A/N: The first chapter of arc three, In the Cool Tombs. Easing us in after the difficult chapters that closed the second arc.

Burying Dirt

Chapter Twenty-One: Coast to Coast?

Slow.

Super slow.

They took it super slow, the long drive. LA to DC.

Moving in obscurity. Under the radar, Graham's, as it were. The official search for Chuck had moved from below-the-fold news to crooked-numbered pages, old news, but still...Always a hat on, his beard growing in.

Liked it, Sarah did, the beard. Wanted to touch it, feel it against her skin. But Chuck always out of reach.

Back roads, potholes and construction crews. Cheap motels, dingy but comfortable enough. Local restaurants, food mostly bad but peopled with characters.

Sarah saw America, a swath of it, as she never had before. Not beneath her in a jet, but beside her out a car window.

Over, Nevada, up, Idaho, Montana, right, North Dakota, Minnesota, diagonal down, Iowa, across the Midwest and into West Virginia.

The mountains.

ooOoo

Five people, a brown sedan. Chuck always in the other seat. Sarah back, Chuck front. Sarah front, Chuck back. Two motel rooms. Three men, one motel room, two women, the other.

Chuck, no unnecessary talk with Sarah. Sarah, silent almost all the time. Looking out her window, glancing at the others. Chuck.

But there was talk. By Idaho, there was talk. By Chuck and by Morgan. By Devon and Ellie. Chuck and Ellie. By everyone at once.

Except for Sarah. She, silent, forgotten, the car untensed.

Never such talk before, not for Sarah.

Bizarre circumstances, danger, and yet, talk. Loving talk.

Memories, good ones. Jokes. Sing-a-longs. Stories and stories and stories. Chuck's boyhood. Devon's college football exploits. Morgan's disastrous, junior-high attempts at romance. In high school. Ellie's med school travails.

Laughter in extremity, but real, heartfelt laughter.

Never before. She laughed too, really laughed. Sarah laughed. Charmed by all but especially Chuck.

Falling more, more in love mile-marker by mile-marker. More. Her love stretching from California eastward.

Listening. No stories to share, willing to share.

But she was not forgotten. Not really. Not completely.

Chuck, driving, eyes flicking into the rearview. Onto Sarah. Checking. Ellie, sidelong looks. Devon and Morgan, a few attempts at small talk.

Motels rooms with Ellie. Ellie watching, asking questions, pointed. Tried to answer. A little talk about her abnormal childhood. Her father.

The Sunday Special.

Ellie talking to Chuck in whispers, breakfast table. Both glancing at her as Sarah, late rising, entered. Whispers ended. Glances in other directions.

ooOoo

Stop at a roadside rest, late afternoon. Minnesota. Deserted. Chuck found an old Frisbee under a bench. Impromptu game of Keep-Away. Rules unclear. Everyone included — although Chuck could only play carefully, still protecting his shoulder.

Sarah, long, fast, athletic, agile. Perfect hand-eye coordination. Too much for all of them, even Devon at the last. She stood with the frisbee over her head. Victor. Devon gulping for breath on the ground. Others, Chuck, cheering her.

Laughter, so much laughter. Danger forgotten. Differences forgotten.

Joy. Known.

Pure, selfless, absorbed-by-the-moment, horizon-to-horizon — joy.

Unknown, until just then. Not even known in childhood.

The world, the whole wide world, her home, not a strange land, her estranged, a stranger, in it. At home. Chuck smiling at her, bullet forgotten. Her harp taken down from the willow.

But the moment passed.

Back in the car. Remembered bullet. Silent, listening. Chuck in the other seat.

Always, the other seat.

ooOoo

They were heading for a deserted spot in the West Virginia mountains. Almost there. The Omaha labs.

The tombs of Omaha.

They left LA and headed east. Avoiding direct confrontation with Graham.

Chuck convinced them. Maybe something in the labs, something that would substantiate Chuck's understanding of Omaha, of Sandwall.

Something that would decisively incriminate Graham.

The thumb drive: full of evidence, but perhaps not decisive.

But Sarah knew. Knew Graham. Knew the shadows of US Intelligence, the desperate desire to stay enshadowed. To remain undiscovered. To avoid scandal, light. Omaha and Sandwall denied, re-buried.

Unless the charges were undeniable, too immortal to encoffin.

ooOoo

Sarah was ready for bed.

Twin beds in the room. Ellie already in one, blankets covering all of her. Except her head. Gazing up, at the ceiling.

"Chuck's shoulder. The wound. It's healed. I took the stitches out a while ago when you were showering. He's been moving it. Too much at the start, but the stitches mostly held and that movement kept it mobile. It's still tender but soon all there will be is...the scar. He'll have to regain some strength in it. But…"

Ellie shrugged beneath the covers. "But...you know, he's not sleeping. Devon told me but I can see it. You can too. Or you would, if you were sleeping...You're kind of creeping me out, making me uneasy, lying there for hours, your eyes open. In the dark. I wonder what you're thinking — if you're remembering...the things you've done."

"Sometimes. Sometimes not. Mostly, I'm just trying. Not to think. I spend a lot of time doing that. I used to be good at it, a champ."

Ellie kept staring upward. "I can't imagine your life, Sarah. I'm a doctor. The Hippocratic oath. I'm on Team Life. You, on Team…"

"Not anymore, Ellie," Sarah jumped in, "I quit that...Team. I'm on...Life's side. Your side. Chuck's side."

"Then you two need to talk. I don't know if I can forgive you, Sarah. I don't know...maybe, in time, I can just forget, or get enough distance that I can see you without imagining you pulling that trigger. But maybe my forgiveness isn't what matters. Not really. Chuck's is. Make him talk to you. He's miserable. Not his shoulder, his heart."

"I'm no good at talking. Not as myself, not when it matters."

"Then make him talk to you. My ears are ringing from listening to you two not-talk."

Swallowed. "I'm afraid, Ellie. Afraid he will tell me that what I did was unforgivable...the sin against the Holy Spirit."

Ellie's brow furrowed. Studied the ceiling. "The Holy Spirit? I don't know anything about that, although I guess it must be the Bible?"

"Yeah. A sin for which there is no repentance, no forgiveness"

"Wow," Ellie rolled over toward Sarah and turned off the lamp and dark filled the room. "An assassin quoting scripture. — Sunday Special?"

A beat of silence.

"Yes, I'm a mixed-up girl."

Another beat.

"You were...mixed-up. Maybe...Anyway...Talk to Chuck. You both need the sleep."

Sarah nodded but did not speak. Rolled away from Ellie, eyes open.

ooOoo

Breakfast.

Pile of fatty bacon, scrambled eggs, chatty waitress. Burnt toast.

Lull in the conversation.

"Chuck," Sarah started, everyone turning to her, "I've been wondering. You said another scientist joined Omaha, a woman, but you never mentioned her name."

Nodding Chuck: "Right. Because I don't know it. It's nowhere. No photos, no signatures. Nothing. Just a couple of mentions on documents, reports. She's referred to as 'the new scientist' a few times, and once as 'she'. I tried and tried to figure it out as we've been on the road…" He scratched his chin, new-beard itch.

"Yeah, at night," Morgan mumbled around a bite of not-so-crispy bacon, "when we should be sleeping."

Chuck's eyes away from Sarah. "Well, anyway, she's a mystery. I have no idea why. I have no idea who she was. A missing piece in the puzzle."

"Was she...terminated in Sandwall?"

Shrugging Chuck: "Don't know. She's not named among the escapees, but I can't imagine Graham would have just let her go…"

"Chuck," Ellie broke in, "is there really any reason to think there's anything down there, in Omaha? Wouldn't Graham have burnt the place, or filled it with cement, or something?"

Chuck glanced at Sarah. She answered. "Unlikely. The location was only known to Graham and the other Omaha participants. He made sure they...well…" Stopped. Cleared her throat.

Continued. "...And massive destruction or construction, explosions, fires, or cement, would have drawn attention to the site. Likely the entrance is hidden, obscured. And sealed. It may take some work to get down there. But I'm convinced it's there, down there, down in Omaha."

Stared down at the table, everyone at once.

Morgan swallowed. "And we're going...down there?"

Devon, large hand on Morgan's shoulder. "You can stay up top, Morgan, and be the lookout."

"All alone?" Morgan swallowed again, finally choked down the chewy bacon. "This is...creepy…Like some shadowy Anime remake of a Scooby-Doo episode..."

Chuck, odd look, direct, the first long one at Sarah since the frisbee. He smiled, forced his really nice smile. Anomalism. "I guess we shouldn't have buried the shovel and pick?"

Ellie. Made a face, confused. Asked. "Huh?"

Sarah dropped her head.

"Nothing," Chuck returned.

A/N: Thoughts? Reactions?