A/N: A good night's sleep got me enthused and rolling again. Beginning-of-the-semester exhaustion, I suppose. Ready to press on to the end.

Ascent and descent.

Burying Dirt

Chapter Twenty-Six: In the Dust

Sarah woke.

Mouthful of the bitter-tasting past, vegemite pasty. Dreams of it visited after her ledge-of-sleep memories of it, bidden by recollection across the fixed gulf between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Her father. The few good times, the many bad. Trailing guilt. Her only photograph of her mother eventually lost in a mad dash from town to town. Face nearly forgotten but Sarah's life a daily reminder of her mother's death.

Bottomless self-consciousness of the eternally new girl among cruel kids, teenagers. Lies and shame.

Pressures of the Farm, her relentless drive to mastery, a redress of her helplessness, her lack of self-determination. A mask for the past. Escape into omnicompetence.

Her too-late full understanding of her competence, of what she had mastered, arrived only after the bullet that killed her first target, one second and one eternity too late. Then, a helix down, down, twisting, turning, running non-stop, chasing, chased, becoming Graham's killer, a better-than-Osgood. Ice Queen.

Detachment from herself, her deeds farmed out to cover-identities, her own but not her own, done by her shadow.

Increasing isolation. Fever. Frenzy. Always frenzy.

Then: gunshot. Target made her a target. Bleeding out. Detachment impossible. Existential illusion. Blood on her pants, the ground. Wanted to live, to be alive. No exit. No direction of escape. Tried to regroup, recoup, accept. Put the assassin back together.

Until a smile in a rifle scope. Her patchwork exoskeleton shattered. Flesh, nerves exposed.

Disponibilité. Touchable, touched. Her heart.

Carina's phrase, presumably a transmission of Graham's: Graham wanted Sarah to come to herself. Knew the phrase. Knew it. The Parable of the Prodigal Son. "He came to himself." Her coming to herself not momentary, like his, over pig slop, but gradual, over the days since she shot Chuck, over his spilled blood.

"Sarah?" Carina's voice, uncharacteristic whisper. Vulnerable. "Can I have some aspirin? There're some in my bag. My head is pounding."

Sarah looked the opposite way. Chuck was still asleep, feet entangled with hers. Warm.

Faced Carina. Carina's haggard face. Pain in her eyes, puffy and dull. Her bad hand held against her.

"Okay." Sarah arose carefully, leaving Chuck asleep. Bag, aspirin. Bathroom, Dixie cup of water. Back. Carina, pills in her mouth, gulped the water. Rubbed one temple, sighed.

Sarah sat on the floor. Eye-level.

"I'm going to tell you some things. Not everything. Knowing even what I tell you could endanger you. If you want to just go, go. I'll uncuff you and give you your keys and trust you not to turn us in. God knows why. But we...have a history together, and...the state of our...friendship...is certainly not all your fault. I've never let you know me, or not much...So, do you want me to tell you?"

Carina stared at the floor for a few seconds. "Go ahead. Tell me. I'm not exactly Houghton or Graham's favorite at the moment. And I take it this has something to do with Graham. You have something on him…" Eyes up, narrowed.

Nod.

Sarah told Carina the basics. No codewords, no names, no revelations about Chuck's parents. A file, an off-the-books operation. Violent ending. Cover-up. Sealed labs.

"So, this is a grave-robbing expedition? Like Indiana Jones?"

Shrug, ignorant. "I guess."

Carina turned, lifted herself by pulling on the cuffs. Looked at Chuck, then back to Sarah. "You're determined to save him? No matter what?"

Nod. "No matter what."

"Long way from our first non-cover night out when I tried to get you to...dance...with that guy."

"Dance, right. A long way."

"Why him? Why now? I mean, he's yummy: I'd do him, as many times as he could do me, don't get me wrong. But, really, why?"

Exhale. Inhale. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Carina's nose crinkled. "Hell, no. Don't believe in love, Sarah, so of course, I don't believe in love at first sight. Spies don't…"

"Spare me, Carina." Pause.

"I did, and not just at first sight, but through a sight."

Disbelieving stare. "C'mon, Sarah. That's movie crap. Not real life."

"What do either of us know about real life, Carina?"

Carina started an answer. Stopped. Pause. Shrug. "Point taken. But, still, what's the point? Chucky gets saved and returns to the choir. You think they'll ask you to join, sing soprano?"

A hint of a sneer on Carina's face aimed — not at Sarah — at the choir Carina imagined. Sarah knew the sneer covered fear.

Sarah felt it too, the fear. Second T-800, Judgment Day, no place in John or Sarah Connor's world, melted down, molten steel.

"I don't know, Carina." A long glance at Chuck, so long. "I don't know if there's any place for me in his normal world. Likely...not. But I am done with my abnormal one, or will be when this finishes, one way or the other."

Carina shook her head. "You're just...setting yourself up for heartbreak. Why let yourself feel anything at all? Why not be the unknown Sarah I've always known, the known unknown Sarah?"

Sarah shook her head at the wordplay, accurate enough. "Because that is just...dying in slow motion. Better to ache than be dead."

Carina gave Sarah an odd look. Heavy. Suffused by some memory momentarily, then gone. "Be careful what you wish for, Sarah. — Uncuff me. I have to pee. May I take a shower?"

"Okay, but last night is the last time I pull a punch with you, Carina. One more thing, and I will do...what I have to do. You've made it clear you are your own priority. He's mine."

ooOoo

Heard Carina enter the shower. Sarah got back in bed. Secured Bumby and stretched out against Chuck.

Chuck awoke. Glanced at her. Heard the shower. "Carina?"

"Yes."

"Does she take as long to shower as to pee?"

"Longer, so much longer."

"Good, 'cause I have something I'm hoping you can...help me with."

He took her hand and guided it to him, fully ready. Oh, God, yes.

"This time," Chuck added, playful grin, "I think I can be on top — if the lady doesn't mind."

The lady didn't mind. Not at all.

At the crucial moment, lips to Chuck's ear, "I love you…" Joy in the saying outstripping the fear of the saying.

His answer, breathed out warm against her neck, sudden spreading warmth inside her. "I love you…"

Breath caught. Release.

ooOoo

They had trudged through the woods, along a now-overgrown dirt road.

The road to Omaha.

Chuck, map in hand, guiding, absorbed. Sarah beside him, gun in hand, alert. Backpack on.

Ellie, Devon, Morgan next. Ellie had two large flashlights. Devon carried a shovel. Morgan a pick.

Carina at the rear. Her own backpack. Gun in her left hand. Ellie glanced back often. Sarah too. Carina pretended not to notice. No talk.

No sign of vehicles or other pedestrians. The West Virginia woods silent except for occasional bird-calls. Damp still from the previous day of rain.

The road, uphill. And then, a clearing, a flat place.

Concrete, jutting up from the ground, tall grass growing around it. "Stay back, Chuck."

Sarah first. To the horizontal rectangle of concrete. Solid, although the edges were of older concrete. The concrete inside the rectangle was less finished, uneven. Poured and abandoned.

"Everyone rest for a minute. I'll check the perimeter. Carina?"

Carina nodded — she would watch over the others. No choice. Sarah gave her a hard look. I will do what I have to do, remember. Carina nodded again. She remembers.

Quick perimeter sweep. No signs of anything but wildlife and rain.

Back. No one talking. Chuck relieved when Sarah came out of the trees.

"Okay, Devon, Morgan, get to work. We need to get the concrete off the top of the door. I have explosives that should finish the job, but I want to use them only once. Too much noise as it is, but there's no key under the mat."

Devon took the pick, giving Morgan the shovel. The first blow, sparks, small crack. Devon gave Sarah a tight smile. Another blow.

Chuck looked at the pick, the shovel, Sarah. She frowned sadly at him. He gave her a shrug, grin.

Noticed Ellie notice the exchange.

ooOoo

Devon's shirt was soaked through. Morgan dumped a shovel of concrete on the growing pile. The door, metal, was now almost completely visible, like a bit of a submarine submerged in earth, not ocean.

"That's good, Devon."

"Awesome," he panted, "don't have much left." Sarah saw Carina shoot Ellie a smirk. Ellie ignored it.

Sarah unzipped her backpack. Explosive from her storage unit. The long, low wooden box. Put it in place against the door. Waved everyone to a distance. Installed the remote fuse and joined them. Punched the button.

BOOM!

Bird-calls, sudden birds in flight. Explosion echoed, filling and emptying the woods, everywhere and nowhere at once.

Smoke cleared. Sarah, gun out, lead them to the door, now the hole, in the ground. Chuck beside her, whispered. "Omaha." Carina stared at Chuck.

ooOoo

All waited. Stillness returned. No sounds of alarm. Of vehicles. Bird-song scattered again.

Sarah attached a small flashlight to her gun. Carina the same. Ellie had one of the large flashlights. Devon took the other. Morgan sat down glumly beside the hole. "Don't wanna be the lookout."

Carina, standing beside him. "Our safety depends on you, Martin."

"Morgan."

"Right. Be alert. Do a good job — and I'll give you a kiss when we get out of there." She waved the small walkie-talkie in her hand.

Brightening, Morgan sat up straight, waved the one in his. "Count on me."

Chuck was staring down in the hole. There were steps visible, leading down into inky darkness. A stale odor, heavy and dry, up and out of the hole, respiration impossibly slow, one slow, long exhale of a years-long breath-holding.

"Mom and Dad worked down there. What the hell is down there?" Ellie asked. Carina turned to Ellie, eyes narrow.

"Not the Hellmouth, I hope." Chuck.

"Huh?" Sarah.

"A TV show, Buffy. I feel like we're going down into the Initiative."

Morgan gulped. "Don't say spooky shit like that, Chuck, and then leave me up here...graveside."

"Sorry, Morg."

Devon had given Chuck the big flashlight. Now, Devon held the pick in his right hand, the shovel in his left.

Sarah put her foot on the steps, her gun's light boring into the darkness. Thick dust covered the steps, undisturbed, disturbing. "Let's go down."

A/N: Five or six chapters and an epilogue to go. Thoughts?