Feel it on my fingertips

Hear it on the window pane

Your love's coming down

Like rain

Wash away my sorrow

Take away my pain

Your love's coming down

Like rain

"Rain"

Madonna

October 13, 2021

Burbank, California

Chuck followed Sarah back to their house in his car. He felt strange—emotionally drained, yet somehow also exhilarated in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Rehashing the most tragic event of their lives was exhausting, but so important for them, he knew. Back and forth they seemed to go…getting better at communicating, then backtracking with new scenarios. Life was just that way, he knew, and as long as they kept making forward progress, it was all good. They weren't perfect—far from it. But they were perfect together, perfect for each other. They were resilient. As long as they had each other, the rest was just whatever.

It was strange to acknowledge his inexplicable doubt from the past was not unfounded. She went from devastated to fine too quickly it seemed, pregnant again before she had even gotten the official all clear from the doctor. It was a bandage only, pushing aside the need to deal with the loss. No more hiding it now though, which was the most important thing.

He was already out of his car and waiting at her car before she opened the door. She looked up at him through the window, craning her neck to reach his full height in her gaze. He opened the door, chivalrously extending his hand to her to help her out of the car. She squeezed his hand tighter than was necessary, leaning into him as she stepped out and onto her feet.

Sarah couldn't resist the urge to hug him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, stretching ever so slightly on her tiptoes considering she was wearing sneakers and was now considerably shorter than him. Her emotions swelled like the tide, overflowing into every part of her as she stood there with her husband and her best friend in her arms. Everything shrunk in comparison to how she felt…the senseless worrying about how he thought of her after her murderous rampage, the guilt from the secrets festering between them. There was nothing she ever had to fear, so long as she had him here with her.

"What was that for?" he asked with a tender smile after she pulled away.

She peeked over his shoulder at the house…white, with a red door and a picket fence. The house she had dreamed about when she was little, for it meant normal and home and peace. The man standing in front of her had given her all of this…her home and her family and everything in the world that she held dear, including the two sets of blue eyes peeking out through the kitchen window to observe them being affectionate with each other. In order to get to this place, he had looked deep inside her, saw something she never knew was there, things she never knew she was capable of being, and showed her how all of it could be possible. He stared down the darkness that had inhabited her soul, the darkness that had almost come back again to make a play for her, and banished it forever with the strength and purity of his love.

"Because I love you. You're my everything, Chuck. You always have been. You always will be," she said, misting even as she smiled, that warm, beaming smile he knew was only how she smiled at him and him alone.

He gently kissed her forehead, his eyes flickering to their audience in the window. "Come on," he said with a quick wink as he took her hand in his and they moved to the door.

The door of the house opened to the delicious smell of pancakes and maple syrup. Both of the girls came running from the kitchen window towards the door, cutting in front of the dog who was also happily approaching.

"Mommy!" both girls sang together, rushing to hug her at the same time. She grabbed one in each arm, crouching down. She felt sticky lips on her cheeks.

"You taste salty, Mommy," Ally said, pulling back and looking seriously into her mother's face. "Were you crying?"

"I was," Sarah said, still smiling. "But I feel better now." She squeezed them both against her again, tighter. "I missed you guys. I'm so sorry I haven't been around as much as I should have been."

"It's ok, Mommy," Abby offered, for once allowing her tender love for her mother to show through her tougher facade. "Uncle Morgan said Daddy went to cheer you up. He's the best at that. Daddy can always make us smile."

Standing behind Sarah, Chuck heard that, swallowing over the lump in his throat at the sweet, innocent trust his daughter had in him. He touched both of their heads gently as they stayed pressed tightly in Sarah's arms.

"Uncle Morgan also said the bus is in five minutes and to go get your shoes on, ladies," Morgan called from the kitchen. Chuck saw him turn away from the sink, wearing Chuck's apron, which swam on his person, being a good eight inches shorter than his best friend. The girls scurried away.

"I made a plate for you guys, too," Morgan said quietly, gesturing to the full dishes on the counter after he dried his hands on the front of the apron. "I know I said Alex would be here when you called, but she's still a little sick in the morning sometimes. My Mom came to our house to help with the boys so I could be here." He smiled tentatively, his gaze shifting between Chuck and Sarah. "Is everything ok?"

Chuck tucked his arm around his wife, resting his hand comfortably on her hip. "Yes, Morgan, it is. I can't thank you enough. Really. They usually just eat cereal on school mornings. You went above and beyond."

"Pfft," Morgan said, waving his hand and shrugging. "That's what friends are for. Don't think twice, Dude. I'm glad we could help."

"Where's Stephen?" Sarah asked out loud, addressing both Morgan and the girls, wondering who could answer first.

"I went to get my tablet from Stephen's room when I woke up. He said he didn't feel good. He might be faking," Abby added, a sly grin on her face.

Sarah glanced nervously at Chuck, but bent to kiss both girls as they hustled out the door. "Bye, Daddy and Uncle Morgan," Abby called. Ally repeated it, two steps behind her sister.

Once the girls were gone, Morgan added, "I went upstairs to check on him. He's not feverish or throwing up or anything."

"We'll go check on him. I think I have an idea what might be wrong," Sarah told him. "Thank you again, Morgan." She stepped forward and hugged him gently.

He untied the apron, pulled it forward, and laid it on the counter in a bunch of fabric. "Don't forget to eat before it gets soggy and cold, guys. No one likes soggy pancakes," Morgan teased. Chuck squeezed Morgan's shoulder affectionately as he moved to head out.

Chuck and Sarah went upstairs to their son's room. Standing in Stephen's doorway, Sarah could see him hunkered down under his covers, the blankets tucked high around his ears. "What's wrong, Honey?" she called into his room.

"Mom," he exclaimed, suddenly sitting upright. She looked away briefly, knowing he was surprised like that because she had been absent from moments like this for too long as of late. She walked quickly to his bed and sat down. "Do you feel any better?" he asked sweetly, eying her with curiosity.

"I do, Sweetheart, I do," she said, forcing the smile into place even as the tears threatened. "I'm sorry I haven't been as involved as I should have been these last few days. I didn't mean to make you worry or make you sad," she said softly. He leaned over, wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Abby said you felt sick? What's up?" she asked, patting his back, even as he left his head against her.

"I told her not to tell you," he mumbled.

"You know what? I think you told her because you knew she would tell us. You're a smart kid, Stephen. Abby has the biggest mouth of anyone you know, correct?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah," he huffed, sounding slightly annoyed. Sarah knew it was both at his sister, and her, for figuring him out. He paused, then sat up and scooted closer to his mother. "I'm not sick like tummy sick or cold sick. I feel...you know...bad. Like I think you're feeling. Or you felt. Like I had a big sore cut, only on the inside. Does that make any sense?"

Innocently spoken, but so true to the situation she lost her breath momentarily and couldn't speak. When she finally answered him, her voice was tenuous. "It makes perfect sense, Honey. Perfect." She forced her breathing to calm, and asked him, "But why? What are you thinking about that made you feel like that?"

"Dad," Stephen suddenly said. Sarah looked up, seeing Chuck in his doorway, not sure if he was greeting his father or admitting the reason. Chuck looked on, his eyebrows raised on his forehead as he questioned.

"You ok, Kiddo?" Chuck asked. Sarah motioned for him to enter, and he complied, quietly shutting the door behind him. He left Sarah seated next to him on the bed, instead turning Stephen's desk chair out and straddling it backwards, resting his arms on the back of the chair.

"Whatever you were going to say, you can say in front of Dad," Sarah told him. "Is it your father? Is that what you meant?"

"Kinda," he said with a sigh. "I don't know. It's...it's," he sighed again, stopping. She could see his mind working, thinking as quickly as his father could when he was trying to solve a problem. "This thing in my head, you know, like Dad has," he started, looking between his parents, watching their faces. "The thing that I'm never supposed to tell anyone about, but we talk about it a lot. It's scary, isn't it? It makes both of you really scared. And I don't know why. And I wish I did. You never seemed like it scared you, ever, Dad. What's wrong with me? Why are you so worried?"

Sarah met Chuck's gaze and held it, knowing this would come up eventually, but never sure how she was ever going to talk to him about it. To her relief, her husband took it up without hesitating. "Stephen, it's very complicated, you know? I know we keep saying that, and it doesn't help. Not everything will make sense to you, at your age. We can do our best to explain it to you, you know, now. I used to hate this when my Dad used to say this to me, but it's the best answer there is: You'll understand when you're older. I promise you will."

"Ok, Dad, so tell me now what you can then," he insisted.

Chuck sighed, searching for the correct place to start. "A very long time ago, I saw some things that were secrets, you know, things that the government keeps from people so they don't worry. Like I told you part of my job is now. My job was different back then, and once I knew what I did, well, it changed a lot of things," he explained.

"That's how you ended up with your…your Intersect," Stephen told them, saying what he was asking, because, for whatever reason, he was sure he was correct. "Something was happening…all because of that. Me and you. That's why you were gone. Why you were both so upset. Why Mr. Barker was here."

Chuck stood abruptly, clenching and unclenching his hands in exasperation, seeing his worst nightmare beginning to unfold before his eyes--their spy life coming back to get them, like it had his father and mother so long ago. He thought quickly, searching for the right way to answer. "Your mother and I both knew Mr. Barker and knew we could trust him. That he would never let anyone hurt you, or us, or our family."

Still shaking slightly, the tears fresh on his cheeks, Stephen looked up from Sarah's arms at Chuck. His eyes were wide with wonder, as if something very important had just occurred to him. "Dad, were you and Mom...were you spies, you know, before you had us? Spies like…like James Bond?"

Sarah looked up in horror, watching the color drain from Chuck's face as he stood still. This was it, he thought. What they had been dreading all along, knowing , especially after all of this, that it would only be a matter of time before their past came out into the light. Stephen was so intelligent, Chuck had told Sarah, it would be sooner rather than later that this discussion would need to happen. They had decided on the beach he needed to know everything, and they were prepared. His educated guess was a surprise, but something Chuck knew now he should have expected.

Sarah spoke first. "Your grandfather, the one you are named after, designed the…the Intersect. The one your father has. It's a computer program…that was created to work the way your father's brain worked. He saw it for the first time, by accident, when he was the same age as you are right now. And then he saw it by accident again on his 26th birthday. I came to California to protect your father, because he had that computer in his head," Sarah explained calmly.

"But…but…he fixed your phone…" Stephen stammered, well versed in the story of how his parents had met.

Sarah kept going. "He did. He absolutely did. Only he didn't know that I was a spy. He found that out later."

Stephen was thinking so hard it almost seemed like Chuck could hear his mind working. "But…why did you need to protect him? He knows how to…you know, do all that stuff…like I can zap with karate or archery."

He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. "The Intersect I got by accident was an earlier version. It didn't have that information in there. I really did work at the Buy More in the Nerd Herd. Both your mom and Uncle John were there to protect me…from the same kind of bad people that were after us before." He felt Sarah looking at him, but he kept his eyes locked with his son's. "Your grandfather Stephen took it out of my head because he knew how…stressful…it was, living the life of a spy…when I was just a computer technician. I chose to take it back, and it was the version I have now. It allowed me to protect myself, so that instead of just protecting me, Uncle John and your mom and I were a team. We were spies."

"Wow," Stephen gushed, looking rapidly between his parents, trying to absorb the amazing information. "Like James Bond…"

Chuck swallowed multiple times before he could answer. "Not like James Bond, Son. That's just a movie. But...did we work for the government, protecting the country and people who needed help? Yes, we did. We worked with General Beckman and Uncle John. But it's dangerous...that kind of job. Mom and I wanted to be safe, so that we could be parents and live a normal life again. We gave it up, to do what we do now."

Chuck let that sink in, watching his son's eyes as wide as saucers, as he realized what his father was saying. The silence stretched, eating away at Chuck on the inside, as he met and held Sarah's eyes. His lips pressed together, he waited. The fear, uncertainty on his son's face slowly melted away, and a gentle smile began to grow. "That's awesome!" he laughed, then stopped himself, taking a cue from his parents that laughter in this moment may not be appropriate.

Chuck's eyes misted, but he laughed once in return, reminded of how his best friend Morgan had responded to the same news. "Stephen, you're getting older. That's why we're telling you this, because I think you understand how important it is that you keep this secret. It's as important as not telling anyone about what your brain does. It seems like lying, and maybe it is, but it's the only way to keep everyone safe. That's the hard part about being a spy--lying to people, even people you love. But there isn't another way, not to keep you safe."

"We aren't allowed to lie, Mom," he added, childishly innocent.

"You're right. We don't lie to you, we never have. But about this, about all of this, we have to keep it secret. Even from your sisters," Sarah told him. God, especially from Abby.

At his questioning look, Chuck added, "Someday, when they're older and they understand better, they'll know too. Everyone in our family, the adults anyway, knows all of this, but we don't talk about it to each other or anyone else. It's the way to keep everyone safe," he said.

"I can do that, Dad," Stephen promised. "I won't ever talk about it again, unless it's just the three of us and it's super important." He looked up, searching his parents' faces, and thought of one more thing he wanted to ask. "But, can I ask one thing?"

"Of course you can," Sarah told him.

"If the only people who know about all of it are our family, and everyone kept it a secret, then who was after me? How did they know?" he asked.

Chuck watched Sarah start to visibly shake, her grip on her son loosening as her gaze shifted away. Sensing how close she was to going back over the edge from last night, knowing she could never share that truth with her nine year old son, he reached down and pulled his wife into his arms. Over her head, directed at his son, he answered, "Your mother found the people who did it. They won't hurt anyone ever again. But they were working for someone else. And we don't know who. General Beckman knows about it, and she and Uncle John won't stop until they find out. And in the meantime, know you're safe. Because we won't let anyone hurt you."

Sarah clung to him desperately, pinching her eyes closed hard, wishing the images in her mind would go away. The safety of Chuck's arms, the beating of his heart against her ear, soaked into her, calming her jangling nerves. If Stephen worried at all about his mother's affect, he hid it from them. The wide blue eyes that regarded his parents were calm, soft, no fear visible any longer. He trusted them, he and Sarah, to protect him. Knowing the whole truth only seemed to make him feel safer, trusting their ability to protect him better than ever before.

Chuck released Sarah, squeezing himself onto his son's bed next to her. The three of them were crowded together. "There's something else, Stephen," Chuck said cautiously. "It's about what you remembered. What you were telling me when we were waiting in the room at Aunt Ellie's lab. It's about the time…when your mom was in the hospital…the memory you have of Mrs. Tucker watching you."

Chuck saw the vulnerability on his wife's face, seeing it clearly in her eyes. She was holding herself together with all her strength, tenuously close to bursting into tears. There was no way she could tell Stephen the truth like this, too emotional though they had vowed to tell him the truth. Chuck continued. "Your mom and I…were going to have another baby…in between you and your sisters. The baby was inside your mother, just like you were, just like Abby and Ally were. Do you remember when you were little, putting your hand on your mom's stomach and feeling them moving around in there?" he asked gently.

Stephen nodded, narrowing his eyes as he maintained rapt attention to his father's voice. "It tickled," Stephen added as he remembered.

Chuck smiled at the memory, but his mouth twisted as he continued. "Sometimes…while a baby is still inside their mother, something can go wrong. Not because of any reason, anything anyone did or didn't do…just because there is something wrong that doctors can't fix. The baby was a boy. But he was never born…because something was wrong. That was why your mom was in the hospital. Because she had something very rare happen to her when that happened. She was…bleeding…and there was no way to stop it, like you can a cut on your knee. Your mom could have died from that…losing too much blood like that."

"But I didn't, Stephen," Sarah forced out, smiling with tears in her eyes. "Because you flashed…because you zapped," she amended it, using his terminology, "and you called Aunt Vivian with my phone."

"You saved your mother's life, Stephen," Chuck whispered, resting his hand on his son's head. "You were only 18 months old, but you saved her. Because you have an Intersect. It seems scary and overwhelming and all of the things we've been saying all along. But it also is a miracle that you do. A miracle that your mom is here…and you have your sisters. When it gets to feel like it's too much, try to remember that. How special you are. How much we love you."

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone breathing, in close proximity to each other. Sarah hugged Stephen, and Chuck wrapped his arms around them both. He felt the tension, wound tight inside him, drain out through his arms, relaxing him peacefully in the moment.

"What was my brother's name? Did he have one?" Stephen asked, his voice muffled against his mother's chest.

Chuck felt the tightness in Sarah's muscles, felt her back shudder as she stopped breathing. It was eerie, and yet comforting, to know her son asked the same question Chuck had asked. Saying it out loud again, to her older son, was difficult. "Aiden," she whispered, acknowledging how strange it sounded spoken after so long only inside her head.

Stephen, sensing the tense pause, mentioned innocently, "Griffin had a baby brother who died. They go to the cemetery once a year and put flowers on his grave. His name was Brian."

Chuck could see the color drain from Sarah's face, confronted with such poignant and unknown information. "You never mentioned that before, Stephen," Chuck said quietly.

"Griffin wasn't born yet, but his older sister remembers him. Mrs. Tisdale says it's hard, and she doesn't like to talk about it, but she said to Griffin that if he ever had any questions, he could ask. She said it was worse keeping it a secret, even if it was really sad," Stephen explained.

"Mrs. Tisdale is right about that," Sarah offered, feeling a strange kinship with the mother of her son's best friend, something they had in common that they had never known about. "You were so little and…I guess, now that you're older, you can understand."

"I won't say anything to Abby and Ally," he told them. "You know when you should tell them."

Chuck smiled at his son, mature for his age, maybe overburdened because of all that he had inside of him, but still a child at heart. Chuck swore in that moment he would do everything within his power to ensure that no matter what the future held, his son would remain a child as long as he possibly could. Both he and Sarah had grown up too soon for reasons outside their control. He wouldn't let that happen to his son, no matter what.