A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I was lazy. Thanks for persisting with it. Probably will be a while until next update as I'm going abroad for a while and have exams. Special thanks go out to my amazing beta reader DanaPAH. Enjoy. Don't forget to review.

Chapter 10

Respite

16th October 2007

Highway 395, California

18:17 PST

Not having a destination, Chuck thought as he cruised north along the 395, really made time slow down.

They'd left the blood and death behind with the Mojave desert, and now even LA itself had long since passed. Wind-blown sands had been replaced by rolling hills, with the Sierra Nevadas peaking majestically in the distance, judging.

It was to hard to believe that only a mere five hours had passed since he'd taken off with Sarah in the stolen Ring vehicle. The ache in his shoulder had only stiffened in that time and he'd yet to stop, pausing only briefly at the roadside to check on Sarah and give her some more water. During this, she hadn't stirred, groaning only slightly when he pressed the bottle to her lips. But there'd been enough natural instinct there to accept the water. Still – he was worried.

Sarah had been wholly quiet since asking him about the Arcade Fire song earlier. Her light frame seemed to retreat ever deeper into the passenger seat the longer the drive went on, his jacket wrapped tightly around her. What's more, she had started to shiver – almost imperceptibly at first, which was probably why he'd taken a while to notice. And when he finally did, he'd felt a strange compulsion to wrap his arms around her and just hold her there until she stopped, until the cold went away. And then perhaps for some more. But that was stupid. Sarah wasn't some child to be coddled; she was a CIA agent, and a damn sight better one than he'd ever be. No, she needed him for one thing right now: to drive her to safety. He needed to stay focused on driving – he wasn't going to be any use to her if he totalled the car. Plus, Sarah probably wouldn't appreciate a complete invasion of her personal space by her former captor/borderline torturer.

So he'd turned the heat up.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do, for now. She didn't have a fever – Ellie had made sure he was able to tell that much. Maybe it was shock – hardly surprising given what she'd been through – but unlike his sister, Chuck was no doctor. He just didn't know. She really should be in a hospital. Like, really. But Sarah's instructions had been clear: no hospitals and find somewhere to lie low. And Chuck was hardly going to disagree with the Sarah Walker.

Even if she had been delirious.

Now, five hours later, the increased heat was making him sweat. Beads were slowly trickling between his shoulder blades and he found himself shuffling back against the seat, trying to wipe them away. The warm car was making it increasingly difficult to stay awake.

It had been a long day.

He'd managed to put nearly 200 miles between Sarah and that place, and if it were entirely up to him, he'd keep driving all night and push the mileage closer to 1000. But the distance wasn't what was bothering him at the moment. It was the time. Off into the west, the sun was hovering dangerously close to the horizon, filling the sky with all sorts of blues and oranges, which on any other day would have been beautiful. But right now, the setting sun was problem number one.

Stealing the Range Rover had seemed like a good idea at the time; it was built to handle the desert terrain and was loaded full of any supplies he might need. The safety rating on the thing was also through the roof. It was only now that he was starting to see the problem in his plan.

Getting back to the I-15 had been difficult, even for the SUV. The tracks had seemed rougher than before, and in all his haste he'd been careless. This had led to a particularly troublesome rock smashing one of his tail-lights, and were a highway patrol to notice this, Chuck would have a lot of explaining to do. The unconscious beaten-up woman in the front and the small cache of weapons in the back might make it hard to convince the officer to just let him off with a warning. It wasn't as if he or Sarah were carrying badges, either. That didn't mean staying put and waiting for the Ring to find them was an option; he would just have to risk the highway patrols. And hope.

Fortunately, he'd been lucky; the single law enforcement vehicle that they'd passed a couple hours back hadn't given them a second glance. Now, he was far enough away not to worry about the Ring – with the GPS also disabled it would be next to impossible for them to find him – and he knew he should start thinking about setting down for the night. The tail-light would stick out like a sore thumb in the dark and he needed to get off the road.

Civilisation, however, was lacking.

They hadn't seen a car for at least twenty minutes and the last town had been...far. Not that it had really been much of a town. Chuck figured that he had perhaps thirty minutes at most before it was fully dark and if he hadn't found somewhere to stop by then, he'd drive them off road and into the brush. Somewhere to hide. The dry shrubs wouldn't exactly provide much cover and he didn't like the idea of Sarah having to sleep in the car overnight, but it was something, right?

That thought caused him to press down on the gas a little harder. There had got to be something soon, a town, a motel. Anything. With his right hand, he reached over to change into forth and -

Something shot out and caught it so fast he didn't even have time to flinch. Something soft.

"Bryce...?"

Chuck looked over to see Sarah's hand clutching at his, her smaller fingers wrapped around his in a tight grip. He opened his mouth to say something before he realised that her eyes were still closed. Through the stray strands of blonde that fell loosely over her face, there was a confused frown. For a second he just sat there, his hand frozen. He couldn't move. In her semi-conscious state, she thought he was Bryce.

Maybe he should just let her think that... Even the illusion of just Bryce's presence – someone who she probably loved – had to be more of a comfort than his would be. But ultimately that would just be cruel, to continue to let her think that Bryce was...

"No, Sarah." He swallowed uneasily. "It's me...It's Chuck."

The frown deepened for a moment – and Chuck could be feel himself tensing – before she released a deep breath and her expression lightened. Her eyes were, however, still closed.

"...Chuck?"

"Yeah. It's me," he said, feeling a little easier. "It's okay now, Sarah."

"He hurt me..." Her frightened words were barely audible, the collar of his jacket muffling her whispers. "He hurt me, Chuck... Please don't let him hurt me..."

Chuck felt her fingers tighten around his and he shifted his grip so he could squeeze back.

He had no doubt who the "he" was. Who the "he" had been. And whatever guilt he had been feeling then for what he had done – what he had to do – was gone. Cooper was dead. And Chuck was glad he had been the one to kill him.

"I won't," he found himself saying. He said the words softly, but there was a strength to them that reverberated through the vehicle. "Ever."

# # #

16th October 2007

Somewhere off Highway 395, California

19:03 PST

Sarah felt the sudden loss of warmth from her hand.

Whatever source of heat that had been keeping it warm had abruptly been removed, causing her whole body to shiver from the loss of contact. Fortunately, however, it was only momentary. She soon felt her hand being tucked back into place under the jacket, where it was still warm. Smiling contently, she once again found herself slipping back into a deeper state of unconsciousness – not quite sleep, for it wasn't nearly as restful, but something that was nearly akin to it. Somewhere quiet. And peaceful. Away from everything. She'd been there for a while now...

It wasn't until the car door closed with a muted thud that she realised she was actually awake.

The smile dropped from her face as she found herself reluctantly starting to compose her thoughts. Luckily, her head no longer hurt – well, less than it had before – which made the process considerably faster. Events started to return to her, sporadic and disordered at first, but then they started to assemble, and then Sarah began to remember: the car, the road, the music, the cell, the chains, the fear, Cooper, and Chuck...

The montage that her mind came up with scared her.

She could see the cell she'd been in and the chains that they'd let her hang from, the blackness replaced by taunting faces, all looking at her. But then there was only one. One face. One in particular. She could see her own reflection in the glint of his knife, feel his eyes crawling all over her body, hungrily. Arms hung high above, she felt exposed, vulnerable, waiting for him to...

Sarah took a deep breath; the sudden overwhelming clarity of her memories was almost too intense, the ache in her shoulders and arms serving only as reminders, adding colour to them.

Taking several more deep breaths, she forced her mind to focus elsewhere.

She was alive and she had escaped. Everything else was just baggage.

Time to wake up.

After a couple of test-squints, she could feel that the swelling on her bruised eye had gone down enough to risk an opening – maybe she wouldn't need an eye patch after all. Too bad, the look on Carina's face would have been priceless. At least now she'd get to see her friend again. That thought almost brought the smile back to her face.

For the first time in what felt like years, she slowly began to pry open both eyes. Her right eyelid still felt heavy, but she could see. At least enough to let light fill her vision, or rather the lack of it, as it was dark outside. Pulling her hand free of Chuck's jacket, she brushed the hair from her face and tucked the rogue strands behind her ear, giving herself a clearer view.

The car was stopped at the side of a long, single story building, at the far end of a parking lot. The building was obscuring most of her line of sight, but she could see the faint traces of neon lighting bouncing off the floor of the lot. Beyond, the road was almost completely covered by darkness. The darkness that seemed to go on forever...

Sarah shuddered slightly and drew her gaze back inwards.

The driver seat was empty. Chuck was – gone!

Without realising it, she'd already pushed herself up in alarm, which had caused the jacket to slide off her.

Chuck was gone! Where was he? Had he left her? Had the Ring caught up to them and were they about to -

Wake up, CIA.

Of course Chuck was gone – she'd heard the driver's door close not two minutes before. He'd obviously gotten out on his own free will so there was really no need to – Wait!

Chuck had gotten out. Her hand had gotten cold. Her mind quickly put two and two together and she swallowed heavily at the outcome. The heat started to rise in her cheeks.

Had she been – had she been holding his hand?

Holding his hand while she was asleep? Wow, what he must think of her doing that... A CIA agent clinging onto his hand?

God, she was pathetic.

She shrugged the embarrassment aside and hoped that Chuck wouldn't bring it up later – speaking of which, where had he gone?

Checking everything was still working, she started to move in her seat, trying to stretch. Wincing at the various sensations the movement triggered from the bruises on her torso, she reached out to open the door. Her arms and shoulders were still painfully aching and their movement was sluggish, but her legs were mobile. The door fell open at her weight and cold air rushed into the vehicle.

Releasing the safety belt, she pulled herself out of the seat and, with some difficulty, started to clamber out of the vehicle. Frowning slightly as her bare feet hit dirt, she managed to stand up straight. Balancing was a bit of a struggle at first, so she moved her feet a little further apart to compensate. She allowed herself a small smile at the victory and making a mental note to get hold of some shoes, she started to look around.

Leaning forward, she could see now that the building they had parked next to was a motel. The neon glow was coming from lighting that surrounded a sign, which said just that. Chuck was nowhere in sight and the rest of the parking lot seemed just as deserted, as well. Round the corner there was another building which looked like some sort of reception and, from the noise emanating from it, a bar.

Concluding that that was where Chuck must be, getting them a room, Sarah reached back into the vehicle and grabbed his jacket, sliding herself into it. It was too big around the shoulders and fell past his hips, but it was comfortable. She zipped it up to cover up the remains of her shirt, in an effort to at least maintain some form of dignity. Her jeans weren't in a much better state, ripped at the bottom and torn in several other places, but they were fortunately intact. Cooper hadn't had to chance to bring the knife to her legs, like he said he would...

Just as she was brushing herself down, something metallic caught her eye. She reached in and pulled a Desert Eagle off the floor of the vehicle. It was loaded. She held it thoughtfully for a moment, before sliding it into her waistband and covering it with the jacket.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Chuck, it was just...

"Sarah?"

She spun around to see that Chuck had returned. He was stood several feet away, a key in hand, with a look of surprise, panic, and concern all fused into one.

"Hi, Chuck."

"Sarah..." he stammered. "You're awake – I mean, you're up. Are you okay? How did you -"

She cut him off with a small smile. It was forced – not that she wasn't pleased to see him. If anything, she was relieved. It meant she wasn't alone any more. "Yeah – um, I am. I woke up and you weren't here and – um, where are we?"

Her throat was feeling a lot less sore, and talking didn't seem to hurt as much.

Chuck glanced around at the motel and frowned before shaking his head. "We're, um, somewhere...maybe about 50 miles south of Yosemite – I'm not exactly sure. It was just starting to get dark and you said to lie low so I figured we needed to stop and this was the first place I could find and – was that stupid?"

Sarah raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "No, no. You were right to do so. It's getting late and this is as good a place as any to stop..." She couldn't help but wonder why he seemed to be asking her permission; they were both field agents, weren't they? He had just rescued her from a Ring compound single-handedly. Surely he could handle laying low? She brushed the thought aside. "There's probably a pay phone for you to contact Bryce – we'll have to wait until morning though, don't want to be here if it's traced."

Chuck stiffened, slowly nodding. He seemed to have forgotten where he was, lost in deep thought.

"Chuck?" she asked. "Everything all right?"

He drew his gaze up upwards to look at her. "What? Oh, right. Yeah, contact Bryce – Wait, Sarah! You must be freezing out here with no shoes and your clothes – um, let's get you inside."

She stifled a blush as she saw him look her over. She was a mess.

When Chuck began to move towards her with a supporting arm outstretched, she instinctively recoiled and felt her right hand reach for her waistband.

Chuck's eyes were suddenly golf balls. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to... Stupid, I didn't think..."

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No...It's just I'm a little...I'm fine...really, no big deal."

He still looked uneasy, but relaxed a little as she started to move towards him and the motel building. As she moved, Chuck seemed to ready to catch her at any moment, were she to fall.

A couple of steps later, she stopped.

She gave him what she hoped was a grin. "Um, I may have overestimated my – would you mind..."

He was at her side in an instant, an arm wrapped gently around her shoulders, careful not to lay on too much pressure. She leaned heavily into him and they started to slowly move past motel doors.

"Sorry," she said after a couple of seconds of limping along.

"What have you possibly got to be sorry about?" he asked.

"That you're having to help me like this – that I'm the reason you blew your cover. And I'm all disgusting right now and completely reek -"

He cut her off as he abruptly stopped them and turned to face her, putting both hands on her arms. "Don't ever say that. The cover – what I was doing, it was nowhere near as important as... I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I wasn't just going to leave you there. I couldn't."

She found herself staring deeply back at him. His eyes were full of seriousness. There was a rugged look in them, somewhere deep in the brown, that told her he truly believed what he was saying. There were suddenly a million things she wanted to say to him, to ask him. Not least, to thank him for rescuing her. Judging from the red marks on his neck, which even in the dark were still visible, it had nearly cost him the ultimate price... "Chuck -"

"We'll talk about it a bit later, okay? Gotta get you inside first."

She smiled meekly and they once again started to move.

Later.

"Oh, and by the way," Chuck said into her hair, "you're not disgusting."

She let out a little laugh. "You have seen me, right?"

"Of course I've seen you," he said absently. They drew to a stop in front of a door and Chuck carefully set her down leaning against the wall. He looked up as he was fiddling was the keys. "How could anyone ever forget you? Even now you're still like the most beautiful woman in the world, one could kick the ass of anyone within 50 miles of here, hell, probably even more than that and now I've started rambling and I'll just stop talking if that's okay with you."

Huh?

He thought she was beautiful? No-one ever called her that...Pretty? Yes. Hot? Yes. Never beautiful... In her current state she felt anything but...Still, strange as it was, it felt nice to hear him say that. Beautiful.

She started to open her mouth to say something, but Chuck had quickly found a distraction with the door. The door swung open and he started to help her inside in a stony silence, all the time looking away from her in obvious embarrassment. The iron clad confidence he had displayed moments before was gone.

"Can you see the, um, light-switch?" she asked in a effort to change the subject as they moved into the dark motel room. His words still swum around in her head, but she didn't want to leave him feeling awkward.

"What? Oh, yeah. It's just here..."

Lights flickered on into the small room. There was a single double-bed sat on one side opposite a sofa. A TV set was off pushed into a corner and at the back there was a door leading into what she assumed was a bathroom.

She knew that Chuck could already sense her eyes on the double-bed. There went her fleeting attempt at getting rid of his awkwardness.

"It's okay," he said quickly. "I'll take the couch. I just wanted to make sure that we weren't separated. Should I have got separate rooms?"

"No, no, of course not. We need to stick together and be ready to go at a moment's notice."

"I'll be a perfect gentlemen, I swear," he quickly added, letting go of her so he could close the door.

She almost said that she knew he would before deciding against it.

With some difficulty, Sarah started to move herself over to the couch and sat down on the arm. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I mean, the bed is big enough for two...I don't mind sharing."

Chuck spun around on his heel, his wide-eyed expression dropped for a second as he realised she'd managed to move over to the couch on her own. He quickly shook his head. "No, its fine. Honestly. You take the bed. It's yours...after everything you've been through...I'm planning on keeping watch, anyway."

"Keeping watch?" She cocked at eyebrow at him, made harder than usual by the swelling on her eye. "Chuck, I don't think we need to worry... We're miles away, no-one's gonna find us here."

He moved over to the bed and sat down, hands in his lap. "I know," he said quietly. "I just want to make sure you're safe. Just in case."

Sarah nodded and looked away. He wanted to make sure she was safe. He'd saved her, told her she was beautiful, and now wanted to make sure she was safe. Just in case. She could already tell that Chuck wasn't like other agents or even other guys. This wasn't some testosterone-fuelled saviour complex; he genuinely wanted to just make sure she was okay. "Thank you," she said, looking up.

Chuck waved his hand dismissively. "You don't have to thank me."

Sarah's eyes widened, making sure to catch his. "Yeah, I do."

"We're not out of this yet," he said, shooting her a crooked smile.

"That's why you're gonna keep watch, right?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Yup," he nodded. "But first, I'm gonna see if I can find some food for us."

Her mouth fell open at the mention of food as she suddenly remembered how hungry she was. She quickly shut it.

Chuck noticed this and smiled. "Don't worry; I'm sure they'll be something in the bar."

As quickly as it had come, the thought of food was suddenly gone. "You're leaving me again?" she asked tentatively.

"Only for a few minutes," he said before pursing his lips together anxiously. "I thought you might like some privacy to take a shower... There's also a little gift shop up by reception and I think I saw some clothes on sale..."

Sarah nodded and pulled her arms to chest. She was being stupid – again. She could more than look after herself for a few minutes. It wasn't as if she was unarmed, either. "No – I mean, yes, you're right. Food and clothes. Good idea."

Chuck studied her carefully before standing up and making his way to the door. He paused to look back. "Sure you're gonna be okay?"

"Uh-hum," she said instinctively. She'd be fine.

The closing door left her alone in the silence.

Even though the room was much warmer than outside, she still felt cold – it was only now that she noticed.

Chuck was right. She should take a shower. Regardless of what he'd said, she still felt disgusting. The days-old clothes were clinging to her body like a second skin and she desperately wanted to be rid of them, to feel warm, clean water running down her body. But at the same time, she didn't dare take them off, even though she was alone. She dreaded to see the marks that Cooper had left on her. The bruises, the cuts, the places where his hands had slid over her body and -

She was being stupid. She couldn't hide under Chuck's jacket forever.

She really needed to shower.

Pushing herself up, she started to hobble the short distance over to the bathroom. She closed the door shut behind her, but couldn't quite bring herself to lock it. The enclosed space was unappealing enough as it was.

Next to the basin, there was a small walk in shower which she turned on. Water started to cascade downwards and she stared at it for a second, watching as it filled the silence. She stepped back as the steam started to rise. She carefully removed the jacket and put it on a rack next to the towels.

It was Chuck's jacket after all.

Quickly shedding the rest of her clothes, she let them fall to the floor. They could go straight to the incinerator.

Sarah stood there for a moment, conscious of the mirror just to her right. A deep breath told her that she wasn't ready to see what He'd done to her. Not yet, anyway.

She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes, letting the warm water rain down upon her.

She could feel it all over her face, cleansing away three days of sweat and tears. She could feel it penetrating through her hair, washing away the dirt and breaking up the knots. She could feel it running freely down her back, tickling lightly as it did so.

It was heaven, pure and simple. A complete unadulterated heaven.

# # #

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Of all the completely ridiculous and inappropriate things to say, of all the more reasoned responses he could have said, of all the comforting words he could have given her, he had called her beautiful.

Not that she wasn't – Sarah Walker was the very definition of the word.

But seriously, Beautiful?

Yep, he was an idiot.

She'd just spend three days in whatever twisted form of hell that bastard former partner of his had decided to put her through, clearly traumatised by it all, even if she was a CIA agent, and one of the first things he'd said to her was that she was beautiful.

God, did she think he was trying to hit on her?

He'd just have to clear things up once he got back to the room.

And with that, Chuck quickened his pace back across the parking lot.

Before heading over to the reception, he'd made sure to lock down the Range Rover for the night. He'd thrown a blanket over the weapons cases in the back, making sure that no curious civilian or, heaven forbid, officer of the law, would have grounds to suspect him and Sarah – at least any more than they already did. The red marks round his neck and bruise across his cheek had already raised a few eyebrows when he was renting the room. Fortunately, those eyebrows had lowered by the time of visit number two.

The man behind the bar hadn't been able to offer them anything more significant than burgers. Still, it was food and they both needed to eat; he ordered two. He'd also managed to pick some clothes for Sarah in the gift shop. Hiking was popular around here – or so the shop attendant said – and so the clothing was appropriate. Even with the narrowed range it had still been hard to choose. Clothes shopping was mostly something that had been done for him and he'd never had to shop for the opposite sex before.

He'd settled on a pair of sweats and black T-shirt, complete with a grey hoody that boldly read "Sierra Nevada" in yellow. He'd also picked out some socks and sneakers. Overall, it wasn't much, but Sarah could always come back later.

But clothing was the least of his worries at the moment; he still needed to apologise for that stupid comment.

As he moved into the room, he could hear that the shower was still running. He closed the door behind him and put the paper bags containing tonight's meal on the sofa, then moved over to the bathroom door, new clothes in hand.

"Sarah," he said, knocking lightly. "I'm back. It's Chuck, by the way, in case you didn't know. I, err, found some clothes in the gift shop..."

He heard the water shut off and a couple of seconds Sarah opened the door, wearing a towel. In the brief half second before he averted his eyes, Chuck could see her shoulders and bare arms were covered with yellow-blue bruises. He was sure the towel was hiding more.

"Here," he said, thrusting the clothes blindly in her direction, his left hand covering his eyes.

"Thanks," she said softly, taking the bundle from him. "Am I that hideous to look at?"

"What?" Chuck said, dropping his hand and turning to face her, before remembering she was still in the towel. He quickly replaced it. "No, of course not! I'm just trying to respect your – no, I mean, you're not hideous, you're beau -"

He managed to stop himself mid-sentence, but it was too late. Dropping his hand for a final time, he turned to face her, defeated. "You're not hideous, Sarah."

To his surprise, she was grinning.

Chuck frowned. "Were you – were you messing with me?"

Sarah's grin only widened before she backed into the bathroom and closed the door.

# # #

A little while later and they were just finishing up the burgers. They were actually pretty good and neither of them had complained, even if the bread was a little stale. For some stupid reason, there wasn't a table in the room and so they'd been forced to eat on the sofa. Sarah was mostly quiet, taking small concentrated bites, despite the hunger that was lingering in her eyes.

Chuck was seated on the other side, huddled up against the arm, making sure to give her as much space as she needed. He didn't want to intrude. Sitting there eating junk food, wearing the hoody and sweat pants – which, Chuck was pleased to see, were only slightly too big – she looked more like a student than a CIA agent who'd just been tortured for three days. If it wasn't for the gun-shaped bulge just north of her waistband, he probably would've forgotten that entirely. He wanted to ask her how she'd managed to get hold of the weapon, but that would have been slightly redundant; she was Sarah Walker, she could do anything.

She seemed pretty relaxed now. The joke – or not, he still wasn't completely sure – that she'd made in the bathroom had reassured him of that, at least a little. Maybe now was as a good a time as any to talk about -

"Chuck?" she asked, turning to face him, scrunching up the remains of the food wrappings.

"Yeah?"

"I kinda need to ask you a favour," she said.

"Anything."

She pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to him. "This was in the bathroom."

Chuck looked down at the needle and thread in his hand, puzzled. "You want me to stitch up jeans for you? Because, Sarah, I hate to break it you, but I think they're a little beyond repair..."

She gave him a grim smile and shook her head. "Not my jeans, Chuck."

His eyes widened as he realised what she wanted him to do. "Oh, no. No, no, no, I'm not a medic, I don't have any training...I don't want to hurt you..."

"Please, Chuck," she said, swallowing anxiously. "I'd do it myself, only it's on my back. It's not bleeding, but he – it's deep enough that it could get infected and -"

"I'll do it."

Sarah nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Thank you. I can talk you through it..."

Chuck stared down at the needle in his hand, starting to contemplate the idea of sewing someone up with the tiny bit of metal. He hated needles. But he could push that to one side for now...hopefully. Sarah needed him. "So...it's pretty simple, right? Just like...um, Operation?"

"Huh?" came Sarah's muffled reply as she pulled the hoody off.

"Operation? Board game? You know, with the little buzzer? And really not too relevant to this situation."

"Okay, Chuck," Sarah said, putting her back to him. "You need to sterilise the needle first." She then leant forward and pulled up the back of her t-shirt, exposing her back.

Ugly yellow-blue bruises, some forming vague fist shapes, punctuated her perfect milky white skin. Chuck's eyes slowly rose upwards to her left shoulder, where the skin was broken. The cut itself ran perhaps three inches in an arc just right of her shoulder blade. The cut looked angry against her beautiful skin, and he once again mentally cursed Cooper for what he'd done to her...

"Got it, sterilise the... Wait, just gonna go wash my hands. Again."

Before Sarah could get a word in, he dashed across to the bathroom and gave his hands a thorough scrub in the sink, with soap. Twice. Then once more.

When he re-entered the bedroom, Sarah was still sitting on sofa, not having moved. Her expression was calm. Which, Chuck thought as he sat back down behind her, was being a little optimistic.

"Chuck, you need to relax," she said. "You can do this, all right?"

Chuck heard himself swallow. He could do this. "Yeah. I can do this."

He pulled a small lighter out of his pocket and quickly ran it across the needle. The metal still felt cool against his hand. Drawing himself closer to Sarah, he gazed down at the cut. It almost seemed to smiling.

"Okay, Sarah, needle sterilised. What do I do now?"

"Sew across diagonally, making incisions about a quarter inch apart. Make sure to go deep enough that the thread won't come out."

Chuck looked back down at the needle, then at the cut. He took several deep breaths, forcing whatever nerves he was feeling away.

Placing his left hand on Sarah's back, he carefully leant in, needle in hand.

He could do this.

# # #

03:17 PST

Crap, six hours?

Was that how long she had slept for?

Sarah turned away from the digital clock and fell back on the bed. She hadn't meant to sleep for that long. She hadn't meant to sleep at all. True, she had been exhausted, but sleep was not what she wanted. She wanted answers. She wanted to know just what the hell had been going on.

But Chuck had insisted.

After even minor surgery, he had said, patients needed their rest. That was probably the result of having a doctor for a sister. She hadn't had the willpower to argue with him. Not after everything he'd done for her.

He'd actually done a pretty good job of stitching up her back, for a rookie. Once he'd gotten started, his hand had been steady, never wavering. She'd found it a little strange how he'd never sewed anyone up before, considering it was such a basic thing for field agents to do. Maybe there was something to be said for beginner's luck...

"Sarah?" came a voice from the sofa. "You're awake?"

Sarah smiled slightly. He was still up. Keeping watch. "Yeah, Chuck. I'm awake," she said softly.

She saw his dark figure stand up from the sofa. It stretched a little before wandering over to the bed, sitting down at the end.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She pulled herself up into a sitting position and flicked on the lamp. "Rested," she answered simply. Truthfully, actual sleep her made her feel a lot better. She wasn't quite ready to face the mirror yet, though.

"Good," he said. "Everything all right with the..." He gestured to her shoulder.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said. "The stitches are holding. You did a good job."

He nodded with a weary smile, which highlighted the large bags under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Chuck..." she began. "You really should take some rest."

"I'm fine," he said, forcing a grin. "I'm keeping watch. I've done longer nights than this before...Back in college, me and..." He trailed off.

"I can take over if you want," she offered. "I don't really feel like sleeping much more, anyway."

Chuck shook his head. "It's fine."

Sarah felt her mouth form into a contorted expression which Chuck didn't seem to notice. He really was stubborn.

"Then would you mind if I asked you some questions about your mission? The undercover one?"

"Okay," he said.

Sarah had force herself to focus; the sheer number of questions that popped into her head was overwhelming. She didn't know what to ask first...

"How are you still alive?" she suddenly blurted. She almost immediately regretting the phrasing, but Chuck didn't seem to take any offence to it.

Instead, he just sighed. "You mean with the car bomb?"

She nodded.

"I was never driving it. I wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near it."

"Then who was it?" she asked, curiosity suddenly bubbling over. "The driver, I mean? Whose body was it?"

Chuck released a deep breath and raked both hands slowly through his hair, his whole demeanour suddenly changing. He didn't look at her when he finally spoke.

"I tried to stop it...I did, I honestly did. And they wanted me to go through with it. Graham said to let it happen, that it was for the "greater good". Except I couldn't let it go off...It was going to kill so many people, Sarah, and I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't... I know I've done some terrible – unforgivable – things, but this...But before I could... He stopped me." Chuck's eyes were watering now, but he paid no attention to them. "I was going to do it... But then it was so fast and..."

Graham wanted to let the bomb go off?

Sarah felt an uneasy feeling starting to rise within her, like she was missing some vital piece of the puzzle that was blindingly obvious. "Who was the driver, Chuck?" she interrupted.

Chuck blinked several times, hard, before looking at her directly, remorse written across his face.

"Bryce Larkin."

And then he told her everything.