A/N: I think if you took everything you've read so far and threw it into one chapter, this would be it. This is follows the story in Chapter Ten, so I hope you read that... if you didn't, how did you get here?
I miss you, I'm going back home to the West Coast.
I wish you would've put yourself in my suitcase
I love you, standing all alone in a black coat
I miss you, I'm going back home to the West Coast.
It's always rainy in London. Sarah kinda likes it. The mindless day to day of sunshine and killing is offset by the dab, dreary, rainfall. It cleanses. She's wearing a loose gray jacket, jeans, boots, and her wedding ring. Her hair is in a ponytail. She's sitting at a small cafe that happens to be across the street from a suit shop that Oliver Burns just walked into.
Oliver Burns is the American ambassador to Turkey, who happens to like his suits made by the Brits. Oh, and he likes to start gruesome civil wars in order to make some pocket change. She wants to kill him.
She gets bored waiting. So she crosses the street and goes into the shop, naturally. Burns brought his body guards with him, but she doesn't see them anywhere. At first. And then she's surrounded. Three men form a triangle around her, all holding shiny guns. They're shouting at her, telling her to freeze, telling her to drop her weapons, telling her to put her hands up. Sarah is kinda tired of being told what to do. She's taken orders for too long, orders got her where she is now, and disobeying orders is what's going to get her back.
She moves as if to slowly remove a gun tucked in her jeans, which, of course, she has no intention of doing. As the men follow the trail of her hands, her left leg lashes out, disarming the three men in a flash. They quickly stumble for their weapons. Sarah takes hold of one man's head and throws him into the two others. As they struggle to get gain their balance, she lashes out with an elegant kick to the first man's neck. He falls to the floor. The second man receives the palm of her hand to his nose, effectively lodging bits of cartilage into his brain, knocking him unconscious. The third man is pointing his gun at her.
Don't you move, Bitch.
And, well, as previously mentioned, Sarah doesn't like being told what to do. Without even bothering to mislead the man, she quickly spins out, kicking the gun away. The man manages a shot off, but its wide. She drops him with a successive kick to the stomach, followed by a punch to his jaw. It was almost too easy.
She starts to drag the bodies off to the side. Unconscious men blocking the door would be bad for business, and Sarah Walker isn't one to be inconsiderate. Somehow, the bodies are too heavy, and her arms just aren't functioning. And then she sees blood. On the floor, on her clothes, on her arm. And then she feels pain. And then she realizes that the man hadn't missed. Well, shit. She doesn't have time to stuff the bodies. She needs to kill Burns and get out of here. She drops everything and makes for the private dressing room in the back of the store. Her hand is already on the knife tucked in her pants when she opens the door.
Freeze!
The man wearing the suit with pins turns and chuckles. He isn't frightened, which, to Sarah, is unusual. She's here to kill him. He knows that.
I see you're unarmed Ms. Walker.
For a second, every particle of her being wants to tell him that it isn't Walker. It's Bartowski. And then for a second she wonders why that was her first response. She should have killed already.
She whips out her knife faster than most men can blink, and then watches as the knife kinda flops to the floor in a lazy toss. She's somewhat confused. That wasn't supposed to happen.
And then she's falling in a way thats more like floating, floating floating floating to the floor.
When the girls are at school, Anna in second grade and Emily in Kindergarten, full day, Chuck spends his time between his cover job and his other job looking for Sarah. He knows, technically, that she's gone. He's heard it in so many words from multiple, generally reliable, sources. The General was the first to call of the manhunt. And then gradually Casey ceased his own efforts. Next thing he knew, Chuck was having an intervention with Morgan, Awesome, and Ellie. They tried to convince him to move on, that his daughters needed him. He agreed with them. And then told them that Anna and Emily needed their mother, too.
He thought he couldn't do it alone. And now Sarah has been gone for practically six months, and he still doesn't think he can do it alone. Yeah, sure, he can get them dressed and fed and off to school. He helps them with their homework and teaches them right from wrong. He monitors their play-dates and stands up for them. He loves them with all his heart. He wishes he could share it with his wife. All he wants is to grow old with his family, his whole family.
When Sarah wakes up, she doesn't know where she is. And where she used to be is a little bit fuzzy, too. Her arm is throbbing, and she has a sensitive headache. Thankfully, the room is dark.
Good day, Ms. Walker
It's Bartowski!
Sarah silently tries to find the source of the voice. Her mind is screaming for rest, her arming is screaming for medical attention. Oh, that's a bullet hole. She's been shot. Is that how she was captured? No... no. She was shot, but then she saw Burns, and she tried to kill him...
You tried to kill me, Ms. Walker, and I don't really like people that try to kill me.
She heard his footsteps moving closer, and she tested her bonds. Her injured arm protested the movement, and she found that she was cuffed to a chair. Her legs were free. Rookie mistake.
You're going to tell me why you want to kill me, and who told you to do it.
She notices that the jacket she was wearing is gone, leaving her a black tank top. Her knives are missing... except the one in the heel of her boot. That one is probably still there. Men are afraid of women's shoes, he wouldn't have bothered to check. Burns picked up one of her knives off a table.
Hmmm. That's mine.
Now, answer my question. I don't want to have to convince you...
Well, she figures, she may as well humor him.
I want to kill you so I can go home.
He stops menacingly welding her knife, and gives her an odd look.
Seriously? That's it? How am I stopping you?
Once I got there, you would kill me. And my family.
True. So I guess you want to go home and live?
She decides that his questions are kinda boring. She focuses on the handcuffs. What had Casey always said? Something about the knuckles, or the pinky?
Come on now, Ms. Walker. We were doing so well! Here's another question. What do you know about AFRO?
The ridiculous acronym reminds Sarah of Chuck, her Chuck. In this torture situation, he would have been fairly calm, he'd gotten better about needles after the birth of Anna. He would be worried about the children. He would try and give Burns one of his evil eyes, the ones that Sarah found adorable, and not all that evil. And then he would flash on the acronym. Burns had said it with enough gusto that Sarah could practically see Chuck's eyes rolling back into his head.
Instead, Sarah mentally listed everything she had learned about AFRO over the past six months. A flash of her own, if you will. The members were all corrupt ambassadors set on world domination. AFRO was the brain child of Burns and an unknown conspirator, and if Sarah didn't eliminate them, they would kill her.
Burns took her silence as a non-answer, and gently pressed the tip of the knife against the bullet hole in her arm, she hissed, but didn't answer. Handcuffs were easy, you see. You have this little bone in your thumb, and if you apply enough torque...
The pop of the breaking bone isn't heard over the other various noises in the room. Her screams, Burns' questioning. The knife pressing harder and harder into the bullet hole. She may be Sarah Bartowski, possibly the world's best super spy, but even she has a pain threshold. She passes out.
When the girls are home from school, he gives them everything he can. His time, his devotion, his heart. Anna struggles with her math, and Chuck can't help but feel proud every time she says:
Dad, I get it now! You can stop helping me!
He sees so much of Sarah in her.
He drives the girls to their karate class and watches them practice their kicks and punches. Their blonde curls flying with each punch. Sometimes Chuck thinks of the future. He'll be beating boys back with a stick, Sarah will be threatening them with her... stare. It can be very intimidating, no one messes with Sarah Bartowski's look. He's given in to it many times.
And then Chuck reminds himself that she's gone.
Now it's later that night, and Emily is waiting for her bedtime story. Chuck settles down on her bed while she picks a book.
Dad? I think it might be in Anna's room.
O.k. Em, hurry up, you need to get to sleep!
So Emily runs off, but doesn't return with a book in her hands. She leads her sister into her room. The girls give each other a look. Emily nods at Anna. Anna shakes her head. Emily bumps Anna, Anna pushes Emily. Chuck realizes that this isn't going anywhere.
Come on girls, what is it?
Anna and Emily share a look, Anna decides to speak up.
Emily wants you to tell us about you and Mom.
Oh no.
Yeah! Cause Kelly at school told me that her mommy and her daddy were destinated! And romantic! And she said that I wasn't as great as her cause she was destinated!
And, we just wanna know. Please, Dad!
Chuck chuckled because Kelly at school was wrong. Sarah may be gone, but no couple was more 'destinated' than he and his wife. And his two absolutely perfect children should know it.
Well... I know it may be hard to believe, but your old Dad used to be kinda of a loser...
Sarah is getting somewhat tired of waking up to dark rooms, and not remember what happened. Except this time, the large bleeding bullet hole serves as a good reminder. Her lap is covered in her own blood, and head is still pounding, and her thumb hurts like hell.
Oh, right. Her thumb. She carefully slides her hand out of the cuff.
Nice to see your awake Agent Walker. Again. You need to stop passing out on me, because, really, I'm not all that patient.
Then Burns is lying on the floor, her knife jutting out of his neck. Blood sorta squirting everywhere. But that's okay, she never liked these shoes that much anyway. She wipes the blood on the knife, both his and hers, on his shirt sleeve.
Well, Mr. Burns, I'm not all that patient either.
She gathers what gear she can find and heads for the neon exit sign. Handy.
Your mother was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, next to you two of course, but we couldn't date because we worked together.
That's a dumb rule!
Tell me about it, sweetie. Now because your Mommy loved her job, she wasn't sure if she wanted to give it up for a life with me. But one day, after Mommy almost died, she decided that she'd had enough, and that she wanted us to be together.
Geez, why didn't she just do it before? Why wait?
I don't know honey. I think we were both a little afraid of what would happen. So, like I was saying, we started to date. We convinced our big boss that dating wouldn't be so bad, and a few years later, I asked her to marry me. The End.
The End? Dad? What the heck? There wasn't very much destination in that story!
What are you talking about? We overcame huge odds and...
Daddy, look. You might have overcomed odds and evens and all that, but you totally didn't tell us. It was like: Once upon a time I met Mommy, we played will they won't they for a while...
How do you even know what that means?
And then we kissed and got married and had the most two perfect daughters ever. Boring. Come on Daddy, wheres the romance? Where's the action? Where's the destination?
Chuck pulled Emily onto his lap, Anna looked on expectantly. He ruffled Emily's blonde hair and laughed.
All right. You want destiny? I'll give you destiny, but it might take more than one night.
Emily patted Chuck's knee tenderly.
Daddy, take as long as you need. This destination is worth it.
Sarah staggered out onto the street. She had lost an incredible amount of blood over the past... however long she'd been in there. She looked for a clock... three in the afternoon. Hopefully it was still the same day. The strange looks she was receiving reminded her that she looked like a horror victim, covered in blood, slightly crazy, and wielding a large knife.
She needed to clean up, she needed to find more clothes, more money. She needed to find the unknown. Burns' partner in crime. Since she'd killed Burns without getting her own chance at the torture, she was at square one. She was working off the snake head theory. If she killed the leaders, the thug's income would stop, and she would be free. Free.
So, how much for one night?
Sarah whipped her head around, and the man was talking to her. She stared at him, open-mouthed.
One night? How much? Euros? 400? 500?
Oh God, he thought she was a prostitute. Just to check, she looked down at herself. Her tank-top was torn and her jeans looked more like cut-offs. Her shoes were ratty, and everything was soaked in blood. At least she had on her fashionable accessory: a throwing knife. The guy was into some weird stuff.
I'm a specialist.
Sweet! Aw, man, this guys will not believe this!
They walked together to an ATM, where he gets the money in cash.
Up front. No refunds, even if you get hurt.
Oh. My. God. This is going to be crazy, right?
She ignored the 'client' and started to walk off, as if she knew where a local motel was. She led him to a dark alley, and left him in a pile of his own drool. He never saw it coming. He'd wake up in a few hours, back on the prowl. But, with a terrible headache.
Sarah tried to keep her joy contained, she hadn't had this much cash since... ever. Even when she'd been on mission she didn't have much money, and now... she could call Chuck. She should call Beckman. She want to call Chuck. She could call both Beckman and Chuck... but Chuck doesn't know she's alive. She'd tried to call before and it hadn't worked, maybe that had been a sign? Chuck had always talked about destiny, how things had a way of working out. Maybe she wasn't destined to call him?
She was over-thinking it. She found a pay-phone, and dialed the secure CIA line, knowing that it would be another fifteen minutes until she talked to a human being. Automated voices suck.
And finally, after we'd completed the mission, I knew that even though your mom was the woman I was in love with, she would never love me, so I tried to move on.
Dad, how could you move on? This is horrible!
Anna, look, he'll move on, but obfiously, he and Mommy will get married because, hello? They did! This is the destination I'm talkin' 'bout!
Yeah, but I still don't get that you and Mom were spies. I mean, it's so unfair! You're only telling me now, and Emily is only in Kindergarten! Why didn't you tell me first! I'm older, you should have told me!
Girls, calm down. Don't you want to finish the story?
Yes!
Well, let's see. After your mom told me she didn't think we'd have a future together, I went on a few dates with a girl named Lou. Remember, that nice lady who made you that sandwich?
You kissed Lou?
This is General Beckman.
Finally.
Excuse me?
I apologize General, it's just I'm using a pay-phone, and this is long distance, and I've been waiting for months to make this call...
Well... get on with it.
My name is Sarah Bartowski, and I've been on the run for five months. I would really like to go home.
The silence on the other end of the phone was unnerving, and costly. She didn't want to have to pretend to be a hooker again for a couple extra bucks. It would be nice to stay under a roof tonight...
Sarah?
Yes, General.
You're alive?
Um... yes. It looks like it. Please, General, I just want to see my family again. I need to see my family again. It's been so long...
Where are you? I'll have a team of Interpol agents take you to the nearest CIA facility, I'm afraid this isn't under my jurisdiction... but, God, Sarah, we'd given up on you.
I know, General. I know.
So for Christmas that year, I decided I wanted Sarah to know how much she meant to me, that she was already a part of the family. Your Mom didn't have a great family growing up, sometimes they didn't celebrate Christmas!
(whoaaa)
But at the Buy-More, a bad-guy held the entire store up, so I gave her the present early. It was a little charm bracelet that had once belong to my Mom. The whole time she kept talking about our cover relationship, but when she saw the bracelet, she knew that it was for a real girlfriend. And that I wanted her to have it.
Oh, Daddy, you are so romantic.
But Dad, what happened with the bad-guy?
Well, your Mom took care of him... in a violent manner.
She shot him?
I didn't say that! But, well, yes. And that messed us up for a while. I didn't like seeing your Mom killing people.
She killed him?
She did it to protect me, I learned. You gotta remember that girls. Everything your mother does... did... was to protect you. She loved you so much, that she would go to any length so that you were safe.
But we are safe Daddy!
I think this is a good place to stop! Alright, good-night Emily, Anna. I'll see you in the morning!
Awww. Okay. Night Daddy.
Yeah, Good-night Dad.
Everything happened quickly. She met with the Interpol team, and was escorted to a CIA base. She met with the new director, the one who had put her on the assignment, and was handed a plane ticket. She was going home.
At first she'd tried to argue. There was still another man out there! AFRO isn't dead! But the director laughed, AFRO hadn't been active since she'd disappeared. They weren't a threat. The man was probably in hiding, just as she had been. He was glad to have her back. Agent Walker.
She didn't argue after that, but she still felt unsettled. Maybe it was because it was Bartowski, not Walker. Maybe it was because she had been running for a reason. AFRO wasn't gone. They were waiting to eliminate the only person who could bring them down. Her thoughts followed her onto the plane, and many many hours later she was at LAX. Her thoughts followed her out of the terminal and into the taxi.
And they weren't supposed to. She was supposed to be happy, supposed to be overjoyed. Supposed to be maybe just a little bit nervous. She was going to see Chuck again, to see Anna and Emily again. Her little girls. She had her life back... welcome back Agent Walker.
It's Bartowski.
When Chuck was almost ready to go to sleep, he heard a cab pull up outside the house. It was unusual, but he figured the Hendersons were returning from their vacation... but didn't they take the car?
He quietly got out of bed, and put on a shirt. He peeked out his bedroom window and saw a dark figure approaching the door.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. The girls. The girls, where are the girls, a bat? A gun? Do we still have guns? The intersect! I haven't used kung-fu in years... a knife! Knives were Sarah's favorite! Could I throw a knife at another human being? The girls, I have to protect the girls.
Chuck ran to the kitchen and found the sharpest steak knife he could find, and tucked a couple others in the back of his flannel pajama pants. He watched as the intruder used a key (how did he get a key?) to slowly turn the lock. The door opened tentatively. Chuck hid in the corner, out of the intruder's line of sight. The intruder walked into the house, gingerly letting his fingers trail along the wall, he stopped to look at pictures. Chuck quickly moved from behind, moving to put the intruder in a choke hold.
Sarah heard the squeak of the floor board behind her, and crouched low. The attacker swung his arm out, and she saw the flash of a knife. They'd already found her! Did he already take care of her family? Or had he been waiting for her?
She ignored the swell of tears the questions brought to her eyes, and quickly disarmed the attacker. She straddled him, holding the knife to his neck.
Please, please! Don't! You can have whatever you want, just don't hurt my family! Please! It's all I have left.
And she knew that voice. It'd been so long, but she knew that voice. And this knife, she'd picked it out, shopping with her sister-in-law. This man... this man was her husband.
Chuck?
He reached up and turned on the light.
Sarah. Sarah, no, you're... oh God. This... this is a dream. I just.. I stopped these! With the therapy, and
Chuck had sprung up from beneath Sarah, and had started to pace. She was still kneeling on the floor, clueless. What does one say to someone who thought you'd been dead? Sarah rose steadily, testing the waters.
Chuck? This isn't a dream. I've been on the run, but it's over now. I'm home. I'm... I'm not dead. I've been trying to get back to you. For so long. So so long.
She choked on her words, and Chuck enveloped her. His Sarah, home at last. And he knew it, he knew it. She noticed his wet tears on her shoulder, still bruised and bloody. Her arm still bandaged from the gunshot wound.
Chuck held her at arms length, and noticed the injuries. She had a scar, on the underside of her jaw, that hadn't been there before. She felt his fingers traced the old cut tenderly. He saw that her eyes had more grey than blue. Her bandage wrapping her arm was bloodied, her ear still had caked blood from just two days ago. His hands moved from her arms to her hands, and he felt her rough palms, her dirty fingernails.
It's really you.
She laughed a little, to relieve the pressure that had been built up for so long. She gave him a sad smile.
It is me.
I would've waited a lifetime for you.
And she couldn't wait anymore. Sarah threw herself at Chuck, her lips pressing down hard on his . Her hands slowly remember their place. He slowed the kiss, letting the fire cool to everlasting passion. She wrapped her legs around his body, mentally using the excuse that she was too tired for the stairs.
He carried her to their bedroom.
She's in Burbank.
Yes, I know that she's dangerous, but her guard is down. She thinks she's safe.
I told her myself, you imbecile!
Just kill her, and I'll get you your money... fine, I have to go, another call.
This is Burke.
Yes, General Beckman. Agent Walker should have arrived home half an hour ago.
My apologies, Agent Bartowski.
I'll see to it, I plan on debriefing her tomorrow morning.
Oh no, not for another mission, not for awhile. I need her just where she is. I'll just make sure she's staying somewhere comfortable, ask if she needs anything... therapy.. a shooting range.
Yes, yes. Well, I must go. Being the director of the CIA doesn't allow for much free time. I have a meeting with the president, soon, and another call coming in.
Nice talking with you too, General. I want to personally thank you for your aid in bringing my agent home.
Click.
A/N: Mwahhahaha. Guess what, this isn't the end! Look for a continuation of this story inside a story in my next story! The West Coast is over, but this drama will live on! Cause, come on, Sarah is missing for 8 months, not 7! A few extra notes: thank you for reading so much! This story is like, my first legit one ever. And you readers are awesome! And you reviewers are the best, nothing keeps me going better than the thought of a nice little review! So be on the lookout, my next one might be up in a week or so, and I'm pretty sure the first or second chapter will be a continuation of this plot!