A/N: We're close. So close. But we have to deal with one more obstacle.
Here she comes! The Anti-Sarah!
Thanks to michaelfmx, as always, for his sterling beta services.
Don't own Chuck, et al.
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SECOND CHANCES
Chapter Four: Called to Life
The drive only takes a few minutes, but it's more than enough time to soundly berate herself for letting her mask slip.
I used to be good at hiding my feelings.
Sarah shakes her head. Can't let on to Forrest how much I dislike her. Or how I feel about what Chuck's gone through.
She stops herself.
Which is what, exactly? Pity? Sympathy? Empathy?
She's unsure.
And even less sure why she feels it so keenly. This unaccustomed rush of emotion after such a long bout of apathetic…nothingness, is unsettling, confusing. But it's also invigorating, like the blood has started to flow to her numbed extremities once more.
Then, unbidden, the line from a bible story she'd heard the one time she'd attended Sunday school (a supporting role in one of her father's cons, of course), pops into her mind.
Lazarus, come forth!
Back from the dead.
…
Green.
The color of envy.
But, unlike her experience in Echo Park, none of that emotion arises as she stands before the door of Forrest's residence. Even though she hasn't yet seen the inside, Sarah's quite certain she'll find the functional equivalent of her apartment back in D.C.
She knocks. Senses movement from within. Sees the peephole darken. But it's a long few seconds before the door swings open, the faint odor of some sort of cleaning product wafting Sarah's way.
As with Casey, she only recognizes Agent Alexandra Forrest's unsmiling face from her unsmiling file photo.
She's tall, taller even than herself, something that Sarah, already in the upper percentile of height for women, is unaccustomed to.
The two silently size each other up for a few seconds.
She nods. "Agent Walker."
Sarah nods back. "Agent Forrest."
The woman backs up, motions Sarah into the room.
Just as she'd thought, the room is a showpiece, almost as if it had been put together by a set designer. Needlessly ornate. Awful patterned silver wallpaper. And accents of green everywhere. Two green chairs by the large windows (which do have a great view). Green headboard. And so on.
It screams cover.
Nothing real to see here, folks. Move along, move along.
There's an open suitcase on the bed. Another closed, larger one standing on the floor. It seems as if the occupant is wasting no time in vacating the premises.
Sarah hears the door close behind her. Forrest brushes by her, walks over to the bed and snaps shut the suitcase. Then she turns to face Sarah.
There's no offer to sit. Nor any other indication of common politeness.
Instead, only a curt question. "You've spoken with Major Casey?"
Sarah nods.
"I imagine he's told you what he thinks of me. And what happened here."
Sarah nods again. "He was forthright."
"Well, don't believe everything you hear."
"That's why I came. It would be unfair to make any judgements until I hear your side of the story."
Sure, Sarah, say it like you mean it.
Forrest regards her for a second or two, then shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah, alright. But let's make it quick. Got a plane to catch. I'm being sent to Paris."
Sarah's surprised. "Paris? Sounds like a plum assignment. How did you manage that after everything fell apart here?"
"Just playing the game, Walker."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play dumb. You know as well as I do that if you don't look out for number one, no one else will. It's been that way since our first day at the Farm and it always will be."
It's not a game Sarah had ever chosen to play. Not at the Farm nor at Langley. Not that Graham's agenda had ever given her much opportunity to do so, even if she'd had the desire.
Maybe I should've learned.
Forrest looks her up and down, then speaks, oddly echoing Sarah's thoughts. "Well, maybe you don't. Otherwise, you surely could've used some of the dirt you picked up along the way to avoid being tossed into the abyss."
Sarah, acutely uncomfortable with the direction the conversation is taking (and how much Forrest seems to know about her) testily replies, "I'm not here to talk about me."
The woman gives Sarah a hard to decipher look, then says, "OK. You want the short of the long version?"
Sarah taps her foot impatiently. "You said you were in a hurry."
"Alright. The short version then. I spoke with the Director at length yesterday. Told him again, in no uncertain terms, that, number one, it was the spinelessness of Casey and the NSA that screwed things up here."
"How, exactly?"
"The asset should've been bunkered right from the outset. If the CIA had been given free rein to control his environment, had made him focus on the Intersect and just the Intersect, this operation would still be ongoing."
Sarah tries hard to hold in her astonishment, but hears some it of leak into her reply.
"You actually believe that?"
Forrest appears surprised. "Why shouldn't I? It's the truth."
Whose truth?
"It's what I told Casey right from the start. He should've realized that was the best course. Instead, he fought me tooth and nail, supported the asset's refusal to simply accept the reality of his situation. Against my better judgement, and in the spirit of cooperation," she spits out the last few words, "I had to go along just to keep things moving.
"But I never believed there was any good reason for him to keep on working. Wasting time and energy with his friends and family. Tagging along on missions as if we really needed him. Only thing we needed from the Intersect was the intel. Should've been left up to the pros to handle the rest."
"Casey feels differently."
"I'm well aware of that, Walker. Doesn't mean he's right."
"How about when Chuck's actions saved the lives of both you and Casey? More than once I might add. If he hadn't been along, you wouldn't be here now."
Too late, Sarah realizes she's slipped up. She sees Forrest's eyes widen.
"You call him Chuck, do you? You haven't even met the man and you're already on a first name basis? Cozy."
Sarah angrily retorts, "Don't try to change the subject. Just answer the question."
Forrest waves it off, her tone of voice dismissive. "Blown completely out of proportion. We only got in trouble because of his blundering in the first place. Those situations would've never developed as they did if we'd left him behind."
Sarah feels herself start to bristle. "Come on, Forrest. You expect me to believe that? The reports, even your own, tell a different story."
The woman shrugs her shoulders. "Had to doctor those to show how nice we could play with the NSA."
Sarah can't help but shake her head, exasperated at the woman's persistent denial of the facts. She can't be sure if Forrest actually believes what she's saying or it's all part of her continuing CYA tactics. Either way, she realizes it's a waste of time to pursue this line of questioning.
"OK, let's move on. You implied there's at least one other reason why the operation got derailed."
"Ah, yes. That would be Chuck, the man himself."
She smirks as she uses his name, but Sarah doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, she mentally grits her teeth and asks, "OK, that's the impression your reports gave. Could you tell me more of the details? Off the record, if you want."
The smirk persists. "Sure, Walker. Where would you like me to start?"
"It seems the two of you didn't get along. That right?"
Forrest nods. "No, we didn't. I don't mollycoddle assets. Never have, never will. They serve a purpose, our purpose, and the sooner they understand that the better.
"When I laid it out for him, he wasn't happy. But I didn't, and don't, give a damn about his personal feelings. He was there to do a job and that's the bottom line. So I cut him off when he whined about how his life got ruined. I didn't want to be here any more than he did, but I pushed through it and expected him to do the same."
"But he didn't choose to be caught up in all this. He was just an innocent bystander. Even you have to acknowledge that."
"This may come as a surprise to you, Walker, but I never really believed he was nearly as innocent as he made himself out to be. I always thought he was hiding the full extent of his involvement with Larkin from us."
"You based that on, what? Actual evidence?"
"Didn't need evidence. My gut tells that no one's as nice, as guileless as they'd make you believe. The asset's no exception. When I told Graham how I felt, he concurred, reminded me that nice guys aren't sent government secrets. We decided to let it slide as long as he cooperated."
Sarah jumps in, forcefully. "Which he did exceptionally well."
"Yeah, on the surface, it may have looked like that. But despite whatever crap Casey may have told you, I always found the asset to be difficult, constantly dragging his feet when it came to his duties. Got so pissed off with him, that I let the Major take over some of the handling chores. He'd listen to him, for some reason. Just as well. I couldn't stand to be around the idiot more than I had to."
"And yet you were posing as his girlfriend, even sleeping over. With that kind of attitude, how the hell did you think that was going to work?"
"I can fake it with the best of them. Some hand-holding, a little cuddling on the couch, a few public kisses and no one was the wiser."
"And the sleepovers?"
"They were good for a laugh. I made sure his sister and her fiancé would catch glimpses of me wearing some scanty little lingerie as I slipped into his room. I'd let out a few appropriate noises, rock the bed a little. Even called out his name once or twice. They had no idea the moron was sleeping on the floor."
She snorts, derisively. "As if I was going to have any trouble keeping my hands off him if we slept in the same bed.
"Next morning, I'd come out for breakfast looking disheveled and sated. Could hardly stop myself from laughing in their faces." She pauses. "By the way, I'd be careful around Devon. The man's got a wandering eye. Easy to tell he wanted what he thought his brother-in-law was getting. Probably got a thing for blondes."
Her incredulity mounting, Sarah blurts out, "You're serious?"
"Sure am. The man practically drooled. You should've seen the stink eye Ellie gave me. The woman's a world-class shrew. So afraid I'd take her man, that she barely tolerated having me around, even though I was, as far as she knew, anyway, her brother's girlfriend."
Sarah just stares, momentarily unable to form words. She's had to deal with more than her fair share of egoists (Bryce, Graham) in her life, but this woman surely takes the cake.
Forrest goes on, "At first, she acted as if she wanted to get to know me. Took me aside, gave me the old, 'What are your intentions?' schtick, as if I had to answer to her."
Sarah, finding her voice, replies, "And you said…"
"I told her that I'd fallen for him because he's so good in bed. Then added some graphic details." Forrest chuckles, mirthlessly. "That shut her up quick. She didn't ask again."
Sarah, imagining the scene, can't come up with an immediate reply.
Forrest smiles, sensing her discomfort. "Anything else you want to know?"
Giving herself a mental shake, Sarah asks, "OK, how about we move on to the first night? The date and its aftermath."
"I assume Casey told you about the directive we got to cooperate?"
"Yes."
"I decided the best plan would be for me to approach the asset and get him to go out with me while Casey would appropriate his computer and backup drives."
"How did you talk him into the date?"
"Piece of cake. You've read his file, seen his photo?"
Irritated at Forrest's implication that she'd been slack in her duties, Sarah tersely replies, "Yes. Of course."
"Then you know he'd been on a dry streak for quite some time. Hardly surprising." Forrest snorts. "Didn't take much. That breathy little voice we learned back at the farm. An extra undone button. Leaning a little more forward than needed. A pretended eagerness to know him and the implied promise of even more. All the other geeks were practically salivating as they watched me work him.
"I almost laughed in his face when he accepted my repeated requests to have him show me around."
"Repeated requests?"
"He was a little slow on the uptake. Figured he thought no one would believe someone like me would go out with someone like him."
You've got that right. Just the wrong way around.
Sarah shrugs, noncommittally. "Perhaps. What happened next?"
"Got dressed in a short skirt, tight top. He took me out to some awful Mexican restaurant. Hated the place, but pretended I was having a good time. Sat close to him, pressed myself up against him as we talked. He seemed uncomfortable. I put it down to his lack of experience. Tried to get him a little drunk, thought it might loosen his tongue. He wouldn't have more than one Margarita, however, even though I coaxed him along.
"Wound up talking about useless crap. Never could get him to admit he knew anything about the data Bryce had sent before Casey killed him."
Sarah flinches, but Forrest doesn't notice, just keeps on talking.
"After dinner, he made noises about calling it a night, but I wouldn't have any of it. Pushed him into taking me to a dance club he'd mentioned earlier."
She pauses, gives Sarah a knowing look. "Not sure what your plans are, but you should know he's a terrible dancer. I had to do all the work."
"Why would I care?"
Forrest shrugs her shoulders. "Wasn't too long before I got a text from Casey, telling me that he hadn't found anything useful. I instructed him to go with Plan B.
"He tell you about that?"
"Yes, the fake pursuit and the scene on the rooftop."
"Then you know what I figured out about the Intersect. We defused the bomb. The asset used some sort of porn virus to stop it." She pauses. Sneers. "You should've seen him. He was shaking like a leaf. I thought he was going to be sick right then and there.
"Later, he overheard Casey and me arguing about what we should do with him. He refused to cooperate unless we took the bunker option off the table."
Her voice betrays her irritation. "I still would've made it work if Casey hadn't stuck his nose in. I think the man's gone soft in the head.
"After we promised, the moron agreed. But then he got his back up about me taking on the cover as his girlfriend. I'd just about had it with him by this point, so I grabbed his arm and took him aside. Made him understand that there weren't going to be any more negotiations."
The image of Chuck being manhandled infuriates Sarah, to such a degree that it takes all she has to keep her voice under control.
"And just how did you accomplish that?"
"Told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn't go along with the charade, I'd make life miserable for his family and friends. Informed him I could arrange matters so that his sister would lose her research grants. And that her fiancé would suddenly find himself in legal trouble, given the accusations that he'd sexually assaulted a number of the nurses at a previous hospital. Hell, to amuse myself, I even tossed in that his bearded, annoying little friend, Morgan, would wind up in jail, with all the evidence indicating he'd been stealing from the Buy More for years."
Given what she knew of Forrest, Sarah had always suspected that the woman had resorted to blatant intimidation to accomplish her goals. Nonetheless, upon actually hearing what she'd done, Sarah feels a red curtain of rage descend upon her.
Her hands form into fists at her sides. Tense, eyes narrowed, she subtly changes her stance.
Forrest recognizes the threat. Steps back into a defensive position. She gulps, visibly, the smirk replaced by thinly disguised fear.
When Sarah realizes what she's done, she takes a deep breath, steps back.
Not that it lessens her absolute fury. "He's thrown in the deep end, doing his goddamn best to be cooperative and you decide the best course is to bully him, threaten the people he cares about?
Sarah shakes her head in disbelief. "You never had a freaking clue, did you? Not for one second."
Forrest replies, angrily. "Get off your high horse, Walker. I did everything by the book. You would've done the same thing in my position. Don't try to tell me any different."
Sarah manages not to shout, somehow. "Don't you dare presume to know what I would've done. If you'd done your job and bothered to actually read his file, you would've known the bunker was a non-starter. And given all the times he's been abandoned and betrayed, anyone with an ounce of common sense would've seen that developing his trust would've been the way to go.
"But no, you decide to go in with guns blazing. You poisoned the relationship right from the get-go. Set the stage for the failure of this mission from that first night."
Forrest responds, belligerently, "What the hell are you talking about, Walker? We accomplished things that no one else even came close to matching! Do you think we would've beaten Fulcrum without my team?"
"No, I'm not saying the team didn't do great things. I'm simply convinced that they did so despite you being part of it, not because you were you part of it.
"Any flint-hearted bitch handy with a gun could've played your part."
Sarah sees the sudden violence in the older woman's eyes, welcomes it. Calmly watches as she steps closer, fists raised.
Sarah stands her ground, doesn't so much as flinch."Go ahead, Forrest. Take your shot. I've beaten the crap out of petty tyrants and bullies like you with one hand literally tied behind my back.
"But maybe you're thinking she's out of practice, hasn't been in the field for a couple of years. Maybe I could take her.
"Only one way to be sure. Just take one step closer."
The two women glare at each other for a few, seemingly interminable seconds. Forrest blinks first, lowers her fists and steps back.
"Too bad. I really thought this place could've used a splash of red, something to offset all this god-awful green."
"What the hell happened to you, Walker? I used to look up to you, pointed out to Casey how you were the perfect weapon. The bogeyman that struck terror into the hearts of our enemies."
She pauses.
"You know, once or twice I was sent to take someone in and they mistakenly thought I was you. I guess it was the tall blonde thing. You should've seen the relief in their eyes when they realized I wasn't Graham's Enforcer."
Forrest shakes her head disgustedly. "But now look at you. You've gone soft. Just like Casey. More worried about some disposable asset's feelings than getting the job done. Neither of you has the guts to make the tough decisions. The ones that need to be made for this country to survive."
Sarah smiles. "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, Agent."
The woman is defiant. "Never gonna happen. You and me will never see eye-to-eye."
Sarah looks her straight in the face. "You know, I came here with the intent of giving you a fair chance to explain yourself, despite what I'd read and Casey told me.
"I see now I needn't have bothered. I don't have to hear any more. You're everything Casey said and then some. From the first moment Graham told me he was sending you here, I believed that you were the wrong choice. And nothing you've shown me today has convinced me otherwise.
"You're the main reason everything fell apart here, Forrest. Not the NSA and certainly not Chuck."
Her faced flushed with anger, Forrest snaps back, "You know what? To hell with you. To hell with Casey. And to hell with Chuck Bartowski."
The woman yanks the suitcase off the bed. Grabs the handle of the larger one on the floor.
"I'm outta here. If I'm never in Burbank again, it'll be too soon."
Sarah jibes back. "Burbank thanks you."
Forrest flushes, her eyes narrowed.
Sarah smiles thinly. "And, by the way, you don't have to worry. I've no intention of undermining your past actions here. You can bask in the glory of the team's previous successes, for all I care."
She pauses, makes sure she has Forrest's attention before she growls, absolute menace in her voice, "But if I ever hear, even a rumor, that you've done anything more to ruin his life, I'll hunt you down like a dog. You got that?"
Forrest swallows heavily, but, after a second or two, replies, determinedly, "Don't worry. I have no desire to have anything more to do with him. The man's a loser who deliberately sabotaged the most productive intelligence operation I've ever seen or even heard of. All because he didn't like his handler."
Sarah doesn't react to the provocation, just calmly responds, "We'll have to disagree. Again."
Forrest snarls. "I don't know what you think is gonna happen here, Walker, but don't fool yourself. Once the asset finds out that you're my replacement, he won't like you any better than he liked me. And neither will that interfering sister of his."
She adds, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Good luck with that. You'll need it."
"Doubt I could possibly handle things any worse than you did, Forrest."
The woman scoffs. "Don't be so sure." She turns and, hauling the suitcase behind her, walks toward the door. But, just before reaching it, she stops, faces Sarah once more.
"You really shouldn't believe all this BS about the CIA being a kinder, gentler organization. If the Director ever feels the asset poses a threat to national security, he'll make the tough call, despite whatever promises were made."
Forrest fires her Parthian shot.
"But this time, you'll be the one expected to carry out his orders. You prepared to do your duty, Walker?"
…
Sarah sits on the edge of the bed, unclenches her fists, tries to slow down her heart, bring herself back under control. But it's difficult, as the very air in the room still seems charged with the vicious spitefulness that had flowed between her and Forrest
I wanted her to attack me. To see her on the floor, bloodied and beaten.
Punished.
The vehemence of her emotions shocks her.
Why? Why do I care? I don't even know the man.
But then Casey's words come back to her.
You do know him. You just haven't met him.
She stares off into space. Baffled.
Is that even possible? To know, to care about someone from a single photo, a few thousand dryly recorded official words and some first hand accounts?
Unable to answer her own questions, she stands. Pushes away her disquieting thoughts. Focuses on the mission.
She glances at her watch, sees she has enough time to collect her baggage from the car and have a shower before she heads to the Buy More.
Just as she reaches the door, she stops, mentally snaps her fingers.
Of course.
The kitten.
That's it.
I only care because Chuck's defenseless and the world, especially my world, has treated him like crap. Anyone possessing even the smallest amount of compassion (not Forrest, clearly), would feel the same way.
It's just a natural instinct. Nothing more.
She can't help but feel relieved. Like a weight's been taken off her mind.
Yes, it all makes sense now.
Buoyed up by her new-found awareness, she shuts the door resolutely behind her, strides purposefully towards the elevator.
I can handle this.
She firmly pushes the call button, running over in her mind how she'll approach Chuck.
Piece of cake.
However, just as the elevator arrives, a tiny, insistent voice intrudes.
But it wasn't just compassion, was it, Sarah? You loved that kitten. Truth be told, more than you ever cared for Bryce.
Her shoulders slump.
Damnit.
...
She stands, irresolutely, before the entrance of the Buy More.
Just go in. Get it over with.
She tries to take a step, but it's almost as if her feet are encased in the concrete of the sidewalk.
What if Forrest was right? What if he looks at me the same way he looked at her?
She gives herself a shake.
It's a job, Agent, not a date. Don't confuse the two.
Get your head in the game.
She takes a deep breath. Steps forward. The automatic doors swoosh open. Orienting herself, she sees the Nerd Herd (ridiculous name) Desk in the center of the store at the end of a long aisle, flanked with a plethora of consumer electronics on display.
She recognizes Chuck immediately, even over the distance that separates them and even though all she can see is the curly-haired top of his head. He's sitting, his crossed arms on the counter with his head resting upon them. She wonders if he's somehow, while in the middle of the busy, noisy store, found a way to actually nap.
She notices a couple of odd looking individuals dressed identically in white short-sleeved shirts, gray tie and black pants approach him, but a short, bearded man in a green shirt intercepts them.
Morgan.
She has no idea who the other two are, though. That is, not until she hears Morgan chastise the pair of them.
"I thought I told you to leave Chuck alone. He's tired. And he's been sick. So just back off."
The shorter, long-haired man whines, "But I need to ask—"
"I said no, Lester. Go find somewhere else to be."
The frizzy haired man mumbles, monotonically, "But this is where we're supposed to be."
"Don't care, Jeff. Take Lester and beat it."
The two seem reluctant to move on, so Morgan physically herds them down an intersecting aisle towards the back of the store. She hears the sound of their continued protests gradually dwindle as the distance increases.
The good thing is that this gives her an opportunity for an unhurried approach.
Which is just as well.
Never has she felt so far off her game at the start of an assignment. In the past, she'd invariably been cool, calculating, completely in control, always with a backup plan firmly in place.
And a backup to the backup.
But not now. She's floundering. She has no idea what's going to happen here.
Forrest's words come back to haunt her.
What do I expect to happen here?
She'd pondered, vacillated, really, over what to wear for this first meet with Charles Bartowski, her new...what exactly? Charge? Protectee?
She'd eventually dismissed her black suit as too business-like. Had reasoned that she didn't want to come across as overly formal. And she'd also dismissed the pink blouse, gray skirt combo as being too informal, too flirty.
Finally, she'd settled on a white, lace-edged top under a short, belted, brown leather jacket, combined with jeans and brown leather boots. She'd left her hair down in soft curls.
Checking herself in the mirror, she'd thought, hoped, she'd hit just the right note.
I'll find out soon enough.
She rings the bell on the counter, it's delicate ting rousing him from his lethargy.
Without raising his head, he mumbles something about Morgan leaving him alone, reaches over to stop the irritating noise.
His hand comes to rest on hers, the warmth of his grasp paradoxically sending a sudden chill through her. She feels the goosebumps raise on her arm.
It only takes a second or two for him to realize the hand he's holding is definitely not that of his friend. He drops her hand as his head comes up.
He sees her.
First time.
Wonder in his eyes.
She sees him.
First time.
Barely manages to hold in her gasp.
He stands.
Smiles, a little shyly, his beautiful eyes deep, warm.
She falls.
Commits herself in the moment between two beats of her heart.
I won't let anyone hurt you, Chuck.
Anyone who tries will have to go through me.
I promise.
TBC
—
A/N: One reader commented, rightly, that I haven't done much to expand Forrest's character beyond her one episode. I tried, I really did, but, in the end, I came to the conclusion that I really, really don't like her. So what you see is what you get.
We know from canon that Sarah fell for Chuck almost from the very beginning, while hardly knowing anything of him except what the file had told her. With that in mind, knowing what she does here, what he's managed to accomplish over the past couple of years, combined with Casey's first hand account, I didn't find it unreasonable that the attraction would be immediate and strong.
At least on her part. Chuck's response will be a little different. We'll see that starting next chapter.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
PS If you aren't reading Zettel's superb (Mis)Education of Sarah Walker, I urge you to do so. Yes, it's deep, and, yes, parts of it are heavy going , but don't give up. I'm confident that the story won't let you down.