, gives her a quick, little kiss. "So, no more of that, OK?"
"OK."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He glances towards the front seat, "I will say this, though. The truth is that the confidence I feel is much more about you than Casey. I'd say about 90/10. Mostly, I feel certain about him because you do. Because you vouched for him. I trust your judgment.
"I trust you."
She flushes.
"Chuck, I need to apologize for my behavior back there. With Gillian."
He's puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"She seems like a nice person, and she was just looking out for you. Yet I was unkind, vindictive. It was beneath me. And I'm sorry."
"Sarah, I'm not saying I agree with you, but why do you feel that way? What did she do, aside from being totally unfair to you, that is?"
"She insulted you, Chuck."
"How?"
"By implying that you're the kind of man who's too stupid to see what kind of person you're falling for, and that, by extension, it could only be the physical aspect that attracted you."
He grins. "Well, you are quite attractive, you know."
She blushes, uses her free hand to gently slap him in the chest. "Stop it. I'm trying to be serious here."
He assumes a straight face. "Gotcha."
"It just burns me when people think so poorly of you."
"Sarah, the truth is that I really didn't think of that. I was only upset by what she said about you." He grins again. "It just burns me when people think so poorly of you."
That gets a smile, as he'd intended.
"Anything else?"
She almost snarls. "Yeah, that crack about winding up in your bed was a cheap shot."
"I agree."
She nods. "Gillian is quite attractive."
"I noticed. But you do know there's no reason for you to be jealous, don't you?"
She nods. "I know." She pauses. "And I wasn't really jealous of Gillian, per se. At least, not in the way a person usually thinks of jealousy."
She falls silent.
Gently, he prods, "So, what was it?"
"I guess that, in the end, it wouldn't have made any difference if she'd been a redhead or a blonde. Or even that she's an attractive woman. What made me envious was that she'd been able to be with you, close to you, when I couldn't. That there's a whole year of my life gone, a year that I didn't have with you. A year I'll never get back."
She hangs her head, eyes downcast. "I know that sounds incredibly selfish, considering all that you've gone through, but I can't help it. It's just the way I feel."
Gently, he takes his hand, raises her chin. "Hey, Sarah. Please look at me."
She brings her eyes to his.
"Don't. Don't worry about that. It's not selfish. If the situation had been reversed, I know I'd feel the same way. Please put it out of your mind."
She nods. "I'll try."
"Good. Now was there anything else?"
"Yes. It was when she was waving her gun around. She was dangerous."
He scoffs a little. "Sarah, I doubt she'd ever pointed a gun at anyone in her entire life."
"I know. It was easy to tell she'd never drawn her weapon in anger before. She was nervous, and that made her unpredictable."
"She had good reason to be nervous. I saw her face when she realized who she was up against."
"That's exactly why she was so dangerous, Chuck. With a professional, I would've known where I stood. Would've known there was no chance that you would get hurt accidentally. Gillian, on the other hand, may have panicked, pointed her weapon towards you without intending to do so."
"What would you have done if she had?"
"If her trigger finger had so much as twitched, I would've dropped her." Her voice is harsh, flat.
He can't keep the shock from his voice. "What?! You mean—"
"Yes."
"But, Gillian—"
Her expression is firm, her voice unyielding. "No buts. No one who threatens your life remains standing if I have any say in the matter."
"But—"
"No. One."
Chuck finally understands she'll brook no disagreement, so raises no further objections.
Instead, he just stares at her, trying, in his mind, to reconcile this seemingly harsh, uncompromising Sarah with the tearful, emotional one of just a few moments ago.
Then it hits him. "You've always felt that strongly, haven't you?"
"Yes. Right from the very beginning." She pauses, then somewhat hesitatingly, adds, "Chuck, just after we first met, Graham gave me an order. An order about what I was to do if you decided to run."
"Graham, head of the CIA at one time?"
"Yes. Used to be my boss."
He nods "OK. So he told you, what? Arrest me? Put me in a bunker?"
"No, Chuck." She grimaces. "Kill you."
His voice goes up an octave or two. "Kill me?"
She nods grimly. "Yes."
"Why? Why would he tell you that?"
"I'm sorry, Chuck. I keep forgetting you don't remember what happened. Are you aware that you've had the Intersect in your head before?"
"Yes, of course, I remember that—"
He stops, trying to put the pieces together. The light comes on.
"I had the Intersect before. That's why you came into my life wasn't it?"
"Yes, but it wasn't the reason why I stayed in your life. Not directly, at least."
"And what reason did you have to stay in my life, Miss Walker?"
She ducks her head. "You already know why."
"Yes, I believe I do." He leans in, kisses her forehead. "Thank you for staying."
She gestures with her head towards Casey. "Both of us were sent, by our respective agencies, to retrieve it. We thought you were involved in its theft."
"Was I?"
She shakes her head. "No, you were just an innocent bystander. Wasn't your fault that it got stuck in your brain. But we didn't know that at first. Graham wasn't about to take any chances with you passing it on to someone else. Thus the order."
"Did I know about this?"
"No, I never told you."
"Why not?"
"Because it wasn't relevant. I wouldn't have obeyed Graham. I knew from almost the first moment we met that I could've never carried out such an order. And that I would do everything in my power to stop anyone else from hurting you. Or taking you from me."
He blurts out, "Longshore." Then shakes his head. "Why did I just say that?"
"He was an agent who was ordered to take you away. To put you in a bunker. He's dead."
He's a little afraid to ask. "Did you shoot him?"
"No, Chuck. Someone else did. It's a long story." She pauses, murmurs, "But I was ready to pull my piece on him. A fellow agent."
Chuck can see she's lost in thought, so stays quiet. Gives her a few moments.
He decides to change the subject.
"I guess you and Casey must have really wondered where Beckman had stashed me. All these months of looking for me must have been frustrating, but your hard work paid off and I want to thank the both of you."
She stares at him, hit anew by the depth of his ignorance. And by her own assumptions.
"Chuck, we hadn't been looking for you. It was a fluke that Casey found you."
He looks crushed. "Oh. I would've thought that you..."
She takes his hand in hers, looks into his eyes. Haltingly, she explains, "Chuck, we weren't looking for you because…because we thought you were dead. There was a fire at the hospital."
His jaw drops. Incredulous. "What? Dead? This whole time you thought I was dead?"
She nods. "Yes, Chuck. There was one occasion where we thought you might be alive, that Beckman had hidden you away. But it was a false trail. She did a very good job of convincing us that you were gone. It was only when Casey told me he'd found you that I realized she'd been lying."
"God, Sarah, I had no idea. What did you do?"
"Casey and I tried to find who was behind your death, not knowing that Beckman was pulling all the strings. Not surprisingly, we came up empty-handed after six months of effort."
He pulls her a little closer. "Thank you so much for trying. I'd like to hear the details later. But that's not really what I meant. What did you do, Sarah?"
"What do you mean?" She squirms a bit in her seat, suddenly seemingly uncomfortable.
"Sarah, there was an underlying, lurking sadness I felt the whole time I was in Casper, a sadness that I now know was because you weren't in my life, even though I had no conscious recognition of that at the time." He pauses. "But you, Sarah, you knew what had been taken from you. Yet, you still had to go on and live your life."
He leans in a little closer. "So, what did you do? Go back into the field?"
She doesn't answer for a few seconds, doesn't look at him when she does. "No, Chuck, I resigned."
"From the CIA?"
"Yes. But more than that."
"What do you mean?"
She hesitates. "After we'd failed, after I'd failed, I…withdrew…from the world. I couldn't face the thought of running across people or places or TV shows or movies, anything that would remind me of you. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending the rest of my life without you."
He stares at her, both touched to his core that he means that much to her, and, at the same time, appalled by the thought that someone as beautiful as Sarah, both inside and out, might've gone through the rest or her life without loving or being loved.
"But, Sarah, surely you could've found someone..." He voice tapers off as he sees the fierce look on her face.
"Chuck Bartowski! Don't you dare say it! Or think it! I thought that I'd made myself clear about this."
He's momentarily taken aback by her ferocity.
She notices. Her expression softens, and her voice is gentle as she touches his cheek. "There's no one but you, Chuck. And there never will be anyone else. Never, ever forget that."
He shakes his head. Feels the tears stinging. "I won't, Sarah. Never again."
"Promise?"
He nods. "Promise."
He leans closer, brings his lips to hers, feels her hand on the back of his head pulling him closer. It's more than few minutes before he opens his eyes and gently pulls back.
He smirks. "I guess you could say we sealed that promise with a kiss. Be careful, Ms. Walker, this might become a habit."
"Fine by me," she quickly, earnestly, replies.
He wipes away his tears, takes a look out the window. Sees the countryside rolling by.
"So, where are we going?"
"Right now we're heading to the place where Casey found me. My…retreat, if you will."
"Ah! Your Fortress of Solitude." He gives her a grin.
"My what?"
"Didn't we ever discuss that?" He shakes his head in wonder. "Sarah, it's Superman's secret arctic base, where he could get away from it all. You know, to think about how he was going to save the universe and ponder how he could possibly love a woman who, while such a brilliant reporter, wasn't bright enough to see through Clark Kent's rudimentary disguise. Important stuff like that."
She chuckles despite herself. "Maybe now I can use the place to contemplate how I could possibly be in love with a guy who has such a fixation with comic books."
He huffs. "Ms. Walker, I'll have you know that I'm not quite that shallow. I do read graphic novels as well."
"Sorry. I stand corrected."
"Apology accepted. So, why are we heading there? Are we going to use the place as a hideout?"
"No. It's just a stopover. Need to pick up a couple of friends."
"Friends? I sorta got the feeling you were there by yourself."
"They're not human friends, Chuck."
"Oh." He pauses. "Oh! Sarah, please, please don't tell me that you've turned into one of those strange cat people. One of those weird ladies who dresses up her pets in little tutus and stuff and gives them names like Miss Kitty McFluffybutt."
She laughs, shaking her head. "No, Chuck, not a cat person. Two dogs. Ed and Chase."
She's suddenly serious. "They're both very important to me, Chuck. Much more than pets."
He nods, waits for her to go on.
"They gave me something to hang on to. Something to love when the world seemed so…empty. I don't know what I would've done without them. If they hadn't been there, I probably would've gone back to the field. Taken any mission they offered." She looks into his eyes. "Any mission, Chuck."
He nods his understanding, replies solemnly, "Then I definitely have to meet them. Anyone who looked after the woman I love deserves my respect and friendship. Do you think they'll like me?"
She reaches up, caresses his cheek. "I have no doubt of that, Chuck. None at all."
Softly, he asks, "Will you tell me about them?"
She thinks for a few moments, then replies, "They're both rescue dogs. Found them at a shelter in Denver. Ed, the yellow, short-haired one, is the bigger of the two. A little introverted. Quiet. The protector. Always looking out for Chase, who's black and white, curly-haired. Chase is the more sensitive one. They both can sense my moods, but Chase is usually the first one to come over to try and comfort me. Really smart. And a lot more vocal."
He pulls her a little closer. "They sound great, Sarah."
She's enthusiastic. "They are, Chuck. And they get along so well. Right from the first time they met each other." She chuckles. "They each have their own beds, but I often catch them sleeping, practically laying on top of one another, in Chase's bed. That is when they're not sleeping on mine."
He smiles at the image in his mind.
"Sarah, I have to tell you something." She looks into his eyes. "I thought you were alone, unloved, but I see I was wrong. I'm so glad you had them."
"Me too, Chuck." She looks at him a little anxiously. "But they could never take your place, you know that, right?"
He nods, not trusting himself to speak. After clearing his throat, he says, cheekily, "Well, Ms. Walker, now you can have the best of both worlds. Them and me."
She grins. "You and them. You get first billing, sweetie."
"Thanks for that. And the pet name. Wait a minute. You didn't call either one of them sweetie, did you?"
Her answering smile is mysterious. Enigmatic.
"Sarah Walker, do not tell me you tried out my pet name on a dog first!"
She laughs.
…
As carefully as he can, Casey eases his car down the crappy excuse for a road leading to her cabin, doing his best not to disturb the two sleepers in the back seat. He glances over his shoulder, sees Chuck still tucked in the corner, eyes closed, one arm around Sarah; she draped over him, her head on his chest, dead to the world, snoring softly.
Which Casey can now hear because he'd finally been able to remove his ear plugs an hour or so ago. He can't remember the last time he'd been around two people who could talk so much. Especially Walker. He'd had no idea she contained so many words.
He hadn't known exactly what they were saying, of course, but he had a pretty good idea of the general subject, even if their conversation hadn't been punctuated with the kisses and tears that he couldn't avoid occasionally catching in the rearview mirror.
After all, they had a whole year to catch up on. And a life forgotten.
Eventually, though, they'd fallen asleep, both succumbing to emotional and physical exhaustion.
Coming around a corner, Casey recognizes the landmarks, knows they've reached their destination. He brings the car to halt, a little gentler than last time, so there's not very much dust.
Yawning, he turns toward the back seat and reaches over to wake her. Maybe the fatigue makes him a little careless or maybe the last six months have dulled his memory. Whatever the case, he's barely touched her shoulder when, somehow, he's facing a wicked looking blade that she'd pulled from who knows where.
He pulls back his hand. Quickly. He hisses, "Whoa there, Walker! It's me."
She mumbles, "Sorry. Bad dream. Somebody was trying to take him from me." The knife disappears back to its hiding place.
"I assume they didn't get very far."
"Don't know. Was just getting to that part when you woke me up."
He grunts. "I'm sure they would've gotten what was coming to them."
She shrugs one shoulder as she sits up, yawns, then stretches. Looking around, she quietly asks, "We here?"
"Yeah. You can wake up Sleeping Beauty and we'll go and collect your mutts."
He watches as she leans in closer, and gently jogging the sleeping man's shoulder, whispers, "Chuck, wake up." She repeats herself before he finally opens his eyes.
As soon as he sees her face only a few inches from his, he smiles, lazily. "Hi, beautiful."
Casey watches as she smiles, a little shyly, surprised because Agent Walker doesn't do shy. Not for real, anyway.
"Hi to you too."
"I was having a wonderful dream. You and I were at the beach and you were—" He cuts himself off, blushing, clearly having temporarily forgotten that they are in the back seat of Casey's car, with the Major only a few feet away.
Chuck sits up and looks around. Obviously desperate to change the subject, he quickly asks, "So, we're here?"
She chuckles. "Yes. Let's go on up and I'll introduce you to the gang."
"Up?"
"Yes, Chuck. It's a bit of a hike."
He looks out the window, angles himself so he can see up the hill.
"I see what you mean."
...
As they near the crest of the driveway, Sarah notices both of her companions are puffing a bit. Actually, more than a bit.
"It appears you city boys are a little out of shape. Not up to the pace I set?"
Casey replies gruffly, "Just not used to the altitude, Walker."
Chuck gulping in some air and waving his hand vaguely in the Major's direction, manages to gasp, "What he said."
Sarah starts to laugh, but then cuts herself off, struck by a sudden sense of foreboding.
"Casey, why haven't the dogs noticed us?"
The Major looks around. "They certainly had no problem with that before." He listens carefully. "Maybe they're in the cabin."
"No. It's a nice day and Standing Bear hates to be inside unless there's no other choice." She feels that familiar, unwelcome tingle. "Something's not right here." She reaches behind, pulls her pistol from the waist of her jeans where she'd tucked it after getting out of the car. Casey does the same.
Turning to Chuck, she whispers, "Stay close behind me, OK?"
He nods. Steps closer.
Casey flanks out to the right, using the available cover effectively. Sarah, closely followed by Chuck, approaches the large rock that currently obscures the cabin from her sight.
Crouching down behind it, she sticks her head out, takes a quick look. Nothing seems to be out of order. She looks Casey's way, sees him behind a large tree. He shakes his head, indicating there's nothing amiss from his vantage point either.
Puzzled, she takes another quick glance, then catches sight of John Standing Bear, well beyond the cabin, a hundred yards away, near the tree line. His back is to her, rifle slung over his shoulder. She can't tell what he's doing, he appears to just be standing there with Saridj, his dog, at his side. There's a movement and she sees Ed raise his head.
Even more puzzled now, and seeing there's no apparent problem, she stands and calls out.
The man turns and she waves, catching his attention. His return wave seems somehow halfhearted to her, although she can't say exactly why she feels that way.
Ed starts to run in her direction, but she notices he appears to have a slight limp. John and Saridj start walking toward her as well, seemingly reluctant to close the distance.
What the hell is going on?
Then it hits her.
Where's Chase?
She looks around and sees no sign of him. Wonders if he's sick, maybe in the cabin.
By this time Chuck and Casey have joined her. When Ed finally reaches her, the dog lays down at her feet, whining. And even though Sarah tries to avoid over-attributing human emotions to an animal, she's convinced the dog is sorry, ashamed. And when John Standing Bear gets closer, and she sees the expression on his face, she knows that something bad has happened.
He stops a few feet from her, his head held high, but not proudly, more as if he's willing to accept whatever comes his way.
"John, where's Chase?"
Hs stoicism slips for a moment. She sees the shame in his eyes. "Sarah, I have failed you."
She tries to damp down her anxiety, asks, "How, John?"
"Chase is dead."
The air seems to leave her lungs in a rush, and she's sure her heart stops for a moment. She feels Chuck come close and take her hand in his.
"What happened?"
"For the last few years, Saridj and I have had occasional contact with a wolf that I call the Red One because she has a tinge of that color in her coat. We've always respected each other's right to live in the high country and have avoided any confrontation. But earlier this year I noticed she had been injured. Perhaps she'd been forced out of the pack. Was on her own. May have become desperate. Until yesterday, I've never seen her come this far down.
He pauses, and Sarah knows the difficult part is coming. "Yesterday, the three dogs were playing, back there near the tree line. Saridj had run back to the cabin, thirsty, leaving Ed and Chase momentarily by themselves. I was about to call them back when the Red One, who'd been upwind, waiting for an opportunity, took it."
Sarah, trying hard to blink back her tears, somehow chokes out, "She attacked Chase?"
The man shakes his head. "No, she attacked Ed, had him down on the ground, was ready to kill him, when Chase attacked her from behind, biting her back leg and hanging on. The Red One, enraged, turned on him, and before Saridj or myself were able to intervene, had Chase's neck in her mouth. I grabbed my rifle, ran towards them, shot her, but I was too late. Chase's neck was broken.
"He died a warrior's death, Sarah. I gave him a death name. Honiahaka. Little Wolf. We were about to bury him when you called out to me."
He spits out, "The Red One's carcass, I dragged into the bush, food fit for the scavengers."
He then points to the border collie at his side. "I know it is not nearly enough, but I offer you Saridj in Chase's place."
She shakes her head, using her fingers to wipe away the tears. "No, John. I can't accept your offer. As generous as it is, Saridj and you are one, mustn't ever be separated while both of you live. But I thank you for it. And I don't blame you for what happened. So please put any thoughts of that out of your mind."
He nods, solemnly replies, "Thank you, Sarah."
She turns to Chuck and Casey. "I want to go and say goodbye to him. By myself. Please wait here."
After bending down and giving Ed an affectionate pat on the head, she walks away, her back straight, head unbowed.
Chuck, following her with his eyes, has his attention drawn back to the tall man standing before him when he hears the words, "You are the one."
"Excuse me?" He looks into the man's dark eyes.
"You're the one she's been grieving over."
Chuck looks her way again. "Yes, I suppose I am."
"She needs you."
"Yes. She's as much as told me that."
"No. She needs you right now. Go to her."
"But she said she wanted to be alone."
"That was her nature. But it cannot be that way anymore. You have to go to her, make certain she knows you're there to share her grief as well as her joy."
Chuck looks to Casey. The man nods. "He's right. Go after her."
"What can I do? Say?"
"Just be there. That's all."
After a further moment's indecision, he nods, starts walking after her. He's twenty feet behind her, when he sees her go down on one knee, intently studying something he can't see. After a moment, he realizes she's looking into a grave. Chase's.
He gives her a minute. Then, treading softly, walks to her side, loathe to break into her focused anguish. Nonetheless, she (of course) notices his approach, looks up at him, eyes overflowing.
He says nothing, just places his hand gently on her shoulder. She nods, then directs her attention once again to the small dog laid out on a bed of pine boughs, looking for all the world like he's merely sleeping.
After a few more moments of silence, she whispers, "He reminded me of you. His kindness. His empathy. His talkativeness." She chuckles wetly.
"I loved him, Chuck. So much."
He nods. "I know, Sarah."
"Until I met you, I wasn't sure I was capable of feeling that way about anyone."
She looks up at him. "Thank you."
He feels as if his heart's about to burst. Overcome with emotion, all he can do is nod.
She stands, brushes the dirt from her knee. Looks down to the small grave again. "Will you help me cover him?"
"Of course, Sarah."
She kneels again, gently, tenderly pets the little creature's head.
"Goodbye, little one. You'll be in my heart. Always."
Together, using their hands, they pull the small pile of dirt into the grave, making sure it's firmly packed. Then they pile large stones on top.
Standing and brushing the dirt from her hands, she turns to face him, looking him squarely in the face. Chuck sees something in her eyes, is unsure what it is.
Anxiety. Fear. Maybe both or something else entirely.
"Chuck, I need you to promise me something."
"Of course, Sarah. What is it?"
"Never leave me."
The idea of him leaving her voluntarily is so preposterous, that he's a little disappointed that she might think he ever would do so. But then he understands.
She's worried about him leaving involuntarily.
And although he well knows he would have little or no control over that, he also knows she needs to hear his words.
"Never, Sarah. Never."
She moves closer, clutches his shirtfront in her hands. Fervently, she demands, "No, you have to promise."
He nods, assures her seriously, "Yes, Sarah, I promise."
Her eyes search his face, apparently finding what she's looking for. She releases her grip on his shirt. Smoothes it out. Pats his chest.
"Good. Good. We'll make it official after you're better."
"Excuse me?"
"If it's alright with you, I would like a small ceremony, just the people we care for most."
"Ceremony? What ceremony—Oh!"
She smiles, just a little. "Chuck, you didn't honestly think I was going to let you go again, did you?"
He shakes his head, feeling a little overwhelmed. "No, I guess I didn't."
"So, we have an understanding?"
He brightens, the thought of what he's agreed to starting to sink in. "I suppose we do."
"We'll keep it between the two of us for now, if that's OK with you?"
"Yes. I'm fine with that."
"Good. We'd better get going." Standing on her tiptoes, she quickly, softly, kisses him on the lips, then takes his hand as they start walking back to the two men waiting for them near the cabin.
…
As Chuck and Sarah approach, Casey can see that something's changed. There's a...serenity in her that he's never seen before. A quiet joy that suffuses her features, somehow managing to shine even through her grief.
He suspects they've made some sort of commitment to each other, but he doesn't comment.
Instead, he says, "Walker, I was just telling John that he'll probably be OK up here for at least a couple more days. Eventually, Beckman will get around to checking the data I requested while I was searching for you. Then they'll come and check the place out."
Sarah turns to the man in question. "What would you like to do, John? You're welcome to take the Defender and go wherever you choose."
He shakes his head. "No, I'll stay and watch over your place." He points back towards the high hills. "They won't know I'm here. I'll camp up there until they leave. The weather should be good for the next week or so."
Chuck asks, "You can sense what the weather will be like? That's cool."
John turns to Chuck. "No, I listened to the weather report on the satellite radio that Sarah had installed in her vehicle."
"Oh." He flushes and Sarah chuckles at his embarrassment. Even Casey cracks a smile.
John turns back to Sarah. "If it is alright with you, I would winter in your cabin. Take care of the place. That is, assuming you're not planning to stay here yourself."
"No. Later, perhaps. Maybe in spring. You're welcome to use it."
"Thank you, Sarah. After you leave, I'll move your vehicle to a hiding place I know. Just in case whoever comes here gets any idea about impounding it.
"Good idea, John. There's an encrypted satellite phone in the Defender that we can use for communication. You might have to run the vehicle to charge it from time to time. I'll write down the numbers for you."
"Thank you."
He turns to Chuck again. "I didn't get your name."
"Chuck."
Chuck looks at the tall man as he mulls over the name, wondering if he'll get the usual amused response.
"Chuck. It's a good name. Solid. Be proud of it."
Surprised, he replies. "Thank you."
Casey pipes up. "Walker, we should get your stuff and get going. It'll be dark soon and I don't want to drive that road in the dark."
"OK, Casey. Won't need much. Just some clothes and the stuff for Ed."
Casey walks over, shakes Standing Bear's hand. Looking at the rifle slung over the man's shoulder, he says, "That was quite the shot, especially over open sights and on the move."
He shakes his head. "No, it would have only been a good shot if it'd been ten seconds earlier."
Chuck stands in, repeats Casey's action. "Good to meet you, John. Hopefully, we'll see each soon."
"Good to meet you, Chuck. Have you promised to take care of her?"
"Yeah, I guess I have. We've promised each other."
"Good."
Sarah takes her turn and, before the man has a chance to demur, wraps her arms around him, hugs him tightly. After a few awkward seconds, he tentatively returns her gesture.
"Thank you, John. We'll see you in the spring, assuming all goes well."
"I'm looking forward to it."
…
"I'm bored."
"Bored, Morgan? We've been here less than two days. Besides, you've got that game station to play with, don't you?"
"Yeah, but it only has old games. Played them already."
Devon jumps in. "How about that stack of comic books?"
"Old too. Read 'em all."
"Well, you'll just have to make do."
"Could I go online? Play games with my friends?"
"Sorry, Morgan. Our instructions were explicit. Nothing online."
"Sounds kinda paranoid to me."
"I'm sure Sarah has her reasons."
"I guess so. OK, I'll go back downstairs. Try and find something to do."
He drags himself off the couch, heads down the stairs.
Devon turns to Ellie, "I'm a little bit on his side, Ellie. What do you think could be going on that requires us all to pack up at moment's notice and hide out here? After all, it's been a year since…," his voice trails off.
While Ellie appreciates her husband's efforts not to remind her of that day, she replies firmly, "…since we lost Chuck. You can say it. I've accepted it."
Devon nods. "It's just that with him gone, I thought that we were well and good out of the spy business."
"I thought so too. But Sarah made it clear there is some potential danger right now. That Beckman might have some reason to want to get to us."
"Did she say why?"
She shakes her head. "No. Her last text simply said they're bringing someone important here."
"Do you think they found your dad?"
She shrugs her shoulders just as a ping goes off, signifying a text message. She looks at her phone. "They're five minutes out."
Ellie looks toward the front door. "Well, whoever it turns out to be, at least I'll get a chance to see Sarah again. That makes this whole thing worth it."
A couple of minutes later they see the lights of a car coming down the long driveway leading to the farmhouse.
"El, I'll go and get Morgan. I'll give you a couple of minutes to have your reunion with Sarah."
She smiles. "Thanks, hon'."
As Devon descends the staircase, Ellie walks to the front door, reaching it just a knock comes.
She opens it, sees Sarah standing there, and before the spy can react, embraces her in a fervent hug.
"Sarah, I've missed you so much."
It takes a moment for Ellie to realize her hug is not being returned. She pulls back, releases Sarah, looks into her eyes, sees the uneasiness in them. "Sarah, what's wrong? I thought you'd be glad to see me."
"I am, Ellie. Really I am. It's just that there's something so important that you need to know, and I couldn't figure out how to tell you in advance. Please don't hate me for doing it this way."
She steps aside.
And there, at the bottom of the front porch stairs, stands a tall man with curly brown hair. Looking up at Ellie and smiling the goofy smile that she'd never thought she'd ever see again.
"Chuck?"
TBC
—
A/N: I know. And we barely get to see Ellie and the gang. More next time. I promise. Always appreciate everyone who's following along. And your reviews. Thank you.
