Author's Note: The Charah has finally arrived. Rejoice and be glad in it. Savor it, folks, as it'll probably be the only significant dose you'll get for the next few chapters. I know, that sucks, but I must go where the plot tells me to go. And I promised more than just Charah at the end of the first arc, and let it never be said that I don't fulfill my promises. And if it is said, make sure I don't hear about it. This is not to say that there won't be any, there will, just probably not a whole section devoted to it as it is here.
Much credit for the Charah scene in this chapter must go to malamoo, who gave me advice, encouraged me, and most importantly, pointed out to me that what I had initially wrote for this scene was just too damn fluffy. If you like the Charah, thank her, as it would have sucked without her input. If you don't like it (and I wouldn't blame you as I think it still kinda sucks despite all moo did to try and save it), then blame me, as I came up with it. And as usual, a big thanks to Wepdiggy for his assistance, who gave me a lot of good ideas for this chapter, and no, probably not the stuff you're thinking of.
When Carina had said she had a clean room already setup, she hadn't been kidding.
The entire doorframe of the clean room had been replaced with new wood as well as a brand new, heavy oak door. The jamb had been raised several inches, probably to make it harder for all the dust, debris, and bugs that occupied the rest of the house to migrate into the clean room. Once the door had been opened, a rush of cool air washed over both of them and then they stepped up and into the room.
They carefully placed Chuck's newly unconscious body on a gurney waiting just inside the room by the door. He let out a barely audible moan as his body made contact with the padded gurney and it had felt like somebody sticking her with a needle repeatedly along her stomach at the sound. She was the cause of his distress, of his pain. In fact, she could trace the trail of blame for his gunshot wound all the way back to him helping her escape from her cell. No matter which way she looked at it, she knew she was at fault. She still couldn't believe that she had been careless enough to drop him. As if she needed that guilt atop everything else. What if his wound started bleeding again because of it?
Carina then flipped a switch to turn on the halogen lamps emplaced on the ceiling, and she'd had to close her eyes from the offending glare. The room she stood in was such a startling white that the walls seemed to glow. She had become too accustomed to dim lighting and darkness over the weeks and the light cascading down from above physically hurt. Somebody had sanded the walls down to a smooth finish and then whitewashed everything. Even the floor had been sanded, in some places patched, and cleaned. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, paint, and lemon.
In the middle of the whitewashed room was a large raised platform surrounded by a cube of thick frosted plastic. Inside the cube was a hospital bed, a bank of machines, an IV stand, and a small swivel stool. Somebody had done their best to create a clean, hopefully bacteria-free, operating space.
There was a decided artificial air about the room and she realized that Carina must have gone to great trouble to have something like this setup.
She placed her hands on her hips to take in some gulps of air and then said, "I take it all back; this place is amazing."
Carina chuckled slightly and wiped a hand across her forehead to displace a few beads of sweat that had formed there. "Thank you." Carina briefly looked down at Chuck and then back up at her. "It wasn't easy to arrange, believe me, but I learned a long time ago to always be prepared." Carina cracked her back slightly as she stretched.
"Are all your safe houses like this?"
"No, only this one," Carina said. She shook her head and frowned slightly. "The CIA 'knows' about the others. This one is completely off the books."
"How did you setup something like this without anybody knowing?" she asked in slight wonder. Something like this would have cost money and there was no way that Carina's superiors wouldn't have noticed Carina dumping a large amount of cash.
"Not easily." Carina shut the door behind them and then grabbed the head of the gurney and started to pull it farther into the room. "Remember the Alejandro brothers?" Carina asked.
How could she forget? She nodded her head in affirmation.
The gurney came to rest just outside the cube. Carina leaned against it, the tips of her fingers idly brushing back and forth along Chuck's hand. The gesture caused a tightening in her gut, and she bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from yelling at Carina to stop touching Chuck. "Well, in a past life they were Chihuahuan drug smugglers. We cut a deal. Now they do stuff for me when I need it done." Carina shrugged her shoulders and colored slightly.
She gaped at Carina in disbelief. "And you trust them?"
"I trust Chuck and nobody else," Carina snapped. Carina took a deep breath, composed herself, and then looked at her. "But when you work in the DEA for long enough, you get a sense of these kinds of people. I trust them as much as I need to."
She could understand that much, at least. She herself had put her life in the hands of people with less than stellar character, but that was as much a function of Fulcrum as it was anything else. Still, trusting yourself to drug runners was one thing, but trusting Chuck's life as well was another. Carina had been so careful up to this point to take every precaution imaginable to keep Chuck safe and off the radar and now she was going to entrust his life—their lives—to a couple of brothers who probably wouldn't mind selling them all out for a kilo of coke or a promise to look the other way from the government. This was not smart at all.
"But, Carina –" she started to say but was cut off.
"Shut up," Carina said, but there was little bite in her words. It was more a reflexive response than anything, and it was clear that Carina had moved onto another train of thought. Carina carefully looked her body up and down with an appraising arched eyebrow. Her eyes danced with mirth and something almost akin to mischief. "Well…you have a bigger chest than me, but you've lost enough weight that I think my clothes should fit you just fine. Come on," Carina said and grabbed her arm. Carina began dragging her out of the room.
"Wait, what?" She said confused. She dug in her heels to slow Carina down, but she was quickly learning that Carina was like a tsunami: once she got going, there was no stopping her until she reached her destination.
"You look like shit, Blondie," Carina said bluntly. "You're dirty and covered in blood. You've been wearing the same clothes for God knows how long. You can't go into the operating room like that; it would completely defeat the purpose." Carina pushed the door to the clean room open and dragged her back out into the broken down hallway. "I've got a shower here you can use and some clothes you can wear." Carina paused, but kept leading her down the hallway toward a room at the end. "In fact, I need a shower too. Wanna wash my back for me?"
She made a kind of strangled gasp as the horrifying thought of her and Carina in the shower together assaulted her mind. "Are you out of your mind?" She could feel her whole body and especially her face flush a deep red, her body lockup, and her mind go blank. That was the last thing she had ever expected Carina to ask her, but considering how the red head loved getting under her skin, she should have seen it coming.
Carina laughed loudly, her voice echoing throughout the house. "Oh the look on your face; I wish I had a camera so I could show Chuck." Carina's eyes were incredibly wide and relaxed; she could not remember ever seeing Carina's stormy gray eyes ever so pleased and it annoyed the crap out of her. "Relax, Blondie, you're not really my type."
Carina pushed her into the old but surprisingly clean bathroom.
"That's not…you're such a bitch…why the hell not?"
Carina laughed again and then started the shower. "Come on, strip and get started. This place doesn't exactly come with a water heater and I don't want you wasting whatever tepid water there is or else I really will join you. I'll have a towel and some clothes waiting for you when you finish." Carina looked her over in distaste. "And these clothes need to be burned."
Carina then crossed her arms in front of her chest and just stood there. Carina smirked at her in that way she hated so much, and she stared back blankly, wondering why Carina hadn't left yet or at least turned around. "Well, I'm waiting, Walker," Carina said impatiently. When she still hadn't moved, Carina rolled her eyes and added, "Christ, Blondie, it's not like I haven't seen it all already."
It clicked then what Carina was waiting for and she sighed. It was obvious the red head was not going to leave the bathroom until she had stripped off her clothes. "I hate you," she said, but there was no venom in her words, just exhaustion. If this was how Carina wanted to play things, then fine. She wasn't ashamed of her body, even if she had lost a little more muscle mass and definition than she was used to. She wasn't particularly fond of the thought that, as usual, she was being considered for little more than her physical appearance, but if Carina got her rocks off watching her get naked, then oh well, there was nothing she could do. Honestly, the thought of a shower at this point sounded positively exhilarating to her exhausted and aching body. And fresh clothes, even if they were Carina's, were almost as good. She was not going to let Carina acting like a peeping Tom stop her from getting those things.
Plus, she couldn't deny, the thought of actually looking like a human being the next time Chuck woke up instead of the walking disaster she was now, was probably the most appealing thing of all. She would enjoy further pulling Chuck under her control while wearing Carina's clothes. There was a kind of poetic justice there that really amused her.
She pulled her shirt over her head and Carina watched with exaggerated interest as she exposed her breasts and torso to the stale, musty air. She tossed the bloody shirt to the ground in front of Carina's feet. With a defiant glare, she quickly pulled Chuck's sweats down past her hips and kicked those to join the shirt as well. "Happy now," she asked through gritted teeth.
The whole experience was humiliating, which was undoubtedly why Carina was making her do it. It was a power play, letting her know, as if she wasn't already painfully aware, who was in charge. As if she hadn't already gone through the whole experience dozens of times back in the facility, as guards watched her strip and get dressed before and after every shower to make sure she wasn't hiding something dangerous.
All her life she had been looked at like Carina was looking at her now, and despite everything, despite all the missions where she had used that dismissal of her as nothing more than a pair of breasts, or long legs, or a pretty face, to her advantage, she couldn't help the feeling of self-loathing and disgust that overcame her now. This was what her life was. This was all she was, a façade to be admired and nothing more.
Carina smirked and very gingerly gathered her discarded clothes in her hands. Carina held the clothes as far away from her body as she could, like if they touched the rest of her, she'd become infected or tainted by them. "Now I really wish I had a camera. Chuck could probably use a pick-me-up when he gets better," Carina said with a snicker.
She felt her body warm at the thought of Chuck looking at a picture of her naked form, and then shook her head, to make the thought go away. She did not need to be thinking about that now.
Carina smirked at her one last time and then left the bathroom with a big, perversely amused grin on her face.
She extended her middle finger to Carina's retreating back and then turned to the shower and sighed in relief.
Finally she could wash nearly two days worth of grime, dirt, blood, sweat, and death off her skin. She stepped into the barely tepid water and nearly shrieked in response. Carina was right about the water temperature. But at least she would be clean.
She grabbed a bar of soap and started to scrub.
# # # # #
There had been no shower curtain when she had been in the shower, so it had only partially surprised her when Carina had appeared in the bathroom two-thirds of the way through her shower. Carina had stood there staring, tapping her foot impatiently, which only made her take longer, even if she was starting to freeze. The last thing she was going to do was give Carina the satisfaction of getting what she wanted.
When she had finally finished and turned off the water, Carina had let out a mocking wolf-whistle at her naked, but gloriously clean, body glistening and shivering under the bathroom's single light. Carina had then tossed her a towel after putting a stack of clothes on the sink, and then started to strip herself.
Clearly, Carina didn't believe in personal space or modesty. Truthfully, she had lost most of her shyness and modesty years ago herself, but she still respected a person's personal space. But then, from what Carina had told her of her past, she had spent most of her career in varying states of undress, all for the perusal and enjoyment of near total strangers. Not that her career had followed all that different a trajectory, but at least she hadn't been used primarily for seduction missions only, and over the last few years with Fulcrum, she had been used in much more important and challenging roles than that. It probably didn't even register in Carina's mind anymore that what she was doing was fairly inappropriate. She could only imagine how Chuck, a man that seemed to blush like a tomato at the barest hint of impropriety or undress, handled being around a woman like Carina.
Fortunately, gone was the playful, leering, suggestive Carina of before, and in her place was a serious, all-business professional. After the whistle, Carina had not even looked at her—which was an immense relief—only telling her to check on Chuck once she finished drying herself off and got dressed. Right before Carina stepped under the now cold stream of water from the shower, Carina had told her that the doctor would be arriving within the hour and that she should ready Chuck for surgery because as soon as she finished her own shower, she was going to be too busy preparing the house for visitors to assist her.
She hadn't exactly been sure what Carina intended her to do. Yes, she had training in field medicine, but that didn't make her a qualified nurse, let alone a doctor. She knew enough to hook up Chuck to the heart monitor, some of the other machines, and start a fresh saline, antibiotic, and morphine drip.
But that was it and it had taken her only a few minutes.
Idly, she pulled at her top's collar. Carina had been mostly accurate about her clothes fitting, but not completely so. Her shoulders were broader, her breasts larger, and while they had similar sized waists, her hips were definitely wider than Carina's. Fortunately they were more or less the same height, so while the slim jeans she had on were tight, they were not as annoying unfamiliar as the sky blue blouse Carina had given her.
Considering the red head's personality, it was understandable why Carina insisted on wearing such formfitting clothes, but to her, it felt like she was wearing a second skin, and she found herself unconsciously adjusting her top frequently so that she had more room. She sighed and daydreamed about raiding her wardrobe back at her hotel room. She missed being able to wear her own clothes.
Reluctantly, she forced herself to focus on Chuck and put thoughts of going back to her old life out of her head. This was her life now. He was her life now. She figured she had better clean his wound and give him a fresh bandage. She didn't like thinking about Chuck being shot, and as she gently unwrapped the tape holding his bandage in place, the physical reminder stared her right in the face. The sight of his gunshot wound made her feel…strange. She had seen similar sights countless times, had even been shot herself before, but looking at Chuck, it evoked a series of very strange emotions that she had never really felt before.
And they were emotions that she didn't fully understand. Revulsion, pain, fear, was always constant, and she could push those aside. There was guilt, yes, but she was very familiar with guilt. Remorse and shame were also emotions she had become intimately familiar with over the years. But this weird pulling on her heart whenever she looked at Chuck, especially when she looked at him in his current vulnerable state, was wholly strange and uncommon.
Combined with a near irrational need to protect him and keep him safe from harm at all cost, she felt like she was being torn in a million different directions. She wanted to climb up on the bed and wrap herself around his body, just so she could see and hear for herself that he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. At the same time, she wanted to run and hide, the guilt pressing in all around her. She wanted to stick her head in a corner and vomit, or wrap her arms around her knees and rock back and forth, denying to herself that anything was real. She wanted to kill the man responsible for putting Chuck in his condition, and she wanted to kill Carina for taking that opportunity away from her.
Before she even realized what she was doing, she had started to talk. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She knew she'd never be doing this if Chuck was awake, but she just had this overwhelming desire to give voice to her thoughts in some way. Maybe if she said them out loud, she'd start to understand them.
She gently dabbed his side with an antiseptic wipe and winced in sympathy as the broken skin around the wound puckered and reddened in response. She got a fresh bandage and carefully placed it over the wound. "I'm really sorry, Chuck" she repeated again. Slowly, she taped the new bandage back into place. "I haven't said that to somebody and actually mean it in as long as I can remember."
She brushed some hair off his forehead. "So of course it had to be you I said it to." She traced the edge of his face and frowned as her finger gently probed his injured nose. She wished she could find the man who had done that to him and return the favor.
"I really don't get what you see in me. I have no idea what I'm doing, and you…well, you always seem to know exactly what you're doing," she said and absently began running a gentle hand up and down Chuck's chest as she stared at the wall in front of her. "Is it because you think I'm attractive? It wouldn't surprise me if that was why, but I'm not, Chuck. I'm not beautiful."
She started in muted surprise at feeling the slightly clammy skin of his naked chest. She laughed awkwardly and shook her head. She couldn't believe it had taken her this long to realize he was naked from the waist up. When had she removed his shirt? She had gone through the motions of stripping him from his clothes, but couldn't even remember doing it.
A trill of alarm shot through her. It was possible she was in shock and was just now starting to realize it. She took a couple long, steady breaths and did her best to calm herself and relax. She was not suffering from shock. That would just be far too inconvenient at a time like this. She was fine.
She went back to stroking his chest, careful to avoid his injured side.
"You know that I'm a killer, right? That by all rights, I should grab the pillow you're sleeping on and smother you with it." She snorted in contempt of her own thoughts.
"But I don't. I can't. And it freaking pisses me off."
She poked him in the chest in frustration and he shifted slightly but didn't wake up. When he settled again, she resumed talking. "I'm Fulcrum, Chuck, and I know you're special. I don't know how exactly, but I'm starting to get an idea, and I know if I brought you in, I would be set for life." She sighed and soothed the slightly pink skin where she had poked him with the tips of her fingers. "So I'd really like to know why the only thing I can think about is how to keep you safe and away from Fulcrum."
She scooted closer on the little swivel stool until she could rest her elbow on the bed and lean closer to Chuck. She lowered her voice back to a whisper and said, "You've changed me, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I like it. Life was so much simpler before you. Follow orders, kill anybody in my way, complete the mission, rinse and repeat. Simple.
"Why couldn't you have been some asshole like John Casey? At least then I wouldn't be feeling this way." She pushed a few still wet strands of hair behind her ears and groaned. "I hate you."
She grabbed his hand very carefully and threaded her fingers with his. "Just don't die on me, okay? You can't come into my life, screw me all up, and then leave. I already had one man do that to me in my life, I'd really like for you not to be the second.
"So please just…live. I would really appreciate the opportunity to scare you away," she said and then laughed bitterly at just how true her words were. "I promise that you won't regret saving my life. I promise that I'll be thankful for the second chance you've given me," she said quietly. "Live, Chuck, and I promise I'll be grateful."
She shut her eyes then and relaxed, feeling a little lighter now that she had spoken her mind, letting her mind wander, letting herself be lulled into a very light doze by the rhythmic, constant beeping of the heart monitor.
She didn't know how long she sat there resting half atop Chuck's bed, but it couldn't have been very long because she heard a low, throaty voice ask, "How grateful?"
Her head shot up in wide-eyed surprise, and she nearly fell off the stool in her surprise as she jerked back away from the bed. Chuck was awake! She hurriedly pushed herself back to the bed and grabbed Chuck's hand in a bone-crushing grip.
"Chuck, you're awake," she said amazed. Her eyes automatically fixated on his face, looking for any sign that indicated she hadn't imagined Chuck speaking. His eyes fluttered open and she had never thought they looked more beautiful than they did right at that moment.
"Looks like it," Chuck said weakly and gave her a tired, droopy smile.
As excited and happy she was that Chuck was again awake, and even better, not automatically calling for Carina, realization hit and she instantly worried. "Wait, Chuck, you're not supposed to be awake. You must be in so much pain…" She squeezed Chuck's hand hard, more to anchor herself to the situation than to reassure him. How the hell was he awake? She had pumped him with enough painkillers and sedatives that he should still be unconscious. At least she thought she had. There was no way she had screwed that up too.
Chuck tightened his eyes and nodded very stiffly. But he still managed to keep smiling at her, even if the smile didn't completely reach his unfocused eyes. "Not my fault. A very beautiful woman was talking to me and I guess my body felt compelled to talk back," he said with a slight slur.
She blushed and immediately looked down and away, her hair obscuring part of her face. She didn't want him to see her blush, but she knew it was a futile gesture as she felt her whole body flush. She blushed so completely she was pretty sure her toes were red. God, the things he said to her… They were words she had heard hundreds of times in her life, but never had they been said with such easy sincerity. From any other man, she would think them simply a way of getting in her pants, but with Chuck, she knew he said them just to say them. His eyes gave him away every time.
"You think I'm beautiful?" She asked timidly, shyly, completely disbelievingly.
"Like the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Chuck said in his slurred, hesitant drawl. It was obvious his brain was having difficulty processing words through the drug induced haze surrounding his mind.
"That's just the morphine talking, Chuck," she awkwardly teased, hoping that she could push his comments in another direction. She was starting to get uncomfortable as the situation was moving from superficial banter to something more real. She was not at all used to sincere compliments and Chuck's earnest belief that what he was telling her was true made it difficult to look at his eyes.
"So what you're saying is that I'm high on you? I like that thought."
She rolled her eyes at the incredibly corny line but lifted her head and smiled at him anyway. She couldn't help it. As much as she wanted him to stop being so…him, she couldn't deny the burning hot, fluttery feeling growing inside of her with every one of his comments.
She was just so happy that he was actually awake. This was the second time he had awakened since being shot, which could only be a good sign. It meant he was probably going to be okay. Only, now that he was awake, she really wanted him to go back to sleep. She didn't want Chuck to be in so much pain. Even now, she could see in his eyes how hard it was for him to hide from her how he must be feeling. And that was with the painkillers running through his system.
"Chuck, you need to go back to sleep," she said. She reluctantly let go of his hand and spun around on the stool to search for a sedative in the medical cabinet to her right. "Let me just get something to help you sleep, okay?"
She grabbed a syringe of the right drug and spun back around to face Chuck, but before she could inject the drug into his IV, his hand shot out and stilled her arm. "Wait, you never answered my question."
"What question?"
"I wanted to know just how grateful you would be if I lived," he said with a slight grin. The grip on her arm slackened and his hand quickly fell back limply to rest on the bed. He had accomplished his goal and didn't need to strain himself anymore.
"Like are we talking handshake grateful? Pat on the back and a hearty 'Welcome back, Chuck' grateful? Hug grateful? Kiss grateful?" He waggled his eyebrows at that and she just stopped herself from giggling in relief and amusement at the sight. "I only ask because I'd like to determine if living is even worth it for me."
She tried to look like she was thinking seriously on Chuck's question, but she couldn't stop smiling. She grabbed Chuck's hand again and threaded her fingers with his. She squeezed it gently and smirked down at him. "I promise you, Chuck Bartowski, that if you live and we get through this, you will not regret it. I will make you a very happy man."
"Oh?" he asked with that same unfocused grin he'd had since he woke up.
"Yes. Very happy. Trust me."
She looked steadily into his eyes and tried to convey the sincerity of her offer. He deserved a lot more than anything she could offer, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to give him what she could, the one thing she knew any man would want.
Why he would even bother with her was a topic of constant consideration in the back of her mind. He should be with a woman that could look him in the eye and tell him the truth. He should be with a woman that knew how to express herself, that didn't have blood on her hands, and could actually care for him as much as he cared for her. She was none of those things, didn't even think she was capable of those things. She could only offer him sex. And she was happy to do that if it meant he stayed in her life just a little bit longer, was happy to do it if meant he might make her feel something she hadn't felt in a very long time, but she doubted that he would stay for very long the more he got to know her. And besides, it was all she really knew how to give or was comfortable giving. Once he tired of her, once he got what he wanted…
"Those are big words, Agent Walker," he said. He carefully licked his lips to moisten them and she wished she had some water for him. As soon as she got him back to sleep, she'd go in search of some. "I don't know if I really believe you."
She tried to laugh lightly but she was sure some of her dark thoughts had leaked into her voice. Fortunately, Chuck didn't seem to notice and she leaned a little closer to Chuck's face. She made herself smile enticingly; with Chuck, it wasn't that hard. "Believe me, Chuck, this is one of the few things I know I actually do well." She had years of experience, after all, she thought with no small amount of regret and bitterness.
His eyes briefly focused on her and it almost took her breath away at the intensity there. "Just what exactly do you mean?"
"Contrary to what Carina thinks, I know how to handle myself around the bedroom. I'll make you forget your own name," she said with a cocky grin that she didn't really feel.
Chuck's eyes unfocused and drooped half-closed and his smile faded away. "Oh, so that's what you meant."
She asked confused, "Yes. Wait, what did you think I meant?"
Chuck partially shook his head and gave her a faint smile. "Nothing."
She tried to read his expression, tried to read his eyes, but there was still so much about him that she didn't know. She would need months to learn all his quirks and she was afraid she'd blown her only chance by saying something wrong.
Chuck's body sagged further into the mattress, all his energy spent. It seemed the drugs were finally, blessedly, taking their toll.
Then, as if catching a second wind, his eyes brightened and the faint smile grew into a devious grin.
"Prove it," he said.
She blinked; unsure she was still speaking to the same suddenly morose Chuck from 30 seconds ago. "Prove what?"
"I think, for me to even consider living long enough to give you a chance to keep your promise, I'm going to need some kind of proof that you can actually back up your big talk."
She couldn't believe it. "Oh you want proof, do you?"
He nodded his head. He tried to look solemn and unimpressed, but he was completely unconvincing. As usual, his eyes gave him away.
She smirked at him before standing up slightly so that she could lean over the bed. She pressed her lips to his gently, with barely any pressure, and held them there for only a few seconds, before she pulled away. "How was that?" she asked with a shy grin.
Chuck licked his lips again, although for an entirely different reason than before, and he closed his eyes. "Not bad," he said.
"Not bad? I thought it was nice," she said with a pout.
She watched him try to maintain a straight face, his eyes open again and dancing in poorly hidden mirth, but the corners of his mouth kept forming into a smile. "Eh…I've had better."
She giggled in disbelief and slapped his arm none too gently. "Hey!" she yelled in mock outrage. "Just be grateful you're already hurt because otherwise I'd make you pay for that."
"Again, big words that I don't think you can back up."
"You know what? I was going to kiss you again, but if this is how you're going to act, you can forget it." She glared at him but couldn't put much heat into it. She was too happy that he was awake and talking to her for her to care about him teasing her. Mostly. She still felt a little uncomfortable with the easy camaraderie that she had developed with him. She had never had that with anyone else in her life. It almost felt unnatural in its normalness.
Chuck abruptly became very serious, his face going blank. "Sarah, I have a confession to make."
"Hmmm?"
"I lied to you back in the facility," he said. He shut his eyes and she heard his breathing become labored. "I mean, back in your cell before we left."
"You did?" she asked tightly. A sudden icy pit formed in her stomach. Here it was, time for the other shoe to drop. She knew that he was too good to be true.
Chuck sighed raggedly and winced in pain. She wanted to put him under but she didn't. She needed to know what he was going to say. "Yeah. I told you that I wanted you to come with me because I wanted your help to destroy Fulcrum, and because I wanted to help you." He was staring at her now, his eyes pinning her to her stool. She didn't think she could move away even if she wanted to. "The truth is, I don't give a shit about Fulcrum or even wanting to help you get better. Well, I do, I really do want to help you become a better person, but my real reason was so much more selfish than that. I just didn't want that to be the last time I ever saw you again. I didn't want to not have you in my life anymore. I wanted you to work with me because it meant I would get to see you every day. I just thought you should know, since we are supposed to be honest with each other now."
Chuck shut his eyes then and started to breathe evenly and deep, like he was asleep.
She didn't know what to say. How did somebody respond to something like that? She should be upset. Not because of his reasons, but because he had lied to her. Again. Yet she wasn't. She couldn't. He had basically told her what she had wanted to hear from him since he stepped inside her cell and told her she would be working with Bryce Larkin. It was a confirmation that she really wasn't alone in having these strange feelings. She wasn't alone in wanting to spend all her time with him, even if she didn't quite know what that meant. That was, assuming, he was finally telling her the truth this time.
She was willing to believe he was. She was sure that he had only told her that because…because maybe he thought he was on death's door. Or maybe the drugs had loosened his tongue enough to let his real feelings through. Either way, he had said it and she believed him.
She quietly stood up and leaned over him again. She kissed him softly and to her surprise, he kissed back. She had thought he was asleep. Before she even realized what she was doing, she pressed her lips a little more firmly against his, putting more of her body onto the bed. One of Chuck's hands pressed down gently on her head and she deepened the kiss, slowly running her tongue along Chuck's bottom lip before slipping it tentatively inside his mouth.
As his tongue slid along hers and his hand ran through her hair and she found herself moving her whole body onto the bed along with him, she lost perspective. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a voice screaming out that this was a really bad idea. Not just because Chuck still had a bullet stuck inside of him and was very weak, but also because she really shouldn't be making out with him while her mind was in such a vulnerable place. But that didn't stop her, and she only increased the amount of passion she put into the kiss. The things she felt when she kissed him…she never wanted them to end.
"What the fuck is going on here!?"
She practically exploded off the bed, wrenching her mouth away from Chuck's with a jerk, and barely managed to land on her feet, several feet away from Chuck's bed.
Carina was standing just outside the cube, a furious expression on her face.
She felt like she had just gotten caught making out with her boyfriend by her mother. If she had ever had a mother. Or a boyfriend.
She could feel how swollen her lips were and she hesitantly ran her tongue over them. God, that had been a hell of a kiss. She surreptitiously looked at Chuck to see if he was as embarrassed and turned on as she was, but his eyes were closed, there was a slight smile on his face, and—she was fairly certain this time—appeared actually asleep. She smiled ruefully at the sight and focused her attention back on the still pissed off red head.
"I give you one simple job…" Carina muttered and jerked her head, like Carina was motioning for her to come closer.
She left the cube and stood right in front of Carina, making sure to stay on guard. She had no idea how Carina might react to seeing her kiss Chuck. The unpredictable woman was as likely to attack her as give her a high-five. "Look, Carina, I'm sorry about that, but –"
"Save it, Blondie, not interested in your lame ass excuses." Carina peered closely at Chuck, then the monitors next to him, and then she shook her head in bemusement. "Jesus, you literally kissed him unconscious. I'd be impressed if you weren't so incredibly stupid." Carina's angry gaze settled back on her. "What were you trying to do, give him a heart attack?"
She started to open her mouth to argue, but Carina just shook her head. "You and I are going to have a talk about this later, but right now we have company."
# # # # #
They watched the lone car steadily move closer down the long country road.
Carina turned to her and reached into the waistband of her pants. She pulled out a pistol—it was the Sig P228 from Carina's burn bag—and gave it to her. Then Carina handed her a set of car keys.
"If anything happens, you do what you have to do, but you grab Chuck and you run."
Carina locked eyes with her and the faith in Carina's startling gray eyes, the faith in her to protect Chuck, made her look away. She didn't know why Carina thought she was so deserving of that faith, but it was clear she did.
Carina looked at her for a few seconds longer, but she soon turned on her heel and walked toward the approaching car.
Chuck would now be all right.
The doctor had arrived.
Next chapter: Operation - Has anyone else noticed that the chapter titles haven't been all that creative so far this arc? Hmmm... Anyway, chapter is self explanatory. But who is the doctor? Dun dun dun!
I guess this means Chuck lives?