There's nothing we can do about
The things we have to do without
The only way to feel again
Is let love in
"Let Love In"
Goo Goo Dolls
July 6, 2012
St. Louis, Missouri
"Oh God," he moaned, when he finally caught his breath, lifting his head off of Sarah's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"No, Chuck. You have nothing to be sorry about," she said adamantly, reaching up her hand, cupping the back of his neck. "This was all my fault. I did that to you. And I made it worse, because I was afraid. Because I didn't trust you. That was the only thing you asked of me, and I couldn't even do that!"
He shook his head, trying to put her at ease, not wanting her to feel responsible for his failings. "You know, that was something that never came naturally to you. You told me that between growing up with your dad, and the CIA, you only knew how to rely on yourself. It took four years, maybe a little longer, before you understood you could rely on me too. It's ok that you sort of reverted back there, when you couldn't remember me. I can even forgive you for not telling me about the baby. For the same reason. It hurts, but I understand."
"You always did, didn't you?" she said almost to herself. "You know, a lot of my memory got better after I kept watching my mission logs. Casey gave them to me. That's how I knew you were telling the truth. At the house. I watched myself talking about all the same things that you said to me."
"You did?" He seemed surprised. "It makes sense, I guess, that you would have those. I just never saw you do that—"
"I stopped the official ones after I stopped being your handler. So that's why. But…" She choked up, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. "I couldn't believe how...happy you made me. I loved you so much."
He felt sick, at the use of the past tense. It couldn't only be in the past, not now. Not when things were like they were. Although he had done the same thing with Morgan, seated on the edge of the fountain, his friend had to remind him that Chuck and Sarah as a combined entity did not exist only in the past.
Instantly aware of his discomfiture, she grabbed his hand. "That didn't come out right," she said. "We're still us. We've been through so much. I don't want to give up. I can't. I think if I'd actually stayed in California, near you, I'd be even better by now. You trigger a lot of things, and you know what they mean."
"What are you saying?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her face, trying to read her expression.
She smiled, her entire face lighting up, so beautiful to him it made his insides clench. "We're having a baby," she said, amazement and wonder in her eyes.
The transformation on his face-from the depths of despair, to a crooked smirk, and eventually to a wide, excited grin, was miraculous. He actually laughed, one short guffaw. "Oh my God, we are!" He had been overrun with changes, information, so much his mind couldn't keep up. It was that instant it became real, that longing and needing emptiness now full of hope.
"When I found out, I won't lie, I was terrified. I knew everything—the story of us and all. But I was terrified. I knew somehow I had accepted this, wanted this, but all I remembered was being a spy who always thought a normal life was something she could never have. It never even crossed my mind that it seemed so unlikely to happen. But there I was, married and pregnant."
"You know, Sarah, you were scared at first with us too. We were trying to go slow, but we went from being in love to living together to being engaged in about 8 months…"
"No, Chuck. I mean, I don't feel like that anymore. At all," she said, wrapping her arms around her bulge. Tears misted her eyes when she continued, "I love him so much and I've never even seen him."
Mystified, he watched her face soften, beautiful to him in a way she had never been before. She reached out and took his hand, placing it against her abdomen. He felt the soft flutter beneath her skin. At his enormous smile, she said, "I keep thinking about what he would look like. Every time, I see you there. And I love him even more," she gushed, swiping at the tears.
"So this is what you want? You'll come back with me?" he finally asked.
"Yes," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "We'll figure everything else out. It will be ok."
He sighed with relief, feeling the weight fall off of him like he was shedding a heavy cloak. This situation, all of this with her, was enough. But now he felt like he was drowning, when he thought of everything else this trip had drudged up. "Everything else is a lot more than what you think. My sister, and Beckman…."
He shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "Let me talk about this out loud. Ellie knew you were here, right, all along? She never told me where you were," he said.
"She didn't want you to know she was talking to me. And I know that you weren't looking, you know, letting me find myself," she said.
"Beckman knew you were pregnant. That's why she called me, told me to come here. How did she know? Have you seen her?" he asked.
"No," she answered. "The CIA processed me out after the physical. It's possible that's how she knew," Sarah offered.
"My sister knew where you were, and Beckman didn't? She had to trace my calls to find you? It doesn't make sense," he argued.
"I don't necessarily think that just because Ellie was talking to me, that she was reporting to Beckman what we were doing. They have her doing Intersect research," she said. "She may have been researching my problems on the side, not letting Beckman know. I don't know."
He huffed in disappointment. "I feel like I'm back at the beginning again, only now my sister is the one living the lie and pretending and not letting me know. I thought we were past all that, after all this time."
"We need to go to Chicago," she offered. "Talk to her. Just figure everything out. No more secrets." After a pause, Sarah added, "It's about a four hour drive from here. I can't fly this far along."
"I think you're right. I think we should." His eyes strayed to the clock underneath her television. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. "My God, Sarah, look at how late it is. You should be asleep."
"Tomorrow is Thursday. She usually calls on Thursday mornings for my face to face update, on the computer. We can both talk to her then." she said.
He nodded. After a long silence, he asked, "Have you been taking care of yourself? You know, sleeping, drinking milk, vitamins, you know?"
"Yes. I promise. Tonight was a fluke," she said with a soft smile.
He stood quickly. "I'd better let you rest."
"Chuck, it's the middle of the night. Why don't you just stay?" she asked.
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, worried, wondering what she was thinking. "Ok," he said slowly. "I can sleep on the couch," he said, looking over his shoulder at it now that he was standing.
"Chuck, you're too tall to sleep on my couch," she said.
"Sarah, you aren't sleeping on the couch, you're pregnant for gods sake. I'm the nice guy, remember?" he said.
"You're my husband," she affirmed. He was thunderstruck, hearing the words come out of her mouth.
"Sarah…" His voice was wary, almost alarmed. It seemed strange, not quite wrong, but not right either.
"You platonically slept in the same bed with me before, before, right?" she asked, almost playfully, which shocked him.
One eyebrow quirked, he said, "You remember that? Which time? There were three…" Although one of them was only that way by default.
"You had the bedspread wrapped around you like a cocoon," she said, laughing.
"Ok," he said lightly, in response to her ribbing. "But I was being a gentleman. That was an awkward situation at the time."
"Right. This isn't even that awkward." She was still smiling, but inside, she felt herself longing for what she had missed since waking up alone in the hotel all confused. His arms around her waist, holding her against him…
"Ok," he relented, sounding close to losing his breath. Had he seen something on her face, some of that need that had started burning on the inside? His eyes never left hers, but he reached into his front pocket, grabbing something, then offered his hand outstretched to her, opening his palm to show her the diamond ring and wedding band she had given back to him on the beach. "If I'm your husband, then you're my wife. It's only fair."
Slowly she lowered his eyes, and stretched out her hand, like she had on the day he had put them on her finger for the first time. Her fingers were only a little puffy, and they still slid easily over her knuckle. "That's better," she said, leaning towards him, kissing his cheek.
He was in bed already when she emerged from the bathroom in her nightgown. The way her bed was positioned in the room, the headboard on the opposite side of the door, he had climbed in on the left side of the bed. Her night clothes weren't clingy, but still showed her body, something he hadn't been able to see under her bathrobe. She looked pregnant, beautiful, and she stopped when he realized he was staring.
She only smiled, and said, "Why are you on the wrong side?" He gave her a confused look, until she clarified, "You sleep on the right side."
"The cocoon incident was like this I guess," he remembered. She climbed into the other side of the bed.
"I have to sleep on my left side," she told him. "That's the only way I can sleep at all. It's very uncomfortable."
Her sleeping on her left side meant she was facing him, as he lay on his back. The sweetness of her hair and skin that had been missing from his bed for too long hovered over him like a cloud, relaxing and peaceful after so long. He was so calm, so sleepy, he jumped when she gasped, and reached for his hand quickly. She placed it on her abdomen, and immediately he felt the patter of tiny feet or hands against the outside of her. "Oh my God," he said quietly. "That's incredible."
They stayed that way, so intimately touching, sharing that private moment together for a long time. He removed his hand eventually, wishing the moment he pulled away to touch her again.
She felt his breath against her cheek as he leaned forward, his lips gently brushing against hers, undemanding, just soft and gentle. He hesitated, then pulled back, and kissed her cheek. It was too easy to be overwhelmed like this, and it was too fast, too much. "Good night, Sarah," he whispered, laying back down on his back.
His mind wouldn't stop racing, but he noticed how quickly, and how deeply Sarah was already asleep after just a short time. She was tired, he knew, but from the past, he took comfort, because she had told him years ago she had never slept deeply until she had started sleeping next to him. It had always made him feel loved, that she felt safe and protected when she was with him, despite her trained assassin status at the time. As worried as he was about talking to his sister tomorrow, that calmed him enough that he was asleep soon as well.
April 9, 2010
Paris, France
Sarah had been struggling to keep her eyes open, though she had no strength to do anything else. Dazed as she was, she seemed to know, once Chuck had her in his arms, that she was safe. Completely safe. She stopped fighting and let the darkness pull her into its welcoming embrace.
Chuck's own legs were trembling, his breath burning in his strained lungs. Sarah's limpness took him by surprise, and he spun, his back against the cold stone of the bridge. He sank to the ground, sitting, arranging Sarah's body so she lay across his lap. He checked briefly to make sure she was not in contact with the dank ground.
Shaw must have drugged her, he thought, remembering how helplessly she had remained as he'd confronted Shaw. In the desperate struggle for the knife, he had needed all his strength to keep Shaw from stabbing Sarah, as she'd only watched in transfixed horror.
He was unsure how long he had just stayed immobile, cradling Sarah in his arms. He had even missed the sound of footfalls approaching until he saw the shadow fall across his face. Chuck looked up to see Casey, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and lip. His suit was slightly disheveled, and he had his gun loosely in his grip at his side. "Chuck, what happened? Where's Shaw?" he asked, panting, slightly out of breath. He crouched down on his haunches, eyeing Sarah's form. Chuck never met his gaze, but he knew Casey was looking at the powder burns on his hands that were spread across Sarah's back.
"He's dead," Chuck said, his voice breaking slightly on the word.
Wide-eyed, Casey asked him, "What happened, Chuck?"
It came out in a breathless string of words, repeated or stuttered and teetering on the edge of hysteria. "I tried to reason with him, but, but...he just wanted to kill her. I did what I had to do. I didn't have a choice," he squeezed his eyes shut hard, a steam of vapor clouding around his head as he breathed out.
An intense moment of silence passed between them, Chuck finally looking over Sarah's shoulder to see his face. "What if she doesn't understand?"
He felt Casey's hand on his arm, grasping tightly. "You aren't a killer, Chuck. She knows that. You would do anything to protect her, you always have, kid."
"Why did you tell her? That you killed Perry?" he asked out of the blue, having been too panicked on the plane and then too busy, but suddenly feeling close enough to Casey to ask him.
"Because I knew you wouldn't. You keep your word, Bartowski. But she was going to leave with him. She thought you weren't you anymore," he said. He shifted his attention to Sarah, pulling at her face and examining her. "What did he do to her?"
"I think he drugged her. He tried to pull her into the river with him," he said. Casey examined her, looking down at her left wrist, bruised purplish and contused from Shaw's death grip on her.
"Her shoulder on that side might be little sore. He probably tranq'ed her. Just keep an eye on her, you know, make sure she keeps breathing. Call and ambulance if that happens," Casey said in a rush, his voice coldly clinical as always.
Casey noticed Chuck's dazed expression. "You did the right thing, Bartowski. What you had to do. Even if it doesn't feel like it right now. Take her back to the hotel. I have Mr. Ring. I'll contact Beckman." He stood on his feet.
"Is that...I mean...isn't she going to be a little upset you were running through the streets of Paris with a government issued firearm that I stole for you?" he said, beginning to struggle to stand on his feet.
Casey reached down, grabbed Sarah's arms to relieve the weight. "She'll be happier this clown is out of the picture. Just go, Bartowksi. Get her off the street." He nodded just a slight tip, then turned and ran away.
Chuck scooped her up into his arms, pulling her dangling arm up beside her, and started walking.
April 10, 2010
Paris, France
She leaned back into the puff of pillows surrounding her, reaching for him under the covers. This moment had played out a thousand times in her dreams, so many different ways she had hoped this would happen, even when she had been almost certain that it never could. Passionate, yes, but what she had not ever anticipated was the joy. The absolute feeling of euphoria, of not having to fight anyone or anything, and just be with him, was a blessed relief, after nearly three years. He was almost laughing as he fumbled with the buttons on the shirt she wore, his shirt, she thought randomly.
"What are you doing?" she asked, mumbling against his lips.
"This is buttoned all crazy, I'm sorry…" he laughed, his breath warm against her cheek.
She looked down, saw what he was talking about. "What…"
He blushed, a goofy lop-sided grin on his face. "My eyes were closed! Do you know how hard it was to hold you up with one hand, put your arms in, and…"
He stopped talking, noticing how intently she was staring at him, a slight mist in her eyes. "What?"
When she didn't answer, he started his usual rambling, "I've never actually made a woman cry before-"
She kissed him again, whispering against his lips, "You never stop amazing me."
All of her buttons now undone, he smiled widely, and said, "Well, here's another chance, then." And he finally stopped talking.
April 10, 2010
Paris, France
Sarah watched Chuck as he slept, nestled in the crook of his arm. She was wide awake, but he had been up all night watching her, making sure she recovered from the tranquilizer. Surrounded by the comforting warmth of his body, she luxuriated in the plush softness of the mattress beneath her, the enveloping warmth of the blankets, and the fluffy support of the pillows. She rested her chin on her hand, the hand resting gently on his chest. He was so tired, so overwrought after everything that had transpired in the past 24 hours, she was grateful for his peacefulness now, although the urge to reach up and touch his face nearly consumed her.
"Hey," he said softly as he woke. She felt his hand brushing her hair back, then come to rest on her cheek. "I thought maybe I was dreaming," he said, a sleepy contentment still audible in his voice.
She smiled, her beaming, beautiful smile. "Well, I'm wide awake, so, no, you are not dreaming. This is real." She kissed him. "I wasn't trying to wake you. You need some sleep." She reached up and brushed his hair back off his forehead.
"I'm with the girl of my dreams in the city of my dreams and all I'm doing is sleeping," he grumbled.
"We can do whatever you want, Chuck, once you get some sleep," she said.
He sighed, closed his eyes again. "Are you just gonna watch me?" he said, the words spaced out as he began drifting back to sleep.
"Yes," she whispered, resting her chin back down on his chest.
April 11, 2010
Eiffel Tower, Paris, France
"No, but in 1889, the hydraulic lifts that the engineers used to build the elevators were, like, state of the art, a wonder of the modern world at the time," he said, breathlessly excited, as he peered over the edge, a crisp breeze rustling his hair. Sarah just smiled, excited herself by the wonder in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm turning into a super nerd right now," he said with a crooked grin, reaching for her hand.
"Here we are, in this romantic spot, and I'm talking about elevator engineering," he said softly, pulling her into an embrace. She kissed him gently, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I like it when you get nerdy," she said. "It makes your eyes light up. Very cute," she said, smiling up at him. The quality of her smile, how it lit her eyes, showed all of her teeth, was a comfort. He had seen that smile for years, but ever since Prague, her smile had been thin, strained, from all the difficulty their separation had caused. Never again, he told himself. No matter what, he would never lose her again.
"I've dreamed my whole life of being here, seeing this. I'm glad I'm with you, now that I'm finally here," he said. "But there are so many things to see, do. We put Beckman off, but-" He sighed, not wanting to mar this experience with fretful thoughts.
"We could take the train, like you've always wanted to do, you know?" she said.
"To where?" he asked.
"Well, Zurich, for starters. Who knows from there?" she said, a devilish gleam in her eyes.
"Can we do that? Just take off?" he asked.
She looked out at the city, tiny squares of buildings surrounded by green. "We spent too much time thinking about everything all the time. The only spontaneous thing I've ever done was kiss you, when we thought we were going to die...And that ended up being the best thing I've ever done. Let's just go, all right? Worry about it later…"
His eyes softened at the memory she brought up. "Ok...we can leave tomorrow," he said, kissing her.
They spent the rest of the day walking through the streets of Paris.
April 11, 2010
Paris, France
Night had fallen as they made it back to the hotel, hand in hand as they entered the darkened room. He couldn't even completely shut the door before she pounced, kissing him hard and backing him into the wall. She pulled at his clothes with a feverish intensity.
Their clothes left a messy trail from the door to the bed. The thought that flashed through Chuck's mind as they fell on top of the blankets was how frantic she seemed, reminding him of the morning in the motel in Barstow. He couldn't help but laugh a little, thinking of that-morning breath, sticky and sweaty from the heat and sleeping in his clothes, but the dam had burst. Somewhere in the middle of the night she had migrated to sleep spooned against him. The air he breathed felt the same here, now, as it had then.
He put both hands on the side of her face, lifting her mouth off of his gently. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice strained as he struggled to calm his breathing.
Her forehead creased in confusion. "Of course I am. Why…"
He looked away, briefly, up at the head of the bed. "I'm just thinking...about...I don't know. The long and winding road...I...uh...you know," he stammered, his face burning hot from embarrassment in the dark.
"Chuck…" It was both a statement and a question. He wasn't quite making sense, but she knew what he was talking about. She swallowed hard, a pain deep in her throat as the emotions swelled. She put her hand against his cheek, forcing the words out past the clogging emotion. "Do you remember, when we were on the stakeout at the hotel? What you said to me?"
He nodded, shifting his eyes downward.
"What I said to you? That it was different...than it was with you?" she said.
"Sarah, you don't have to-" he said hurriedly.
"Yes, I do," she said, cupping his chin in her hand and forcing the eye contact. "It was always different with you." He saw the tears on the bottom of her eyelids, wondering again why she was crying with him like this for the second time. "You love me," she said adamantly.
"Of course I do," he whispered.
"No, Chuck. You love me. No one else even knows who I am. I never let anyone else ever even see me. I was worried before, that you were turning into someone else. Mostly because without you, I don't know who I am." She kissed him softly. "You're the only one who ever had all of me. I just wanted you to know that."
It was only a brief second, a fleeting worry, him making a comparison in his mind with the other people she had been with, most certainly less accomplished or skilled. He knew instantly this was her way of telling him it didn't matter, without making him feel any less. That lit the fire, and the kiss he returned was intense and passionate, as he flipped her over onto her back, pulling at the last remnants of clothing that separated them.
This time, afterward, so pleasantly exhausted, she started to fall asleep nestled against him. Her last thoughts before losing consciousness were only of him, and their relationship, and how no matter what, she was never letting anything come between them-other people, their jobs, nothing. He had insinuated himself completely inside her shell, and she had sealed it back up, only this time, with him still inside. He was part of her now.
She slept as deeply and peacefully as she hadn't since she was a very young child.
November 25, 2010
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
Sarah put her hand over her mouth, almost choking as the tears threatened to spill over down her cheeks. "I should have told him that, Morgan, but I didn't. I told him he's not a spy without the Intersect. That's the last thing I said to him. What if that's the last thing I'll ever get to say to him?" She sobbed out loud, then cleared her throat, not wanting to completely break down in front of him.
"He knows you love him, Sarah," Morgan repeated, completely aware this assertion was not enough. "You were just worried about him, you know-"
"No, Morgan. I saw his face. I hurt him. I could see it in his eyes. He's never looked at me like that before. I regretted it the second it came out, but it was too late...and...then he wouldn't answer the phone...and…" She sat back down on the bed, next to him. "The Belgian knows he has the Intersect and he can't access it. What if he's already dead?" Her voice squeaked as she fought the tears.
"He's not dead, Sarah. He's not. He may not have the Intersect, but he can handle himself. You know that. He learned from you, right? And you're the best there is. So don't worry, ok? We are going to get him back. You can tell him you're sorry for what you said when we do. I swear to you," Morgan said, a smoothness in his voice that told Sarah without a doubt he believed what he was saying, wasn't just trying to cheer her up or sugar coat the truth.
Morgan had the faith in him she had lacked, that had caused all of this in the first place. Being without Chuck was driving her insane, turning her into someone that she didn't recognize. The woman Heather Chandler had accused her of being, she thought with a start. If she had to be that ruthless, she thought, doing it to save the man she loved was worth it. Without him, there was no hope for anything else.
November 28, 2010
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
He pulled at his neck as he looked at his reflection, seeing now why when he'd weighed himself he'd lost 10 pounds. His face was thin, and he'd had to move his belt over a notch. Being unconscious without food and almost lobotomized for five days will do that, he thought. At least he felt ok, and his appetite was good, so he knew he would gain the weight back in no time.
It was his eyes that haunted him in his reflection. He looked worn, beaten. The Intersect was gone, but Beckman still wanted him, and acknowledged that he had value to the team, even without it. Although Rye had tried to show him he didn't need Sarah, all this experience had shown him was that he did. Not just to do his work, but to sustain his very existence. The irony was, despite his feelings of unworthiness, Sarah couldn't live without him either. And somehow the mutual need made it ok, balanced itself out.
The worry in his eyes was about Sarah. He needed to talk to her, and he couldn't wait anymore.
She came into the bathroom in her nightgown, smiling, reaching for her toothbrush. "What's taking you so long?" she asked.
He sighed. "Sarah, what did Beckman mean when she asked if you were back to normal?"
The smile vanished from her face. "Uh, Chuck…"
"Morgan said something to me too. I just wondered, you know, what he was talking about. I don't remember much, just a few, you know, key points," he said. "Something about teeth…"
She blushed, but couldn't meet his eyes. "I missed you. I said those terrible things to you before, because I was afraid of losing you. I've never had anyone I was ever afraid to lose. It's an awful feeling. But I guess that comes with loving someone. Like you've always loved your sister."
His face was scrunched with confusion. "I told you that before, Sarah. That's why I do this job, why I wanted to do it. For the people I love. You're included in that."
"I know," she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. Knowing she would have to tell him the truth or never feel at ease around him, she pulled her hands away, crossing them in front of her. "But I...I went a little crazy here, when I couldn't find you and I knew you needed help." She closed her eyes tight. "I tortured that Thai dignitary to find out that you were in Thailand. I almost injected him with a syringe full of ammonia." She covered her mouth with one hand, placed the other on her hip.
He blanched at that, slightly disturbed, but at least understanding. He put his arm around her, pulled her close to him. She continued, "I knew when Heather was here, what a difference you've made to me. I saw it again, when I was without you. I'm a different person without you. Someone I don't like, someone who scares me. I need you, Chuck. You. Not the Intersect. You."
She rested her head against his chest, and he put his chin against her hair. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, because I was so stubborn and wouldn't listen to you. Rye told me my needing you was blocking the Intersect, that's why I put you off like that, when you were trying to warn me."
She pulled her head back hard. "It is?" she asked.
"I don't really know. But I don't care. I need you, too. To live."
She reached up and kissed him again, harder, with a passion bottled inside for too long. "I missed you…" she breathed. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her to bed. Just like in his dream, only this time, she was real, and said nothing to him other than she loved him, always.
May 15, 2011
Westside Medical Center, Los Angeles, California
It took Sarah a few seconds to get her bearings as she woke, knowing from the ceiling she was in the hospital. She could hear a monitor beeping, felt a deep ache in her hand where her IV was attached. She felt like she had been asleep for a week, exhausted still and weak.
"Hey, Sarah, you're awake," Devon said at her bedside, drawing her attention. The soft ambient light in the room and the darkness in the hallway told her it was probably the middle of the night. She regarded him, confused, not sure how or why she was here. He spoke softly, but she could tell from his eyes he was happy, and relieved. "The fever is finally gone. Your kidney and liver function tests just came back normal. We dodged a bullet this time. You're very lucky," he said, the last sentence thick with emotion, multi-layered in its meaning. At her confusion, he asked, "What do you remember?"
Her throat was dry and raw when she answered, needing to whisper. "The party. I don't remember anything after that."
His eyes left hers to scan her monitors beside the bed. "You were shot with what they described to me as the Norseman. You're lucky to be alive. From what Mary said, you're the only known survivor of that weapon."
A vague memory, a screaming pain in her head…"Oh my God….how...how…"
Devon looked momentarily like he couldn't speak. He pointed with one finger, towards the other side of her bed. She turned her head, too fast, as the room swam dizzily for a moment, to see Chuck, asleep in a cot beside her bed. He had dark purple smudges under his eyes, dressed in army fatigues, the soft sound of his breathing now audible to her. He was sound asleep, but grimy and worn out.
Devon still sounded emotional. "Someday, you know, a long time from now, if he upsets you, remember this. He broke Volkoff out of prison, took on the entire CIA and Volkoff Industries by himself and won. All in 36 hours. Without sleeping or eating. To get you what you needed to survive. That man loves you."
She felt her eyes start to water, never taking her eyes off his peacefully sleeping face. "I know, Devon. How lucky I am," she answered, only able to manage a whisper as the emotion swelled like an orchestra score.
She leaned forward, gently touching his face, feeling Devon leave the room. "Chuck," she whispered.
He came awake with a start. "Baby, is everything ok?" He seemed to assess her quickly, her pallor and her monitors, reaching immediately and placing the back of his hand on her forehead like he was checking her temperature. She saw the relief overcome him when his hand came away cool.
"It is now," she whispered again. She stretched out her arms, not able to say anything else, pulling him tight against her. His normal scent was there, stronger and heavier from his ordeal. Far from repulsed, she breathed against him, forever branding this in her brain.
July 7, 2012
St. Louis, Missouri
The first thing she became aware of as she woke was that what she thought was her pillow was Chuck's arm, stretched under her head. She felt him all the way down her body, her abdomen against his side, her leg stretched over on top of his, tangled in, her feet sandwiched between his. His breathing was coarse, like he was lightly snoring. She studied his face, the delicate half moon his eyelashes made against his cheek. She remembered what she had just dreamed of, the night he had saved her life, the day before they were married.
But it was what she felt that quickened her pulse, made her heart start to pound. The warmth and tenderness that had been in her heart in the dream was still there, blooming like a rose inside her chest as she looked at him. Oh thank God, she thought to herself.
He breathed in sharply, turning his head to see her there, against his shoulder. Surprise registered first, being there with her, but she watched how his expression changed. He had to have seen something on her face, or in her eyes, so that he knew the truth. He stayed that way, his eyes locked with hers, his heart pounding so hard she could hear it inside his chest. She felt him reach up, brush her cheek with the back of his hand. She seized the hand, kissed his palm, then reached over and kissed him. She wondered if she had startled him, but knew he wasn't surprised, like he had been the first time she had ever kissed him, as there was no hesitation at all. He kissed her like he had in front of Roan Montgomery, or in the hotel room in Paris, or a thousand other times that she seemed to remember all at once.
"Sarah," was all he said, relieved, full of joy. It was the only thing he could have said, as his mouth never left hers again.
The only thing awkward, even after all the time that had passed, and all that had been done to them, was the baby bump in between them. And even that, after the first five minutes, didn't matter. There was nothing between them anymore, ever again. Her whispered "I love you," echoed in his head for hours afterward.