Sarah vs. Samantha
A/N: Happy 4th of July to readers in the States. To all the other readers, happy Wednesday. This is not the sequel to The Debate. I was reading WVonB's excellent "Second Chances" and saw a line where Sarah looks in a mirror and sees Samantha. It made me wonder what if when Chuck looked at Sarah from the beginning, he didn't see Agent Walker, the Ice Queen or the Wild Card Enforcer? What if he saw, and connected with, Samantha through Sarah's eyes? This one shot story is the attempt to revisit the pilot episode with that in mind. I am working on the sequel to The Debate, but have been struggling with the tone of the story. This one just came pouring out. Hopefully now that this is out of my head, The Debate sequel will fall into place as well.
This is just the pilot episode, a supplement to canon. There will be direct quotes from canon, but it is not a retyping of the script in its entirety.
After watching the pilot in 20-30 second increments (followed by typing of this story-which would have been a much more efficient way had I started this tale using that method), I have even greater respect for Yvonne Strahovski's ability to convey emotion with a simple look, and switch from one emotion to the next in the literal bat of an eye. I was amazed at the cantina scene where she would appear open and relaxed while laughing with Chuck, then more closed off as she would try to steer the conversation back to Bryce and the Intersect. Because the viewers didn't know about Samantha when the pilot aired, I never even considered this as a possible objective of Schwartz and Fedak from the start. But hindsight is 20/20, and Chuck connecting with Samantha would explain his ability and willingness to look past the uglier parts of Sarah's CIA past and Jenny's cons.
All italicized words are the thoughts of the character. With any luck, it will be clear which character is doing the thinking.
Since no one else is claiming ownership of Chuck, if I do so does that make it come true? 'Cause I'm good with that.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Stop the presses. Vicki Vale," Morgan muttered in a stunned tone.
"Vicki Vale, Vick-a-vicki Vale, vickity vickity vickity vale," Chuck chimed in while lightly bobbing his head in beat to the music within his head. He knew that the odds of an attractive woman, much less a Vicki Vale attractive woman, approaching the Nerd Herd desk were about on par with the odds that Greedo had shot at Han first- zero.
Sarah approached the duo of BuyMore employees, schooling her smirk into a friendly, welcoming grin. Stuck in a dead end job for five years, dumped by his college sweetheart. Piece of cake. Those had been Sarah's thoughts before entering the store. Seeing the dilated pupils, stunned expression with mouth agape, her initial belief was now a certainty. I've got this. This guy should fold faster than a blackjack dealer with a 16 in Vegas.
Why would Bryce betray his country, betray me, and send secrets to Charles Bartowski? Her father had taught Sarah to read people. The CIA had taken that skill and turned it into an art form. A low wage job with little room for promotion, so far removed from the potential for a dual major candidate from Stanford. A highly intelligent underachiever, willing to cheat in college, dreams of the good life crushed. Probably blames everyone but himself for his misfortunes. He'd be the perfect candidate for a mark, if Bryce was looking to burn and discard him without batting an eye. But a co-conspirator? Something doesn't add up.
With that thought, Sarah stepped up to the Nerd Herd desk. No longer convinced this was a piece of cake, she was on guard for some sort of trap. Her instructors at the Farm had trained her well: If it looks too easy, it's probably hard. Looking past the gobsmacked expression, Sarah really took stock of him. His eyes conveyed a sense of warmth and trust. What the hell? This guy is an open book. How could he be part of some super-secret plot to steal government secrets?
Chuck had been lightly bobbing his head as he desk danced to the music in his head. The dancing abruptly stopped as his mental stylus skipped across the mental vinyl of the Batman soundtrack. He had caught sight of shapely legs in tight jeans leading up to a stylish leather jacket. As his eyes were drawn higher, the only rational thought going through his head as he took in the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen was: What is Morgan thinking? This woman puts Vicki Vale to shame. While Morgan might be convinced that Ellie was the most beautiful woman in the world (Chuck tried not to think about Ellie as a woman, or what she and Devon might get up to behind closed doors), Chuck acknowledged that El was beautiful, but this woman was on another level.
She was sporting a toothy grin, although her eyes didn't quite match the smile. They seemed to hold both laughter as well as a bit of distance. The laughter quickly won out in her eyes as Chuck heard a clattering noise, only to belatedly realize that the phone he had tucked between his cheek and shoulder had just fallen to the ground. The mystery beauty had the courtesy to not laugh out loud at him for his faux pas.
Right as he was about to speak, Chuck got tongue tied as he looked into her eyes. He could see so much in those crystalline depths that he was at a loss for words. Although the laughter was still there from his debacle with the phone, he also noticed an intense awareness of everything around her. He was certain that if he asked her, she would be able to tell him what Xbox game the father behind her was looking at. But would she tell me, even though I'm sure she knows? Her eyes also showed a wariness about her, that seemed to run bone deep. He had no idea what would cause any person to be so wary of her surroundings (aside from when Jeff and Lester were nearby- but they seemed to have gotten lost on their way to the Cage to rebuild computers), but with her, he was almost desperate to find out. To help her, to make her comfortable.
Behind the wariness, he also sensed a fresh pain- a recent betrayal. She could be a kindred spirit in that sense, even though his betrayal was abutting the five-year mark, which didn't exactly make it recent. But the pain and sense of betrayal was still there for him. After all, the double betrayal of best friend and girlfriend had both crushed his future and stripped him of his mojo.
The mystery woman's eyes held a boundless depth, yet seemed to Chuck as easy to read as the user manual on the Nerd Herd desk in front of him. He was struck by the depth of sadness present, even though she had just been fighting back laughter. It was as though there was a fatalistic remorse that she was destined to always hate what she did, while simultaneously knowing that she had to do it.
But what was most intriguing to Chuck was that deep down, behind the laughter, the wariness, the intense awareness, the pain, the betrayal, the sadness, there was also a glimmer of innocence. It was as though there was a personality buried deep early on in her life, deprived of a chance to grow, develop and mature. But it was still there, lurking, waiting for its chance to finally come out and see the world.
Belatedly, Chuck also realized something else about this amazing, intriguing woman-she was speaking. To him. And he realized that the rules of normal conversation dictated that he needed to respond to her, and sooner rather than later.
Okay, I've still got this. Piece of cake, right Sarah? Right? Not right when he keeps looking at me as though meeting me has been the greatest thing to happen to him in years. If he knew the truth about me, he'd know that meeting me is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him. What I would give to be able to have him look at me like that everyday. But that would mean that he would never be able to know the real me. Then again, who exactly is the real me? Do I even know any more?
Sarah tried not to smirk as a harried father rushed towards the Herd desk, one hand wrapped around his daughter in a pink tutu, the other carrying a video camera. He began babbling about her mother, a dance recital and his being killed. I'd probably kill you too. How hard is it to push the record button? Besides, not only was I here first, let's face it, there is no contest between a beautiful woman flirting with a single guy or a stressed out dad with a kid. And there's the realization on Chuck's face that he can continue to flirt with me, or deal with a moronic ballet dad. Wait, wait…Is that regret I'm seeing? Is he really going to choose this father/daughter duo over me? Oh, there it was. That quick look over and down. The little girl is gutted and Chuck wants, no it looks like he needs, to save her day. Is this guy really real? There's no way he's involved in anything slightly shady, much less a treasonous conspiracy with Bryce.
Chuck moved away from the Nerd Herd desk (away from me?!) with an apparently unconscious sense of command. He was confident and decisive. A far cry from the bumbling, tongue tied nerd of a minute ago. It's a good look for him.
He is seriously going to try to…no, not try- succeed in recreating the dance recital here at the store. Damn. Sarah immediately picked up on the respect all of his co-workers clearly have for him. They went from wandering around like retail zombies, to sprinting into action at his command. He says the word and all of these slackers jump in to help out. I'm not sure just what it says to clearly command such respect from hourly workers in dead end jobs, but damn it's kinda hot.
Oh hell. Did he really just give that little girl a line about real ballerinas being tall, with that grin? Why can't he grin at me like that? You're not an innocent little girl in a tutu. You are a ruthless CIA agent. That's why. I see that look on the girl's face. She totally crushing on Chuck. Watch it girly, he's…Was I going to say mine? Oh crap. I have got to get out of here. Chuck Bartowski, what have you done to me? To Langston Graham's top enforcer?
Perfect, Chuck has been waylaid by some Napoleonic complex co-worker. Maybe I should stay. This idiot is starting to piss me off the way that he's yelling at my Chuck. My? I need to get out of here now!
Chuck finally pushed past Harry Tang, only to face crushing disappointment as the beautiful stranger was gone. Apparently from the desperately inappropriate way that Morgan is sniffing a business card, she at least left contact information. Why did she disappear so quickly? I could have sworn that when we each looked over halfway through the dance routine that she looked almost proud of me. But clearly nothing was meant to be. Okay, Chuck, meant to be? She was more beautiful than Vicki Vale, and so cool. There was never anything meant to be.
But, I've never felt that strong of an instant connection with anyone before. Not even Jill. Why am I thinking about Jill and Sarah in at the same time? Jill was a two timing soul sucker, while Sarah is…wow. I'm sure that Sarah has never done anything to deserve either of those titles.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Dressed from head to toe in black, Sarah quietly slid from shadow to shadow approaching her target. She had to fight off how she felt unclean even at the thought of breaking into Chu…Bartowski's apartment. Fool even leaves his window unlocked. It's like he's begging for someone to break in. Hasn't he heard of operational security? How can Graham think that this guy is working with Bryce? He doesn't even come across as an amateur trying to play in the Great Game. He comes across as nothing less than an innocent. And I was so sure that innocents didn't exist.
Slipping into the room, Sarah made quick work of disconnecting the computer tower. Chuck would be home soon. She needed to grab the entire tower so that she could ship the hard drive off to the tech support lab in Langley. But then her curiosity got the better of her, and she paused to take in the room. She marveled at the eclectic collection of movie posters and books, dragged her fingers across the strings of the electric guitar propped in the corner. In tune, but no amp in sight. What is with this guy? He's a mass of contradictions. Or is that just a mess?
Hearing noise from the courtyard, Sarah pulled the mask down and hurried towards the front door, angry with herself for dawdling for so long in Chuck's room. Stalker much, Walker? But as she neared the door, she froze as she heard keys turn in the lock. Well, isn't this just craptastic? Then she was staring into the eyes that had absorbed her for the past twenty-four hours, discomfited by how familiar they already were to her.
"Please, not the computer," Chuck begged, his arms reaching for the tower even as his feet stayed rooted by the door.
Sarah was nearly overwhelmed with two strong emotions, pulling at her to assert dominance. Confronted by a masked intruder, and his focus is on his computer? Damn. He is working with Bryce. The son of a bitch conned me. I should have known there couldn't be anyone that nice. The rage burned through her veins pooling in an angry center in her belly. But dueling with the rage was a longing. I want him to reach for me like that, to look at me as though I'm crucial his very being. I'll just put the computer on this oddly placed low lying shelf while I deal with Moron 1 and Moron 2.
His odd, bearded little friend opened the door to a little payback when he started grabbing knickknacks and weakly hurling them at Sarah. Between her natural athletic grace and her advanced martial arts training at the Farm, it was child's play (and a bit childish if she was being honest with herself) for her to redirect each object towards Chuck's crotch. As one item after another pummeled into Chuck, the rage towards him began to die off. He was less than an amateur as Sarah began to worry, not just about damaging Chuck, about damaging any potential future offspring of his.
Okay, that last one had to really hurt. Why do I feel bad about this? This Intersect thing is probably on this computer that he was so eager for me not to take. I shouldn't feel bad. I shouldn't feel period. But then the little voice in the back of her head chimed in, But you still do.
Then her anger returned, only this time directed towards Morgan as the fool managed to break a vase over Chuck's head. Instead of apologizing for harming his friend, Morgan actually had the audacity to chastise Chuck for not attacking a masked intruder. The fool doesn't even realize that the only thing that he had accomplished was to get Chuck hurt. Then Chuck slowly shuffled towards her, or is it towards his beloved computer? Once again angry at Chuck, Sarah channeled that rage into a side thrust kick that sent Chuck flying across the room and into a wall. Ah hell. What have I done now? The poor bastard never saw it coming, and he didn't make any effort to try and block the kick. Seeing Morgan grab a golf club to charge at her, Sarah decided to teach Morgan a lesson. In the blink of an eye, the golf club was out of his hands and into hers. Before he could realize what was happening, Sarah demonstrated the proper way to use a golf club as a weapon.
The little turncoat not only caused me to hurt Chuck, but then had the gall to lie and say that Chuck isn't that good of a friend of his. One look at him and you can tell that Chuck was a far better friend than Morgan deserved. You are not worthy of being friends with someone like Chuck you little weasel. Oops. I wanted to send a message to Morgan, but I really didn't expect them to end up positioned like…that. That has got to be awkward for the two of them.
Sarah then heard the crash behind her, turning to look as her plans for rescuing the data crumbled to pieces at her feet. Failure. But I don't fail. Sarah Walker doesn't fail. She bolted out of the front door before anything else could go wrong. It's like this is some story and the author had just written "everything is perfect" thereby guaranteeing that everything would go seriously and irreversibly wrong. She sped off into the night frustrated over how such an easy mission could turn out to be so difficult.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Her frustration hadn't abated in the least by the following morning when she again parked her Porsche outside of the BuyMore entrance. The frustration spiked higher after her phone call with Director Graham. As far as she knew, she was the only field agent that reported directly to the DCI. All the rest either answered to their handlers or maybe to the Deputy Director-Operations. She was confident that jealousy over her connection to the Director was behind her nicknames within the hallways of Langley: the Ice Queen, Graham's Golden Girl, The Wild Card Enforcer. If they only knew the cost to oneself that comes along with being Graham's go to Enforcer. She suspected that her litany of "sanctioned" kills were likely only sanctioned by and known to Graham himself.
"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."
That's definitely not the way things worked at the Agency, especially under Graham. Something big is going on here. Until just recently, Bryce had been my partner. I may be Graham's top agent and discreet assassin, but when something like this blows up-literally in this case- everyone is suspected. Everyone would be expected to have seen some sign, even if that writing on the wall was only legible in hindsight. Besides, Graham being Graham means that he likely knew that Bryce and I had more than a partnership there for a while.
All the more reason for me to recover the Intersect and thus keep my name and reputation intact.
Then Sarah thought back to her mark, Chuck Bartowski. How he had seemed stunned in her presence, even though his eyes never traveled further south than her own eyes. How he had rescued the dad, and cheered up the little girl despite having no obligation, or reason even, to do so. How he had looked back to her standing by his desk, bringing her into the event, just through his eyes. How she had felt when she had stood face to face with him, getting lost in the color hazel.
You can do this. You left yesterday because you had things that had to get done. You weren't fleeing the scene after Chuck so heartwarmingly saved the little ballerina. You weren't jealous of her getting the attention from Chuck. Just go in there, look him in the eyes and ask him out to dinner. Just don't get lost again in how those warm, happy and safe those eyes make you feel. You've got this.
There he is. I so do not have this…
Chuck was standing in the same spot, wearing what looked to be the same outfit as the day before. Short sleeve button up, skinny tie and a pocket protector? Thank god I don't have to wear a ridiculous outfit like that for a cover. Except for him, it's not a cover. It's his life. Yet he looks perfectly comfortable wearing it. Kinda cute even, in a geeky…oops, nerdy kind of way.
As she approached the desk, her thoughts betrayed her, causing her to lose focus on her mission, her objective for the morning. I wonder what he would look like in an Armani suit? I could wear a salmon evening gown and run my fingers through those curls…Sarah's eyes briefly flared open as she realized that had lost complete sight of her cover story as he brushed his hand over hers thinking that it was Morgan. Her skin tingled as his oh, so warm hand rubbed against hers before he'd even looked up to see who it was. Probably best that, I'm not sure I could have handled seeing those eyes while feeling the sparks between our physical contact.
"Hi! Uhh…Phone trouble again?" Chuck asked, kicking himself mentally as he had just fixed that phone the day before. There was no chance that it was broken again.
Perfect. An opening that I can use to set up our date…er…"date". "Yes. I'm not sure that it's able to receive calls because I never got one from you." WHAT THE HELL, Walker? Tell me that I didn't just say that. If I had said something like that at seduction school, Roan Montgomery would have pulled out a gun and shot me just to put me out of my misery.
"I was wondering if you could show me around. That is if you are free?" There's Agent Walker. Back on target. Not focusing on how friendly and open this guy is. Or how he's looking at my eyes, instead of ogling my body.
"Apparently, my schedule is wide open." That little bearded guy is a terrible friend, and a worse wingman. How does Chuck manage to look so embarrassed, yet open and welcoming at the same time?
Chuck looked across the desk at the incredibly beautiful woman who wasn't looking at him with pity-despite Morgan's best, albiet inadvertent, effort. Her smile was wide and her eyes were such deep pools of blue that Chuck felt at risk of drowning in them. I am going to kill Morgan. Then bring him back to life just to kill him again. Unless, that is, someone feels pity on me and kills me now. But she wants to go out with me, which is just…Wow. Ok, the line about the phone not being able to receive calls was super cheesy, but how could I ever say no when she looks that happy, that excited. For a date with me. After Morgan babbled about how I basically have zero social life. To a woman who looks like…Vicki Vale's way hotter sister. Man, I'm not even thinking in complete sentences. I'm beyond doomed with her
.
"Great," Sarah responded with a beaming smile. Dial it back Walker. You're not in high school asking your crush to the prom. Man, if only I'd met Chuck in high school. Oh, yeah. Conman father meant skipping town every couple of months. Bad hair. Worse braces. But still, Chuck probably wouldn't have focused on that. He would see me for me. At least back then I was only an accomplice to a con artist. Thanks to Langston Graham, as horrible as my dating prospects were back then, now I'm pretty much toxic.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sarah stood before the mirror, primping for a date as only a spy would. While she checked her hair and make up, a normal course of pre-date preparation, Sarah also checked to see if her was in line with the mirage of a woman interested in her companion. Having joined the CIA at a young age, and while a proverbial ugly duckling, Sarah had no real life dating experience to call upon, yet she was confident in her belief that a normal twenty-something woman preparing for a date would not insert hair rods tipped with a neurotoxin designed to instantly, if non-lethally, incapacitate a target.
Similarly, Sarah was confident that for a normal twenty-something a form fitting, custom designed Kevlar vest was not the preferred undergarment for a first date. But as Sarah slid the hair rods into place in her bun-careful not to accidentally prick herself (How would I explain that to my "date": Sorry Chuck, I couldn't answer the door as I was immobilized on the floor by my own hand)-she caught sight of her eyes and started to sing "Behind Blue Eyes". It had been a favorite song of her father's, but it took her several years before she realized that his mumbling of the second line in the chorus was intentional and not due to poor memory. In turn, she modified the opening chorus to a simple "No one knows what it's like to be the spy behind blue eyes." She then brought up the track on her phone to play as she put the finishing touches on her "date" preparation.
No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies. But my dreams they are as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free. No one bites back as hard on their anger. None of my pain and woe can show through. While I smile tell me some bad news before I laugh and act like a fool.
When I smile…I smiled a lot at the BuyMore. A lot. And not contrived smiles designed to fool a mark. Bona fide smiles. Genuine smiles. Real smiles. Real. She had never been real while on a mission before. It was as refreshing as it was terrifying.
This was the way things always worked at the CIA. Low risk, low importance missions had time for planning, contingency plans for the primary plans, even contingency plans for contingency plans. Yet the truly important missions were frantic, last second operations where what minimal planning could be done was often done while en route to the location. There was last second planning, and hoping against hope that the safe house for the mission was actually safe, or that the paperwork looked sufficiently authentic. There was no need to worry about whether a safe house was compromised, or the risk of hostile governments. But she was CIA, operating on US soil based on justifications that were tenuous at best.
Graham had told her very little about this computer database that she was tasked with recovering (how does he expect to locate it if I don't know what to look for?). Yet the urgency, the lack of planning, the very fact that Graham wanted her in and out before the NSA knew she was there meant that it might well be the biggest mission of her career-and that was saying something.
Sarah took a final look in the mirror, checking her appearance, and cataloging the weapons hidden about her body, some in plain sight. It was a skill set emphasized at the Farm, and a pre-mission ritual for the Ice Queen. The weapons were all in place. The only way this Bartowski guy would discover them would be if he were far more handsy than she would ever allow. But the little voice in the back of her head told her that given how he had behaved at the BuyMore, she didn't have to worry about Chuck behaving like that. She knew that the voice was right, that Chuck would be respectful and kind, which made her almost regret that he wouldn' t get handsy. I've got to stop spending as much time around Carina as I do. Her attitude is starting to rub off on me. As she put the finishing touches on her makeup, the little voice in her head spoke up yet again- I hope that Chuck finds this outfit pretty. Sarah knew that this was true-even if completely unprofessional. She also realized that she had put more effort into picking out her outfit and make up for this "date" than she ever had for any date with Bryce. Given her bizzare life, the time to load all of her weapons took about the same amount for her date with Chuck as when she had gone on a date with Bryce.
Sarah realized that her less than professional thoughts weren't the only thing off. She was one of the best agents to ever work for the CIA. She knew that something just felt off about this whole mission-at least as far as Chuck's purported involvement was concerned. For starters, there was the fact that she could only think of him as Chuck. Not the mark. Not the target. Not even as Bartowski.
Finally, she checked her phone. CIA Tech Support and a Rapid Response Team from the CIA Special Activities Division were both on speed dial under innocuous names. With everything in place for her "date", Sarah decided to risk a quick call to Director Graham before Chuck was scheduled to pick her up. This was LA after all. She'd be lucky if he showed up within an hour of the time the date was supposed to start.
The doorbell rang. He was punctual. Of course he was. Chuck was singlehandedly ruining the preconceptions about guys and LA residents all in one go. This guy would be too good to be true, if it weren't for the possibly being in league with a traitor thing. Just as she opened the door, Graham gave her authority to kill her "date" if he tried to run. Even if his running was a…distant possibility, she knew already that she wouldn't be able to put a bullet in Chuck Bartowski. The very thought turned her stomach sour.
Chuck tried not to stare when Sarah swung open the door to her apartment. He had almost convinced himself that she could not have been as beautiful as he had remembered, but he was so wrong. Every time that he saw her there was another detail, another facet, that was so stunning causing him to wonder how he had never noticed it before.
But it was still her eyes that drew him in the most. As the door had swung open, there had been a barrage of emotions that he could read in the depths of her eyes. They were the most expressive eyes that he had ever seen, in addition to the most beautiful. Was that guilt at the end? That's odd. But the impression was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Appreciation showed as she took in the flowers in his hands. Approval as she took in his attire for the evening. Anticipation over the "date" and getting to see the sights of LA. Nearly hidden away, he could sense her excitement. There was a slight shine to her eyes as she realized that the date was about to begin. Is she seriously that excited about spending time on a date me?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As the margarita took the edge off of his nerves, Chuck took stock of the evening. The more time they spent together, the more relaxed and happy Sarah had become. The slight shine of excitement from her apartment door way had brightened to a brilliant sparkle that made her eyes more alive and expressive than he had ever seen. Chuck began to doubt himself over the fleeting impression of guilt that he thought he had first seen when he arrived to pick her up at Maison 23.
Sarah's reservation seemed to melt away as the evening progressed. Her smile had grown broader, her laughter came quicker (even at his lamest of jokes). The slight tension that had been in her shoulders when she opened the door to her apartment had gradually eased away during dinner, as she laughed more often.
It was a heady combination: a physically beautiful woman, gorgeous and expressive eyes, a wide grin and bubbling laughter, not to mention a captivating intelligence that seemed to track every detail of everything.
Well, so far, so good. She really looks like she's having fun. I mean, this place is pretty special to me and El, but she keeps looking around like it's her first time at a joint like this. The excitement in her eyes danced with glee over his description of Captain Awesome.
"So wait, you call him Captain Awesome?"
"Yeah, wait until you meet him." Man. Her eyes were beautiful before, but right now there's an extra sparkle to them. She looks seriously happy right now. I mean, all I said was 'wait until… you meet him…' Uh oh. I basically just said that I'm going to take her home to meet the family.
He wants me to meet Captain Awesome? Who knew that being on a date was so much fun! Cute, funny and so accepting of things at face value. Oh, if this were really a date, and not just a "date". Either way, there's no way that I'm following Graham's suggestion. I may not be an angel, but killing someone like Chuck would put me beyond redemption.
Save this, Chuck. Save this. "Everything he does is awesome. Climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, flossing." Ok, a little humor to cover up taking my foot out of my mouth.
Hmm, humor as a defense mechanism. He's pulling back a little. Then again, I need to do the same. This isn't a date, it's a 'date' and I need to get information out of him if only to prove that he has nothing to do with Bryce.
By the time she had laughed about Devon's awesomeness, Chuck considered the night a success. He had known her all of an hour and he was completely smitten.
He had been stunned when she had uttered aloud, "I like you Chuck." It was genuine, sincere, and a hope bloomed inside of him that there might be a second date in the future.
"Is that your big secret by the way? Because I've been sitting here trying to figure out what's wrong with you…"
Secret? My big secret? I'm a heavily armed CIA officer who is capable of taking out every single person in this restaurant without breaking a sweat. And who has been given permission to kill you if I deem it necessary. That's my big secret. You are on a date with Agent Walker, the Wild Card Enforcer. Not Sarah, or Jenny or or Rebecca, or even Samantha. But that's a secret that you're not ready to hear. Hell, I live with me and I'm not ready to hear it most days.
That's weird, her eyes just closed off as she looked away. No, no, no. I need to see that sparkle again. I can't remember when I've felt as alive as I do when she smiles at me like she's having the greatest time of her life. I need to see that again, to feel that alive again. She's like a horribly addictive drug that is incredibly wonderful. It's been five seconds since I last saw it and I already need another fix.
"I could be your very own baggage handler." What the what did I just say?
He didn't seriously just say…Ok, that's a little awkward. But he looks like he just realized how bizarre that offer was. He's pretty cute when he's embarrassed. Oh no, he's got me talking about Bryce now. I need to get off the subject of Bryce. Actually, the clock is running, so I need to start getting some information out of him, damn it. But why is it so uncomfortable to spin my tale into a cover? This should be easy, but it just feels wrong to lie to him like this. To trick him. And with facts that are far too real, too personal.
"Bruce? You give me crap about being Chuck, and you went out with Bruce?"
How does he do that? Say just the right thing at just the right time to have me genuinely laughing? How is it that I'm having this much fun at what is supposed to be work?
There it is. There's that look like she can't believe how much fun she's having. God, if she only knew how that look makes me feel I'd be doomed. Oh, who am I kidding. I'm already doomed, but in such a good way.
Sarah muted her smile, focusing on the CIA objective of the evening. Namely, getting intel out of the man before her.
And then she asks about skeletons in my closet, and the look is gone. She is such a mystery. Secrets? Women? Great, now I'm thinking about Jill. Remember what Ellie said. No talking about Jill. But when she looks at me that way, I just want to tell her anything.
Ugh. I feel dirty again, trying to pry information out of Chuck. What is it about this guy that makes him so different from every mark I've dealt with at the CIA or with my father? Maybe it's the fact that despite my training, I just can't think of him as a mark? Graham isn't wrong often, but there's no way that he's right about Chuck.
Seriously? He makes a joke about restraining orders of all things, and I can't help but laugh? Who is this guy? He's like kryptonite to the Ice Queen…Man, I spent too much time around Bryce before he betrayed me and the country and went and blew up a top secret facility.
Oh, that look is back again. Man, this night is such the success. If I'd seen that look once, I would have considered myself a winner. But it keeps coming back, where she can't help but to laugh no matter how inane these jokes are. But everytime I see that look in her eyes, I need to see it again. And again. And again.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The dinner had gone great. He hadn't spent any time wallowing in the pit of Jill despair. Before the date with Sarah had materialized out of nowhere, he had been looking forward to a concert. The fact that he was going there with Sarah Freaking Walker (he had decided that even if that wasn't her official middle name that it should be) made going to the gig that much cooler.
"What's your favorite band?" Play it cool, Chuck. She can't know how important a question this is to me. Although she could say Milli Vanilli, and I still would want to go on another date with her. Probably.
Seriously? I'm completely blanking. Why can't I name a single band? I've been to concerts. On missions, but I've been to concerts. This is horrible. I can see that he loves music. I'm just doomed.
"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh." No favorite band? Who is this woman? I'm perfectly willing to take the time to find out.
"God. I'm not funny. I don't listen to music. This must be your worst date ever, right?" Please don't agree. Please don't agree. Please.
"I was waiting for you to say no." Crap. He does agree. I am his worst date ever. From now on, when Chuck's on a bad date, he'll compare it to this one to decide just how bad it is. This just sucks. Why is he staring down at the road and ignoring me? Hello?!
When Chuck had suggested the club where one of his favorite local bands was playing, his impression of excitement shining through Sarah's eyes increased. There is such an innocence to it, almost insecurity, as though this were a totally new experience for her. It made Chuck wonder at the woman before him. Surely she could get a date any night of the week and twice on Saturdays? The one thing that concerned Chuck was how the excitement in her eyes noticeably ramped up when Chuck had mentioned as an aside that, rather than a mosh pit, the area in front of the stage was a large dance floor. Oh crap, she's going to want to dance. Strike that. She already wants to dance, and she doesn't even know what the band sounds like. I'm doomed. I can't dance, and she…she's pretty much the embodiment of perfection. Of course she can dance. And she's going to expect me to dance with her. How do I say no to her when she asks about dancing? Who am I kidding? I can't say no to her. What kind of a heel would look at Sarah Walker and say 'I said no woman!'. Bloody hell, I'm going to be dancing tonight. Please God don't let me look too bad and scare her away- or maim her for that matter.
But then, Chuck thought back to that excitement that shone from Sarah's eyes at the prospect of dancing the night away. That sense of innocence, as though this was a first time event for her, was present again. That feeling that she was opening up, letting him in where no one had gone before, it was both intriguing and intoxicating. This Sarah seemed so different than the one with the cellphone trouble who referred to him and Morgan as "geeks". And it was this Sarah that was so appealing, so compelling, so intriguing. It was this Sarah that he knew he would never be able to say no to. And he was perfectly fine with that.
While he paid their cover charge, Sarah focused on Chuck (having already assessed all the visible patrons for potential threats, and cataloged the location of all the exits). His eyes reflected a sense of nervousness and apprehension which had been present initially but had diminished over the course of their dinner and drinks at the Cantina. Smiling on the inside as he subconsciously turned to the beat of the music while his eyes flared open ever so little, Sarah realized that Chuck was dreading going out on the dance floor, while resigning himself to that very fate. She connected the dots. He had been looking forward to seeing Foreign Born perform (likely planning to come well before this "date" was arranged), but he had already somehow intuitively picked up on how much she wanted to dance.
What he likely hadn't picked up on was just how much she wanted to dance with Chuck. As they made their way into the crowded club, Chuck's eyes grew wary as the dance floor came into view. But he surprised her as he slid down the bannister as they made their way to the floor. He's just goofy, and god is it fun. He may not want to dance, but he wants to make me happy more than he doesn't want to dance. Again with putting someone else ahead of himself. First, Recital Randy and the missing videotape. Now he's preparing himself for the dance floor as I really want to dance. Well, I always like to dance. But, tonight, I really want to dance with Chuck Bartowski.
She and Bryce had danced, but only for missions. She had danced with Carina and the CATS, but that was just girls having fun. And those times when she had been out with the CATS and wound up dancing with some random guy at the club, she always gave a fake name and was always on guard against anything her dance partner might try. But this wasn't for the mission to recover the Intersect. This was because Sarah Walker wanted to dance with Chuck Bartowski. To hell with Graham and his paranoia. She was having fun. She was on a date. And damn it, she wanted to dance with somebody who liked her for her-and that was Chuck.
As they continued to watch the band she could sense that Chuck's nerves had kicked in.
A nerd who doesn't dance? We'll just see about that. If I've learned one thing about Chuck, it's just how giving he is. He may not want to dance, but he will not say…No, no, no, no! Sarah spotted the men in matching navy blue, off the rack suits. They didn't even make an attempt to hide their earwigs. The NSA had just crashed the date, turning it back into a "date". And Sarah was pissed. The NSA had likely heard rumors about Graham's Wild Card Enforcer at the CIA. Well, this grab team was about to learn first hand just how badass the Ice Queen truly was. Chuck was hers, and she would be damned if she was letting them harm him. Screw that!
Chuck was so distracted by his nerves over the impending dance, that he didn't see the excitement in her eyes die off, and be replaced with cold, hard determination. Sarah bodily dragged Chuck onto the dance floor. Once there, she looked him squarely in the eyes. Her look was too intense for the situation, but it couldn't be helped. She knew that he was still a little off kilter from her sudden move to the dance floor. She turned to her training, hating the fact that she was using it against Chuck. But, she was more concerned with keeping him safe while keeping him ignorant of the NSA grab team for as long as possible.
She started to dance provocatively, practically able to read Chuck's mind thru his eyes-'what just happened to me?'- as his brain proceeded to short circuit. She didn't feel that guilty about short circuiting his mind, considering how much she was affected by dancing with him. Especially when she needed to be fully focused, and he was so interfering with that focus. The big jerk didn't even realize how hard he made it for her to focus. Which was proof that he was a jerk. Somehow. She could figure out exactly how after she dealth with these NSA stooges. She instantly assessed the skills and abilities of each NSA team member.
There was something that had been so liberating, so freeing about being around Chuck. So much so that even as the Wild Card Enforcer began her campaign to take out the threat from the grab team in order to create enough chaos to enable them to escape, Sarah couldn't resist the urge to get a little playful and "cheeky" with Chuck during one of her dance moves. It was so worth it just to see the look on Chuck's face.
Having taken out four NSA agents, with Chuck none the wiser, Sarah nearly let out a groan as she spotted John Casey stationed near the stairwell. If Casey is here, we're screwed. He's going to be pissed about a woman taking down his guys without even getting a scratch on herself.
She yanked Chuck out of the back door of the club, pleased that Chuck was doing as she instructed, confused but not afraid. Not yet at least. Damn John Casey and damn the NSA. This was the best date I've been on since…well it's the best date I've been on. With the NSA here, the date is over. I've got to protect Chuck. To hell with Graham's theory. Chuck is innocent. And I'll be damned if some Cold War relic is going to get his mitts on Chuck.
Oh, damn. Why did I agree to let him drive us on this date? How am I supposed to keep us out of the hands of the NSA in a car that looks like an allergy pill? And that drives about as fast?
"Chuck, give me your keys." He looked across at his date as she stood by the driver's door to the Herder. The playful banter was gone. There was a focused, determined look to her mien.
Is that anger? Not towards me, but that is definitely anger. What is going on?
Sarah could tell how confused Chuck was. It's like he's still him, but the world around him has lost all contact with reality. What was that show that Dad kept watching that one time in that seedy motel outside of Des Moines? Oh yes, Twilight Zone. Why am I thinking about Dad in the context of Chuck? They are polar opposites. But Chuck and I are also polar opposites. Dudley Doo Right might have been well sorted with Nell, but Chuck doesn't need some goody-two shoes. He needs the CIA's top agent. And he's got her.
Pulling her thoughts away from Chuck, Sarah turned her focus to getting them away from John Casey.
"Who are these guys? What do they want?" And how are you so calm going faster down this street in reverse than I did when driving over here? What in the hell? A giant SUV just rams our car and she looks like she's pissed, not remotely scared. Not to mention the fact that she's staring at the driver instead of looking behind her to see where we are going!
It actually hurt her—her, the woman who hadn't been broken, hadn't even flinched while being tortured in Pakistan with Carina after yet another mission with the DEA agent that saw her go off of the rails after she decided to improvise rather than follow Sarah's careful mission plan. Yet when Chuck had stopped looking confused and started looking afraid after Sarah told him that the men in the oversized SUV that was trying to crush his toy car of a Yaris were NSA agents. If a car chase makes him afraid, he would be terrified of me if he had seen me disabling the entire NSA grab team inside of the nightclub. Sarah no longer felt hurt, but physically sick over the thought of Chuck being terrified of her. No time for such thoughts. I have to save Chuck. There is no other option here.
In her mind she pictured Chuck's eyes at the Cantina, so alive, so full of light and laughter, morphing slowly into terror. She needed to be focused on evading John Casey and his band of NSA minions, but she couldn't stop thinking about how light, how happy she had felt when her "date" with Chuck Bartowski had slowly morphed into a date with Chuck. Maybe that happiness was to blame for her spontaneous attempt at humor during the car chase, teasing him about which left to take, when they were both facing the same direction.
This was probably the most stressful thing that Chuck has ever been a part of, and I-knowing how not funny I am , try to make a joke about which way to turn. I guess that being around someone as funny as Chuck had been throughout dinner didn't rub off on me. At least now Chuck knows for sure than I'm not a cannibal…Yeah, I'm definitely still not funny. In hindsight, as the broken car lay stalled in the middle of the street after a bumpy ride backwards down a staircase, it had not been the best timing for the joke. Not to mention that I was actually being fully honest with Chuck when I told him that I was not funny.
Sarah saw the fear in Chuck's eyes again as the NSA SUV came roaring down the road, set to ram the disabled Nerd Herder. But, she quickly realized, this fear held a different tenor than before, a different flavor. As she braced for the impact from the SUV, by counterintuitively allowing her body to go limp, it dawned on her why Chuck's fear seemed different. His statement just before impact echoed through her head, downing out the sound of glass shattering, of steel suddenly, and violently twisting. Although he was seated beside her, with the SUV was heading at them, Chuck's fear was clearly for her safety.
I order him into his own car, speed backwards down a street against traffic, trash his car by driving (backwards still) down a flight of concrete steps, then tell him that the NSA is after him, is going to hurt him, and his thought as the NSA Suburban raced towards us was concern for my safety? I'm in too deep and it's only the first date.
I'll be damned if some NSA cold school killer is going to take Chuck in, or worse. Chuck embodies all of the reasons why I sacrificed so much to keep the country safe. He is a good, good man. He is also innocent. He's the reason why I would leave a street full of bodies in my wake to make sure that no one harms my Chuck.
After leaving John Casey in the now mangled SUV-payback is a bitch, although he's lucky the only thing that I mangled of him was his ride-Sarah knew that she had to call for backup. Graham had told her that she was on her own, so it was a 50/50 shot at best that anyone would come for them. She also knew that once Chuck learned that she was CIA his view of the date would change it into a "date" in his eyes. She felt a wave of disappointment and frustration wash over her. She wanted to yell, to curse at the universe for revealing to her what she had been missing out on having spent her life living in the shadows, only for the universe to rescind the offer, to remind her that she wasn't the hero starring in a Disney fairytale. Her life story was far closer to Brother's Grim where no one makes it out unscathed. Thanks to Chuck, she had forgotten that momentarily. Thanks to Casey, and his less than merry men, she was painfully reminded of this fact.
The personal time for the night was over. Her primary mission now was to protect Chuck at all costs. Locating the Intersect was now secondary. Sarah knew, without any doubt, that Chuck wasn't a party to whatever nefarious plot Bryce had tried to cook up. But that didn't mean that Chuck might not have some information about Bryce's plans. If Sarah was going to protect Chuck from the NSA (and likely from Graham and the CIA as well), Agent Walker needed whatever information Chuck Bartowski might inadvertently know that could reveal where Bryce hid this Intersect computer.
Sarah rose to her feet, whipping out a cell phone and calling for an airvac as thought if was a normal date where you raced backwards through traffic, got rammed by an SUV and then turned the SUV full of government agents into a paperweight. She was intently focused as she hurried Chuck into a nearby building, leading him up towards the roof.
How did she do that? It's like this is a completely different woman from the one I was just on a date with. Unfazed, determined, efficient. She's impressive, but the one who smiled freely, laughed with abandon at my dumb jokes, she was so much more intriguingl.
She could see that Chuck's mind was still reeling from the adrenaline rush of the car chase even as they raced to the roof. He had just seen her whip a knife out of her boot and throw it with pinpoint accuracy and timing. Their best hope for getting away from the NSA was that Graham would approve her request for evacuation by helicopter. The only other way to even hope to keep Chuck out of Casey's clutches, even if just temporarily, would be if she could find out where the Intersect was before Casey got there, then use that knowledge as leverage to protect Chuck.
Bursting through the door onto the building's rooftop helipad, Sarah took stock of her date one last time before revealing her true nature.
For a minute, I got to be on a date with Chuck Bartowski. But the "date" that turned into a real date, just ended. It's time to lay my cards on the table so that I can find some way to keep Chuck free, to keep him safe. But he's going to add (1) (Bryce was a CIA agent) and (1) (I'm a CIA agent) and decide that (2) must equal "this date was just a 'date'". You can hate me for the rest of your life, Chuck Bartowski, but I'm going to make sure that life is a long one.
"How do you know Bryce Larkin?" Well, there's a trick question to ask Chuck. After all, he was my partner and kinda-sorta my boyfriend, and it turns out that I didn't know him for shit.
"Bryce Larkin from Connecticut is a spy?"
Chuck's eyes grew wide again when he learned that Bryce was a CIA officer rather than an accountant slaving away in a cubicle farm somewhere in the heart of Hartford, Connecticut. Is that envy? But then they quickly clouded over with hurt, an old pain, something well before her, and clearly something relating directly to Bryce. Sarah felt a burning rage settle into her stomach. She had wanted to pummel Bryce for his betrayal of her, of their partnership and of their country. But he had clearly hurt Chuck deeply, down to the cellular level. And that was worse than any of the betrayals against her. How could he turn on someone so good, so pure? What in the hell was wrong with Bryce? However, if Bryce did do Chuck so wrong in the past, that could give her leverage to convince the powers that be that Chuck wasn't involved in…whatever the hell this mess was that Bryce had created.
"A rogue spy." Well, she's wearing the same outfit as the Sarah that I started my date with, but those warm, open eyes are now hard and glacially cold. She doesn't even seem to be the same person as who she was earlier. Is that just because she is a spy? But no matter how strong that margarita was, there is no way that I was wrong about the connection we shared at the Cantina. There is a completely different woman under that spy shell, and God do I want to spend some more time with that hidden woman.
Just as Sarah thought she saw a light at the end of the tunnel, she quickly learned that the light was attached to a train engine heading directly towards them. Chuck rambled on about Bryce sending him an email that he opened (somehow-what in the hell is Zork? And why would anyone play a text based videogame?) and wound up seeing lots of pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures. There had been whispered rumors at Langley for a couple of years about a plan to encode information into images that an agent could then see, absorbing the information subliminally. But the rumors had been about as believable as Santa and the Easter Bunny taking on pro wrestlers in a tag team cage match.
Sarah had brought up the rumors with Dave, the head of Tech Support in the Science and Technology Directorate. He had claimed that the rumors were considered the boogeyman for Tech Support, as if true the department would be unnecessary. He had written the rumors off as sci-fi fantasy.
Oh hell, Casey is here. The NSA is going to take Chuck away, and I'll never see him again. The only play I have left is to bluff, but the only bluff that could work will make Chuck want to never see me again. There is no way that Chuck won't totally freak out over this, but I can't let Casey take Chuck. I'd rather that he hate me, fear me, than abandon him to that killer.
Chuck watched as shutters descended over Sarah's eyes, the warmth disappearing as if she was psyching herself up (or should that be down) for something. "I may have to aim my gun at you so just don't freak out," Sarah stated as if a different person from the woman at the restaurant, who was a different woman from the one that drove the Nerd Herder as though it was in a demolition derby. Now those women had been replaced by another. One who is apparently cold and calculating. Her eyes grew harder and colder still as she turned her head to the side while whipping out a huge pistol (where in the hell did she hide that during our dance?) as a gruff man in black suit appeared, "It's late. I'm tired. Let's cut the crap and give him to me. He belongs to the NSA."
What in the heck is going on here? And on what planet with I go anywhere with this guy. He looks the type that would root for sickle cell. And where does he get off saying that I belong to the NSA. I don't belong to anyone, well except maybe Ellie.
Damn, that is a big gun that she is pointing directly at my head. "Sarah." She's cool as ice and I sound like I'm about to pee in my pants. But there was a look in her eye as she glanced over when I called her name. She's scared for me. Neanderthal has an equally big gun that he's pointing at her, and she's scared for me. I'm so lost. "I'm freaking out."
Damn it, Chuck. Why are you babbling about some NATO general? Don't you realize that Casey is going to wonder how you know this? And he'll assume that you were in deep with Bryce. Damn, damn, damn. The only hope I have left is to level with Casey and pray for the best.
"Okay, Chuck. Talk to me." C'mon. Lay it out so that Casey gets it, gets that you are now the Intersect.
How can she hold a gun on me that steadily while staring down this NSA guy?
"Like what?"
Why is she looking at the NSA guy like that? Like she's willing him to understand something? She looks almost vulnerable, which is definitely not something I ever thought I would say about a woman aiming a gun at me.
"The CIA, you guys, found a file of schematics of a bomb. The bomb is in that hotel." Oh my God. How much does Chuck know? How many secrets? Does he see the real me? Does he know all the things that I've done for Graham's 'greater good'? Does he fear me?
"Chuck, those pictures that you saw were encoded with secrets. Government secrets. If you saw them then you know them." And you know what I've done. You will never realize that, for me, our dinner was a real date. And the best time that I can remember.
"You said there was a bomb. Is there time to stop it?" There's that focused look again. Like she's invincible. Like she's…asking if there's enough time for her to run into a building where a bomb is ticking down on a timer, about to explode. She's amazing. So, so farout of my league.
"Bryce is dead. He died sending those secrets to you."
"Bryce is dead?" She looks sad. Is it because Bryce is dead? Or is it because I've got a billion government secrets crammed into my head?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"You tell us which way to go." Did he really have to body slam me? Couldn't he just ask politely?
"The easiest?"
"The fastest Chuck." Man, she's focused. Just like back in the car, and back when she was pointing her gun at a fellow government agent. She is so badass. There might be a heaviness to this version of her, but man is she awesome. And there is no way in hell that I'm letting her stick her neck out without doing whatever I can to help out. I've got to help her. I can't just let her take on a bomb by herself…or with this freakish NSA guy.
"I think I can do this. I can do this. Please." He's scared, but also determined. What the hell? If I going out with a bang, I'm going to do the right thing for once.
"He's our best shot." She believes in me. She's backing me up to the NSA because she believes in me. That's…wow. That's…oh crap. I still need to stop this bomb! Focus Chuck!
"I diffused a real bomb. Heh." Damn he's cute. "Wha…what if I was wrong?"
"Don't puke on the C4." Well that was a bit harsh. He did just save the day. Although he does kinda look like he's about to hurl. Maybe not quite as cute at the moment. Doesn't look like the poster boy for bravery and heroism, but looks can be very deceiving. He's cute, funny, brilliant, selfless and a hero- whether it be a minature ballerina in distress or a hotel full of dignitaries.
"What about his sister?"
"What about my sister?" Damn, the stone cold CIA agent is back and she's talking about Ellie. I can't let anything happen to Ellie.
Great, now he looks like he's afraid of me. Doesn't he get that I'm trying to protect him AND his sister? I'm not the bad guy here.
"Right now, I'm going home."
"No you're not." Ah hell, Casey the hardass making my life more difficult. How do I convince Chuck that I'm on his side? Life was so much simpler when Bryce was a traitor who blew up a government facility and I was looking to clear my name because I used to be partners with the rogue spy.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The ocean stretched out in front of Chuck. The vastness of it, the unending source of waves usually gave Chuck some perspective on the fact that he was just a little cog in the vast world spread out before him. But today, he was struggling to get the perspective. The events of the last few hours overwhelming him. An ocean of emotions threatening to sweep him out to sea with no sign of shore to be seen.
"There's no where I can run is there?" Which of the many women I saw last night is here now on the beach with me? Or is there yet another mystery woman
"Not from us." And who do we have here? She's not the open, fun woman from dinner and dancing. She's not the ice cold super spy. She's a little brutally honest, but almost remorseful.
"Talk to me Chuck." Hmm, the warmth is mostly back in her eyes. A little guarded, no, more hesitant. I'm guessing the revelation that she's a spy has her wondering how freaked out I am. I'm pretty sure that telling her that my Freak-Out-O-Meter is at an 11 probably wouldn't make any sense to her. But she needs to know, this isn't on her.
"I can't figure out why Bryce did this. Why he chose me." I don't blame you. This is on Bryce. Again. "What are you going to do with me? What happens now?"
"For now you go back to your own life. You work with us and we'll protect you." In other words, I'll protect you. I may have lost sight of the fact that I'm not destined to be with someone as good as you, as kind as you, as funny as you. But I'm going to keep you safe until you find that woman who is lucky enough to be with you. If such a woman even exists. For your sake, I hope that she does. For my sanity, I selfishly hope that she doesn't.
"My sister, my friends, are they in danger?" Will you protect them like you protected me last night?
"Tell them nothing to keep them safe." There's Secret Agent Sarah again. Not ice cold, not like she was with Casey when he was threatening me. But still…still. A forced calm about her. Efficient, even in her words.
"I need you to do one more thing for me." Keep looking at me like that and I will do whatever I can for you. Whenever I can. I don't deserve to have someone as incredible as you in my corner, but I'll take you there as long as you are willing to stay. And when you go, Jill's betrayal will be like a stubbed toe, compared to losing a limb. Man, I wish that I'd known Sarah at Stanford. It would have put my view of Jill in a whole different perspective. What was I thinking, pining over Jill for that long? What a waste of time. I was an idiot. But no more…or maybe at least, less of an idiot.
Name it. What I can do for you? It will be done. "Yeah?"
"Trust me Chuck." I already do. Oh, that ghost of a smile. The woman from dinner last night is still in there. I've just got to find her. And I will find her. I will.
A/N 2: Well, there it is. Hopefully it conveyed Samantha being tucked away inside of Sarah, and being drawn out by Chuck. More importantly, hopefully you all enjoyed it.