A/N: Still working our way into the third arc.

Burying Dirt

Chapter Twenty-Two: Agent of Record

Ellie, lost. "Shovel? What shovel? What pick?"

Sarah, head up. Saw regret. Chuck's eyes. Smile vanished beneath. "Really, nothing, Sis."

Tension returned to the table. Everyone looking at everyone, except for Chuck and Sarah, not looking at each other.

Sarah: "I need to make a trip to DC. We need supplies. More cash. I can be there and back by dark. Please, stay in the rooms. Eat here. Pay cash. No calls. No internet. Okay?"

Ellie glanced at Chuck. "Okay, if you take him," she pointed at her brother, "and that thing on his face with you."

"You don't like the beard?" Chuck.

"You look like you tripped facefirst into West Virginia roadkill."

Morgan choked on burnt toast. Devon pounded his back, hard, hand a hammer.

"Aw, C'mon, Ellie, it's not that bad."

Morgan coughed, toast into his hand, air into his lungs. Looked around the restaurant, red, fisted the regurgitated bread. Ducked his head. Used his other hand, napkin.

"Go, Chuck." Ellie saw Sarah start to protest. "Take him."

Sarah started her protest again but stopped. Need. "Alright. Take your hat, Chuck, and your jacket. There are cameras all over DC, and not just in tourists' hands."

ooOoo

Driving eastward. DC. City she called home. So-called.

Cache of items in storage. Fake name. Amory and treasury. Destination.

Miles passed. Curves hairpinned. Sarah's nerves taut. Afraid to talk. Afraid not to talk. Mouth dry. No words.

But. "I'm sorry, Sarah. That...the tool comment...unfunny." Chuck's voice, strained.

"I buried those, Chuck, before I slept with you."

"I know."

Ruminations times two. Both quiet.

"What is the official name for someone sent to witness a termination, like you were with Justice, Osgood?"

"Agent of record."

"Have you ever done that again?"

"No. A few times, I have had one with me, times when...I was Osgood."

"Graham sent you as agent of record to groom you, didn't he? He was already planning to have Osgood terminated. He wanted to know how you would react. He was planning on making you Osgood."

"I don't know. I guess so. Looking back. Then, it was all just happening, and so fast. Graham started me at a frenzy and kept speeding me up. A constant fever. No downtime. No breaks. One mission blended imperceptibly into the next. One never-ending mission, punctuated by..." Death. "All I did was...work." Kill. All I did was kill.

Chuck shook his head. "Bastard. Goddamn bastard."

"He is," Sarah agreed quietly, "but I was...running...before he got me, sped me up. Fevered me.

"My...my mom...she died in childbirth. Me. I'm the reason she's dead, me. I've been running from that since I was old enough to understand it, running from death...to death…"

"God, Sarah! I didn't…" Reached for her hand. Took it. Held it. "That's awful."

"I didn't slow down until a few months ago. Remember, I...I told you I got shot, was operated on." Clouds over, hid the sun. Mourning. Noonday dim, grey. Light rain fell.

Chuck shook his head. Stopped. "Oh." Nodded. "Right, you did. We were talking about It Happened One Night. You were shot?"

Wipers on.

"A mission. Sideways in the final seconds. It went sideways in the final seconds. Target saw me, got off a shot a split second after mine. He was dead before he knew if he hit me. He did. In the side. Managed to get to...I managed to crawl away to a hiding place. Put in a call, back-up came, but hours later. Thought I would bleed out.

"I was in surgery for a while, then in the hospital for a couple of weeks. The first time I slowed down, the first time I was free of the frenzy...I started...thinking. So much blood loss. Remembering. Told myself I didn't care. Too late to care. But I should have realized telling myself that meant that I did care, too late or not. Graham came to take me back to DC. Private jet. Thanks. I wonder if he could tell then…"

"But...I...I've seen you, all of you...And, um, I didn't see a scar, feel a scar."

Frowned. "CIA plastic surgeons. They've erased a number of my scars over the years. That was the most severe one. Damage done but the record altered, you know?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Sarah, about your mom, the scars, the...frenzy." Thumb over the knuckles of her hand, warm, then he took his hand away.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough."

Silent after that, silent for a long time.

The grey of the asphalt a turning conveyor belt into the grey of the horizon. Rain.

ooOoo

A non-descript storage facility with a stupid name in a rainstorm. Car parked. Ran to the right-numbered door. Combination lock. Sarah opened it, soaking, led Chuck inside. Turned on the light.

Shook off the rain. Both. Chuck pushed his hat back.

Inside, a long, low wooden box against the wall. A heavy safe in the corner. A file cabinet, metal. Combination lock on it. A cardboard box, flaps closed but unsealed.

"So, what is this?" He gestured at the room itself, not its contents.

"My unhope chest."

"Huh?"

Bitter smile. "The whole thing. For a...rainy day."

She walked to the safe, knelt down, worked the combination. Opened it and stood back. Cash in bundles. Mostly US dollars, but foreign currencies too. Passports. Credit cards. Identities. Chuck stepped forward, bent and gazed inside, then up.

"How much?"

"A lot. I've been on the job a long time. So long. Everyone does it. You never know when you might have to go to ground, run — or who you might be running from. Over time, expenses padded, cash supposedly demanded by contacts, diversions of funds. A nest egg. Retirement, insurance, such as it is."

Chuck stepped away. Sarah grabbed two stacks of dollars. Another set of credit cards. A matching passport.

"What's this?" Chuck had opened the cardboard box. Staring inside.

"Don't!"

Too late. Chuck's hand in the box. Pulled out a teddy bear. Brown. Worn. One eye missing. Dirty red bowtie around its neck. Stuffing bulging from a backside split seam where its arm met its shoulder. "Yours?"

Silent nod. "That's...Bumby."

"Bumby?" Chuck kept his face straight.

Sarah stepped to Chuck, took Bumby. Held him in her hands, arm's length. Hugged him to her. Desperate. "I loved him so when I was little."

Stared down into the one-eyed face. Red-felt smile above the smudged bowtie. Hugged him again and then the tears came. Hugging Bumby, weeping. And then arms around her, around Bumby. Chuck. Crying too. His beard against her cheek.

"Chuck," words, finally possible, words, "Chuck, I don't know how to make it right. What I did. I don't..."

His voice was hoarse, uneven. "You didn't kill me. And then you saved me, and made love to me, and saved me some more. And my family, and Morgan. I've been hugging it to me, that shot. Holding it against you. It's been making me sick. I've spent two nights with you and now I can't sleep without you."

Sarah stepped back a bit. "When I was little, I couldn't sleep without him, Bumby. But now I can't sleep without you. I know it'll take time but I can't be...apart...like we've been.

"But we don't have to be...together. If you don't want to make love to me, I understand. I hope you will want that again someday. But I can't be separated from you, at odds with you. Stay with me tonight when we get back, please, Chuck. I like Ellie, but..."

He wiped his eyes. Crooked smile. "Will Bumby be in the bed too?"

Sarah smiled shyly. Nodded. "I can't leave him behind now." Wiped her eyes.

Chuck laughed softly. "Not the threesome Carina imagined."

ooOoo

Items gathered. Not just cash and cards. Weapons from the long wooden box.

Locks locked. Left the storage facility right after the rain stopped.

Pointed the car back toward West Virginia. Afternoon sky dark and the threat of more rain.

Chuck drove. Sarah against him. Bumby in her lap.

A/N: Thoughts?