August 12th
"Let me ask you this. Would you torture a suspect to get information out of them if national security was at stake?"
"In a heartbeat."
"How about water boarding?"
Silence. Then:
"Are you somehow involved in all this?"
Chuck cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
Sarah gave him a look so intense that Chuck was sure she'd penetrated his skull and burned through to the wall. "I mean, am I torturing somebody looking for you?"
Chuck nodded his head. "Why not."
"Then yes, I absolutely would. I would stick a suspect in the Superfry Death Machine if your life was at stake."
Chuck was quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Wow. Somehow I feel all warm and fuzzy and creeped out at the same time."
Sarah smiled sweetly. "That's what happens when your girlfriend's a trained CIA operative," she said.
But then, it hit Chuck. "Wait a second!" he practically shouted. "You called it the Superfry Death Machine!"
Sarah's face tightened. "No I didn't."
"Oh, yes, yes you did!" Chuck insisted. "You said you hate that name, but you've heard it so much that now you're using it!"
Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but was saved from the argument continuing further by the bell on the door jingling as it opened.
"Guter nachmittag, und willk -"
Sarah stopped halfway through the greeting, and looked with disbelief at the Catholic priest who had just come in the door.
"FATHER MIKE?!"
"Sure, and don't let me interrupt yer greetin', Ms. Walker," he replied cheerfully, a distinct Irish accent flavoring his speech. "Pray, continue!"
Sarah not knowing what else to say, did just that. "Guter nachmittag, und willkomen zu Wienerlicious," she said, a tone of disbelief in her voice.
"Thank you kindly," the priest said. "And God bless all here."
"God bless you kindly," Sarah replied, so automatically that Chuck knew it either had to be something liturgical, or a code phrase.
Turned out it was the completion of a code phrase, as the priest's features lit up. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "So yer friend here's Agency as well?"
Chuck spoke up for the first time since the priest had walked in the door. "What the heck is going on?"
"My goodness, and where's my manners," the priest said. "My dear mother would be spinnin' in her grave if she saw me."
He extended a hand toward Chuck. "Father Michael O'Halloran, Society of Jesus, and the Central Intelligence Agency."
Chuck extended his hand warily. "Chuck Bartowski," he replied, unsure of what else to say. Fortunately, Sarah saved him.
"Chuck's an Agency analyst," she informed O'Halloran. "He's also my boyfriend."
"Is that so!" O'Halloran said. "Well, that's a cause for rejoicing!"
Sarah turned to Chuck. "Father Mike was my parish priest when I was growing up," she told him. "He also happens to be the man who recruited me into the CIA."
Chuck was a bit confused. "So… if he's actually a CIA agent, does that mean he's not really a priest?"
O'Halloran looked shocked. "Sure and yer jokin', me lad," he said. "CIA or no, the Vatican will not allow a man to serve in a priesthood without having been through seminary and taken the vows! I am a priest of the Holy Church as surely as you're flesh and blood!"
"My apologies," Chuck backpedaled. "I can't say I'm particularly observant myself… I only really go to church on Christmas and Easter, and then, it's to a Lutheran church."
The Irish priest sighed. "Ah, well, nobody's perfect, and God surely loves ye just the same."
"So, Father Mike," Sarah interrupted, "what brings you to Los Angeles?"
"Ah, well," he replied, "I had a strong desire to escape the corruption and generally sinful atmosphere of the Boston Archdiocese, so I requested a transfer to another parish. That, and the CIA wanted me to keep an eye on ye – they said that yer protetcin' a particularly sensitive asset?"
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "That would be him," she said, indicating Chuck.
O'Halloran fixed her with a look of dismay. "Sure and yer not datin' yer asset!" he exclaimed. "Agent Walker, that goes against every rule in th' book!"
Then his gaze narrowed. "And be ye sleepin' with him as well, Agent Walker?"
Both Chuck and Sarah blushed approximately the same tone of red as the walls in the Wienerlicious. In fact, it was a rare speechless moment for Sarah, as she had absolutely no response.
"Yer livin' in sin, th' both of ye!" O'Halloran proclaimed. "Not only are ye violatin' every rule th' CIA has, but yer violatin' the laws of God as well!"
Sarah looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor, while Chuck was doing his absolute best to keep a straight face.
O'Halloran dug around in his pocket, and came out with a business card, which he handed to Sarah. "I'm sure it's been years since yer last confessional, Ms. Walker, so I expect ye to pay me a visit sooner, rather than later. I'm at Our Lady of th' Angels, which accordin' to the CIA, is yer parish."
He turned and fixed Chuck with a glare. "And as for ye, Mr. Bartowski…"
Father O'Halloran sighed. "I suppose I'll light a candle for ye, and pray that ye find yer way back to th' Lord before th' Lord finds ye."
He turned his attention back to Sarah. "'Twas good to see ye, Agent Walker, and God bless."
"I'll see you later, Father Mike," she replied, as he walked out the door.
September 9th
Chuck knew he should never have told Ellie that Sarah's old priest was in town. Armed with that knowledge, she had insisted that he go talk to Father O'Halloran before popping the question to Sarah.
"I already got her father's permission!" he protested. "Now I have to go talk to her priest as well?"
"Absolutely," Ellie replied firmly.
"But it's been six WEEKS since I made the decision to ask her!" Chuck whined. "I've got the ring, I've got her father's permission… I've just been waiting for the perfect moment!"
But, as per the usual for arguments with Ellie, he had lost. And now, he was sitting outside of Father Mike's office, waiting to speak with him.
Finally, the door opened, and O'Halloran poked his head out. Chuck jumped to his feet.
"Ah, good mornin', Mr. Bartowski. May the peace of the good Lord be with ye."
Despite his lack of observance for so many years, the reply was automatic. "And also with you," he said, not even thinking about it.
"There, ye see," Father O'Halloran said, "the Lutherans did get a thing or two right, now didn't they?"
He nodded his head toward his office. "Come on in."
Chuck followed O'Halloran into his office, waited until the priest had seated himself behind the desk, and then sat in front of the desk.
"Now, Mr. Bartowski," O'Halloran began, "before you get to what you wanted to talk to me about, I wanted to ask ye about somethin'. I've heard these rumors that ye have the entire Intersect database in yer head, and can access it based on visual stimuli. Is this true?"
Chuck's eyes widened. "I'm not… I don't think I can…"
"Don't worry, Mr. Bartowski, I'm cleared higher than anybody else in th' agency save for Director Graham himself. And ye better believe that if I'm supposed to be overseein' Agent Walker, I'm gonna know what her assignment is all about."
Chuck nodded, and swallowed hard. "I understand, sir, but with respect, I don't feel comfortable revealing any information about that topic without the say-so of Sarah or Director Graham."
O'Halloran looked at him for a moment, and steepled his fingers. "A good answer, Mr. Bartowski, and a proper one as well. Ye certainly have the mental acuity of a good field agent."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, moving on," O'Halloran continued. "What was it that ye so desperately needed to speak with me about?"
Best to just get it over with, Chuck thought. "Sir, it is my intention to ask Sarah for her hand in marriage."
"Is that so," O'Halloran said softly. "Let me ask ye a few things, Mr. Bartowski. First of all, do ye really and truly love her, more than anybody else in the world?"
"Of course."
"And would ye sacrifice yer life for her?"
That was something Chuck hadn't thought of before, but the answer was automatic. "In a heartbeat."
"Have ye her father's permission? And I'll know if yer lyin', because I've known her father since she was naught but a gleam in his eye."
"Yes, sir, I do."
"And what might his name be, Mr. Bartowski?"
"Sergeant Major Marcus Lind Reynolds, sir."
O'Halloran was quiet. "Well done, Mr. Bartowski."
Then his eyes narrowed. "So if ye know his name… then ye know her real name as well, if I'm correct?"
"Yes sir," Chuck replied. "I've known her real name for over six months."
"Then why do ye insist on callin' her Sarah Walker?"
Chuck was quiet for a moment, forming his thoughts. "Because that's how I know her, sir. She's been Sarah Walker since the day I met her. Sarah Walker is the person I fell in love with, and Sarah Walker is the person who fell in love with me. She hasn't been Elizabeth Reynolds for years, sir, and that's not the person she wants me to know her as.
"She wants me to know her as Sarah Walker."
O'Halloran leaned back in his chair and didn't speak for a very long moment.
He studied Chuck, his gaze making Chuck feel almost uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke.
"Well, then, Mr. Bartowski, it does seem that ye have all yer ducks in a row here. Now, mind ye, I can't give my official blessing, because unless yer plannin' to join th' Holy Church, I cannot perform th' ceremony in th' Church in my official capacity as a priest.
"However. I definitely am happy to bestow upon ye my personal blessing, as a friend of Agent Walker's and of her family, and I'd be more than willing to perform a civil ceremony at a non-church facility."
Chuck smiled. "Well, sir, that's what I needed to hear."
O'Halloran rose, and Chuck stood as well. "Mr. Bartowski, best of luck to ye, and hopefully congratulations will be in order very soon."
"I'll let you know, sir."
September 25th
Chuck was nervous as hell.
He'd spent all day at work trying to calm his nerves. He was trying to not think about it, because the more he thought about it, the more nervous he got.
But there was no getting around it – today was the day.
One year from the day he had first met Sarah. One year from the day Morgan had called her "Vicki Vale," and he'd made an ass of himself right in front of her.
Everybody knew that today was the day, too. He'd been getting wishes of good luck all day from his co-workers – from Morgan, Jeff, Lester, Anna, Big Mike, even Casey had said, "Good luck, Bartowski – don't screw it up."
As he was leaving the Buy More, Chuck contemplated going over to the Wienerlicious to say "Hi" to Sarah, but decided against it, not needing something more added to his nervous condition.
Such was said nervous condition that he failed to check behind him as he was backing the Herder out of its parking spot, and he managed to back right into a Toyota Corolla that was passing behind him.
But it only got worse. "Well, Chuck," Lou said as she got out of her car to inspect the damage, "that is why you're supposed to check your rear view mirror when you're backing up."
Chuck sighed and rested his head on the top of the Herder. "I'm sorry," he said, as everything spilled out of him like word vomit. "I'm just – my nerves are all shot to hell – I'm gonna – I'm asking Sarah to – to marry me tonight."
"No shit," Lou breathed. She walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Good luck, Chuck," she said. "And don't worry about the car. I'll just tell my insurance company that somebody hit it while it was parked."
He lifted his head. "Hey, thanks, Lou," he said. "I really appreciate that."
"Not a problem," she replied. "You've got more important things to deal with. But if you do it again, I'll have somebody break your kneecaps for you."
Chuck laughed and nodded as she got back in her car. She drove off, and he got back in the Herder, making damn sure to check his rear view mirror this time.
Two hours later, Chuck was back in the Herder, headed toward downtown to pick Sarah up. Devin had offered the Awesome Mobile, but Chuck had thanked him and turned him down.
"I'm trying to make tonight as much like our very first date – and I'm talking about the very first time we went out – as possible," he had explained.
Minus the chaos and mayhem that had ensued that first night, of course. Chuck had called Casey and warned him that if he showed up with guns and a Suburban, they would be having words. Casey had laughed and said he had better things to do that night.
Chuck picked Sarah up right at 7:30. The first place they went was to the Mexican restaurant where Chuck had managed to gracefully skate around Sarah's admission of relationship baggage by offering to be her "baggage handler". Chuck had thought about doing it here, but had realized that this was where she had first clued him in to the fact that she had been in a relationship with Bryce, and he'd decided that that would just be a little awkward.
She hadn't said anything to indicate that she realized that this was practically a duplicate of their first "date", even when they walked into the same club they had gone to after dinner – the one where Sarah had managed to disable an entire NSA strike team. However, as they were leaving the club, she looked at him, and asked, "So, do I get to drive the Herder now?"
"I'm sorry?"
She smiled at him, and like she had so many times, reached up and brushed an errant bang off his forehead. "Come on, Chuck, it's been a year since the day we met. We've gone to exactly the same places we did that first night, and so now, if I'm not mistaken, I get to drive the Herder."
"No you don't," Chuck replied, "because there isn't an insane NSA agent with a strike team bearing down on us in a Sub… ur…"
His voice drifted off as he heard the roar of a V8 engine, and then saw a black Suburban come fishtailing around the corner. "Son of a BITCH!" he shouted. Without even thinking about it, he tossed Sarah the keys, and dove into the passenger seat.
She was about to wrench open the door of the Herder and jump in herself, when lights and sirens went on on the Suburban, and it went blasting past them. As it turned the corner, Chuck's phone rang.
Casey.
He answered. "WHAT?!"
Casey could barely contain his laughter. "I… I'm sorry," he chortled into Chuck's ear. "I just couldn't resist."
Chuck looked out at Sarah, and saw that she had an amused expression on her face as well. She reached in and took the phone out of Chuck's hand.
"Casey," she said sweetly. "You're a dead man."
She hung up the phone, and gave it back to Chuck. "You can drive."
Half an hour later, they were at Santa Monica Beach, strolling barefoot through the sand. They were far enough north of the pier that they couldn't really hear much noise from it.
The gentle noise of the tide lapping against the beach worked to partially soothe Chuck's nerves, and the dim light of the waning moon overhead served perfectly to set the mood. Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist as they slowly walked north toward the Santa Monica Mountains.
"This is where that night ended, isn't it?" Sarah said softly. "After the stand-off on the helipad, and the bomb at the hotel, you came out here, and this is where I found you the next morning."
"Yeah," Chuck breathed, as he reached in his left pocket to retrieve the ring. "But you could also say that this is where it all begins."
Sarah stopped and looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
At this point, Chuck's stomach started doing repeated backflips, and his heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. He removed his arm from Sarah's shoulders and turned to face her.
"I mean just what I said," he whispered. "This, right here, this is where… where our life begins."
Sarah's eyes went wide as she began to grasp what Chuck was saying, and then a small gasp escaped from her mouth as he slowly dropped to one knee.
He took both of her hands in his. "Sarah Walker," he began. "If you had told me a year ago that I would be here, tonight, doing this, I would've said that you were crazy.
"Six months ago, I might've believed it could happen, but I still would've had a hard time processing it. But right here, right now, I have come to the realization that there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my crazy life with you, doing outrageous spy stuff, going to Comic-Con, trying to not be walked in on by Morgan…"
Sarah laughed through the tears that had begun to gently trickle down her face. "So, Sarah, I suppose I should get around to asking the question… how would you feel about being Mrs. Bartowski?"
She nodded and laughed again. "I think that I would like that a lot, but I also think you need to be a little more specific here."
Chuck laughed too. "Fair enough." He paused, let go of her hands, and switched the ring from his left hand to his right. Taking her left hand in his, he slid the ring onto her left ring finger. "Sarah Walker… will you marry me?"
She looked down at the ring, then looked back at him for a moment, eyes shining with tears, the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face, a few strands of blonde hair blown across her face by the offshore breeze…
"Yes."
