A/N1 We're down to three or four chapters to go, depending on how I break the material up.

I really do appreciate those of you who have been reading this and those who have reviewed it and PM-ed me. Thank you! I knew when I wrote the first sentence of this story that it would, for a while, be dark and difficult.

In fact, you could say that the first sentence announced how the story was going to go. At least, that was part of its intended job. (The tradition in antiquity was that Plato fussed constantly, "combed and curled", his dialogues, writing and re-writing them throughout his life, but that he spent enormous effort, in particular, constructing the first sentence of each, trying to find a way to distill the theme of the dialogue into a single sentence. I've always liked that idea.)

I know that sticking with the story has been hard for some of you. Sorry about that.

Trust that I don't write angst for its own sake. I have no such sado-nihilistic streak (forgive the ugly neologism). I thought there was a story here, one worth the telling, and one that ultimately would come back into contact with what I take to be the core values and the common vectors of the show. (It's worth remembering that the show's own finale was dark. Table for three, for Sarah and Ellie and Sarah's gun, anyone? The finale's darkness is one reason, I think (not by any means the only one), for the animus against it: it never quite redeemed its darkness; it got to the edge of doing so then faded to black.) I hope to redeem the darkness of my story; you will have to be the judge of that.

Oh, well, enough said, I guess. As you know, I'm not normally one for talky A/Ns.

One last thing: some temporal shifts coming in the chapter, the present of the story framing its immediate past.

As always, don't own Chuck.

ACT V

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rough-Hewn Our Ends

The Present

"Ready for takeoff…" The metallic voice sounded in the cargo hold, as if in imitation of a Cylon on the (original) Battlestar Galactica. Chuck was sitting one of the uncomfortable, fold-out seats provided in case of passengers.

The way it had squeaked when he unfolded it was proof that passengers were infrequent. And no wonder. This was not flying the friendly skies. The seat had undoubtedly been designed by Torquemada, but then rejected by him as too painful. But the plane, and the seats, they were the best Beckman's Air Force friend had been able to do. Chuck and Sarah were flying almost as stowaways, really, not so much as passengers. Beckman had worked to make sure there was no indication that Chuck and Sarah were on the plane. She wanted no one to know they were on their way to DC.

Sarah was cocooned in the blanket Chuck had found for her, fast asleep, gone, immediately after he'd covered her. She was exhausted. He was too, but excitement and dread had him still awake, still staring, albeit out-of-focus, at the insides of the old-but-serviceable plane.

Earlier that day

Sarah kept his hand in hers as she took him away from the Team. When they reached the same room that Ellie examined Sarah in earlier, Sarah opened the door and led Chuck inside.

His stomach was knotted. What Beckman was prepared to ask of Sarah, of him!

He was sure Sarah was going to tell him that she was going to do it. Flash.

Risk it all. Again.

He was just now, maybe, sort of, kind of getting her back. Winning her, getting her back: he spent more time doing that than he did having her.

His vanishing girl.

He'd do it all again, and he'd do it all yet again; she was his everything. But he was tired, so worried that she would leave when all of this was over.

Eventually, she'd be gone for good.

He'd be alone.

Alone in Burbank.

Alone in life.

ooOoo

Sarah turned to Chuck, hardly able to look into his eyes.

Ellie had been right. Sarah had been right in the conversations with Ellie before all this happened.

This man was her husband, not her asset, and it was time for her to finally get clear about that and to make that clear to him. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and she realized finally what he probably expected her to say, that she was going to flash again, risk it all, risk them.

She could see the spiral in his eyes, in the sagging slump of his shoulders. She needed to make it stop.

But as she started, she found herself unable to say it straight out. Finally, she managed to blurt something: "Chuck, I'm sorry I ate both the croissants…"

His eyes stopped spiraling long enough become dual question marks. He made a barely intelligible, huh?-ish sound.

"...I'm sorry too about the In-and-Out, eating all those pickles…" Shaking his head, Chuck did a double-take. Another huh?-ish sound. But, then, surprise, a hint of suspicion. Chuck's eyes brightened and she saw the thought he'd had at the restaurant revisit him. His shoulders rose. But, then, the thought left. Sag.

She still held his hand. "Chuck, I love you. I am not leaving. I finally got clear about that. I am never leaving. I am yours for life." There. She said it. The first part, anyway.

She saw the ends of his mouth lift, his lips start to curl, and she discovered that her heart was pounding against her chest, desperate to escape its confinement...

Your heart is my heart...My heart is your heart…

Her 'C', her Chuck. The father of her child.

"Chuck, Ellie found out, a few minutes ago...um, during the exam. She….You...I….You are going to be a father!" There. I love you so much, Chuck. She told him. There was a supernova in her chest, her smile broadcast its light.

Chuck became a statue of himself. The color drained from his face, making him look unreal, waxen. He did not move. He wasn't even breathing. Sarah started to laugh, then she started to panic.

"Chuck? Chuck!" He did not move. She started to reach for him: he moved: his hand wrapped around hers, squeezing, but so gently it was almost indiscernible.

"Sarah?" His eyes were magically full of tears. But none had yet escaped; they hung wet and heavy but still unshed. His gaze had shifted to the past.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. We shouldn't have, I mean, on the Bullet Train, without being careful about everything, protection…And now, now in the middle of all this...I'm so sorry." She could hear the effort in his voice, the wild clash of emotions he was trying to control.

She grabbed him, kissed him, kissed him not just with her lips but with all of her, top to bottom, side to side, and beginning to end. And during the kiss, she felt him begin to understand. He kissed her back, all of him, all, now responsive to all of her. When he pulled softly away, she could feel her cheeks wet with his tears and see that his cheeks were too.

"You're going to be a...mother?" She bit her lip as she nodded excitedly. She could feel the color in her cheeks, even the flash of her eyes. "And...and...you're ok with it?" Chuck was coloring again in response.

"More than ok, Chuck. Happy, really happy." She pulled him to her, holding him close as she laughed aloud, unable to contain herself. She bounced on her feet. "I know it's a crazy time to find out. But I don't have to remember everything to know we've never done anything on a timetable that made sense, have we?"

It took Chuck a second to parse that, but then he shook his head, his whole body beginning to smile. "No...no...we're always too fast or always too slow."

She could tell that he still hadn't quite gotten himself around it. But he was getting there. And then tears began for both of them. And they cried together, and on each other (her on him too, this time), and for the sheer joy of it.

ooOoo

It took them a few minutes to recover enough to talk. Sarah made herself start again. She wanted just to talk about the baby, but they would have to wait on that, maybe for a while. There were other things she needed to talk about. She was done postponing.

She got him to look her in the eye. "Chuck, even in this situation, even with my memory...faulty...I shouldn't have been deciding, unilaterally, that I was going to leave, or that I couldn't stay, or...or whatever. Especially not after...well, after I knew I was..and after I had been...your wife again." She grinned for a moment. "More than once." She tamped the grin down; she became serious again. Carefully, she reached out and put her palm lightly against Chuck's jaw.

"You have a say in what I do, Chuck, of course, you do, and I should have talked to you. From what I remember of before, and from what's happened the last couple of days, and from what Ellie made a point of telling me...I keep letting the fact that I am ashamed or afraid or hurting send me into...mission mode.

"And that's bad, because our life is not a mission, and because when I go into mission mode, I treat you like my asset. But you have never been my asset, Chuck, not even when you technically were..." Sarah caressed Chuck's jaw and her voice grew quiet.

"You know, when Archeus was talking to me, she berated me for falling for you, and particularly for marrying you, she made fun of the very idea of a husband. And my thought was: you don't know my husband. But too often, Chuck, I act like I don't know my husband, and I'm sorry for that…I know how amazing you are, how gifted, and how good.

"But too often I still make you feel...well, sort of like I made you feel before I left to rescue your mom, or sort of like I did before the Belgian took you. Sometimes, when I've asked you to trust me, I've done it to keep from having a discussion or from sharing with you.

"That's backwards, Chuck, I know that. It makes sense with an asset, not with the man I love. All I can say in my defense is that I do love you, but I am still learning how to be good at that. I...uh...it may take me a little longer than a normal girl..."

Sarah stopped and looked vulnerably into Chuck's eyes. He stifled a smile and reached up to place his hand atop hers, still on his jaw.

"We're both still learning, Sarah.

"And, for the record, although I always have wondered about your past, I meant it long ago when I told you I knew you, that I didn't need to know your past. But I also realized eventually that you needed to tell me, needed me to know..."

His tone shifted, became a quiet question, a question laced with his newly-freed smile. "And you remember that conversation in the cell after France, you remember the Belgian?"

"Not perfectly, but...enough. Enough to wish I had handled both moments in a different way. I'll do better. Trust me, Chuck." She smiled at that. He did too.

She went on. "So, about this flashing that Beckman wants me to do? What do you think we should do?" She saw him blink happily at the 'we' and then watched worry reclaim his gaze.

"Wait. Let's wait. Let's talk some more with Beckman and let me see what I can figure out. We don't have much time, I know, but with all of us, with Morgan to help me and Carina and Casey to help you, maybe we can figure this out without having to restart your faulty Intersect. I...I can't keep losing you, Sarah. I'm going to keep you from flashing again, if I possibly can."

She smiled and nodded. "I admit. I'd rather not. I'm happy to leave the flashing to you." Her ambiguous smile made him wonder if that had been a pun. He laughed, leaned down and kissed her, and then he pulled her into a tight embrace. Chuck held his wife.

ooOoo

Chuck and Sarah walked hand-in-hand back into the main room. Morgan had gone back to a computer and Alex was beside him, reading dates and addresses to him. Roan and Beckman were sitting at the central table, talking in low tones.

Ellie and Devon were back at work, off to one side, talking about the procedure for removing or restarting the Intersect, depending on what happened. Casey was seated on a stool next to the two of them with a look on his face that declared what they were talking about both incomprehensible to him and of undoubted importance.

Carina was MIA.

Ellie looked up at Chuck as he and Sarah came in, and she gave him a smile brimming so with happiness that he stumbled for a moment and almost fell. He was lucky Ellie was in his life.

Devon seemed puzzled when he noticed Ellie's smile. But it made sense that Ellie would wait and not tell him, or anyone. It was still very early in the pregnancy, and it was Sarah's news, and Chuck's, to share. He smiled back at Ellie. He wanted to run to her, hug her. Jump up and down. Later. When they could find a moment. For now, the smiles would have to do.

Chuck hurried a couple of steps toward the center table, beating Sarah there. He pulled out the chair for her. She smirked at him, amused, and sat down. He sat beside her. She rested her hand on his leg underneath the table.

Chuck turned to Beckman. "General, tell me about Olin Huntaker, everything you can, especially as it relates to me, Sarah and the Intersect. By the way, I have flashed on him, but he is barely present in my Intersect."

Although he hadn't noticed it before, Chuck could see the exhaustion in Beckman's eyes and in her bearing. She had to summon the will to answer.

"Well, Chuck, although I've known Huntaker for a long time, I realize now that I have never really thought about him, never known him. I've always thought about him in a certain role, most often as the Chair of the Intersect Committee, and not really about the man himself. I'm beginning to see that he wanted it that way, that he has managed that kind of thing his entire career. Never in the limelight, always taken to be a serious guy, a hardass, but not unreasonable. An apparatchik. The perfect DC camouflage. Everyone, including me, thought of him as good at this, good at that, as if that meant he was good, period. I now believe Olin Huntaker is a carefully contrived series of masks, and that no one has seen his real face. He may be better at disguise than Archeus..."

She went on briefly to talk about the Committee and Huntaker's dislike of the Intersect. In those meetings, Huntaker always made his dislike sound as if it were caused by the Intersect's expense, unpredictability and its ability to attract villains.

Chuck listened, looking at Sarah from time to time, fighting back a silly grin each time he did, and fighting back a desire to grab her hand and dance with her, despite the necessity for and gravity of the conversation. A family!

Beckman went on and Chuck marshaled his concentration. But then Beckman said something Chuck had never heard before, about someone he would like to forget.

"Wait, General. Just a sec. You say Shaw was Huntaker's idea?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah look at him and then look down. He felt her squeeze his leg.

"Yes, yes, that's how Shaw came to my attention." She gave Chuck a speculative look. "I hadn't really thought about that…"

Chuck's mind began to race. He couldn't tell if his thoughts were all his own or Intersect-aided, but they cycled through his history with the Intersect and they shaped themselves into a pattern, a pattern that culminated in Decker's dry voice, going on about a conspiracy.

Decker! Conspiracy!

It avalanched onto Chuck: the content of what Decker said was not quite true, but the form was. Decker told a lie he kept close to the truth. Decker had known about Huntaker, probably even worked for him. Like Quinn. Huntaker is not the best judge of henchmen, evidently. Huntaker had been working against Team Bartowski even as he Chaired the Intersect Committee. Chuck knew he had no proof of it, but the conclusion struck him as overwhelming and undeniable.

He quickly told Beckman and Sarah and Roan what he thought. He heard Sarah gasp softly at the thought that so much of what had happened to them could be traced back, in one way or another to Huntaker. As he narrated the events, arranging them into the pattern he saw, the conviction grew on Beckman's face.

"Shit," Beckman said.

She started to stand, then decided to stay seated, but her agitation was apparent. "I've been played for a fool six ways from Sunday. He sat at that conference table and smiled at me while he and Madeline manipulated me, manipulated the Team. It's a good thing, Chuck, and I never thought I would say this, that you are so damned insubordinate, outside-the-box. Who knows what he might have done to the Team or used the Team to do if he could have controlled or even predicted you." And then she looked at Sarah. "Or you, Sarah. You too. You two have no doubt been the white whale to his Ahab."

"Ok, so let's assume that I am right," Chuck jumped in, "and Huntaker wants us finally out of the way so that he can make his big play, assassinate the President. Whatever is in Sarah's Intersect must be connected to that. Maybe we can figure all this out without a flash…"

He turned to his wife. "Sarah, we know this has to happen soon. Everything suggests Huntaker's urgency. So, can you and…." He looked for Carina but she was still gone, "Carina, when she gets back, and Casey, can you consider the President's itinerary for the next couple of days? Think about it like...an assassin…." his tone was careful and he watched Sarah's face closely but other than a blink, her expression didn't change, so he went on…"Think about it like Archeus. Where will she try to do it? How?"

"General Beckman, you and Roan can help Morgan and Alex and I try to figure out why Huntaker wants the President dead. This isn't a terrorist act, even if Huntaker hopes everything will hope so, it is going to benefit him."

ooOoo

Just before Chuck and Sarah returned from their talk, Carina's phone blinked. She had a text from Al. She hurried from the room and went back upstairs, outside, to where she'd been when she talked to him before.

The text said, simply, "Please call me asap."

"Hi, Al?"

"Carina." Al sounded spent but also anxious, worried. He said her name like a sigh, obviously anxious and worried about her, although he did not know any of the details of her current situation. But it turned out he knew something else that partly explained his heightened anxiety and worry.

"Carina, Madeline Upshaw is dead, I believe."

That was not what Carina had expected to hear. "Dead, Al? You believe she's dead? What do you mean?"

Al took a deep breath; he had a tale to tell, clearly. "I went to her apartment, like you asked, and was careful, as you told me to be. I knocked. No answer. It...turned out the door was...unlocked. The place was a wreck. It had been searched; anyway it looked the way that searched places always look on tv. She was gone.

"I thought that would be the end of it, and I was going to call you, when it occurred to me to check with the manager, to see if they might have security tapes. It turns out they do, but right now they have only one camera and it's trained on one of the parking garage exits. They're hoping to have more installed soon, he told me." Carina could hear a shrug in Al's voice. "Madeline's car was still in the garage. But I thought, what the hell, so I had him replay the tape for the past several hours. A minivan left and I was sure that Madeline was driving it, although her face was obscured by her hat. That actually made me more sure, not less, I admit." Smart man, Carina thought.

"I got the license number of the van and I had a buddy of mine in law enforcement, I'll leave his name out of this, put out the word to keep watch for the van. Nothing formal or high-profile, just let him know. Someone saw the van at a set of cabins near DC, but across in West Virginia. That's where I am, at the cabins. By the time I got here, the van was gone and the cabin it had been parked in front of was ablaze."

"A little while later, a hiker called 911. She'd found the van, peeked in an open window, and thought it looked and smelled like there was blood inside. There was. I don't know for sure, tests aren't back yet, people are searching the woods, but my gut tells me it was Madeline, that she's dead. My gut is normally right, unfortunately." There was a long pause. "Carina, what's going on? Can you tell me? This feels...big. And folks here are beginning to wonder about my interest in all this..."

"Not yet, Al, but I will, soon. As much as I can, anyway. Sit tight. Let me know when you know something more."

"I will." There was another long pause. Al's voice broke as he started again, like he was a teenager. "Carina, can I ask you something, something personal?"

She started toward her default, started to deflect. But then she thought again. Her stomach twisting slightly, she responded: "Um, sure, Al. What is it?"

"Is there an...us? Because I kind of feel like there is, and I kind of feel like there isn't. But I know I would...like...there to be."

Carina thought about Al in the apartment, in her bed. She wanted him there, no one else. But she had been in other beds, with other men, since first sleeping with Al. Still, none had changed who she wanted in her bed.

She found she couldn't really remember any of their faces, the faces of those other men, or any of the rest of any of them, really, either. They had entered and exited without taking on any personal identity, like extras in a movie. That wasn't fair to them, even if they were willing, and it wasn't fair to her, even if she was willing. That you were willing or chose something didn't make it right, fair. And setting aside questions of fairness, it wasn't what she wanted anymore. She wasn't really willing, wasn't really choosing. She was doing it out of...inertia.

Al cleared his throat. She'd not said anything for a while. "It's ok. I understand. Not the right time to ask…I'm not on the top of my game. I'm a little wrung out."

"No, no, Al, I was going to say that I'd like to talk about this, about us, when I get back to DC." Carina felt her hands shaking, her throat tightening. She couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement. It was her turn to wait through a silence.

Al finally responded, his voice more raspy than usual. "Oh! Oh! Great! Um, um...good...that's really good. I mean...that's good."

They talked for a little while longer, but mainly because neither knew quite how to end the conversation, given what had just been said.

They managed to end the call finally. Awkwardly. Carina blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A serious talk with a man. It had been a long time since Carina could remember a first with a man, but that would be one.

ooOoo

Carina shared the information from Al, the information about Madeline, when she went back inside and downstairs. The atmosphere of urgency increased, darkened. Carina saw Beckman looked up at her as she spoke, and then back down. It was clear Beckman was unsure exactly how to take the news. She blinked a couple of times, her face long, and then looked back down at the pages in front of her.

A long, tense silence took over the room after that. Everyone was working.

Chuck broke the silence after a while. He stood up from the computer. Morgan rolled his chair back but remained seated. Everyone turned to them. "Huntaker is good, I will give him that. I couldn't establish any connection between him and any anti-US groups, any groups of interest. Anyone, suggestions?" he implored.

Sarah stood up, after a nod from Casey. "Maybe we don't know why, but I think we know where. Tomorrow the President is scheduled to speak at a luncheon at this hotel." Casey punched a button. "The Excelsior." A picture of the hotel appeared on the screen behind Sarah.

"When I was on the Presidential protection detail, back some years ago, the Excelsior was a 'no-fly zone', meaning that the Secret Service did not think it was possible adequately to protect the President there, specifically at the entrances. There are clear sight lines from rooftops of surrounding buildings to the entrances. It's a security nightmare. I'm surprised he's going to speak there."

"I'm not," Beckman added. "This President is determined to make no concession to terror. He's driving the Secret Service crazy. He insists that a President should be 'visible'. So, he's routinely gone places they'd rather he didn't go, exposed himself in venues they judge that he shouldn't…They've managed to keep him from talking about it, but not from doing it."

Chuck interrupted. "Wait, Sarah, you remember your Secret Service time?"

She nodded with a complicated smile. "Yeah, I guess so. I didn't even think about it. I was just thinking about Archeus, and I guess it came back to me..." She shook her head and continued.

"If I were Archeus," Sarah closed her eyes momentarily, frowned visibly at her own choice of words, "I would find a way to get on the top of one of these buildings. I would use a sniper rifle. Headshot. Casey agrees." Casey nodded and grunted.

"As skilled as she is at hand-to-hand combat, a direct attack would be unlikely to succeed, especially since she is injured. Her best chance for success, and for escape, if she hopes to escape, is to take a shot from one of the buildings."

"Can you figure out which one?" Beckman asked, excitedly.

Sarah's expression became pinched. "Not for sure, not from here. I need to be there, on the scene. And I have seen her. I might get lucky and spot her. Chuck has seen her too. We need to get there. Both of us. Together."

Carina saw Chuck look at Sarah, and saw Sarah nod at him reassuringly.

Beckman picked up her phone. "I will see what I can do. Maybe Madeline will end up stopping Huntaker after all. After I get you two a ride, I will put in a call to the White House. I don't know if anyone will listen, given Huntaker's effort to throw me in the shade, but I have to try."

Carina was puzzled. "But wait. Is the President the only one who will be there tomorrow? I mean, will any other government official be with him? Even if we are sure that's where," she pointed at the screen, "are we sure about the who? Are we sure it is the President that Archeus is targeting? Is that other guy going to be with him, you know, what's his name, the Vice President? I never can...remember his name."

Sarah shook her head. Chuck stiffened. "Of course. Of course! We don't need Sarah to flash. Huntaker and the Vice President. Huntaker wouldn't openly grab power. No, he'd find a way to get it without anyone knowing. He'd cultivate a nobody, but the nobody next in line! We now know what is going on. We need to stop it, later we can figure out how to prove it, if that's still necessary. There will be a link from Huntaker to the Vice President. Links. Puppet strings."

The Present

Sarah was still sleeping soundly. One of her hands was outside the blanket and Chuck took it in one of his, careful not to disturb her. Through the take-off and early turbulence, Sarah slept.

Ellie would try to remove the faulty Intersect when they got back. And she would keep their other secret. Maybe, if they survived this, and if Ellie's procedure worked, they could finally settle their accounts with the past, and turn toward their future.

The present was certainly complicated enough. Being on the plane proved that. Chuck had and hadn't wanted Sarah to come. But she was not going to let him go without her. He got that. They'd talked. She'd promised to stay out of the action. "An advisory capacity." A strange sort of role reversal for them.

Chuck wondered if he'd get a chance to tell her to stay in the car.

He laughed to himself. Not really a good idea to bait Sarah anytime, but particularly not when she was awash in hormones.

Still chuckling, Chuck drifted into sleep too. As Sarah had told him many times on missions: sleep is a weapon.

ooOoo

Archeus woke up. It was still dark; she liked it that way. It was going to be a big day. A great day. Before it was over, she would prove to the world that she was the deadliest woman on the planet.

A/N2 There is no Excelsior Hotel in Washington, at least so far as I know. Tune in next time for Chapter 21 "Raising the Dead?".

If you weren't reading WvonB's Third Arc story, rectify that. Go back, start at the very beginning, though, if you have time, and read both the other arcs first, so that the full effect of the Third can be enjoyed.

Halfachance's canto to convection baking and to slow-burning romance, "May Your Walls Know Joy", will delight you.

David Carner's cotton-candy machine is in overdrive, producing billowy clouds of spun sugar in every color of the pastel rainbow.

Lots of goodies on the site these days.