You seem like a soldier
Who's lost his composure
You're wounded and
Playing a waiting game
In no man's land
No one's to blame
"See the World"
Gomez
July 6, 2012
St. Louis, Missouri
Sarah shut her car door, looking up at the sky, feeling the light drizzle of rain in the air. She still had no umbrella, every time she was caught in the rain, she remembered that she needed one, living in the Midwest. She'd never needed one in California, she thought.
A sudden sharp wave of dizziness overcame her, and she grabbed onto her side mirror to keep from falling. That was weird, she thought, pausing and deep breathing to get her balance back.
As her brain came back into focus, she felt it like a lightswitch being turned on. And her mind scrolled backwards, the scene shifting into focus like a scene at the end of binocular lenses.
October 29, 2009
Echo Lake Park, Los Angeles, California
The sky was overcast and the air was dank and raw, a drizzle of pinpoint raindrops turning the blacktop shiny. Sarah's feet pounded in rhythm to the music playing through her earbuds, random music that she was unfamiliar with, but that had a beat she could focus on. It was exercise, but therapy too, the only kind she was allowed. She had no company but her thoughts, and as they danced before her inner eye, she gritted her teeth, and ran harder. She forced the anger, the hurt, the brutal anguish from inside her and down into her feet, pounding the emotions into the ground and trampling them.
In 28 years, if she had learned anything at all, it was that life was not fair. She knew it so well, and yet, everything inside her railed against the unfairness of the life that swam around her. She had risked absolutely everything-her life, her career, her freedom-to help Chuck find his father, rescue his father, in order to remove the Intersect from his head and once and for all have the shot at the normal life he had been craving as long as she'd known him. And as difficult as it had been, her risk had paid off. Chuck was freed.
Only, she had still been conflicted, assigned to work with Bryce on the new Intersect project, and having lived in the same rut for so long, hadn't seen any possibilities other than doing what she was instructed to do. She had even told Chuck, literally breaking his heart before her eyes, minutes before his sister was due to walk down the aisle. It wasn't until that wedding had been completely destroyed, and he had created a new one out of thin air with all the money he had left to his name, that she had realized she did have a choice.
Out of the misery he had caused his sister, he had ended up giving her the true wedding of her dreams. Sarah, a bridesmaid, had stood with them, listening to their vows, unable to keep her eyes from drifting, through the open circle that Ellie and Devon's forms created, to look at Chuck. Devastation and despair had turned to this-blatant and unconditional love for his sister. She glowed with admiration for him, but catching his eyes, over and over as the ceremony had progressed, she finally understood the truth-there really was no choice. Because there was nowhere she wanted to be other than with him, always. Nothing else mattered.
Wherever Bryce had been when he was communicating with her via her earwig, he had to have seen that look and known what it was. He knew she wasn't coming. He could see that she loved Chuck. After acknowledging it to him, the rest of the day had been a dream. The lead weight that was holding her down was gone, in its place a feather-light heart that beat like butterflies wings.
She had tried to tell him what she wanted, when they were dancing. She was done saving the world. All she wanted was what he wanted-a normal life.
But she had been interrupted, and the cascade that followed had stolen all hopes of that forever. Bryce was taken, the new Intersect doomed to fall into enemy hands. Bryce had been killed. And Chuck had downloaded the upgraded Intersect into his brain, then destroyed the computer. Everything was lost, everything reset at zero again.
No, not zero, she thought, as she pumped her arms faster, feeling her lungs burn. Lower than zero. Because now the government would never just let him go. And he no longer wanted what he had always told her he wanted-a normal life. He wanted to be a spy. She had begged him to run with her, albeit after it was too late, but he had told her he would. And then changed his mind, and refused her and walked away. She had been willing to give up the entire world for him, but instead he thought it was more important that he give her up to save the entire world.
Long ago, she had thought herself immune to pain like this. Agents kept their emotions under control, regulated, unthreatening in daily life. Never get close enough to anything to let it hurt you. Hell, she had known that when she was 10 year old. A hard shell had formed around her, keeping her safe, until she had met Chuck Bartowski. He had somehow managed to crack that shell almost without her awareness, just wide enough to reach in the knife that she still felt ripping at her insides, whether she was running from her pain in the park, or sleeping alone in her hotel room.
She was burning out, her energy almost gone, but she kept running, feeling like she wanted to run until her legs gave out and her heart burst. But she knew, even if she somehow could do so, she couldn't run faster than the pain. That was a shadow that covered her no matter how fast she tried to run away from it.
July 6, 2012
St. Louis, Missouri
Coming to with a gasp, Sarah was back in the present day, realizing it had been the weather that had triggered that. California almost never had weather like this, but it had been that day, when she had gone running in the morning, once Chuck was gone.
He was in Prague, she remembered, her heart beating faster, her breath becoming labored. Because he had refused to run with her, having left her alone at the train station. She had come back to the U.S. alone, heartbroken.
Her eyes filled with tears as the feeling exploded like a bomb inside her chest-how devastated she had been that day. No one had ever completely broken her heart the way he had, because no one had ever had as much of her heart as he had. It was still disconnected from the full continuity, but this was something new. Emotions and memories together at the same time, that matched. This was a real memory, the way anyone without brain damage, as she thought of herself, would remember it.
"Sarah, are you all right?" she heard, spinning to see one of her co-workers walking past, stop to check because she obviously looked so troubled.
She smiled, a real smile, even as she wiped at her eyes. "Yes, yes," she said quickly. "I'm fine." Remembering having her heart broken was better than blankly remembering nothing. After all this time, she knew that at least for sure.
October 2, 2008
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
Sarah checked her face in the mirror, stepping back to make certain that her recent tears were no longer visible on her face. Wrapping her robe around herself, she walked to the edge of the bed and sat down. She started recording.
"I don't really know how, but it appears Fulcrum got the best of us again. The Cipher was a ruse that they designed, and it destroyed the beta version of the Intersect. And killed Director Graham," she said, her voice catching as she did so. She had known him, reported to him for almost ten years. He had been the one to see a way out of her old life, providing the means to her redemption, a way to right some of the wrong she and her father had done while she was growing up. He was a good man, who served his country well. She paused to gather herself.
"Chuck was so close to having his life back." She looked down, composing the words in her head before she just blurted them out. "He asked me on a real date, you know? I knew a thousand reasons why I shouldn't go, but in the end, he was his very charming self. I couldn't really refuse." She shook her head, pursed her lips. "After all this time, he still sells himself so short. I actually sort of told him that, you know, while we were eating. Maybe I got through, I don't know."
"Was I being naive to think they would just let Chuck go? Not lock him in an underground bunker forever...or worse? With Graham gone, Beckman is in charge now. I'm not crazy enough to think she would keep me in the loop if a wash order came down. John Casey isn't the same man he was on the roof of that building a year ago, but I don't think he would have told me either. He knows how I feel about Chuck, even if I denied it." She took a deep breath. How she feels about Chuck. How do I feel about Chuck? She had asked herself the same thing almost every day for the past nine months, and all she got was static in her brain.
Sometimes it was very clear. Watching Colt drop him off the roof...the horrified scream that came from deep inside her, before she had known Casey had managed to grab him. Well, she had thought he was dead, for about three or four minutes. And they were the longest four minutes of her life. She had taken on a man more than twice the size of her with her bare hands, a boiling rage keeping her able to contend with him, the man she thought had killed Chuck. The urge to grab him, hold him, when he had appeared, sheepishly telling her he was all right, had taken a herculean amount of strength to contain. She took a deep breath, dismissing this train of thought, and continued.
"The problem is-Casey feels differently about Chuck now than he used to as well. Why else would he have disobeyed orders so that I could go intercept Chuck before Long Shore extracted him? I just don't know. The worst part is that as devastated as Chuck is that he is stuck with this now, with no foreseeable hope to get it out, I find myself thankful. Maybe it's selfish of me to feel that way. But Chuck wasn't ready to leave nine months ago… and I'm not ready now."
She opened her mouth to say more, but she stopped herself, knowing anything further would devolve into emotionalism that was unbecoming of an intelligence agent.
October 8, 2008
Maison23, Burbank, California
Sarah had her back turned to the interior of the room when she flipped the lights on. It was only as she turned that she saw the figure seated at the table near the window. Reaching for her gun before anything else registered, she heard, "Sarah, easy. Remember me?"
Slightly out of breath, she breathed, "Bryce. How did you get in here?"
He snickered. "You know, don't you, Sarah?" He stood, undoing the bow tie around his neck that coordinated with his tuxedo.
"I thought you were deep undercover. Why are you back so soon?" she asked, walking toward the mirror.
"I thought you were coming with me," he said slowly, his ice blue eyes boring into her in the dim light.
"I never promised you that," she said tightly, leaving her back turned towards him.
"Come on, Sarah. We're CIA. We don't make promises. But I thought, after all that, once you knew I was alive, that you'd come," he said, alarmingly close to her ear.
She had been removing her earrings, taking off her makeup, but she stopped, averting her eyes away from him in the mirror. "I have a job to do. I can't walk away from it. Chuck is my responsibility. What you did to him made him my responsibility," she finished, turning to face him as her eyes flashed briefly with anger.
"Is that all he is, a job?" Bryce asked, reaching for her. She pulled away before he could put his arms all the way around her.
"How I feel about anything or anyone isn't your concern. He's my cover. You know what that entails. What it means. Nothing else," she insisted.
She heard a knock on the door. They looked at each other, a knowing glance passing wordlessly between them. Bryce moved to hide behind the door. She peered through the peep hole in the door, sighing. She whispered, "It's Chuck."
Bryce only raised an eyebrow, knowing the additional "I told you so" was entirely unnecessary.
October 15, 2008
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"Where do I start?" she asked herself, realizing this session had to be less business, even if she had to erase the whole thing afterward. The only person she had to talk to about all of this was herself. She glanced over at the vase of flowers on her counter, the gardenias Chuck had brought her in the hospital, the only flowers she had taken with her from a room so full of them she hadn't been able to see out of her door. She had told the nurses at the hospital to take the others to people who didn't have any flowers in their rooms. These gardenias had just begun to wilt, but they were still beautiful and fragrant.
"Bryce and I were working together again. I had to tell him to cool off the Mr and Mrs Anderson stuff. I feel like I'm heading down this path and I can't stop myself. For someone who's not supposed to let anything show, a whole lot of people seem to know how I feel about Chuck. Probably before I did, or better than I did. Or do. But what Chuck doesn't understand is that we can't be together while I'm protecting him. I mean he does, I guess, now. Twice now I've almost gotten both of us killed because I hesitated. I couldn't make the shot, because the margin of error of me shooting Chuck instead was too great. I've made that shot before-even with Bryce in danger. But I couldn't do it today. Thank God Casey was there, because...well, because I'm completely compromised when it comes to Chuck. I don't know how it happened. But it's true."
She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Chuck sometimes seems like he wants to be a spy, so that we can be together. But Chuck as a spy, a real spy, would mean he isn't...well, Chuck, anymore. I'm stuck in this circle that I can't break. And he told me tonight that he just wants a regular life. Which, as it stands right now, I can't give him. He's right about that. I wanted to tell him that...that, once he's rid of the Intersect, that I would do...well, just about anything, to be with him, like that." She wiped more tears away. "Good thing he went first. I would only have made everything worse."
"And now, I'm a bridesmaid for Chuck's sister, Ellie. Which I can handle. What's getting to me now is Chuck. He's in pain. I see it every time he looks at me. And I don't know what to do, how to make it better. It's the same circle. I have to protect him, but every minute that I'm around him I just remind him of what he can't have. Of what we can't have.
"But I will not let my feelings compromise Chuck's safety again. No matter what I have to do."
November 11, 2008
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"So Chuck has now become involved with his ex-girlfriend from Stanford. I think he bumped into her by accident, but, as luck would have it, it's more complicated than just that. We had to take her in for questioning, he and Casey got exposed to a bioweapon, she found out the truth about Chuck. At least that he works for the CIA. They're using Jill, and Chuck doesn't know. I think I underestimated what he felt...or feels...for her. But-"
Her throat started to hurt. Her memory flashed back, to him sitting in the van with her, as he talked about kissing Jill. He had to have seen something on her face, despite how hard she tried to keep her face neutral. He had started to get this dreamy, far-away look in his eyes, but then, his face fell, and the strangest look...questioning, surprised, maybe even sad…
She cleared her throat, then realized she needed water if she was going to continue talking. She got herself some water, sipped it gently. "I knew it was only a matter of time. You know. He told me he wants a regular life. With a regular girl. He deserves that. It's just hard, I think." She had never anticipated it, well, hurting as much as it did. She had spent too long learning how to insulate herself from feeling this way.
But as sad as it made her now, she knew, Chuck had changed everything. For good and bad.
November 25, 2008
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"We certainly dodged another bullet this time. Almost too close to call this time. We found out Jill Roberts was a Fulcrum agent while we were scanning the file. She already had Chuck off the grid by the time we found out. The only consolation I had was that Chuck found out for himself before we told him. But…" she breathed out, sighing. "I was a little surprised, how blind-sided Chuck let himself be, when it came to her. He knew she was Fulcrum, but he just couldn't accept it. She kept lying, and he kept believing her. He still loved her," she choked. "At least a part of him did. Maybe still does, I don't know."
She breathed again, the memory of the pain on his face flashing behind her eyes. "I heard him tell her, you know, he was going to let her go again. But I think he actually somehow stopped her from killing me, in the Buy More. It had to have been very difficult for him to turn her in. I told her not to hurt him. I even threatened her if she did. But there was no way that was going to ever end without Chuck getting hurt somehow. Sometimes I wonder how he stands it."
December 12, 2008
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
Sarah pulled Chuck's black Buy More windbreaker tighter around her shoulders as they walked back into the lobby of the hotel. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to actually bend her head forward and actually put her face against it, knowing he would see her do it, as he stood slightly behind her. She looked back over her shoulder nervously, seeing him just tilt his head, letting her know he would come upstairs with her.
She stayed quiet the entire time, even as they went into her room. At least Chuck, as chatty as he could be sometimes, understood that it was his company she needed the most, not necessarily to talk.
She finally broke the silence after he sat next to her on the bed. "You know, before, how angry I was, when you were asking about my past-"
"I know, Sarah. I know, ok?" he said gently. "I get it. I'm sorry I ever made light of it like I tried to do-"
"Don't Chuck. It's ok. Really," she said, bumping her shoulder into his.
"You know, I sort of crossed paths with him, right before the police came," he told her. "You warned him, didn't you? Somehow you let him know-"
"Yes, Chuck, I did, ok? I know it's not the right thing to do but-" She was speaking very fast, and he had to wave his hand to get her to stop.
"But he's your father. Remember, this is me, right?" He smiled, turned and looked into her eyes. "I told you before. I know what it's like to be disappointed by your father. I don't think I'll ever know or understand why he just left us, but, you know, deep down, I still love him. He's still my father. That's ok. You have to take things for what they are, the good with the bad. Even if there is much more bad than good."
She absorbed what he said, smiling at the comfort she felt, even if it was fleeting. "Thank you," she whispered, afraid her voice would unravel as she said any more, hoping he understood all of the meaning in the two words that she said.
"He knows that you're some type of law enforcement. He's proud of you, Sarah. That's the last thing he said to me before he left," he said. Chuck watched her clench her lower jaw to keep it from trembling, watched her swipe the tears away from her eyes. He wrapped a quick arm around her shoulders, gave a squeeze, then let her go.
I made a ten million dollar bet that the kid loved you…
When Chuck pulled his arm away was when she realized what it truly was that her father had seen.
January 10, 2009
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"So I finally figured out what was bothering Chuck. I didn't know it at the time, but after I followed Mauser, the Fulcrum agent, away from the ambulance and onto the Christmas Tree lot, Chuck saw me kill him. I told him to go back to Castle, you know, that he wasn't safe. He was worried about me, so he…" She took a deep, shuddering breath.
"He knew I lied to him. After all this time, I'd hoped he would have understood better. But I did lie. I guess I could have told him the truth. But a part of me couldn't stand to see his face, the thought of what he would look like if I did. He told me he hasn't been sleeping, probably for over two weeks now. I thought he needed a break, you know, that he was getting burned out."
She stopped recording, not quite sure why her eyes were starting to mist. She forced the steel back into her voice. "He just needed to clear the air. He understands what I have to do. What we all have to do, to protect him. It was the holding that knowledge in, without telling me, that was doing all the damage. At least that seems to be better, since he came with us yesterday, even though I told him to just take a break for the sake of his sanity.
"Did I have to kill Mauser? Technically, no, I think. I should have let Beckman, or someone else, make that decision. I'm not sure how Mauser knew, but he knew for a fact that Chuck was the Intersect. The threats he made were real. It's my job to protect Chuck. And protecting his family is part of that, because they are a liability for him, technically speaking, although that sounds cold. Having something you love more than yourself should never be described as a liability. In the larger scope of things, it's an asset. The greatest asset there is.
"I just wish there was a way to let Chuck know. That was the reason why I made that choice. That I meant what I said to him-I will never let anyone hurt him. It just happens to be my job, right now."
She shut off the computer, her eyes roaming to the counter top, where the small purple velvet pouch lay that held the charm bracelet Chuck had given her for Christmas. Originally a gift from his father to his mother. Left behind, apparently, after both Chuck's parents had left his sister and him. She had seen Chuck more than once willing to sacrifice everything, including his own life, for his sister. He was closer to Ellie than any other person in the world, she knew. Mauser must have threatened his sister, she concluded.
I'm so glad that you have it, Ellie had told her, once she saw it on her wrist in the Buy More. Chuck had known then, about her shooting Mauser to death. She shook her head, saddened that she had tarnished his gesture. When she thought about it, she could still feel Chuck's thumb running gently across her hand after he'd fastened it around her wrist. Unlike most women, she had no sentimental jewelry to speak of. It had never mattered to her when she was younger. Once she was older, working for the CIA, jewelry was part of a cover. A fake wedding ring, borrowed jewels to look a certain way while under cover or on a mission.
Chuck had no way of knowing that the bracelet was actually the only true piece of jewelry she had ever owned. It wasn't practical for missions, she knew. But she surprised herself, feeling the smile rise to the surface when she told herself, part of her cover was being Chuck's girlfriend. She could wear that bracelet any time she was around his family or his friends, and it would make perfect sense. The smile stayed on her face for a long time.
February 19, 2009
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"So we found out that Fulcrum is very close to building their own Intersect computer. Apparently the only difficulty they have with it is that it's either killing their agents or driving them insane. Chuck survived both the test program, and the real thing, and the CIA can't find any detriments to him because of it. I know the explanation Bryce gave for sending it to Chuck...but that alone doesn't make sense. How is Chuck Bartowski, an intelligent but regular person, able to withstand all this mental manipulation with no effort at all? Those people were CIA trained and they all died or went crazy...I don't understand it, and I don't understand why Beckman just seems to take it for granted…
"But, anyway, Chuck saved me this time. He knew what to do. I was really scared...thinking they had affected him somehow. But he just grabbed me and shielded me from the download after Casey initiated it," she said, pausing as she heard the unsteady timber of her voice. She closed her eyes, feeling again the ferociously tight grip on her head and arm, holding her against his chest to protect her.
"I always tell him, you know, this is just a cover. But this time it was very hard. I let myself get lost, wondering what it would be like to just be normal. If all of that was real, sure, maybe it was a little dull, but being there like that, having those things, the dog, the house…" Damn it, she swore to herself, pausing the recording as she swiped the tears away. "I had to remind him even earlier today that it wasn't real, but when I was there, watching them take it apart...it hurt. Worse than I ever thought it would. I never realized that I would ever want that," she swallowed hard, hating herself for not being stronger.
"I never thought anything like that was ever even a possibility for me. So I never let myself go there or think that. Those things were for other people. Normal people. I do my job so that normal people can have normal lives. But then I met Chuck. That normal life that I scoff at is his dream, the only thing I think he really wants out of life. That he can't ever have now, because of the Intersect and us...and me. I didn't know how much I wanted that too, deep down, until I saw it, and then it disappeared."
February 19, 2009
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
He hated lying to his sister, he thought. He had done so more in the past year and half than he had the rest of the 26 years of his life before that combined. It was sad, but unavoidable, given the situation, he had continued to tell himself.
Like now, he thought. Telling her he was ok with things never progressing for Sarah and him. I'm okay with that-he heard the lie again in his own voice. Once again, he was lying to his sister in order to protect her. Explaining the real reason why he and Sarah could never be together put everything in danger, everything that she and Casey had worked all this time to protect. He was not ok with it, but as with everything else, he had no other choice, and no way to make it better. What else could he do?
Sarah, he thought with a sigh. It was her job to lie, to sell things to maintain their cover. But he knew now there was nothing that she could hide all the way away from him. He had learned to see beneath her facade, even though she didn't always understand that he could. She had seemed a little too bubbly, a little too excited to cook him breakfast or walk the dog with him, to the point where he had been confused. Hadn't she wished, even just for a miniscule fleeting second, that maybe some of this was real?
He truly didn't know. All he knew now was that it was worse with the memory of what it was, what it could be, now that he was sure it was something he could never have.
February 24, 2009
Maison23, Los Angeles, California
"I really lost it today, in front of Chuck," she said breathlessly, not for the first time wondering how much of this was mission related and how much was self-therapy. "He didn't stay in the car. In fact, I can't think of one instance when he actually ever stayed in the car…" Seething, she took a deep calming breath. "I got pinned down fighting with a Triad gangster, and I found out later he took off with Casey on the roof of his car. Anyway, his best friend was in the trunk of the rigged Rolls Royce. The local police got in the way and wouldn't look at Casey's credentials. Chuck knew Morgan was running out of time. He took the bomb and ran." She closed her eyes, back in that awful moment when she saw the explosion, the fire blasting high into the sky, pieces of shrapnel blown to bits and scattered about.
She struggled even now to continue. "He was, uh, using the remote control feature on the vehicle, unbeknownst to Casey and me. Chuck saw me lose it, and you know, he actually looked worried about me, like why was I so upset, before he realized what I thought." She cleared her throat. "He told me before, how important Morgan was to him. I was a little too harsh, I think, when I responded, and probably for not the right reasons. Such a simple thing, you know, having a friend. But I don't. I never really have. You know, he told me that he is...or, he does, care about me that way. I guess I always knew that though, didn't I?"
July 6, 2012
St, Louis, Missouri
Summer was in full bloom here, something he never usually thought of living in Southern California, land of perpetual summer. The air was heavy with humidity, and a gentle summer breeze whispered by him as he made his way down the quiet residential street in the dark. Each circle of light shining down from the streetlights was a beacon, one small step closer to her. He checked again, reassuring himself that the building he was approaching was the correct one.
He saw the window from the street and the tiny black numbers beside the door. Her light was on, the warm yellow glow softened behind a Roman shade closed against the soft darkness of the night. He watched a shadow pass, a finely edged silhouette that lingered at the window, as if she were peeking out, knowing someone was outside. Still a spy, deep in her heart, he thought.
Could she see him? He thought. He doubted it. She hadn't appeared until he had crossed over into the darkness, and though he owed almost all he knew about spying to her, he had been a spy almost as good.
He walked soundlessly on the walkway, up the steps to her door. He pressed the rusted doorbell, its light dim under the sheltering overhang. Her mailbox was below the doorbell, and he saw the reflective letters that spelled out the name: Bartowksi. He smiled despite himself, somehow relieved that she was still using his name. His palms were sweating, and his heart felt like it was in his throat as he waited. Time seemed to dilate, an eternity passed as he waited, so anxious he felt a dark haze encroach on his vision. When he was finally sure that she was ignoring the door and started to turn was when he heard the muffled click of her cocking her gun. "Who is it?" he heard her call, noting how nasally her voice was, like she had a cold or was congested.
"Chuck," he said plainly, amazed that it sounded as firm as it did, considering his inner turmoil.
There was a pause, shuffling noises, and then a shrill response, "What are you doing here? Did you trace my call?"
He laid his hand flat against the shiny black lacquered door, wishing he could remove the barrier in between them. "I didn't. I can explain. Please, Sarah, open the door," he pleaded.
"I don't work for the CIA anymore!" she shrieked.
He recoiled from the pain in her voice, wondering why she was so angry that she didn't, when he knew she had chosen to walk away. "Sarah...please." His voice completely broke, all of his strength and bravado gone as he begged her to open the door, the deprivation from not seeing her face almost killing him. He felt his eyes sting as the tears escaped.
It was then that he heard the chain on the door slide, and the click of the doorknob as she opened it, just a crack. She leaned outward, and the scent of her instantly surrounded him, vanilla and flowers, making him almost dizzy.
He looked long and hard at her face. Ocean blue eyes, a blue as deep as the Caribbean Sea, looked out in what he could only describe as fear. Her face was pale, and slightly puffy, looking like she had gained weight since he'd last seen her. She still had on her makeup, but she was wrapped in a thick white terry cloth bathrobe.
"What does Beckman want with me?" she asked him accusingly.
He stared, wide-eyed, waiting for her to open the door. She sensed it awkwardly, and he watched her hand twitch nervously on the wood. She's afraid to let me in, he realized. It hurt worse than he imagined. Looking down at the floor, she pulled the door the rest of the way open, hurrying inside and turning her back to him. "All I know is she told me I needed to find you."
She huffed, looking up at the ceiling, obviously angered by what he'd said. "Of course she did," she grumbled.
The surreal quality of being where he had longed to be overtook him. After all this time, he was here, with her. His arms ached to hold her, and he stuffed his hands hard down into his pockets, distracting himself from his feelings. "It's not like that. I don't work for the CIA anymore, either. Not like that anyway."
"Chuck…" Her voice caught, tears visible on the cheek turned to him. "I…"
He watched her hands clutching at her elbows, her tangible anxiety like electricity in the air between them. Nervous, he thought, she was nervous. In five years, he had never seen her act this way. More than anything, he wanted to see her face, look into her eyes. But she stayed, turned away from him. In two strides, he crossed the small room and stood close enough to her that she felt his breath on her neck. He put what was meant to be a comforting hand at her side, reaching gently for her hand. She pushed her arm under his, guarding herself, even tilting away from him.
He knew, without question, that she was hiding something from him. It will be apparent when you see her, Beckman had said.
His stomach turned several somersaults before he garnered the nerve to pull her hand away, and felt for himself what he had begun to suspect.
His mouth dry, his skin burning, he asked incredulously, "Sarah?" He stepped back, as if the touch had burned him. "Sarah…" he gasped.
Instantly she was crying. She wrapped both hands around her swollen abdomen, acutely aware of all of the other questions he was thinking but not asking. She finally turned to face him, horrified as she saw the emotions run across his face—disbelief, hurt, joy, and sadness, all simultaneously. It became too much, and she had to look at the floor.
"How...how...how many months, Sarah?" he asked, already having a vague idea, from having lived through it with his sister.
"Almost seven," she whispered brokenly. "I know I probably should have told you—" she began, but he cut her off.
"You're carrying my child and you thought you probably should have told me?" he snapped, then instantly pulled it back as a new dread crept inside. "Oh God, Sarah...the baby is mine, isn't it?"
"He is, yes," she said. He fell onto her sofa rather than just sitting, his eyes wide with disbelief as he made eye contact with her. "I know why you'd question. But the doctor confirmed I got pregnant probably at the end of December. I'm due in mid September."
Two weeks before they had been on the bullet train together, she had had symptoms. Enough to take a pregnancy test. Sure, it had been negative, and they had breathed a sigh of relief. But, she had been, and probably just taken the test too soon. His mind spiraled out of control as he contemplated. His thoughts continued to spiral. Good lord, how much had transpired during that time? Fist fighting in the woods, fist fighting in the Everglades, the gunfight at the pier, downloading the Intersect, fist fighting on the train, fighting with Quinn in her hotel room, running the gauntlet in DARPA, crashing in Ellie's car, fist fighting with him in their dream house, falling out of an airplane, the fist fighting in Berlin..."My God, Sarah, do you realize everything that must have happened to you, while you were pregnant the whole time?"
"I told the Doctor. I've had plenty of ultrasounds, more than a normal girl would require. He's fine, from everything they can see," she assured him.
He watched her lower lip tremble, her hand raise to cover her face. He felt the cushion on the sofa shake as she sobbed, her shoulders shifting up and down as she bent forward, almost as if she had been struck. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say. She groaned. "Ugh. I've cried more in the past six months than the entire rest of my life put together."
He was angry, and he hated himself for it. Blaming her for anything was antithetical to him—all of this had been done to her, and subsequently to him. "Sarah…" He hated the sound of his voice, the way the words slit out through gritted teeth.
Sensing his ire, she replied sharply, "My plan was to come back to you. I wanted to come back. Once I was away, you know, alone, I started to...to miss you." She swallowed hard. "It was so random, a disconnected feeling. I think that happens all the time now. It was happening all the time before, too, I just didn't connect all the pieces. I get these feelings and they don't match anything. I knew if I were around you, it would have been easier to make sense of it. But once I found out, I was afraid to come back. I didn't know what to do, how to tell you, what we were supposed to do. I didn't want you to find out like this. I shouldn't have hid out here alone. I just...I just…" She swiped hard at her cheeks, embarrassed to have crumbled in front of him. "The one thing I knew. Spying. I wanted to go back. What else could I do? Where else could I go? But I couldn't. I couldn't risk it...I didn't know what else to do…"
"Sarah," he started with a sigh, a shuddering breath that wavered dangerously close to a sob. "I promised I would be there. I am. I was. You, you aren't alone. Even if it feels like you are. You could have told me."
"But it was complicated, wasn't it? Like always. I couldn't ask for your help without hurting you. I'm tired of hurting you." She looked at the wall, as if she could find answers scrolled there.
It still hurt him, that she didn't completely know or accept that he was willing to do anything, endure anything, for her. He always had.
"Sarah," he said softly, and it cut into her like a knife. She sensed the love restrained in his tone, hollowed out by her own inability to remember how that lovingly pronounced name had once made her feel. "This is what we wanted. Our dream." The one Quinn had taken from them.
She saw the tears escaping from his eyes down his cheeks, the emotional dam inside of her finally bursting. Her hands flew up to her face as she wept, sobbing from deep inside her chest, wrenching, heartbroken cries that chopped at him like an ax. She was so helpless, so vulnerable, almost like a child. So un-Sarah-like he almost felt like the situation around him wasn't really happening. Without thinking, just knowing he needed her to stop crying, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, afraid all the while that she would refuse, push him away. She reached up, hugging his neck, holding onto him as if he were the only thing holding her to the ground. He couldn't see her face, how she closed her eyes, breathing him in like oxygen, surprised that the scent of him felt familiar and comforting.
She lay in his arms like that, helpless like a child, for a very long time. Eventually, she pulled back to look at him, and felt his eyes penetrate into her soul. "I called you because...that feeling...that pain." Her eyes softened, and he briefly saw something else behind her eyes before it froze again. "It went away, when I talked to you. I don't know why. But I knew if I called you it would make it better."
His hand shot out and grabbed hers tightly, not letting it go. "I'm glad. Really I am. Instead of worrying about all the things that you can't remember, we could focus on what you have remembered. Things that you feel that don't seem to make sense."
"I have so much to tell you," she said. "Do you want coffee? Anything?"
He shook his head no. "Just talk to me. Tell me about everything." His head was spinning, his world shaking like he was standing on a fault line in an earthquake. One step at a time, he thought. He didn't have another plan.
Nothing was awkward. They talked for almost two hours, catching up like old friends. The weight in the air was present, but they left it alone, knowing there would be time.
"I need to show you something," she said, finally, after a relaxed pause in the conversation. She rose, walked into the kitchen, and returned holding her binder. She handed it to him.
"What's this?" he asked, flipping it open gingerly.
"My memory exercises," she said hesitantly. He questioned why she suddenly looked worried, until he saw the laminated sheet tucked into the front flap of the binder. In his sister's handwriting.
"This is from Ellie," he said excitedly. He looked up at her in surprise. "Have you been talking to my sister?"
"Since the day I left California," she admitted. His mouth hung open in shock. "She didn't want you to know. And, before you say anything else, she doesn't know I'm pregnant. I couldn't put her in that position. But I went to talk to her before I left. To apologize for what I did to her. And to thank her for doing what she did."
"For knocking you unconscious with her car?" he asked.
"For stopping me from getting killed by a sniper. Or killing you. She risked getting really badly hurt to try and protect you," Sarah said. She continued, "She gave me her number and sent me all this once I let her know where I was. I found out I was pregnant after I had my physical for the CIA. They discharged me, but sent me to DHS as a civilian. I've been trying to rebuild my brain, I guess."
He still listened, but he was fascinated and perused her journal intently, reading every word and phrase over and over again. On one page, in her Dreams box, he saw the name Stephen Charles written diagonally across. "That's his name," she whispered. "If that's ok with you."
His eyes narrowed, but he was smiling, gentle amazement on his face. She had seen that look on him before, she knew. A feeling like someone had flicked the lights came over her, and she saw it in her head-standing in front of the kitchen table in a yellow nightgown, telling him he was a gift. She blinked several times, then immediately pulled the binder from his hand, flipping to the back. Ripping the pen out of the holder on the side, she leaned at an odd angle and wrote on the paper where the writing ended-"July 6. Practicing wedding vows with Chuck." Then she drew a circle, and in the circle she wrote one word. "Happy."
Still trying to absorb her brain dumps, this list of memories left him flabbergasted. He couldn't speak momentarily. "You remember all of this?"
She nodded, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'm nowhere near being all better. But I'm better. I'm getting better. I remember something almost every day. It's just very confusing, because how I feel doesn't always match what I'm remembering."
"Why didn't you ever let me know? You never reached out at all…" he said with disappointment.
"I knew how...you know, hopeful you were." She left desperate, impatient, all those other things she could have said unspoken. "I didn't want to get your hopes up. I needed to do this by myself. But I should have told you about the baby."
He nodded, knowing there was nothing they could do about lost time, lost opportunities. But he had hope at this moment, something he thought had gone forever. He pulled her close again with one arm. His gaze drifted over her shoulder to her computer setup, at a small desk against the wall. He followed the wires with his eyes until he realized what had been nagging at him as he'd been focusing back and forth as they'd been talking.
He let go of her and rose to his feet, handing the binder to her as he did so. "Why do you have surveillance wires attached to your computer?" he asked tightly. "You're a civilian."
"I am. It's for communication purposes," she said.
Frustrated that he wasn't getting a straight answer, he persisted. "Who are you communicating with who works for the CIA?"
Sarah stood herself, closing her eyes briefly, hating to do this now, but no longer having a choice. "Your sister."
"What?" he asked sharply, his face a picture of shock. "What do you mean? Are you telling me Ellie works for the CIA?"
"As a subcontractor. Just like you do. It's not dangerous, Chuck," she offered.
"Not dangerous?" he yelled. "Beckman traced you because they were monitoring me because North Korea threatened me. There's no safe job with the CIA! I can't believe she's been lying to me all this time. God, I can't get away from this. This is going to follow me to my grave!"
"Chuck, she was going to stay in California, after what happened to me. The only reason she left was because she found out Beckman was the one that engineered her job offer," Sarah explained.
"Does Devon know?" he shot back.
"It was his idea. Once he knew." She recognized the look on his face, but couldn't place when she'd seen it before. "Look, your sister is the only subject matter expert on the Intersect left in the world. Beckman and Bentley knew that-"
"Bentley is involved?" he shouted. "She was trying to create an army of Intersects! Sarah, this is crazy!"
Stern, her eyes set like stone, Sarah added, "There's something else, Chuck."
After everything he had been hit with in the last few hours, he couldn't fathom anything else that could possibly floor him. Until Sarah said, "Ellie knows you still have it. The Intersect."
"How, how, how would she know that? You and I and Casey are the only people alive who know that Quinn didn't download it before you killed him. How could she know that?" he demanded.
"One of the first things the CIA asked her to do when she got to Chicago was a virtual autopsy on Quinn's brain. They knew he'd never downloaded it. And they knew the glasses were burned out. You were the only other option," she sighed with resignation.
"If my sister is working for the CIA and she knows that I still have it, then so does Beckman. She never said anything-"
"She wouldn't, Chuck. She knew you wanted to be done with it. That you wouldn't use it. She let everyone else think what they thought. You were protected that way."
He staggered almost drunkenly on his feet, walking away from her. Even just by the side profile of his face, she knew something was horribly wrong. He was ashen, shaking, his hands opening and closing rapidly.
"Chuck, what is it?" she asked with concern.
He started pacing, never turning all the way back to look at her. "Chuck!" she called, becoming alarmed at his fugue-like state.
He spun around, asking her so quickly the words blended together, "Do you remember what Quinn said before you shot him? About the upgrade? The 3.0?"
She nodded, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes as she felt she was waiting with dread for him to finish.
"Do you know what Laudanol is?" he asked cryptically.
"It was a prototype drug. Emotional suppressant designed for the military," she said.
"Do you remember what happened with the Laudanol? To us? To me?" he asked again, his lower jaw almost chattering as if he were cold.
She looked at the floor. "Casey. Casey's daughter. You were in her house. And you-" Her eyes widened as the memory clicked on. "You almost killed that man with your bare hands."
"You stopped me, though. Reminded me who I was, until it wore off," he said softly.
"What does that-"
"The upgrade. Somehow the CIA programmed the Laudanol effects digitally into the Intersect. And that's in my head," he admitted.
Her hand flew to her throat in fear. "How do you know that for sure?" she asked.
He finally fell back to sitting on the sofa. "After we diffused the bomb in the concert hall, when you walked away. I felt like I wanted to die. And that must have made me flash again. Activated it somehow. Because after that I didn't feel like that. I felt better. I had no idea why, until later, when I saw my sister, and it was like she was a stranger to me. It scared the hell out of me, but it went away after I slept. I remembered the next day about taking that pill. I eventually hacked into the CIA database again and confirmed my suspicions."
He felt her sit beside him. She didn't say anything, just stared, concerned. "As long as I have the watch on, I can control it. Not flash." His voice shook, tears visible on his eye lashes.
"Chuck, what is it?" she implored.
Frightened now, she watched him try and fail to stop breaking down. He covered his face with both hands, his breath gushing in broken rushes. "Chuck!" she yelled, trying to break into his fit.
It took what felt like forever, but eventually, he pulled his hands down away from his face. He looked devastated, ashamed, not able to keep eye contact with her. "Once you were gone," he started, each word hurting like broken glass inside his throat. "I couldn't function. I was a mess. I had no job, I was alone in that apartment…" He gulped, looking away. "I knew it wasn't a real solution, but...it hurt more than I could take. I used the Intersect, you know, not to feel. Anything. For a while. Longer than I would have ever thought I could."
She sucked in her breath, covering her mouth with both hands. She felt her heart breaking, like she had this morning, remembering. "Morgan thought it was alcohol. I let him think it, so I wouldn't have to tell him about the Intersect. But I think I would have literally died if he hadn't pulled me back, you know. Off of that cliff. Because I was headed over it."
She grabbed his hand, pulled it close to her heart and held it there. Free flowing tears visible on both cheeks, he looked in her eyes. "What ended up stopping me was this thought. If you didn't feel it, and I didn't feel it, then it was like those feelings...that love... was gone. And it meant too much to me, even if I never saw you again, to just let it go. I decided the pain I felt was worth remembering how much I loved you. How much I still love you."
Her bottom jaw trembled as she just stared, trying to find her voice again. "I'm so sorry, Chuck. I should have come back, once I knew. You were all alone, without your sister, without anyone. You were always so worried about me, forgetting yourself and what you needed. You always put me first. I can't imagine what must have driven you to that."
He cleared his throat, instead making a sound almost like a growl of pain. She grabbed him, pulled him against her, wrapping her arms around his back. She didn't know exactly, without all of her memories, but she had a very strong feeling as she held him while he was crying, that he had never really come this far apart before, not in front of her anyway. So she held him, held him together, until he could breathe again.