A/N: Found some time to squeeze in a chapter. One or two more chapters in the second arc, depending on how I break up the material.

Burying Dirt

Chapter Nineteen: Gates of Hell

"Chuck?"

"Sarah, Sarah, don't."

"Don't?"

"Don't go after Graham alone. Don't kill yourself...get yourself killed…Please don't." His voice wavered, his tone urgent yet quiet. "I'm not worth it."

Silence, hers. Hand on the door handle. Gates to Hell. Handgun, rifle, loaded. Decision made. The end.

The Gates to Hell. The assassin saw that once, trailing a target, The Musée Rodin, Paris. Entrance to Dante. Welcome to The Inferno. "Abandon every hope, who enter here."

That target, long dead.

Ago.

But. Yet. Chuck on the phone.

Not every hope abandoned. Hand off the door handle.

"Sarah? Are you still there?"

"You are, Chuck. Worth it. To me."

Silence, his. At long last: "But you shot me." Now, less accusation than fact of hard record.

Her record, no longer perfect. But better. No mistakes: a decree of damnation. Can there be a saving mistake, for someone beyond salvage?

Fought for words. Sarah fought. So hard to explain. "I did." Paused then launched. "You know how...you know how they say the past is fixed, Chuck, unchangeable, fully determinate?"

"Um...yeah…"

"And they say the future is the opposite, unfixed, changeable, indeterminate?"

"Yeah…"

Still fighting for words. Some. Adequate. Any. "My...past pulled the trigger, Chuck, but my future...reoriented the aim. The gun barrel the extent of my...present. I was caught in a moment of...transition. Still am."

She looked down at the rifle in her lap. "It's all...That's...all I know to say. I understand...if you don't...understand. I don't completely..." She finished, her tongue exhausted.

Another silence, his and hers.

"And, Chuck…"

Sounded like he'd been pulled up from deep thought: "What?"

"We made love."

More silence. Whose? The world, silent. The whole, wide world.

"There's three slices of veggie pizza, no olives, waiting for you here, Sarah. Come back. I don't know...what happens now, next. Us. But not that, not what you are going to do…"

"How did you know, Chuck?"

"I pay attention, Sarah. Especially to you. Carina double-crossed you and you...paid her back. Graham...too. And I hurt you...the things I said. I wanted them to hurt you…And they did, I realize that. So, I had a leap of intuition. To where you are.

"Come back, Sarah."

"Do the others know, know I shot you?"

"Ah...yeah, I wasn't...in full control of myself...when I came in, right after you left."

"So, Ellie knows. She must loathe me...absolutely loathe me…"

"Jury's out on that, Sarah. Sorry — I didn't mean for that to sound flippant if it did. — I can't speak for Ellie, Sarah, even though we've talked. But she put the phone in my hand.

"Come back, Sarah. You must be hungry."

Sarah nodded although Chuck could not see her. "I am. Have been."

They both heard the echo, their earlier conversation. Silence, theirs.

"Okay, Chuck, I'm coming back. — We need to figure this out quickly. Omaha. We need a plan."

"I'm working on it. — You're coming back? Promise?"

"I promise. Bye, Chuck."

"Bye, Sarah."

Started the car. Left the window down. Still, cool air. Kept her promise.

ooOoo

Cark parked, dread spiked.

Walked to the door. Not the assassin but Sarah.

Face her deeds, the assassin's deeds. The door opened before Sarah could reach it.

"No, Chuck. I want to talk to her alone. Give us a minute." Ellie. Pushing Chuck back from the door. His eyes touch Sarah's. Away.

Ellie closed the door. The dark closed around them. Dawn not so distant, tendrils out.

Sarah stopped. Stood. Ellie stepped to her.

Smacked Sarah so hard Sarah nearly fell. The sound echoed in the dark. Cheek burned. The blow and the shame.

"You. You shot him."

Head down. Nod. No words. None. Mute admission.

"But you saved him. Over and over."

Sudden glance up. Ellie's eyes burning as Chuck's had burned, sibling flames.

"I did. I had to. Have to. I'll never let anyone hurt him, not if I can stop it."

The weight of that rifle shot, the bullet into Chuck, carried in her words. Regret.

And more. A promise.

Ellie stood, breathing hard.

"And you are in love with my brother."

Not a question, a fact of hard record. No use to deny it. Not an excuse. A fact of hard record. New record. Pages unmarked. The first entry, a nod. Yes.

"So, you do. Even though you told me what you told me before. Before, when you lied to me."

"Yes, Ellie." Head up, face the consequences.

"He's hurting."

"His shoulder?"

"Yes, damn you, his shoulder. And, yes, damn you, his heart. Both your fault. Your responsibility."

Ellie smacked Sarah again, harder. Sarah blinked back tears. Took it.

"If I didn't hate you, I'd hug you." Ellie turned. Opened the door.

Sarah entered.

Mausoleum. Morgan, Devon, staring, immobile. Eyes unsure, wary. Distant. Chuck, back to Sarah at the small table, computer open.

Ellie closed the door.

On the small table near Chuck, a paper plate. Slices of pizza. Warm. Sarah could smell them.

Sat down next to Chuck. He did not look at her. Studying the screen. Typing. Muttering to himself.

The pizza was good. She was starving.

Sarah was.

Surprised.

Sauce on her fingers, thick, red. Chuck saw it, her hand, sauce, looked up at her. She looked at him, at her hand, sauce. He handed her a napkin from the table's opposite side.

Sarah wiped her hand. Chuck watched. Swallowed. Turned back to the screen.

Sarah finished slice in silence, surprised she could stomach anything.

Chuck stopped muttering. Fingers frozen. "Oh, Jesus."

The silent room became more deeply silent, latent tension patent.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "Does the codename Sandwall mean anything to you?"

Dropped her second slice. "Sandwall. Yes, my early days in the Agency. A mission. My first termination."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Yours?"

"No, no. Not like that. It was the first time I witnessed a termination." She felt the others nearing the table, listening. "Sometimes, when there's a particular urgency about the termination, when...no mistakes can be made...someone is sent to...watch...to confirm...the kill."

"That is so, so not awesome." Devon, quiet.

Sarah stared at the tabletop. "Yeah. It was Graham's way of...initiating me into...wetwork. Took me weeks to get over it…" She shuddered at the distant memory brought close. "A gateway drug, the gates of Hell…"

"Who was the target?" Chuck's voice sounded choked.

"A woman. Middle-aged. A traitor, or so I was told. Short hair, glasses. She had been on the run for a while. I was carrying a recent photo of her, taken by someone in Moscow, where she was found, terminated. The agent who was tasked with the termination was a man named Osgood. He was killed on a mission a few months later…I never was told the woman's name."

Everyone closed around the table. Sarah's voice had grown softer. "Why?"

Chuck blinked several times, stared at the computer screen. "Because Sandwall was the clean-up of Omaha. Its disposal. Everyone associated with it is dead. Everyone. Including the agents who carried out the terminations, the other witnesses, confirmers. The woman you saw die was the final subject of the Omaha experiments.

"You are the last person alive with any direct tie from Sandwall to Omaha. Well, you and Langston Graham. He oversaw both. The woman you saw executed, Tina Justice, was probably the last person to see our parents alive. They were...terminated a few weeks before, also by Osgood. They were in Moscow too. I finally put the puzzle together. Graham. Son of a bitch."

The room, mausoleum. No sound, except Ellie's slow sobs. Devon's soft soothings.

Sarah's left hand on the table near Chuck's right.

Need.

Untouching. Apart.

A bullet's length.

So, so long.

A/N: Thoughts, reactions? I really appreciate all the engaged responses and PMs. This was a risky thing to try, and so I have been particularly eager for responses.