A/N: This chapter ends the arc, The Past into the Present.
The Missionary
Don't say you love me when it's just a rumor
Don't say a word if there is any doubt.
Sometimes I think that love is just a tumor;
You've got to cut it out.
You say you're sorry for the things that you've done.
You say you're sorry but you know you don't mean it.
I wouldn't worry. I had so much fun.
Sometimes I almost feel just like a human being.
— Elvis Costello, Lipstick Vogue
Chapter 31: Promise and Compromise
Chuck woke to bacon. That is, to bacon frying. That is, to the smell of bacon frying.
It wafted around him deliciously as he blinked into consciousness on Casey's couch.
For a moment, he luxuriated in the smell, pure olfactory bliss.
He had slept like a righteous dead man, slept a deep, dreamless sleep. Peace.
He couldn't remember sleeping like that since…since the Intersect…since his head went supernova. Even when the Intersect did not give him dreams — dreams of people he did not know in places he had never been doing things he did not want to witness — it amplified or muted or otherwise distorted his dreams, making the bad worse, the good dim and the confusing still more confusing.
He hadn't told anyone any of this, although Sarah knew about his headaches, and his severest headaches almost always foretold a night of emotionally painful Intersected dreams.
But last night had not been a night of dreams at all, and so not a night of Intersected dreams. Painless. His day with Sarah, its early downs and later ups, way ups, and then the kisses and especially the short bedtime talk through Casey's open bedroom door, had made Chuck feel good, whole, wholly alive.
Then he slept that deep, dreamless sleep. Rejuvenating and rejuvenated.
And he smelled bacon.
He got up, put on his pants, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He stopped as he entered with almost the same suddenness as Sarah had stopped the day before as she entered Appocalypse.
Sarah Walker was standing, back to him, frying bacon. He could see the spatula in her hand, hear the sound of the frying mixed with the sound of humming
He had not seen her as she dressed for bed; he knew she had grabbed something before they left her apartment but he had not seen it, just the small bag she had put it in. She was wearing a Stanford football jersey. — a Christian McCaffrey jersey, number 27. He was Chuck's favorite Cardinal player.
But it was not so much the jersey as it was the woman in it that affected him.
Her hair was down, mussed as if she had done nothing more than smooth it with her fingers after waking, and her exposed legs looked so bare and beautiful. For the first time since he had first seen her, he looked at her and felt no division. He simply yearned for her.
She seemed engrossed in her cooking, so Chuck padded closer. She heard him, finally, and turned, spatula still in hand, almost like a weapon, but her smile upon seeing him eliminated all threat and made him smile in return. She was still humming.
Before he knew what was happening, she grabbed his t-shirt with her empty hand and pulled him to her, kissing him soundly. Her lips tasted of bacon and she kept humming through the kiss, her lips vibrating softly against his.
When the kiss ended, Chuck reached up to smooth one side of her hair. "So, the cook's enjoying a sample?"
She closed her eyes as his hand brushed her hair. "I don't normally eat bacon," she said as she smiled and turned back to the pan, "but Casey had some, and I was in a celebratory mood." Her bottom swayed a bit, side to side, as she danced to the tune she was humming. "So, I decided to fry some. I thought it might wake you, Rip Van Winkle."
Chuck laughed and stepped to the side and leaned against the counter. "I really slept. It feels like twenty years' worth. — Did I miss the Revolution?"
Sarah's smile, still in place, grew. "No, that happened before we went into my apartment yesterday, remember?" Her stolen glance at him was shy, hopeful.
He nodded. "Remember? Not likely to forget you in the moonlight."
Sarah colored cardinal at his words, and so before the moment became too much, he asked: "Any word from Carina?"
Sarah smirked and shook her head. "No, no word from Casey. But I expect to know when Bridezilla wakes, to hear her scream echo all around Echo Park."
"Wow, sunrise bacon and wordplay. It's quite a Sarah Walker morning."
She turned to him and kissed him repeatedly, letting the full weight of her body press him against the counter, her every curve pressed against him. She wanted him to understand what she wanted for breakfast, although she knew it was not on the menu.
Yet.
"Yes," she breathed between kisses, "it sure is."
The kisses continued, distracting and distracted.
The bacon almost burned; it was lucky Chuck liked it extra crispy. Sarah did not seem to mind either.
They had finished it, as BLTs, when Sarah's phone beeped. Sarah had returned to Casey's bedroom, Chuck to the living room. He was tying his laces.
Sarah spoke so that he could hear her, anticipation in her voice.
"It's Casey. The creature stirs. We should hurry and get over there."
They did.
Walking to Sarah's apartment, they heard an animalistic cry, raw, ragged, and enraged. It rang out of the complex's rooftops, echoing as Sarah predicted.
"Carina's up," Sarah offered laconically, one eyebrow twitching.
Chuck stopped, feigning a moment of weakness, a stumble. Sarah grabbed him; he leaned against her. "Chuck, are you okay?"
He grinned but spoke as if stricken, and in a cultured English accent. "I felt a great disturbance in the Force — as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror…"
Sarah did not recognize the quotation but she knew it was one, and she grinned.
"Terror is right. Her reaction may have made that dress unwearable. But I expected to have to pay the costume shop for it."
The apartment door was unlocked. As they entered, they heard Carina, now using her words — all of them.
"What the hell did you do to me, John?! What am I wearing?! Jesus, I can't get it off. How are there so many shitty buttons?! And what are those goddamn photos on my phone, and why do all my asshat friends think I'm married?! My phone's blowing up. How were all these photos of us taken in Vegas?! When were we in Vegas?! What the holy fuck did you do to me?!"
Sarah had stopped Chuck just inside the door and together they listened to the tirade. Sarah put her hand over her mouth. Chuck grinned and shook his head.
It was quiet for a moment, then Casey answered.
His voice was gravelly, slow, completely serious, ringing with nuptial truth. Chuck had underestimated Casey's acting chops.
"It was your idea, Carina, darling. You went out with me last night, don't you remember? We went to a club, danced, drank, and you begged me to take you to Vegas but wouldn't tell me why. I did. And when we got there, you begged me to marry you! Hell, you pinned me to the seat of my car and ground against me until I said yes — and other things."
Another silence.
"I asked you?" Carina's voice sounded strangled, her skepticism mixed with genuine fear. "No. No. The hell I did. You did this to me, put something in my drink, you — "
"Roofied you? Me?" Casey roared in response. "This was all your idea — the long drive, the photos, that goofy, cheap chapel. You told me to send the photos. That was a bad idea — but I wanted to make you happy. You seemed so happy."
"You married me drunk. How could you?"
"You weren't drunk, Carina. At least, I didn't think so. You wanted it. You said: 'if Walker can be domesticated, I can too."
Sarah glanced at Chuck and he glanced at her.
"Walker?" Carina said, the word suddenly soft, cold. "Walker? Wait a damn minute. Walker?" Carina's voice sounded thoughtful. "Stop, Casey! Put your phone down. No more pictures of me in this — "
There was a sound of ripping fabric. Sarah grabbed Chuck's hand, putting up a finger to tell him to hold his position, then she pulled him into the apartment.
Carina was standing in the middle of the floor, wearing nothing but the heels Sarah had put on her the night before and a white bra and panties. She had the remnants of the costume wedding dress in her hands. When she saw Sarah and Chuck, Chuck's hand in Sarah's, her eyes grew, and flashed with certainty. "You! It was you. You bitch!"
But before she could say anything else, Sarah let go of Chuck, grabbed Carina by her hand and yanked her toward the bedroom.
She threw Carina inside and shut the door behind them.
Casey turned to Chuck, a smile in his eyes if not on his face. "Carina's in a deep Karma canyon. Let's make some coffee. She's going to need it when Walker's done, and the headache cements around Carina's head and starts to dry."
"Headache? Sarah said there were no side effects."
"Oh, there's a side effect and she knew it. The headache from hell. The dose I gave Carina, she'll feel hungover for about two days, once the rage subsides. I don't know what she did to Walker, but the payback is, as Carina said, a bitch."
Carina stumbled when Sarah threw her into the bedroom, landing on her knees.
"Goddamn it, Walker, now I've got carpet burn."
"Oh, let it go, Carina, your knees must be all callouses by now."
Carina gathered herself, and pulled herself up into a seated position on the bed, rubbing her reddened knees. She then rubbed her temples. She gave Sarah a narrow-eyed, furious stare. No harpy had ever cast a more baleful glare.
"You. This was all your plan. Casey can't do irony. And this," Carina gestured at her shoes so as to gesture to the entire outfit she had been wearing, "this is ironic. Ha ha, Walker. Who said you can't be funny?" Carina twisted her face into a kind of smile. "You, you — " Carina's voice became a rasp " — you stony-faced, silent, fucking, eternally frigid virgin. Even after I tried to loosen you up, show you how to be a woman, how to have a good time, you — "
Sarah rolled her eyes but she kept her voice level, interrupting. "Shut up, Carina. For once in your life, shut up, you glib witch. You aimed to humiliate me, not help me. I'm not wired like you, Carina, and you knew that but I didn't, and you manipulated me, drew me into a trap you created, and snap! — " Sarah clapped her hands and Carina jumped " — you let it slam on me and you had no mercy. You did it to me two more times. Rubbed my nose in it until my nose bled."
"You could've said no, Walker. Every. Damn. Time. You didn't."
Sarah nodded, dropped her chin, then lifted it, taking a breath. "I'm not denying I'm guilty too, Carina. I was naive and proud, a shitty combination, always. But you knew it and used it against me. You weren't doing me a favor, not by a long shot. You amused yourself at my expense and taught me a lesson: that I suck at being you. And I do. I agree. But I never wanted to be you, Carina. All I wanted was for you to leave me alone, let me do my job, and be in charge of the team, without your constant snarking, constant crap."
Carina pointed at Sarah, her finger a return accusation. "You were judging me — all the time. Those ice-water blue eyes, judging. Until I knocked you off your high horse, way off." Carina smirked hard, her expression a jab.
"I judged the way you did the job, Carina. The work. And you were sloppy at it, and you still are. You cut corners, create chaos, and put your liking ahead of your duty. You're not a professional. You're only in the game, you're only on every mission, for yourself. Me, me, me. It's the Miller Sing-Along For One."
Carina stood up, forgetting what she was wearing, and not wearing. "This from the woman who's got the sweat hots for Bartowski? Compromised as hell. Damp right now, I'd bet since I seem to be the Vegas type. Hypocrite, lecturing me about professionalism! I'm here because your boss doubts your professionalism, Icee. Accuse me of putting my liking ahead of duty!"
Neither one spoke or moved for a long time. The staring contest threatened to stretch on to the heat-death of the universe. And then, after a moment, a twitch on Carina's face, they both smiled, Carina first.
Sarah put up one hand, waving it. "Enough, enough. This isn't getting us anywhere. What's past is past. Let's call it even. We've humiliated each other, and owned it, and maybe now we can start again."
Sarah took a breath. Carina did too. Sarah went on, changing her tone. "So, Graham did send you here to observe Chuck and me, to decide whether I'm still…"
Carina sat back down, crossing her arms and her legs. "Whether you're still his. He thinks Bartowski's changed you. But it's not only Chuck, is it? It's all of them, Chuck, Ellie, and Devon. That apartment of theirs. Their life. Right?"
Sarah nodded cautiously. She'd never quite put it like that to herself but it was true. Sarah decided to risk it. "It's Chuck, primarily. He has some knack for getting to me. At first, I thought I was getting to him, but I had it backward. I didn't know that, and I went ahead with Graham's orders even though my heart wasn't in it. At all. But you know me, Carina. What did you just say? Frigid? Icee? Until Burbank, I've never been intimate with myself."
Carina gave Sarah a wicked grin and wiggled her fingers suggestively. Sarah pointed back at her, shaking her head. "That's not what I mean. Until I came here, until I met Chuck, — I mean that it was in getting to know and appreciate him that I got to know and — sort of — appreciate me. He knows the worst about me, he's been subjected to my worst, gun to his head, and he still kissed me last night before we…married you off to Casey. And his sister, and Devon, they've all taken me in, taken me into their secrets, voluntarily, no spying, and…and I don't want what I used to want. I'm here to protect Chuck. As long as that fits with Graham's orders, I'll 'obey' his orders. But I'm really obeying my sense of what matters, what's truly important. Chuck. Family."
"Do you think Graham will let you go? Because you know him, Sarah. Better than anyone. And you know orders are coming that will force you to actually choose, an Either/Or you will not be able to evade. You know him."
Sarah nodded. "I know him. You're right. I'm determined to be a new person, Carina, I've made promises to Chuck, asked him to trust me, and he is, he does, at least, he's trying."
"Well, he's certainly tapped into your words, made you intimate with them. You've said more to me in the last few minutes than in the entire time I've known you. There were times I wasn't sure you really could talk, express yourself."
"I didn't want there to be a me to express."
"Annnnd — that's officially too deep for me. But," Carina paused, swallowed, "I'm happy for you, Walker. Honest to God, whatever our past." She frowned. "You're right, I was fucking with you back then. But a part of me, a very small part, maybe, did want you to find a way to be happy. You were so damn sad. So, I'm happy for you — but I'm afraid for you too. Graham has plans for Overlook, for Chuck, that much is patent, and the plans don't involve you if you're on Bartowski's side. Graham will get rid of you, one way or another, if you cross him."
Sarah nodded once, but the nod was eloquent with understanding. Sarah understood better than anyone; she had for years been Graham's one way or another; she had for years taken care of people who did not fit into Graham's plans.
The two women were silent again for a moment, the atmosphere between them now noticeably different than it had ever been before.
It was no longer churning, fraught, full of eddies and riptides.
Sarah caught Carina's eyes, stared frankly into them.
"Well, Carina, you know what you came here to find out. What are you going to do?"
"Hand me your robe from the back of the door, and tell your boyfriend to come in. I need you two to tell me about Tyger, CJNG."
"Chuck's not my boyfriend, Carina." Yet.
"Jesus, Walker, if you're going to have it, own it."
Casey had made coffee and he and Chuck drank it in silence, both wondering what was happening between Carina and Sarah.
Casey knew his part in Sarah's plan might be the end of things with Carina, but the truth was that he was tired of being her in-between man, tired of staring at her picture when no one was around, tired of the whole thing.
He could live with her past if he thought there was some sort of future, but so far as he could tell, there wasn't. Walker was proof that Carina was incapable of love — whether friendly, or familial, or erotic. It just wasn't in her. This morning would mark Carina's sole stint in a wedding dress.
Not that Casey was ready to rush to the altar himself, but he didn't want it ruled out ahead of time. His mother had told him once, when she was caring for his father who had slipped deep into dementia: John, the difference between caring for a child and your father is that caring for the child expresses hope, caring for your father only resignation.
Wanting Carina was the romantic equivalent of caring for the demented. Resignation, not hope, was required.
He sipped his coffee and looked at Chuck. "So, did you sleep on the couch last night?"
Chuck nodded. "Yes, I slept well."
"No nocturnal…excursions?"
"I shouldn't answer that, but no."
"Walker's ready, you know."
"Ready?"
"For the inevitable to finally happen between you two. She told us so last night, when she told us Carina was ready."
Chuck tried to remember. "How do you know that's what she meant?"
"I know things," Casey shrugged.
"What about you and Carina? Will she forgive you?"
"Probably not. But maybe it's for the best."
Chuck left that alone. They sipped their coffee simultaneously but without looking at each other..
They heard Sarah open the bedroom door. "Hey, Chuck, come here, please!."
Chuck gulped. Casey chuckled. "Good luck, Bartwoski."
Carina finished with her questions to Sarah and Chuck. They told her all they could about Tyger, about CJNG. It was clear that taking him and CJNG down was going to be a serious problem.
Carina found Sarah and Chuck amusing. They kept checking in with each other, glancing at each other, almost as if neither could quite believe in the reality of the other, of what seemed to be happening between them.
Graham would not get the truth from Carina. She could tell him, she would tell him, that although Sarah clearly liked Bartowski, she was not compromised. Graham would not hear that Sarah had made Chuck promises.
Carina never liked Graham anyway, the son of a bitch. She'd tell him, if he knew about Vegas, that it was a glitch on her phone. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she disliked him.
But she did like John Casey, and she had to decide what she was going to do to him for his part in Sarah's plan, for him sending all those photos. It would take Carina months to clear up all the misunderstandings, and those pictures, they'd follow her around for life.
Casey said goodbye to Chuck and Sarah as they left to go to Chuck's.
He closed Sarah's door and pulled out his phone. He looked at the pictures of himself and Carina, tuxedoed and gowned, Carina pulled against him or on his lap or holding his hand. He thumbed through them all, a wistful smile on his face. At least he had something other than the wallet picture he'd almost worn out.
He heard a sound and looked up. Carina had walked out of Sarah's room. She was staring at him. He braced himself like a soldier against the wall, facing the firing squad.
Carina shimmed off Sarah's robe and stood in the underwear and bridal heels. She smiled at him. "I've got time before I need to fly back to DC. We might as well honeymoon a little. It might help my headache."
She turned and draped herself wantonly on the couch.
What the hell. Hope is overrated.
"It's still early," Chuck said to Sarah, "I wonder if Ellie is up?"
Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I dread having to explain Carina."
"Oh, right." Chuck put the key in the door and opened it.
Ellie was standing there, beaming, Devon beside her. She held out her hand so Chuck and Sarah could see the engagement ring.
A/N: A new mission, more on Mattress Bob and much more in the next arc: Sealing the Deal.
By the way, in case you missed it, I started a new Christmas story, The Vanishing Woman.
Drop me a line as we all take a breath before the next arc.