A/N: We now wind down our fourth arc, The Will to Believe. — Where do things stand after Tijuana?
The Missionary
Most people live their lives laying prostrate before a false god, waiting for a cue to rise. There are no cues, only decisions. Shall I have dessert? Shall I have the best of the wine? Shall I love the person next to me? They can all be brought to your table. Rise, I say, rise and look within to the truth, to the light, and tell it your decision.
― Lawren Leo, Love's Shadow: Nine Crooked Paths
Chapter Twenty-Three: Trick or Treat
Sarah stood in her apartment and in front of her bathroom mirror.
It was not technically Halloween — that was Monday, October the 31st — but Ellie was hosting an early Halloween party on Friday, the 28th.
Sarah was contemplating her costume.
She had hoped Chuck might suggest that they wear complementary costumes, ones that would mark them out as together — in some sense.
She wanted to spend the evening with Chuck and his family, but as for the rest of her neighbors, well, she did not know them and she had never been any good at meeting new people, not unless she was undercover. She could meet them as someone else, but not as herself. Of course, she was, to a degree, undercover in Burbank: she was not really an employee of Appocalypse, not really a software or marketing major. But she felt like she was in Burbank as herself nonetheless.
Maybe that had to do with Chuck, with something about the way he made her feel about herself. She couldn't say for sure. All she knew was that despite the current costume and her employment at Appocalypse, she was going to a party as herself.
And stag.
Chuck would be there, but not with her. They were together only in the sense of being cover-co-workers.
Sarah's costume had cost her a lot of anxiety. She wanted to wear something that Chuck would find attractive, without reminding him of her seduction missions.
They weren't past their date but they were making progress. Chuck had been…cordial…toward her. He kept playing Tell and Show during their shared coffee break and even chatted with her at other times. Without knowing she saw him, he sometimes stared at her as if he had questions about her — questions the Intersect did not answer. This made her both happy and terrified. She was happy he no longer seemed to think that the Intersect had given him a skeleton key to her identity, but at the same time, she was herself patently unsure who she was once the CIA file on her closed. She also was terrified he would ask, as he so far had not, really, about her shadowy childhood. She had said a little about her father to him but not enough for him to know that the shame of her past reached back almost to her nativity.
She sighed. Given my life, maybe it reaches back past my birth. Maybe I was born already ruined.
She was wearing a bodysuit in blue, with a '4' on the front and a navy belt around her middle. Navy boots completed the costume. She was The Invisible Woman, Sue Storm-Richards, of the Fantastic Four. She had chosen the costume because of a stray remark of Chuck's. One day, when she had been playing Tell and Show, recounting a deep cover mission, he shook his head and said, "Sometimes, I think you must be the Invisible Woman." Sarah only understood the words but nothing more.
Later, at home, she had hunted down the reference online and better understood Chuck's full meaning. A woman with two superpowers: invisibility and force fields. As Sarah read the Wikipedia entry, it stung a bit, but she also had to grant Chuck's clever analogy. Sarah was a woman who specialized in being absent while present, in pushing people away — she took his point.
She turned, then twisted her neck to consider her backside. A certain self-consciousness gripped her. Displaying herself she reserved for covers; she did not do it ordinarily. It drew too much attention.
Her costume would certainly draw attention at the party. But she was willing to put up with drawing unwanted attention if she drew wanted attention from Chuck.
Chuck. She was still fumbling around where he was concerned. They had not talked about the date. Their bonding and their partnership on the mission receded into the background once back in Burbank. Things were better but not what she wanted.
But the truth was that she was not sure what she wanted. That she was physically drawn to Chuck was clear to her. She now knew that her full-court seduction at El Compadre had been fueled by desire. She had been so intent on pretending to want him that she had skipped past how much she did really want him. But that worried her. She had been around Chuck enough to know that he was not a 'body count' sort of man. Sex for him was an expression of emotion and of commitment. But she knew nothing about commitment — other than professional commitment — and she was so much a stranger to her own emotions that it was unclear what it meant to call them hers.
She wanted him but — that was not enough. She was not enough.
Her dreams proved it. Nightmares had troubled her since the night of the return from Mexico.
She had often had nightmares after missions, particularly deep-cover termination missions or seduction missions. Such missions were so fraught, so full of things Sarah pushed down, out of consciousness. The content of those old dreams was predictable: replays of sudden deaths or humiliating compromises, of mission scenes.
But in these recent dreams, she was back in Mexico, and in all of the dreams, Natalie died because of a mistake of Sarah's. Each time, as Sarah crouched forsakenly over the tiny, lifeless form, too miniature for the immensity of death, she could hear Chuck say: "I should never have given you a baby."
The dreams ended with her utterly bereft, sobbing uncontrollably; she woke in tears.
Sarah was not Freud: she didn't claim completely to understand her dreams, but they kept returning, and she was beginning to fear falling asleep. All she knew was that she was not enough — the dream seemed to symbolize her inadequacy. Still, she could enjoy being near Chuck, hoping to get onto better terms with him. They would never be lovers, much less anything more.
She shook her head at herself.
No, not lovers. — But she did want to be friends, to know him, and she could not help wanting to see him look at her again as he had when the lingerie was between them in the Buy More. It would come to nothing, but still. She hoped her shape-revealing Fantastic Four uniform produced an effect similar to the unworn but suggestive lingerie. To be looked at by Chuck, looked at that way, to genuinely rouse the desire of a good man, instead of pretending so as to rouse the desire of a bad one — it felt redemptive, although Sarah could not explain that to herself. So it had on their date too, although Graham's orders kept dinning in her consciousness, obscuring her from herself.
He was good at that, Graham was. He had been doing it to her for years, perfecting her father's trick.
The thought of Graham made Sarah frown darkly and quit the bathroom, vacating the mirror.
She did not want to see herself with Graham's eyes.
Graham added to her troubles — maybe he was a partial cause of her dreams, the anxiety he created.
Standing in her living room, Sarah thought back.
During the debrief in San Diego, after returning Natalie to her parents, Beckman explained that she was no longer to be personally involved in Overlook. Graham would be running things, although Casey was to stay on, taking his orders, at least for now, from Graham.
Beckman did not seem upset but both Sarah and Casey could tell that she was seething inwardly. But she was too much a soldier, too stoic, to show it.
Sarah had stopped Chuck before they went inside, quickly telling him, in a whisper, to let her talk about what had happened. He stared at Sarah for a second, then nodded in agreement.
Sarah told Beckman the story of the rescue of the baby leaving out Chuck's skillet and gun throws, his saving of her. Sarah was afraid Chuck would think she was claiming all the glory and interrupt, but he didn't. He seemed to trust her at least that far. But she did not want this new aspect of the Intersect known to anyone but her and Chuck, at least for now.
And then, back in Burbank a few days, Sarah had gotten an evening call from Graham, while she was at home, after work.
"So, you survived Beckman's hasty South-of-the-Border jaunt?"
Sarah clenched her teeth, but then managed: "Yes, we did. As I said in my report, Chuck was terrific under pressure, and I was lucky to have him there, because of the baby…"
"Ah, yes, a child to care for a child. No doubt the baby must have seemed utterly foreign to you, Agent. You've chosen another path, very distant from that one," Graham chuckled.
Chosen? I suppose I choose it, but not with full understanding. I chose it the way game show contestants choose Door Number Three — not knowing what is behind the Door.
But she did not protest aloud, of course.
Her dreams had shown her how far she was from that path; she didn't need Graham to tell her what her subconscious had been teaching her nightly, in gruesome repetition.
Her hand tightened on the phone. "Well, it worked out." Her voice sounded metallic. "But speaking of work, sir, are you sure it's wise to be pushing Chuck so hard after his exertions in Mexico? He's having a hard time keeping up."
It was true. Graham had increased Chuck's workload again, sending even more data for Chuck, demanding fuller responses. She knew Chuck's headaches were back. Like Sarah, he had been exhausted by the rescue of Natalie, but unlike Sarah, he had not returned to an empty apartment, but to one with his sister and Devon, and they had demanded to know all about the trip to San Diego, why his and Sarah's boss had wanted them to go.
So, Chuck spent his homecoming spinning lies.
Sarah could see Chuck was getting used to lying — but also that he had zero taste for it. It cost him. He got used to it without hardening himself to it. Sarah had managed to avoid Ellie and Devon, other than an across-the-fountain wave or two, and so she had not had to worry too much about the lie Chuck told, although she had him tell her at work, just in case. She had tried to console Chuck by reminding him of Natalie, home safe, and that brought a smile onto his face, but his features sank quickly again into a bitter frown. Sarah wasn't the target of the frown, but it felt like she was.
That was the problem with being personally involved — everything became personal.
"I'm the best judge of how much the Intersect can stand. I'm calling to find out how things stand between the two of you. Does he trust you?"
Sarah took a second to frame her reply. "Somewhat. We…bonded…in Mexico, worked well together." She tried to keep her tone steady on 'together'. "But, now that we're home…that is, now that we're in Burbank, he's pulled back…a little. Still, overall, we're doing better."
"Good, good." Sarah could all but hear Graham rubbing his hands together. "I need you to keep at it, at him. Make him trust you. I need him to trust you. I know he doesn't trust me."
"No," Sarah agreed. She wondered what Graham was planning but knew better than to ask. Better not to draw his attention to her wondering. "I'm hoping things between us will continue to get better." She did — but not for Graham's sake. She was going to have to be careful. Graham had a knack for beginning his plots before anyone else noticed or when no one else could respond.
"I imagine continued partnership will do the work. But don't pass up any opportunity to create more trust. I gather he's very family-oriented," Graham mouthed the phrase as if naming a perversion, "so, use them against him. Get them to trust you; he'll follow, even if he thinks he knows better."
"Yes," Sarah said, eager to stop the drift of the conversation. The only good thing the failed seduction on her date with Chuck had done was rule out further seduction orders from Graham, but Graham might always decide to pursue that tactic again and order her to do it. If Graham were to somehow detect Sarah's desire for Chuck, he would use that desire against Chuck, if possible. She needed to make sure Graham never detected it. "I will look for opportunities. His family, particularly his sister, her judgment, matters to him, and she believes we are becoming friends."
We are, but I'm not going to say that. Graham will twist the friendship into something grotesque.
"Use the holidays to your advantage. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas — especially the last two, no doubt he's a sucker for the holidays. Make sure you're part of family festivities."
Sarah made a sound indicating agreement, thankful Graham did not know about Ellie's planned Halloween party.
"Any more information on Larkin, sir?" Graham had exploded when he found that Larkin might have been behind the Stanfield kidnapping. But Graham's rage had been impotent. The last Sarah knew, no further information, no chatter, no scrap about Larkin had fallen into CIA hands.
"No," Graham rasped, "but I've got everyone who is not otherwise tasked on it. Has Bartowski come up with anything?"
Sarah answered deliberately. Graham still did not realize Bryce was omitted from the Intersect data. "No, the Intersect's come up with nothing on Larkin. Tyger showed us a photograph, as you know. I see no reason to think he was lying. But even with all the Sinaloa data you've sent, Chuck has not discovered anything."
"Larkin was a good agent, but he was never this good. He'll make a mistake; we'll find him yet."
"What about Bob, Mattress Bob? He and Larkin seemed to leave LA at the same time. Maybe they are working together?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. Each seems likely to annoy the other in short order— two egos big as barns, not enough skirts to go around. — Sorry, Agent Walker." Graham said the words but did not sound penitent. "No, I expect we'll find them separate, not together."
The call ended but it left Sarah anxious and guilty, although she intended no betrayal of her personal mission, had agreed to nothing that was not consistent with her plan to keep Chuck safe. But it chafed her to have the things she wanted to do — like improving her intimacy with Ellie — become also things that Graham had ordered her to do. It made her motives seem impure and questionable. If Chuck knew about Graham's orders, he would assume they were operative, not Sarah's own wishes.
Graham was a corrupter; he ruined things. He was my ruination, wasn't he?
Sarah left her apartment ahead of schedule, tired of brooding.
It was a tawny, ruddy October evening, as fully a fall evening as Burbank boasts. The air was cool but not at all cold. Sarah shut her door and admired the courtyard.
Small, bright lights, orange and white, had been strung up and added to the natural glow of the evening.
Devon was standing, arms akimbo, gazing around in satisfaction. He saw Sarah approach and smiled, then did a double-take on her costume, his smile widening even further. "Marvel Universe! Mrs. Fantastic! Awesome" He held up his fist as she neared, and waited for her to complete the bump with hers. She did, laughing. Devon was wearing eighteenth-century garb, stiff and high-collared. He gestured to himself, then ran a finger between his cravat and his neck. "I'm Mr. Darcy. Ellie's Elizabeth Bennet. I told her she had it easy, playing herself." Sarah knew the reference, and the story, although she had not read the novel.
"Are you Darcy before his letter, or after?"
Devon shook his head. "That'll be a matter of how happy Ellie is with the decor."
Beyond the lights, there were fold-out tables and chairs, a single orange candle burning at the center of each table. One long table held drinks, ice and a variety of foods beneath a pumpkin range tablecloth decorated with black cats and witches. Cups and plastic ware were in small decorated boxes. It was nice, just enough to suggest the holiday and merriment, not so much that it seemed forced or commercial.
"I had no idea you were doing this, or I would've come out to help."
Devon gave an unconcerned wave. "Chuck helped a lot. He's inside, getting dressed. Morgan's in there too." The grin returned to Devon's face as he looked at Sarah and then as he looked around again. "It does look nice, doesn't it? I ask since you're the expert in the visible and the invisible."
Sarah chuckled. "Yes, it really does." She found herself suddenly excited for the party, despite the number of people coming — mostly hospital folks who worked with Ellie and Devon, folks she did not know, and various of the neighbors, most of whom she still only knew as faces.
Casey had even indicated he would put in an appearance.
Sarah wondered about that, both because a Halloween party did not quite seem like a John Casey event, despite how often he stiffly resembled Frankenstein's monster, and because he had been behaving strangely the last two days. He had been out-of-sorts since Beckman told them about Graham's taking sole control of Overlook — but the last two days, he had added distracted and mopey to his usual banked anger. ('Mopey' was not a word she ever expected to use for Casey.) He had kept to himself, grim, mostly inside his apartment, only emerging for a couple of apartment service calls.
Devon nodded at a couple who sat at one of the tables — a husband and wife, Popeye and Olive Oyl, from the apartment next to Casey's. An older woman from another apartment came up to the couple and began talking to them. She was Glenda from The Wizard of Oz. Devon waved at the three of them, gesturing to the snack table, and they nodded and smiled.
Devon pulled at the bottom of his jacket, straightening it. It occurred to Sarah that, last she knew, Devon had still not asked Ellie to marry him. That made her wonder if Ellie had chosen their costumes as a broad but unowned hint to her boyfriend.
"So, have you read Pride and Prejudice, Devon?"
"Yes, we read it in a class in high school. I liked it but never cast myself in the Darcy role."
"I haven't read it, but I know that in it, Elizabeth undergoes perhaps the two worst proposals in English."
Devon laughed softly but also colored a bit. "True, they were awful."
"I guess they serve as negative examples, of how not to do it."
"I worry that…if I ever proposed…I'd bungle it, turn into Mr. Collins. 'And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection.' Isn't that how it goes?" Devon shuddered.
"You might remember the line, Devon, but you'd never bungle like that. It's unimaginable. That is if you were to propose."
Devon nodded thoughtfully. "It's hard. You think you're ready, and you are, and then you stall…"
Sarah smiled at him, feeling for him. She knew how hard it was to say what you wanted to say. She had been wanting to say things to Chuck since the date. She'd even started while Tyger held them. "But screw your courage to the sticking place and we'll not fail," Sarah offered.
Devon looked at her closely, his expression pleased. "You're seeing my Austen and raising me a Shakespeare?"
Sarah nodded. "I don't claim to have read a lot, no Austen, but I read Shakespeare in high school when I had time to read. Not so much for classes, just at odd times." She didn't mention that her reading had been in cheap hotels, as she worked cons with her dad. She had kept a bedraggled yardsale copy of The Complete Works in the trunk of their rattletrap car, and read from it when her dad was not around.
Devon looked at the ground. "It's a lot, you know, a proposal. Asking someone to give you their life and take yours, to be the mother of your children, if you're lucky."
Sarah's heart skipped a beat; she tried not to mind it. "You want kids, Devon?"
He nodded decisively. "Absolutely. I can't wait." He stopped.
Now, Sarah looked at him closely. "What about Ellie?" Sarah asked, finally adding Ellie's name to the conversation obviously circling about her.
"Yes, she does. We've talked about it, without exactly admitting we were talking about our possible future. But we're both so busy, and Ellie — she won't admit it, but she's still in knots about her folks, about their haunted marriage, about her unhappy childhood. And I'm not sure — my family's so different. My mom and dad were devoted to us, present, attentive, caring."
"I'm sure she's hoping you'll propose. You two are great together. You don't need to be the same, you just need to fit."
"Like, 'you complete me'?" Devon asked with sudden, dramatic inflection.
Sarah laughed. "Yeah, but with less Tom Cruise. That movie I have seen." She saw it alone in a hotel room in Berlin, and actually cried when it ended, although she hadn't recalled that until just now.
"Have you ever thought about marriage, family, kids, Sarah?" Devon asked, curious but in a tone that showed he was unsure he had any right to pry.
It took her a moment to answer. "No. Never. Almost never. I'm not sure." As she spoke, her chest tightened. "I'm not wife material, certainly not mother material." Her recent dreams rushed back to her, the dead baby, her fatal mistakes, Chuck's hard words. "I don't think I'd be any good with kids."
Devon shook his head with conviction. "That's not true, Sarah. We don't know each other well, but I'm sure you can be anything, anything you want to be, decide to be. It's all a matter of the will to believe. In everything that matters, there's no choice but a leap in the dark."
Sarah dropped her chin and looked at him, smirking. He reddened, hearing his own words. "Right. 'Physician, heal thyself.'"
Sarah grinned. "You said it."
Her chest was still tight when she heard Chuck's voice from behind her. "Sarah? Mrs. Fantastic?"
She turned. She had been so involved in the conversation she had missed the arrival of many guests. Chuck stood among them.
He was wearing a blue bodysuit with a '4' on the front. He had used something to gray his temples.
He was Reed Richards. "Mr. Fantastic?" Sarah asked.
They stared at each other for a moment, stunned.
Devon laughed softly and Sarah understood what he had been smiling about. He had foreseen this moment.
"Wow, Sarah," Chuck muttered, hoarsely. "You look great. I mean, great costume."
"You too," Sarah replied, her voice low, husky. "Great. Great costume."
"Did you two plan this?"
It was Ellie.
Her voice brimmed with delight, her Elizabeth Bennet costume, a green gown with a white scarf, was beautiful on her. Straight and tall, she slipped her arm into Devon's, a picture of Austenian propriety.
Chuck and Sarah shook their heads at the same time. "No," they said in unison.
Light twinkled around them.
Ellie giggled. "Well, it's quite remarkable."
The world had stopped spinning for Sarah, or she was standing on its unmoving axis. This had to mean something, the two of them showing up in these costumes, a Halloween treat.
But it didn't have to mean anything — it was a coincidence, a Halloween trick.
Chuck put out his hand and his arm seemed to extend and extend toward her. His eyes fastened on Sarah in just the way she hoped, and she reached out in return with her hand, feeling utterly visible.
Chuck took her hand and turned them both toward the snack table.
"What would you like?" he asked.
A/N: Annnnd…that ends our arc. I hope you enjoyed it and hope to hear from you.
Come back next time for the beginning of the fifth arc, Past into the Present.
