Been a while, hasn't it? Well here's the next chapter. Still haven't worked out the timeline for you guys. People think Chuck/Sarah split apart in one year, but it was two. Early 2008, and very late 2009.
Not sure if everything in this chapter is wholly believable, but I'll let you judge that for yourself :)
I'd just like to say: "HA TOLD YOU!!" That Chuck and Sarah would be fine. Was the weeping and depression really necessary? :P
Brief summary: Chuck and Sarah are on the outs, Sarah leaves for what Chuck thinks to be Berlin, Chuck gets his own assignment while Sarah is away to go to Iraq with his new technology for weapons systems but is unable to get word to Sarah about his departure. Ellie has received the divorce papers Sarah sent to Chuck under direction of the CIA, and Sarah herself is en route to Iraq with Cole.
Won't Go Home Without You –Maroon Five
Disclaimer: Not mine. All this work belongs to the bet-ing genius of mxpw and TwotoTenth
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Medias res.
-
I asked her to stay but she wouldn't listen
She left before I had the chance to say
Oh
The words that would mend the things that were broken
But now it's far too late, she's gone away
Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
Hard to believe that
-
Ft Bragg, 2009, USA
-
Chuck knew there was something wrong the instant his sister's cautious voice came over the speaker of his iPhone.
"Ellie!" He almost had to yell into the speakers, hearing her upset state over the phone. Her tone was borderline hysterical, and Chuck was momentarily tempted to steal a car and drive all the way back to LA to see what was wrong.
"Ellie," Chuck repeated insistently. He held the phone tightly against his ear, trying in vain to understand her muttering. "What's going on?"
There was a long silence.
"Hello?" he said, sticking a finger into his other ear as a jet took off over his head, the rumble of it's engines sending little vibrations through his feet all the way up his body.
"Sarah sent you something," Ellie said abruptly.
Chuck was so excited he almost dropped the phone. "What? What is it!"
"Chuck- they were di-"
The large cargo plane that flew overhead drowned out her words, and Chuck shouted to make himself heard as he asked her to repeat herself.
Ellie spoke again, but her voice was less confident. "Chuck—I think we should leave this until you get back," she said. And quickly, she added, "I shouldn't have called."
Heart hammering, he gripped the phone tighter, pressing the screen against his cheek. "Ellie, don't hang up!" He said, "Why won't you tell me?"
A cold feeling descended on his chest. His sister's tone wasn't positive, and it took a lot for Ellie to be so unenthusiastic about family. But then again, these past two years, she had become increasingly unsupportive grown less and less supportive of his relationship with Sarah.
"El," he said again, swallowing. "Tell me."
Ellie sighed. "Chuck –"
"Say it," he nearly demanded, anger beginning to colour the desperation in his voice as he paced restlessly. "Say what you're not saying."
He'd never heard her voice as quiet as it was now, "Chuck. She—she sent you something for your anniversary."
Chuck sagged against the wall, his limbs sapped of energy, and he mouthed a 'Thank god' to the heavens before lifting the phone to his ear again. "Oh, is that all?" He grinned. "I thought you were going to give me bad news!"
Ellie's chuckle was shaky. "Yeah, Chuck I've got to get to work. But… just, Chuck keep in mind that it could always be something you won't like."
"Okay," he said. Chuck couldn't help brightening at her news of a rare present from Sarah. "I'll open the present when I get back, no point spoiling the surprise. And El- we're leaving for Iraq in a few hours, so I just wanna say I love you, and take care of yourself and my niece."
He could see Jill from the corner of his eye, backpack slung casually over her shoulder as she waited for him somewhat impatiently, and he sent her a smile and a just-a-minute gesture.
Ellie paused briefly to let out a noncommittal noise, but her voice was warm when she finally replied, "Love you always Chuck. When you come back, we need to sit down and talk. Without Sarah."
Chuck frowned at her last comment. He'd heard all the lectures she could make up already. Heaving a deep sigh, he responded wearily, "Sure, sis. Buh bye."
-
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
The taste of your breath, I'll never get over
The noises that she made kept me awake
Oh
The weight of things that remained unspoken
Built up so much it crushed us everyday
-
Safe house, Iraq desert, 2009, Iraq
-
Kneeling next to her pack, Sarah dug out the tightly-rolled clothes and items jammed between, arranging them on the floor in meticulous rows in preparation for their mission outfit tomorrow. The CIA costume designers had outdone themselves this time. She brushed a few strands of black-dyed hair out of her eyes and then stared at her olive-stained hands- still not used to the colour- before extracting the worn dress that would soon cover her dark skin.
She was not expecting to uncover her head, as all women of Middle Eastern descent wore veils around the men. But even so, the make-up artists had gone to every effort to disguise her Slavic bone structure with an assortment of the large arsenal of prosthetics and tools they'd had at their disposal.
So far, so good, Sarah thought.
Cole was out surveying the area, setting up proximity alerts. Their hut was a long-deserted old shed that was far away but also close enough to remain inconspicuous as part of the city. The shoddy plastered exterior was chipping and cracking, the only window was merely a hole in the wall that faced forwards; the other two sides of the house were hidden by tall growing weeds and to their back was a sand dune.
They had made sure the hut could be undisturbed enough that any future visitors would never know they'd been here before they'd entered. It was perfect for an overnight stay, deserted enough that tracks would be smoothed over by desert winds before they could be discovered.
The moldy mattress sank beneath her as she sat back onto it. Light was still non-existent, but she didn't dare to light the oil lamp that sat on a small shelf on the other side of the room.
Glancing towards the door, Sarah finally returned her attentions to her pack, reaching until her fingers scraped the bottom. The brown package she sought was hidden in a deep pocket, bundled with string, and carefully wrapped and re-wrapped.
She drew it out, along with the associated mixture of emotions.
As she sliced the string, the thick paper of the outermost layer fell apart to reveal the original bundle.
Fingers shaking, she peeled away the bubble wrap and the newspaper cushioning, to reveal a blue-wrapped present, a silver gossamer ribbon tied delicately around it, a tiny card wedged tightly underneath the crisscross of the bow.
Chuck's practical, neat handwriting spelled out her name on the small square in black ink; it was jarring to see something so familiar in a land so foreign.
She stared at the box for a long moment, enduring the struggle between guilt over the current state of her marriage and curiosity about the box's contents. Giving in to her inquisitive side, she carefully undid the tape holding the paper together and found herself holding a lilac, rectangular box.
She curled her fingers around the lip of the cover and lifted slowly. A delicate necklace soon came into view, accompanied by what had to be an imagined whiff of the scent of home.
Hesitantly, she reached in to feel the slender silver chain. Her index traced the links until it reached the three-dimensional heart that was barely bigger than her thumbnail, sitting small and curved and precious nestled in thin purple Tiffany-embossed decorative paper.
Not daring to mar the gleaming surface, Sarah let her finger hover over the delicate pattern that was cut through the walls, little spaces and holes letting her see straight through the ornament to the purple bottom of the box. There was a very small catch on the side, and she gently depressed it, half the heart swinging forward to display the tiny folded note inside the hollow cavity.
Unable to control her hand's quiver, it took Sarah half a minute to unfold the paper with the tips of her fingers.
I miss you.
Knowing Chuck as she did, Sarah was easily able to understand both the note and the significance of the hollow heart.
She held the necklace tightly in one hand, wondering if he had received her own package in the mail yet.
A prickle of guilt festered in her heart at the thought of her 'gift' to him, in exchange of the care he'd put into hers. As she always had over the years, Sarah forced herself to use her spy training to shrug it off. It had become easier over the years to become immune to Chuck.
Both those few years, and their differences had forced them apart. Even though they worked and moved like a married couple, they hadn't been honest with each other in far too long. All the unresolved arguments about how their jobs and ambitions could fit together with the possibility of kids in the future, sat like a giant ball of suffocating cotton shoved down the collective throat of their marriage. All the time they spent apart left almost no common ground or shared experiences. It felt like they were going different, and opposite directions.
Sarah had been an ideal candidate for the CIA's top crop of espionage agents. She had been training for it ever since Arthur Graham had recruited her from high school, and had been top of her academy class during college. She had continued that streak, breaking previous records held for knife and combat fighting, all through her yearlong apprenticeship. She had never been trained for anything else than being a spy- that included sealing off her emotions. It became a second nature. And Chuck- he was the most expressive, most giving man she'd ever met.
Closing her eyes briefly at that thought, she could see every word Chuck had written, imprinted on her mind.
Striking a match, she used her body to shield the tiny flickering flame from any potential outside notice. Holding the letter and watching it burn, she let go only when the flames threatened to engulf her fingers.
No evidence.
No one except those they couldn't do anything about would notice her absence if this mission came to an untimely end. The war was at its fiercest, and her country needed more of her. More than all she'd given already. More than she had been prepared to pay.
More than she had left.
-
Every night you cry yourself to sleep
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"
Hard to believe that
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
-
American Green-zone, 2009, Iraq
-
Chuck stood just outside the barracks, newly shipped in from America. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage. He was only doing his duty. He'd stay focused, he'd pray for his life, and he'd go home to Sarah. The phone call with Ellie yesterday seemed miles away already, and he couldn't help his spirits dampening at the thought of no communication with her for the next few weeks.
His letter to her was entrusted to Ellie, who would explain his departure to Sarah if she came back before he did. If she came back.
Eddies of dust swirled around his tan boots as they made their acquaintance with fibers of his uniform, entrapping themselves in the fabric. He pulled the headscarf tighter around his neck, making sure to cover his ears and mouth, and doing his best to quiet the protesting of his lungs at every particle that forced its way into his windpipe.
The sun was already beating down onto his reddened neck, glimmering ethereally in and out of focus in the completely blue sky, scorching and dry as it looked out over the war torn land.
"Stay safe," the woman behind him said seriously, putting a hand on his arm.
Chuck tried to smile at her, but realized his mouth was covered with material. "You too, Jill," he said, voice muffled. "I'll see you later after I report in and find my assigned sleeping area."
She nodded. "Bryce and Casey are probably waiting for you. They got here a little before we did. I have to go and present myself to the head medic."
With a firm nod, Chuck drew her into a tight embrace. "If I don't see you for a while, Jill, take care."
"You too," Jill said. Her step hitched as she turned, and with a torn expression, she grabbed his head, elevating herself onto her tippy-toes. Chuck almost flinched away as she came closer, but she merely laid a kiss onto his forehead, walking away with a parting wave.
He waved back, heart full of affection for his former girlfriend. Of course, the chemistry that drew them together hadn't diminished one bit over the course of these years, and given her presence in the camp, it was impossible to completely avoid contact with her. They had settled on being friends a long time ago; his heart had been too bruised- he couldn't bear to be anything more than passing acquaintances with her. Although Chuck had forgiven her, betrayals of that magnitude were hard to forget. Back then, he had felt a rush of satisfaction that Bryce and Jill had only lasted a month as lovers before separating; after that, he'd often wondered whether she had thought it had been still worth dumping Chuck for his best friend.
But despite the karma that had been served to Jill and Bryce, Chuck had still sunken into the two year funk after Jill had moved on to graduate studies and Bryce had joined the army as he had.
At the beginning of his relationship with Sarah, he had made sure to assure her that his relationship with Jill was over, but the blonde had still been less than happy when she found out he would be in constant contact with the brunette woman on his trips overseas, despite Chuck's attempts to convince her that he and Jill were merely platonic.
Chuck smiled to himself at the nostalgia that filled him, brought on by the fact that all three of them were now together, something that hadn't happened since he'd last confronted Jill about her infidelity. He shook his head as he imagined what Casey would say if he knew he had been dwelling on his 'lady feelings' again.
Speak of the devil, Chuck thought, grinning as he neared the tent where Casey stood statue-like, as if he had been waiting for his arrival.
"Bartowski," Casey grunted as soon as Chuck was within earshot.
"Hey Casey," Chuck said, gripping the other man's hand in greeting, shaking it out a little after with Casey's firm grip. "Where's Bryce?"
A head poked out of the flaps. "Here."
Ducking under the metal poles, he followed Bryce's voice into the canvas tent that had been propped over a shallow dugout, looking around before throwing his duffle onto the only unclaimed fold out camp-bed. Feeling less than enthused at his tiny personal space for the next few weeks, he straightened to his full height to stretch his back muscles- promptly grazing his head on the top of the tent.
"Well gentlemen," Bryce declared when Casey followed Chuck in, his bright blue eyes glittering in his excitement for forthcoming adventure. He clapped Chuck on the back, "Welcome back to Team Bartowski."
-
Of all the things I felt but never really shown
Perhaps the worst is that I ever let you go
I should not ever let you go, oh oh oh
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
-
Insurgent camp, 2009, unknown location, Iraq
-
Sarah could feel all the beetle-black eyes staring at her and Cole as they stood in the midst of the crowd of makeshift soldiers.
Their expressions were inscrutable, covered in checkered bandanas and turbans. Sarah felt oddly exposed despite her overly modest robes. Her head was covered, and she dipped it a little further down in a show of submissiveness to avoid further scrutiny.
Her nerves were screaming, and she stayed in a defensive posture as she discretely eyed the AK-47s, the rifles, and the other various improvised weaponry clasped in the gritty, weathered hands of amateurs who had become soldiers by necessity.
Keeping her hand still, she readjusted her grip around the small knife that was the only weapon her cover had allowed her to carry.
Cole's Arabic was perfectly accented, turning his normally suave voice deep and harsh. From her position a few meters behind Cole, with her head humbly bowed, his voice seemed to reverberate powerfully against the walls. Sarah could tell that his presence and his imposing build earned him grudging admiration and respect from the other men. Hidden behind the heavy veil that covered her face, Sarah did her best to follow the conversation while remaining as unobtrusive as the other women who stood behind the translucent fabric that divided the room.
Sarah's eyes darted around, registering the guarded exits and escape routes unobtrusively as possible. Time constraints had forced them to take the risk of undertaking the mission without having learned the camp's layout in advance, so they were currently operating without a fully-formed extraction plan.
Their apparently unwitting entrance into the crossfire between the Americans and the insurgents had been perfectly timed, allowing them to seem so much like harmless natives that the insurgents had delayed their escape from a failed ambush to pick them up.
A large man had stepped forward and beaten Cole to the ground while Sarah willed herself not to move a muscle. Cole hadn't put up a fight, instead submitting while covertly shielding his vital organs from the attack.
With a grunt that had reminded Sarah of Chuck's military friend Casey, who had occasionally been invited over for Bartowski dinners, the man stepped back after a few minutes, letting Cole drag himself to his feet.
They must have been desperate for more fighters, as the beating had quickly given way to Cole's induction into the cause after a brief recitation of the Koran and a perfunctory loyalty oath.
To keep their place within this society, she and Cole would have to be very careful. They would be closely monitored over the first few weeks, and if caught, they would be tortured and executed. But as long as they kept their cover secure over the course of the first stages of the mission, merging quietly with the goings-on and following any orders, they'd be as safe as it was possible to be in a situation such as this.
Shivering slightly, Sarah instinctively pulled her sleeves lower in a subconscious attempt to hide any trace that may lead them to discover their true nationalities.
"Tell your wife to join the women," the man ordered, and Cole nodded at her. His eyes were carefully guarded, but she could read her partner well enough to see the determination in his gaze.
She turned silently towards the parting curtains, finding slender hands welcoming her into the sanctuary.
-
It's not over tonight
Just give me one more chance to make it right
I may not make it through the night
I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you
And I won't go home without you
-
So... Sarah thinks Chuck got the divorce papers. Chuck doesn't know about the divorce papers. The powers that be thinks he got the papers, so he's all suicidal... how does this all come together?
With one more chapter, it doesn't mean I'm back into writing, I've still got a kind of mind block. It just so happened that I'd written several chapters beforehand so I can still update occasionally. I got a bit down on the reviews and the general tone of the fandom originally, so thanks to the naggers that kept up their stream of 'encouragement' :)
To the people who are rather demanding and nasty, and don't have the balls to sign in using anything other than 'anonymous' or if you happen to have an account without a bio or your own writing, I betcha wouldn't face me in real life. So go back to mum's basement.
And hi to the lurkers who surfaced to review last chapter!