I have made you suffer

Left you waiting in the rain

While I was chasing demons

In the deserts of my pain

You know me better than

The poison in my veins

So my love remember

When God forgets my name

For you and you alone

I lay my monsters down

And I'll watch the sun come up

Over California

For you and you alone

I'll find my way back home

And I love you like the sun

Loves California

You're my California

"My California"

Beth Hart

October 13, 2021

Burbank, California

Chuck was out of breath from running when he slid on his socks through the doorframe of his son's room. Stephen was sitting up in bed, the initial frightening jolt that had woken him with screams now devolved to helpless tears. Unfortunately, Chuck was used to this situation. Ever since the ordeal he had lived through–gunfire ricocheting through his house, shooting arrows to defend himself and his father, and believing his father had been killed…nightmares were a frequent occurrence now.

Chuck had been juggling a myriad of problems that all needed attention, and he had felt like he was neglecting all of them because he hadn't the time to deal with any of them effectively. Right now, he hyper focused on his son. This he needed to fix, right now. After all of that trauma, Chuck was sure a few comforting words, like he had been giving all along, weren't sufficient. He could start there, but he needed to get his son the help that he needed, whatever it was, as soon as possible. He also needed to spell everything out for him now…get him to tell Chuck everything, not just the vague mumblings about the specters in his dreams.

"Stephen!" Chuck gasped as he dove to sit beside his son. "Stephen," he added more gently, reaching for his son's shoulders and holding him. "It's ok," he whispered, relieved when he felt Stephen grip him tightly around his waist.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Stephen wailed, his face buried against Chuck's chest.

He squeezed his son tighter. "Why are you sorry?" he asked in amazement.

"You and Mom were fighting…I heard you. She left…again," he moaned. "It's my fault. It's because of me."

"No!" Chuck shouted, pulling his son up by his shoulders and holding him tightly. "No, it is not, Stephen. Don't ever say that." He squeezed Stephen in another hug, his heart breaking anew.

"Are you and Mom getting a divorce?" he asked nervously.

Chuck knew where that anxiety stemmed from, a normal fear children sometimes had when they were exposed to adult arguments. Griffin had told Stephen about his own parents and that same worry.

"No, no, Stephen," Chuck swore to him. "No, we're not. It's normal for adults to have disagreements. To get upset, just like I always told you. Your mom and I are fine. We just have to talk. She just needed a little space…you know, sometimes, you have to just clear your head in a situation like that."

"You never had stuff like that happen before you found out about me having the…the thing in my head. Everything bad happened after that," he added.

"It's not your fault…about any of it, Stephen. It just caused a lot of changes…all at once…and it was a lot for us. But we are a family. We love each other. Nothing will ever change that," Chuck told him. He said it, but he knew somehow his son hadn't completely absorbed it. He didn't believe it. Foremost in Chuck's mind was the memory of what it had felt like when his own mother had left him, when he was the same age as his son was right now. How he had believed Mary had left because he broke her necklace. Ellie, at 12 years old, had sworn to him that wasn't why, although she didn't have a more comforting reason, not at 12, not at any age. He had found out at age 30 why his mother left, but it had never erased a lifetime's worth of doubt and feeling responsible for something he actually had no part in causing.

Stephen shifted as Chuck angled him back down onto his pillow, hoping he could get at least another hour's rest before it was time to get up. He rubbed his son's back gently, calmed as he saw Stephen's eyes start to close. His son needed a counselor, something he would not waste any more time before he secured, even if he needed to ask General Beckman for help. His sister had taken the reins with Molly and Emma, doing her best to get them both the help that they needed after their own traumatic experiences.

Before he did any of that, before he did one more thing, he needed to find Sarah. Whatever was wrong, whatever was at the root of all of this trouble, he was going to find it and he was going to fix it, once and for all. This had been festering for eight years…and it was time. He moved out into the hallway, headed for his bedroom, and grabbed the phone. He just had someone he needed to call for help, before he could leave his children alone in the small hours of the morning.

October 13, 2021

San Pedro, California

Sarah sat on the shoreline, bundled in her sweater, watching the sun rise over the ocean. The sky was pale blue, run through with ribbons of orange that glowed as the sun peaked out from behind the gray streaks of clouds flowing upward from the horizon. The tide was out, a long stretch of dark sand mottled with seagull footprints between her and the foamy line where the ocean met the land. The wind coming off the water was fierce, forceful, cold and biting as it felt like it could cut right through her. Each time a blast of it picked up, she braced herself, listening as the howl of the wind drowned out the sad cries of the seagulls that were running back and forth, searching for food in the surf.

The wind, biting as it was, instantly dried the tears that streamed from her eyes, down her cheeks, leaving streaks over her blotchy skin. The wind also carried away the sounds of her sobbing, and masked any other sound around her.

It was why she jumped, startled, when she suddenly heard a voice behind her, with no advanced warning of anyone's approach.

"Sarah…I know you said you wanted to be alone…but…please, will you just let me talk to you? Just for a minute?" It was Chuck, his voice mangled and broken. She only turned her face halfway, until she could just make out his shadow as he stood behind her. Her first thought was to ask him if he'd followed her, but she thought better of it. Of course he knew she would be here. This was their beach. He had come here when he was a teenager, after his father had left him and his sister, when he needed to think, or cry, and was trying to do so in a place where Ellie wouldn't see. Where he had run instead of going home, when he had learned he was the Intersect and his life had been altered forever. Where he had known to find her when she had told him she needed to be alone to think after her memory had been erased.

She didn't answer him right away, choking on her own tears and unable to find her voice. He spoke again after a stretch. "If you want, I'll go…and let you be alone and think…but I…would rather just talk to you," he pleaded, the tears audible in his voice.

"Chuck…I…" She was incoherent. He could see her shoulders shaking, and watched as she hugged herself around the middle against the cold.

"Please, Sarah, I just…I need to explain. Can I please just explain?" he pleaded again.

He didn't need to explain anything to her. She wished she had enough strength to tell him that, knowing her lack of emotional control was contributing to his distress, when it really was due to her own feelings of guilt. All she was able to do was leave him with silence.

He chose to fill the silence with his explanation. "You know how hard it was…when you came home. Physically and emotionally. You were so weak…and so…fragile. It scared the hell out of me, Sarah. You were the strongest person I knew…and you were crumbling. I kept telling myself I would let you know about what really happened to Stephen…giving myself these imaginary markers, you know…like when you could sleep through the night…or when you came downstairs…or when you fed Stephen again, or changed his diaper or played with him on the floor…but they kept passing, and it never felt right. I was always afraid one more thing to worry about would set you back. You seemed better for like…a week…and then you were pregnant again…and things got really crazy…and by then it was so far removed it made telling you almost worse than just keeping it a secret…"

She could hear the self-reproach in his tone, the remorse-ridden ramble that sliced into her soul. "You…have so much guilt inside you…for something that was never your fault, Chuck," she choked out, stifling her tears so he could understand her.

"The fact that he saw that…that was my fault," he lamented. She could hear the sound of his shoes scuffing in the sand. He was so close behind her, but making no move to get closer. She couldn't listen to him feeling this way.

"No, it wasn't Chuck!" She jerked her head, glaring at him over her shoulder. He lost his breath at the sudden sight of her face awash with unbearable anguish.

She shifted her body, raising herself up on her knees at his feet and challenging him out loud. "I called you…and you couldn't answer the phone! What would have happened differently if you'd been able to answer it? You would never have made it home in time! You would have either had to call 911 from your car…or…or…come home to find me dead on the living room floor! It wasn't your fault!" Her voice broke as she gasped a shaky breath.

He dropped down onto his knees in front of her, stooping slightly to ensure she kept eye contact with him. "I wasn't there when you needed me, Sarah," he said, his voice trembling as his eyes filmed with tears.

"Damn it, Chuck, will you listen to yourself?" she screamed, grabbing his shoulders and grasping him so tight it pinched his skin. "You may not have been there to answer the phone. But you were there, every day, when I needed you! You took care of me!" The sudden flash of anger dissolved as new tears burst forth and she released her death grip on him. "Holding me up in the shower with your clothes on…brushing my hair and my teeth…dressing me, for god's sake! All the while you were working and taking care of Stephen…and feeling responsible…all at the same time. Do you have any idea how much that meant to me?" she asked vehemently, this time reaching for his face, holding his cheeks in her hand to ensure he didn't look away. "I would have died if Stephen didn't flash…but I also would have died without you there, every day, doing what you did…with the weight of the world on your shoulders. I never thanked you for that."

He had been so worried coming here, wondering what she would say, how he could fix this. This admission, this heartfelt gratitude she was expressing was a surprise. He searched her face, comforted by the undying love he saw shining back at him from the purest blue depths of her eyes. "I love you. No thank you was necessary," he whispered.

"But…I do…because…because…" She couldn't finish, dropping down to sit on her heels.

"What? Sarah, please…just talk to me…" He bent down, reaching to touch her chin and raise her face to look at him again.

She had to tell him the truth. She searched for the right words to start. "I didn't leave…because I was angry at you. I was angry at myself. I couldn't stand there and see you in that much pain…knowing I made it so much worse…"

"Sarah, you–"

She blurted it out, cutting him off. "Chuck, I never went!" She closed her eyes, waiting. When she opened them, she saw his confused expression. "To counseling," she clarified.

"What? What are you talking about?" he asked, completely befuddled. He watched as he saw that same expression, the one she had displayed before she had run out of the house early this morning. She was ashamed of herself. His shock and disbelief took on an edge he wasn't anticipating. "You left the house twice a week for over two months. Where did you go?" he demanded to know.

"Here," she admitted, covering her face in shame. "I would sit in my car…watch the sunset…watch the seagulls…watch the people walking by…and I would cry, all by myself."

"I don't understand…" he whispered, hurt and confusion layered in his tone.

The words rushed out of her, finally set free after years of holding them inside her. "I went the first time. Just like Dr. George asked me to. She thought it would help…but she just didn't get it. It was me…and eight other women. No one but me had any other children…and no one but me had ever experienced a second trimester miscarriage. They were all young, first time pregnancy losses that happened very early. Sharing my feelings in front of strangers was never my thing…but that made it harder…so much worse. They didn't understand what I was going through. No one did," she finished. "I had felt him…moving around. That flutter…feet…or hands. It wasn't an idea…or a hope…or a dream that just ended with a heavy period and cramps. It was my child…that died inside of me…that ended with…pieces of him still stuck inside me that they had to surgically remove."

Her words, heavy with sorrow, ground his heart to pulp deep inside his chest. He was back there again, sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the surgical ward, waiting to know if she was alive or dead. More pain blasted its way through him. "Sarah, I knew. I understood. I was there, beside you in bed, when you grabbed my hand and pressed it against you. I felt him moving around inside you. You could have…you should have…talked to me."

She knew that, had always known that. Hearing him say it shredded her on the inside, amplifying her guilt and her remorse. "I know I should have. I know. But you…you were overwhelmed while you were taking care of me. How could I ask any more than what you already did for me?"

She was right, he thought. He had come perilously close to a total breakdown back then. Providing that much emotional support on top of all that he was already doing could have pushed him beyond his ability to cope. The problem was, none of the rest of it mattered, not compared to her well-being. They had nothing but a large, loving group of people that had surrounded them, even way back then. He would have found a way, he truly believed that. He was searching for the right words, but she continued, still with more she needed to get off her chest. "It was the same thing. Me trying to protect you…the same way you were protecting me. You needed to talk to someone too, but you didn't because you were taking care of all of us…at the expense of your own health…and almost your own sanity. And then I didn't even go…my god, how can you still look at me, after what I did to you? What I left you to deal with alone?"

"Sarah, everything I said to you last night…that was the truth. And even after all this, it's still the truth. I know who you are…and I love you…all of you. I know the scars that were left over from your life…what you were forced to do to survive…when you were young, even when you were older when I met you. How hard you worked to overcome that default setting you have that wants to not need anyone…because everyone you ever needed let you down. I'll admit, it does hurt sometimes…when I think that you still fight…needing me…the way you do. But I understand why. And I'll say it again, so you can hear me. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. Nothing. Don't be afraid to need me. I will never, ever, let you down again." He cupped her face in his hands, turning her eyes upward to meet his own.

"There's no again, Chuck. You never, ever, ever, let me down. Even when I know I did honestly let you down," she replied. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He pulled her against him, folding her into a tight embrace. She pressed her face against his chest, instantly warm in his arms despite the chill of the wind that whipped all around them. He had always been this for her–the wall that protected her from the cold, the support that held her up when the wind threatened to blow her down. He was more than she deserved, the best thing that had ever happened to her. The love rose in her chest and instantly filled her. He held her for what felt like forever.

Breaking the silence, he spoke again, his voice tender. "Sarah, when we went to bed, the night before you lost the baby…you told me you were going to tell me the names you had decided on…one for a boy and one for a girl. Because the ultrasound was scheduled for the end of the week. So you'd decided. But you never told me…I never got to know. Tell me…what his name was, Sarah."

The last bit of ice, frozen inside her heart, melted. Everything inside her was liquid, rushing, vibrating with pain and emotion. "Aiden," she said, not hesitating, knowing the name that had been in her heart and mind for eight years, how she thought of him always, though, sadly enough as she acknowledged, a name she had never told her lost son's father.

She heard the anguished sigh escape from him, feeling his chest shaking against her face as he cried. It was painful, but something that needed to be done, in order for them to ever heal and move beyond. She cried with him, the same way she cried when she woke up in their house after she had finally been released from the hospital, only this time, she knew his soft murmurs of regret were not for guilt this time, but their mutual grief, long delayed, finally breathing out in the open.

She spoke again first. "Whenever someone asks me how many children I have, the default in my head isn't three. It's four. Once I knew…that it was a boy, I pictured what he would have looked like…what he would have been like with Stephen…how different our lives would have been if that had never happened." She felt his arms tighten around her comfortingly.

"All the danger…how many times we almost died…so close to tragedy, and yet, somehow, we always survived. We always escaped. Thailand…even losing your memory. It just never occurred to me…being normal…we would have had to face something like that. Stupidly naive maybe…but I just…I wasn't prepared for that kind of tragedy," he confessed. She knew exactly what he meant, having felt the same way for such a long time.

"You made me believe that I could do anything. I didn't have to be afraid to live the life that I had always wanted. I was capable of being a wife and a mother…that I had those nurturing qualities inside me, even though…that ruthless killer was inside me too. I justified it to myself…that at least I could protect my children. And, back then, I couldn't. I have never felt so helpless in my life…and that scared me more than anything else ever has," she said.

"Your last conscious thought…when you thought you were dying…was to protect Stephen, maybe at the cost of your own life. That is who you are. My wife…and the mother of my children," he gushed, in awe of her. She soaked in the emotion, letting it flow in her veins with her blood.

"His nosebleed," she murmured, a non sequitur.

"What, Honey?" he asked.

"When he was five…and he had that nosebleed in the car…and he was hysterical and I had to pull over and calm him down," she explained. "He's extra squeamish with stuff like that."

"He is my son, Honey," he said with a soft, self-depreciatory chuckle.

"That can be from repressed trauma, though, don't you think?" she asked.

"It could. But Sarah, Ellie has known all along. She was always thinking of that, in case he ever showed any serious signs of it," he told her.

"What about the new nightmares?" she asked.

"They're more about the Intersect than about what happened when he was a baby," Chuck replied. "We just have to tell him the truth. All of it. He deserves to know." He sighed. "I kept hearing my father's voice in my head, you know, from the Intersect…telling me to not be afraid to let Stephen be who he is supposed to be."

"I think that's the right thing to do, Chuck," Sarah hinted. She heard him sigh, but she continued. "Your dad just wanted you to be safe. Once he realized that you chose to do the work that you did…because you were good at it, because it was what you wanted to do, he supported you. He was proud of you. You have to let him be who he wants to be. Whatever that is. Whatever that looks like for him."

"I know," he sighed. "It's just so hard…knowing how…difficult things will be for him…going forward."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, pulling herself up on her knees to look at him. "He has you, Chuck. That's all he needs."