Song: "Innocence," by Hootie and the Blowfish.
A/N: This story is meant to come after Chapter 18: "Everyone Loves to Love a Lie." It may not make sense if you haven't read that first.
Also, the poll for the song for the next Chuck chapter is still up, so feel free to vote! :)
What else can I do when the tears have all been wasted
And the only voice you choose to hear
Sings the songs of our hearts breaking?
Chuck walks in the front door, a grocery bag in each arm. His eyes dark and brooding, he heads into the kitchen to set the bags on the counter. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
Sarah.
She's been distant ever since he had asked her to go with him and Morgan to that morning's book signing. The mere mention of Hale's name had freaked her out so much that she's been avoiding him since Wednesday.
Slowly, he begins putting away the groceries. He has no idea how to tackle this problem. Should he confront her or let her come to him? And confront her about what, exactly? He really doesn't have a clue about what's going on between them. They've been steadily growing closer for the past year, and he feels like they've finally figured out the kinks of their relationship. Of course, she's still agonizingly stubborn about boundaries, but she's also opened herself up more than he ever imagined she would.
The mixed signals are driving him out of his mind.
He puts the last of the groceries away and starts down the hallway, smiling slightly at the prospect of settling down for the night with only Marcus Hale's new novel. He opens the door to his bedroom and stops, immediately catching sight of Sarah sitting on his bed. Even in the dark, he can make out the book lying in her lap. When he flips on the light, he can clearly see her shaking hands and tear-streaked cheeks.
Though she gave him no inkling that she'd be here, his first instinct is to go to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her until nothing bad can ever touch her again. But a vague, unpleasant feeling creeps into his chest. She looks up at him, her eyes bloodshot, and his heart splinters.
"What is it?" he asks through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the feeling that her words are going to be the knockout blow.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I'm so, so sorry. It's just, we were at this horrible stage in our relationship, and I didn't know where to turn. It didn't mean anything. I needed someone who wasn't you, that's all. I swear to you, Chuck, I never meant to hurt you."
He forces air in and out of his lungs slowly, his nostrils flaring. Feeling no calmer, he says coldly, "I'm not sure I follow."
She rises from the bed and steps closer. Holding the novel towards him, she confesses hysterically, "I slept with him, Chuck." His eyes blaze, and he consciously avoids touching the book. "Things just got out of control," she continues, her voice more distraught with each passing second. Without taking a breath, she admits, "I was angry with you, so I went to The Sleeping Dragon across town, and he was working there, and all I wanted to do was get my mind off you, but one thing led to another, and before I knew it –"
He cuts her off, his words dripping with malice. "You were in his bed?"
She takes an involuntary step backward, her chest heaving. He stares at her, his gaze penetrating, until she averts her eyes, a blush tinting her cheeks.
"Get out," he tells her calmly.
With a slight shake of her head, she replies, "Please, Chuck. I'm trying to be honest with you. Can't we at least talk about this?"
The plea in her eyes is almost too much for him. But he sets his jaw and says, "I'm tired of talking. You should leave." He averts his gaze, unwilling to bear witness to the breaking of her heart.
Desperately, she clutches his arm. "Chuck, I'm begging you. Don't walk away from this. Not now. Not when I need you most."
He can't pretend that her touch isn't like fire – warm at first but dangerous if held for too long. He jerks away from her.
On his way out the door, he says, "Fine. If you won't leave, I will." Say your dreams, they all have changed.
Well, my smiles, they all have faded.
And the thoughts that used to seem so pure in my heart,
They now feel jaded.
Chuck sits at the end of the bar, his head against his hand. With the other hand, he pushes his bottle of beer around on the counter. He stares at the brown bottle, trying to remember how many he's had. It's probably not a good sign that he can't.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the bartender who's been enabling him all night speaking to one of his colleagues with dark hair. He feels a surge of anger.
Marcus Hale.
Chuck sits up as he notices Hale coming toward him. The bartender stops in front of him, resting his hands on the table.
Hale tilts his head toward his fellow worker. "My friend over there says you've been hitting the bottle pretty hard tonight. Everything okay?"
Chuck looks up at him under heavy lids, his mouth drawn into a thin line. "She told me it didn't mean anything," he says, his words only the tiniest bit slurred, "but if it meant nothing, why would you dedicate your book to her?" His eyes flare. "Correct me if I'm wrong in that assumption."
Regret passes over Hale's face, and he sighs heavily. "You're him," he states simply.
Chuck replies bitterly, "Yep. I'm the fool who got the wool pulled over his eyes and didn't figure it out for a whole year."
"It wasn't like that." His hand on his forehead, Hale shakes his head. "Listen, I'm off in twenty minutes. Why don't you sober up and we'll talk then?"
Hale takes the beer and walks away, returning with a mug of coffee.
"Here," he says as he sets it down on the counter. "Drink this instead."
Chuck takes it resentfully, but the hot liquid has a calming effect. His mind, though not completely clear, is at least somewhat less foggy. He continues to sip the coffee, growing more cognizant with each gulp. When there are only dregs left in the mug, he feels a hand on his back. He turns to see Mark, dark hair falling into expressive eyes.
"Hey, man," Mark says. "Let's go talk."
Chuck shrugs him off moodily, but stands up to follow nevertheless.
"You okay to walk?" Mark asks as they exit the bar.
Chuck, brows narrowed, grunts an affirmative.
"All right, then," says Mark, putting a hand lightly on his elbow to steady him.
Chuck walks slowly, taking care to place his feet firmly on the sidewalk. He's not drunk, but the lights of the city are a little too bright for his liking. Mark surreptitiously matches his pace.
"What's your name?" Mark asks.
"Chuck," he replies.
Mark narrows his eyes at him. "Wait," he says, pointing at him, "I remember you. Were you at the book signing this morning?"
A faint blush rises to Chuck's cheeks. Out of all the people in the world, she had to go and sleep with his favorite author. He nods sheepishly.
"Damn," Mark mutters under his breath. "Look," he sighs. "I don't really know where to begin, so I'm just going to come out and say that it was one night. And all it was for her was a distraction."
Catching on to what he doesn't say, Chuck asks, "And what was it for you?"
"I'm not going to lie and say it didn't mean anything. It did." He stares off into the distance. "But she held all the cards. And I dealt with it by writing a book, hoping she'd get the message if she wanted to."
"Did you know about me?"
Mark refrains from answering for a moment, but finally admits softly, "Yes."
"But you still wrote it?"
He shrugs. "I couldn't just wallow. Writing's how I get my feelings out."
Chuck nods, understanding this.
"We talked about you," Mark continues. He pauses, waiting for a response. But Chuck just purses his lips and stays silent. "No specifics, of course," he says in a low voice, looking down at his feet. "She was quiet, but even more so when the subject of you came up."
Chuck glances over at his companion. He asks cautiously, "Why do you think that was?"
Mark puffs out his cheeks, exhaling audibly. "I think she was scared. Of you, of what you offered." He runs a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "I don't know. I realize knowing her for a day doesn't qualify me to make these kinds of observations, but she just got this look in her eye every time she talked about you, even if she didn't mention your name. I've never seen someone more terrified of being in love."
"What did she say . . . about me . . . exactly?" he falters, not sure he wants to know the answer.
"Not a whole lot, really. Mostly that you were the only one who made her question her commitment to her job, though I never quite understood why she was so sure that a relationship would ruin her career."
Chuck's silent, mulling this over. For the first time, he thinks this might be about him after all. "I just don't get why she sought comfort in a complete stranger, why she could talk to you, when she constantly pushes me away."
Mark looks over at him. "Don't you ever find it easier to confide in someone you don't even know, someone you'll never see again, rather than the very person you should be talking to?"
Chuck can follow the logic of this argument, and he nods in agreement.
"We were both running from things we couldn't escape."
"What if she never realizes that she can't escape? What if she doesn't accept that she can't escape?" Possibilities run through Chuck's mind faster than he can comprehend them, and the rushing thoughts make his breathing labored. "What if, what if –"
Mark stops walking, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Hey, Chuck, buddy. Calm down," he urges. He puts one hand on the side of Chuck's head, as if to knock some sense into him. "This is going to be all right. And believe me, the last thing she wanted was to hurt you."
Chuck takes a deep breath. "Then why is she so afraid to love me?" Because I wanna feel like I did.
And I wanna feel innocence.
Chuck stumbles to the apartment and takes his key out of his pocket. More because of the day's events than because of the night's drinking, he has difficulty getting the key into the lock. He curses under his breath, still struggling, when the door opens abruptly, and he comes face to face with his irate-looking sister. He freezes, his eyes wide open in dread of the verbal lashing she's obviously ready to dish out.
Ellie steps to the side of the doorway and points into the living room. "In," she says icily.
Suddenly feeling alert, he obeys. He's not stupid enough to risk her wrath any more than he already has. Inside, he's surprised to find Morgan sitting in the armchair, a grape soda in hand, and Devon asleep on the couch.
He sinks to the floor, lying on his back with his arm over his eyes. "Why is Devon on the couch?" he asks lazily. He smacks his tongue around his mouth and grimaces. His mouth tastes gross.
"Sarah's asleep in our room," Ellie tells him.
He picks his head up to squint at her. "Why?"
"Because."
Resigned to not getting a straight answer, Chuck lies back down. He stares at the ceiling light, challenging himself to see how long he can keep from blinking. His eyes are watering when Morgan invades his vision.
"This is an intervention, buddy," Morgan says.
Chuck blinks away the tears. "What? What are you talking about?"
Ellie says harshly, "Sit up, Chuck."
He complies and leans against the coffee table. He doesn't meet her gaze, afraid of what's coming.
Uncharacteristically serious, Morgan accuses, "Obviously you're too stubborn to fix your relationship on your own."
"My relationship with Sarah is my business," Chuck seethes, glaring daggers at his sister and best friend.
"Your business is our business, my not-so-smart friend," says Morgan.
Halfway through his sentence, Ellie jumps in with, "It became my business the moment Sarah came to me."
Chuck glances up in surprise, his anger abating slightly. "What? She talked to you?" His brow furrows. Is it wrong to feel jealous of his sister because Sarah actually opened up to her?
"Yes," Ellie says, her eyes cold, "she came to me because she needed a friend, because she felt like she couldn't talk to you." She pauses, letting her words sink in, before continuing, "And you know what, Chuck? For the first time in our lives, I'm not on your side of the argument."
He breathes deeply, hoping to control his temper. He's angry with Sarah. He doesn't need to be angry at Ellie and Morgan, too.
"You're being asinine," she says, and he winces.
Morgan adds, "This is by far the dumbest thing you've done since trying to get Jill back after she left you for Larkin."
Chuck stands, ready to round on his diminutive friend.
Ellie steps between them and says, "He's right. In that case, you were underestimating what you deserved, and in this case, you're exaggerating it."
"That was different," he protests.
Stepping out from behind Ellie, Morgan raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? How?"
"She didn't cheat on me!"
Ellie lets out a frustrated scoff and throws her hands in the air.
"She started going out with your supposed best friend without even formally dumping you!" Morgan reminds him. "How is that any better?"
Before he's even done, Ellie rounds on him with a different tactic. "For God's sake, Chuck! You and Sarah weren't even together last year! You're still not! What's the matter with you?" She half-growls, half-screams, "Arg! Sometimes I just want to shake some sense into you!"
Chuck runs a hand through his hair. He thought, of all people, his sister and best friend would be on his side.
Ellie puts her hands on her hips and says in a calmer voice, "Just go easy on her, that's all."
The anger wells up again. "Why should I?" he fumes.
She looks him directly in the eye. "Because she's a scared young woman who's never been in love and doesn't know how to handle it? Or because you love her too much to not forgive her. Trust me, Chuck. You don't want to live the rest of your life wondering 'what if?'."
Morgan nods sagaciously.
About to argue again, Chuck realizes something. "Did she say she loved me?" he asks, his voice trembling.
Ellie turns away. "I can't tell you any more than I already have."
He frowns. "Why not?"
She looks back at him somberly. "I only got her to open up because I promised that what she said wouldn't get back to you."
Shaking his head incredulously, he says, "I don't get it. Why would she not want me to know how she feels?"
"Maybe she's afraid of how you'll react," Morgan suggests softly.
Chuck looks from him to Ellie. The emotional turmoil gradually subsides. Ashamed, he confesses, "I don't want her to be afraid of coming to me."
Ellie smiles sadly at him.
Morgan claps his shoulder. "Swallow your pride, buddy. She made a mistake. Don't let that ruin your whole life."
He nods and lets his shoulders sag. He's suddenly very tired. "I'll go take her to my room. We can talk in the morning."
"That's the Chuck we know," Morgan says happily.
As he walks out of the living room, Ellie grabs him and locks him into a hug.
"I love you," she whispers. "You know that, right?"
He chuckles. "Of course I do." She releases him from the hug. "'Night, Team Bartowski," he says quietly before he turns to head down the hallway. What else can it be except this pride I'm sick of drinking?
Storm clouds all have gone away.
Can we stop this thing from sinking?
Chuck opens the door to Ellie and Awesome's room, trying not to let it squeak. The room is dark, but as soon as he gets a sight of her, he feels his heart catch in his throat. Her flaxen hair frames her face, lit up by moonlight. The combined effect makes her look heart-achingly innocent. And he knows in his heart that he's forgiven her, but come morning, he's not sure he'll be able to look at her and see his Sarah, the woman he fell in love with.
But he has to take that chance.
Walking around the bed, he takes a deep breath. He stops, entranced by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. With shaking hands, he folds back the covers. She stirs. He freezes, waiting to see if she wakes. But as her breathing settles back in its sleepy rhythm, he leans closer, slides his arms under her, and lifts her up into his embrace. Murmuring drowsily, she unconsciously repositions herself against him, her head near his shoulder.
In the hallway, she opens her eyes, struggling to keep them open.
"Mmm, Chuck? Where are we going?"
"Shh, it's okay," he whispers. "I thought Ellie and Awesome would appreciate the use of their room."
She smiles, still in that state between dreaming and waking, and burrows deeper against his chest. "You came back for me."
He purses his lips. Not entirely, but she doesn't need to know that quiet yet. He's not even sure she would comprehend it if he tried to explain his many and confused motivations.
They reach his room, and Chuck folds down the covers before laying Sarah down on the bed. Intending to go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, he moves away, but she simply latches her arms more tightly around his neck.
"Don't go," she pleads, her eyes still closed.
He can't suppress a chuckle. "I'll be right back, I swear. Five minutes."
She grimaces, opening her eyes to peer at him blearily. "Two."
He laughs softly again. "Fine. Two."
With a sigh, Sarah unlocks her arms and releases him. As promised, he's in and out of the bathroom in two minutes. When he gets back to the bedroom, she's curled up on her side so that he can't tell if she's fallen back asleep. Unable to withdraw his gaze for longer than a few seconds, he watches her as he grabs some pajamas out of a drawer and changes.
Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he walks toward the bed. He rolls back the covers and slides onto the mattress, settling close to the edge in hopes that the distance will keep him from smelling the intoxicating scent of her shampoo.
But Sarah apparently has different plans. Not fully asleep, she murmurs indistinctly as the mattress sinks under his weight. With a smile on her face and her eyes still closed, she shifts closer to him, slinking one arm across his chest. His eyes close involuntarily at the touch. He instinctively turns to face her, wrapping his arms around her. He settles his chin on the top of her head and breathes deeply, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo.
As much as he hates to admit it, she feels so right exactly where she is. Because I wanna feel like I did.
And I wanna feel innocence.
From the moment he wakes up, Chuck's gaze never leaves Sarah's face. She looks so calm that it pains him to realize that the only time he sees her so relaxed is when she's asleep, when she doesn't have to hide from him. Bringing his hand up to her face, he runs his fingers through her hair. He loves the softness against his fingertips.
Sarah takes a deep breath, and he can tell that, even though her eyes are closed, she's awake. She slides a hand up his chest and around his neck.
Blinking her eyes open, she mumbles, "You're still here."
He smiles at her despite himself. "Of course I am."
Returning his smile, she twirls the hairs at the nape of his neck. But the smile quickly fades, and an unspeakable sadness steals into her eyes. She breathes deeply, fighting back tears.
"Hey," he says softly, brushing away a teardrop from her cheek. He places his forefinger under her chin and tilts her head up. "What's wrong? Shouldn't you be the one comforting me?" He lets out a low chuckle.
She laughs sadly through her tears. Sobering up, she says, "I just keep thinking about what you must see every time you look at me."
He sighs, propping himself up on his elbow and asking, "You want to know what I see?"
She nods, looking almost afraid.
Running his fingertips down the side of her face, he says softly, "I see a young woman whose beauty is outshone only by her stunning personality." She chuckles. "I see a woman who values her career so highly that she sometimes forgets to take care of herself." He hesitates and averts his gaze before adding shakily, "I see . . . a woman with whom I could possibly spend the rest of my life."
She gasps and sits up, leaning her back against the headboard. She cups his face, forcing him to look at her. "You've forgiven me?"
Chuck pushes himself up and turns to face her. He moistens his lips, buying himself time. Glancing down, he stammers, "Ye-yeah. I think I have."
The edges of her mouth turn upward, but there's little joy in her eyes. A blush rises to her cheeks as she questions, "Ellie talked to you?"
"Yeah," he admits. "She and Morgan staged an 'intervention.'"
Far from having the desired effect of cheering her up, the comment merely amplifies her misery. "Would you," she begins in a quivering voice, "would you have forgiven me if they hadn't stepped in?"
He looks at her in surprise. "Sarah," he reproaches. "Of course I would have. I mean, it may have taken me a bit longer to come to that conclusion, but eventually I would've."
She gives him half a smile, saying sadly, "You deserve someone better than me."
"What are you talking about?" he asks incredulously.
Breathing deeply, she slides out from under the covers and walks over to the window. Hugging her stomach, she says quietly, "I'm damaged."
He follows her to the other side of the room. Wanting to reach out to her, he nevertheless respects her personal space. He swallows and asks, "Don't you think I should be able to choose who I give my heart to?"
Sarah turns, wiping tears away from her cheeks. She sniffles. "Do you believe me when I tell you that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and that I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for screwing that up?"
"Come on, Sarah," he pleads, holding out his hands and smiling softly when she places her own in them. "I feel like I just took a step forward and you took two steps back. What happened?"
"I had a lot of time to think while you were gone last night," she admits in a whisper, holding onto his hands for dear life.
"Hey, hey, hey," he says soothingly. "Do you remember what you asked me the night of our first date? That night on the beach?"
Worry in her eyes, she shakes her head.
"You asked me to trust you," he recalls.
Her breath hitches, and he has the courage to step closer.
"And I do," he tells her. "I do trust you. I accept that we're going to have some rough patches down the road, but I also know that we'll get through them. You know how I know?"
She shakes her head again.
His voice is low but firm as he says, "I know because when I look in your eyes, I see whole days spent in each other's arms, and Saturday afternoon baseball games, and weekly trips to the library, and a house full of laughter." He pauses. "I don't want to lose that. I don't want to learn what my life would be like without you again. So I need you to trust me now. We can do this, Sarah. We can work through this."
She steps closer to him and wraps her arms around his waist. He responds by hugging her tightly, his hands running up and down her back. She lets out a choked sob.
"But first," he says softly, "you need to forgive yourself." And I want you to know,
And to feel in your soul,
That someone has come and gone.
Chuck walks through the front door, loosening his tie as he goes. His shift at the Buy More had been downright unbearable, and he's looking forward to relaxing with Sarah, especially since things have calmed down over the past week. As he steps into the living room, scents of cooking food invade his nostrils.
He inhales deeply. "Something smells delicious," he calls.
To his surprise, Sarah steps out of the kitchen, an apron over her clothes and a spoon in her hand.
Smiling, she replies, "Hey, how was your day?"
He walks toward her, his arms outstretched, and she leans into the embrace. He places a kiss on her forehead before sighing and saying, "Ug. It was the Buy More. How was yours?"
"The usual," she chuckles.
He laughs. "That bad? Apparently I'm not the only one itching for a mission."
"Yeah," she agrees, "or we need to find new cover jobs."
He releases her and heads into the kitchen. "So what's for dinner?" he asks, grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge.
She returns to the stove. "Chicken stir-fry."
"Excellent," he mumbles, "because I'm starving."
"It'll be ready in about five minutes," she promises.
He swallows a swig of cola. "Great. I'm gonna go change and wash up."
She gives him an assenting smile as he leaves. A few minutes later, he returns to the kitchen wearing jeans and a Battlestar Galactica "What the Frak?" t-shirt. Sarah scoops some stir-fry and rice onto two plates and carries them to the dining room table. He grabs his Coke and an iced tea for her and follows her.
"This is nice," he says as he sits down across from her.
"Yeah," she responds absently, her smile faded.
He stops shoveling food into his mouth when he realizes that her good mood is gone. Chewing, he watches her closely to try to understand what's going on. He swallows and asks, "Hey. What's the matter?"
Sarah glances up at him, her expression worried. "I have to tell you something," she whispers.
He braces himself for the blow, responding cautiously, "All right."
She takes a deep breath and confesses, "I'm quitting."
"What?" he asks, incredulous.
Frowning, she says, "I can't be a spy and have a relationship with you. And now I know which is more important to me."
"Sarah . . ." he breathes, shaking his head.
"No, Chuck," she says firmly. "This is my decision. Why are you so upset? I thought you'd be happy about this."
"Exactly!" he exclaims. "You thought about my reaction more than your own. I don't want you to give up the only life you've known because of me. You're going to get restless and bored without it. And I don't want to see that happen."
She puts a hand to her head, trying to find a hole in his logic.
"How about this?" he continues when she doesn't respond. "When I finally get these secrets out of my head, then we can talk to Graham about reassigning you to an easier position that lets you stay around here most of the year."
"That may be years from now," she complains. "What do we do until then?"
He smiles. "How 'bout going out on a date with me? A real one." I'm stuck up here with you.
I never thought we'd get this high.
I used to be afraid of falling.
Now I'll spread my wings and I will fly.
Chuck carries his eight-month-old son, Sam, through the park. With a smile, he glances at Sarah, who leads three-year-old Kate by the hand and carries a wiffle bat and a bag of balls in her other hand. They're on their way to meet Ellie, Devon, and their kids, Hayden and Lily, for an afternoon game.
"Sarah? Chuck?" a familiar voice calls from behind them.
A vague sense of dread eats at Chuck. Sarah stops walking before he does. She glances at him, and they turn around in unison.
Chuck's stomach drops as he sees Mark standing down the path, holding hands with a visibly pregnant woman. He turns to his companion, says something, and tugs on her hand, leading her towards Chuck and Sarah. Chuck shifts Sam in his arms. Sarah puts a hand on his forearm and gives him a supportive smile.
Mark, his dark hair almost falling in his eyes, reaches them and offers Chuck his hand.
Warily, Chuck shakes it, saying, "Mark. We didn't expect to see you here."
He smiles. "No, no. My wife and I were just taking a walk." He motions to the woman. "This is Jessica. Jessica, this is Chuck and Sarah. They're . . . we knew each other a while back."
Sarah laughs, "About eight years ago."
Jessica smiles and shakes their hands. "It's always nice to meet friends of Mark's."
Sensing that her husband has some unfinished business, Jessica politely excuses herself from the conversation. Chuck watches her go, his heart a bit lighter.
"Congratulations," Sarah offers sincerely.
"Thank you," Mark replies. "We only met about three years ago. And we're pretty excited to start a family."
Chuck offers, "I read your latest book. I thought it was spectacular, your best so far."
Mark grins, "Thanks. I'm working on the next one. I'm planning for it to be a trilogy."
Chuck whistles. "Wow. Can't wait to get my hands on that."
Looking at him intently, Mark replies, "Don't worry. I'll send you a copy."
Chuck's eyebrows shoot up involuntarily. "Re-really?" he stutters.
"Of course." Mark looks between the two of them. "I can see you two have finally met in the middle."
Smiling, Sarah responds, "Yeah. It took a while, but we got there eventually."
Mark gazes at her. "I'm glad," he says, sounding completely sincere. Turning to Sam, he says in a more cheerful voice, "Now, aren't you going to introduce me to your gorgeous children?"
"This is Sam. Say 'hi', Sam," says Chuck. He lifts up the baby's chubby hand in a wave.
"Why, hello there, Sam," Mark greets with a laugh. He stoops on his haunches so he's on eye-level with Kate.
"And this is Kate," introduces Sarah, tousling her daughter's blond hair.
Mark smiles and holds out his hand. "Hi. It's very nice to meet you. I'm Mark."
Kate smiles shyly, but shakes his hand. "Hello," she says softly, then looks up at her mother, giggling.
"That's a very strong grip you've got there," he teases, causing her to blush.
"Kate," Chuck says, "This is the man who wrote Time Machine Madness."
Kate gasps. Confused, Mark stands and glances back and forth between Chuck and Sarah.
"She loves that book," Sarah clarifies. "Chuck read a chapter to her before bedtime each night for a month and a half."
Mark chuckles. Looking down at the three-year-old, he says, "Now that's it. I'm sending your family two copies when the next book comes out." He returns his gaze to Chuck and Sarah. "You have a beautiful family."
Chuck inclines his head, smiling gratefully.
"Thank you," Sarah says.
"So what have you two been up to? Besides having a family, of course."
"Well," she begins, "I still work for the same company I did when we knew each other, just in a more limited capacity. There's no travel, and it's exponentially safer than my previous position."
"I'm really glad to hear that," he says with a smile. Turning to Chuck, he asks, "And what about you?"
Chuck replies, "Uh, I'm in the software business."
Sarah smiles. "He's being modest," she teases.
Mark raises his eyebrows. "Really? How so?"
"He and his best friend own Red River Games." As she says it, she puts a hand on the back of his neck, massaging it lightly. He rolls his eyes.
Mark starts, his eyes nearly bugging out. "No way! No freaking way!"
Sarah's expression is a mixture of perplexity and amusement.
Mark jumps up and down. "I love your games, man!"
Chuck laughs. "Thanks. I guess you're getting a free copy of the next one."
"Sweet! I'm telling you, I play Star Crawler almost every night. I even got Jessica into it."
"That's amazing. It took me years to get Sarah into video games."
"Oh, come on," Sarah protests weakly.
Chuck grins at her, silently promising to make it up to her later. Exasperated, she shakes her head, resigning herself to listening to the boys geek out over video games.
"Chuck, wait," Mark says, his voice intensely serious. "I have an idea."
"Oh, no," Sarah mutters under her breath.
Mark holds his hands out, clearly intimating the greatness of his idea. "A few different companies have offered to turn some books of mine into games, but I haven't been happy with what they've shown me so far. Although I do like the idea of video games based on my books, so what do you say?"
His enthusiasm is infectious, but Mark still looks over at Sarah for her approval. Her countenance stays neutral, and Chuck takes it as a good sign.
After a pause, Chuck says slowly, "Are you asking Red River Games to adapt one of your novels?" He purses his lips in thought.
Eyes wide like he's viewing the future and it's a satisfying sight, Mark nods.
Chuck glances at Sarah, a smile grazing his lips. He's already decided, but he can't let on too quickly. She just chuckles softly and takes a wriggling Sam out of his arms.
"I'll have to talk it over with Morgan," he says.
Mark continues nodding. "Of course, of course." He takes his wallet from his pocket and pulls out a business card. "Here's my card. You give me a call when you're ready to talk about this, okay?"
Taking the card, Chuck smiles.
Mark frowns. "Wait. No, I don't trust you."
Chuck looks affronted. "What? Why not?"
"What if you don't call me? I can't have that. Now give me your card just in case. I don't want this to fall through."
Shaking his head, Chuck takes out a card and hands it over.
"Don't worry," Sarah says. "I'll make sure he calls in a timely fashion."
"Great," smiles Mark. Glancing at his watch, he continues, "Oh, shoot. I should go. Jessica's probably wondering what's going on."
"Yeah, we're supposed to be meeting my sister-in-law and her family, too," Sarah says, hastening his departure.
"Well," Mark says with a meaningful glance at Sarah, "it was really nice to see you two."
"Yeah, it was," she agrees. She shifts Sam in her arm and adds, "Take care of yourself."
He smiles. "I will. Definitely." Turning to Chuck and shaking his hand firmly, he says, "Chuck, I'm looking forward to working with you."
"You, too. I'll talk to you soon," Chuck replies.
"Absolutely. Later this week?"
"Sure. This week sounds fine."
"Great. I'll see you then."
Mark shuffles off, back to his wife. Chuck glances over at Sarah, watching him go, a strange look in her eye.
He rubs her elbow.
"Hey," he says. "You all right?"
She quirks a smile. "Of course I am. But are you okay with this? Working with him?"
He sighs, turning his gaze down the path. "Yeah, I think so. I get this weird feeling we'll actually be friends."
She chuckles, acknowledging, "You do seem to have a lot in common."
He mulls that over. Feeling Kate attach herself to his leg, he looks down at his daughter. "Hey there, kiddo. You okay?" She gazes up at him with a frown. "You want a piggy back ride?" he questions.
Kate grins, and he stoops so she can climb onto his back. He straightens up and takes the wiffle ball equipment from Sarah. They turn and walk down the path. Sarah puts her free hand on Chuck's bicep.
They wind through the park, and the clearing where the Woodcombs are waiting finally comes into sight. Ellie spots them first, waving enthusiastically. Chuck laughs, Kate waves back with a giggle, and Sarah holds up Sam's hand.
Before they're in hearing distance, Sarah turns to him and says, "I love you."
Chuck simply laughs, replying, "I know."
She smiles incredulously at his conceit, smacking him lightly on the arm. He grins and leans over to kiss her on the cheek.
"By that, I just meant that I'm ridiculously in love with you."
"Yeah, that's what I thought you meant." I wanna feel like I did.
And I wanna feel innocence.
I wanna feel like I did.
Oh, and I wanna feel innocence, oh I . . .